Karhi Emelyn

They reconvened in Cyly’s study, joining Hazel, Matadi, and Aoife.  Faren accompanied them at Karhi’s request.  If one of the people they spoke to today had made the attempt on his life, his presence might rattle them.

“Only fifteen people overlapped between our castle and Cyly’s castle,” Hazel said.  “Including us.  I’ll have you question us as well.  My husband and I were not involved, but I don’t see a reason not to prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“I’ve sent for the others, and we’ll question them as they arrive.  First off, I’ll give you the backgrounds on who died.”

The first person to die had been the special operations lieutenant, lieutenant Rami Kern.  He worked under Aoife and had come back with her from the same special assignment that kept Aoife away for the past year.  When asked what the special assignment was, Hazel said it was need-to-know information and as of right now, didn’t appear to be related to the murder.

Rami had been found dead in his bedroom with a needle in his arm, the plunger completely depressed.  Cause of death determined it had been dead man’s blood. 

The second to die had been Faren’s lieutenant, Ciara Lim.  She hadn’t been recently involved in anything special, other than working with Alice Costa on the proposal for Faren.  The discussions had all taken place over encrypted e-mails and encrypted video calls. 

Ciara was found dead in a hallway, a thermos of blood on the floor next to her.  It had been contaminated with dead man’s blood.

There was nothing special about the dead man’s blood.  It didn’t have any of the add-ins that the D’Aubigne family typically put in their formulations.  It was determined that this dead man’s blood was homemade.

“How is dead man’s blood made?” Mira asked.  “I assume it’s not just blood from a dead person.”  The end of her sentence almost turned up in a question but not quite. 

“Correct,” Hazel answered.  “Dead man’s blood is not just blood from a dead person, though that is where you start—taking blood from a dead human.  Usually, it’s someone freshly dead because it begins to decay quickly.

“Once the blood is taken, there’s a series of spells and rituals involving sun gold, wood from certain trees with magical properties, and running water.”

Mira’s brow furrowed.  “Wait . . . sun and running water really have effects on vampires?”

Hazel moved her hand in a so-so motion.  “As you know, the sun doesn’t kill living or human vampires, but it does have an effect on us.  Moreso living vampires than human vampires, but it definitely isn’t any vampire’s favourite time of day.  We much prefer night.  Original vampires, however, burst into ash under the sun.

“Running water is something that affects all magic—just like it erodes land masses, it erodes magic.  Though much more quickly than on a geological scale.  There were experiments carried out hundreds of years ago that showed that original vampires, if left in running water overnight, would be dead before the sun rose.”

Mira grimaced.  “Isn’t that . . . inhuman?”

“Original vampires aren’t human,” Aoife, Hazel, Matadi, Faren, and even Karhi, said in unison.

Mira tensed, caught off guard by all of them as a united front on original vampires.

Surprisingly, Faren was the first to speak.  “I won’t get into the ethics of experimentation like that.  Original vampires—they are vampires in name only.  They drink blood and are strong and have human forms versus vampire forms. 

“They do not experience emotions like we do.  You came across them a few days ago.  Did they feel right to you?”

Mira chewed on her lip uncertainly.  “They were slimy.  Their insides were wrong.”  She shivered as she thought back on it before shaking her head.  “Not thinking about it.”

“Exactly.  They are one of the very rare magical creatures you will ever come across that, for lack of a better word, have no soul.  They do not experience joy or happiness or compassion—they are mindless, voracious, empty pits.”

Mira still looked uncertain, but she nodded after a moment.

“How did you figure out the blood was homemade?” Karhi asked.

“The D’Aubigne’s have an orchard of heritage hawthorn trees they use for their dead man’s blood.  It has a certain magical signature.  The magical signature we found was not from that hawthorn.  It was from a different plant.  And there were none of the add-ins you often see with the D’Aubigne blood—botulinum, ricin, anthrasis.”

Interesting.

“Beyond that, you have spoken with Faren and relived his experience.  We don’t know how it got into his system.”

That was indeed the problem.  Karhi’s first guess would have been the blood from Faren’s valet, but the valet was still alive after sampling it.  Or . . . wait . . .

“You did check with the valet that he actually drank the blood, right?” Karhi asked.

“We had Savita check.  He will be coming in for questioning, as well.  Mira can double check.”

That had been a slim hope anyway.

As if on cue, the door to the study opened, and Saeran entered.  “Mother, I—”  He stopped upon seeing all six of them.  His brow furrowed, and he looked at Hazel.  “Mother, you sent for me?”

“I did.  I’m having Karhi and Mira question everyone who overlaps with the Irish and American castles.”

Saeran looked from his mother to his father.  He glanced at Faren before looking back to his parents.  “About the murders?”  His gaze turned steely.  “I would not make an attempt on anyone’s life in this house.”

“Oh?  Then what’s been going on with Sloane?” Mira cut in.

To his credit, Saeran didn’t even pause.  His cool gaze moved to Mira and he said, “She is not of my house.  And if I had made an attempt on her life, it wouldn’t have failed.”

Bullshit.

Karhi smirked at Mira’s comment in his head.

“Saeran, we are doing this for everyone who overlaps,” Hazel said.

“Including you?” he challenged.

“Including us,” Matadi said.  “If you would sit, son.”  He gestured to an armchair they had set up in the middle of the room. 

Saeran’s jaw tightened, but he grumbled, “Fine.”  He sat down and rolled his wrist in an if you will gesture.  “You may begin the calibration questions.  I’ll lie on one of them.”

Karhi glanced at Mira, who nodded, intently watching Saeran.

“What is your full name?” Karhi asked.

“Saeran Samba Ruaidhrí.”

“Where were you born?”

“Palenke.”

“How old were you when you turned?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“How many vampires have you sired?”

“None.”

Karhi looked to Mira, having finished the calibration.

“He was thirty-two when he turned,” Mira said.  There was a look on her face that Karhi couldn’t identify.  “Everything else was true.”

Saeran didn’t say anything.  He had settled into the chair and had crossed one leg over the other.  His hands were steepled on his knee as he waited.  He looked every bit the regal prince that he was.

That’s what surprises me.

Karhi kept his face neutral.  What do you mean?

I didn’t expect him to be this composed.  Or this easy to work with.  His thoughts are clear, and he’s making no attempt to shield them.  He’s acting like . . .

A prince?

Yeah.

Saeran is an asshole, but when it comes to his birthright—that’s who he is.  He will do anything for his kingdom.  He has a one-track mind.  And if he’s not involved in what happened, he will be motivated to help us.

Mira didn’t say anything in reply, and Karhi moved on.  “Tell us about the night Rami was murdered.”

Saeran’s answers to Karhi’s questions were concise and polished.  Mira asked Karhi to make a handful of clarifications.  She never spoke out loud, her gaze on Saeran.  Saeran primarily maintained eye contact with Mira but would occasionally look at Karhi.

Saeran hadn’t been anywhere around when Rami was murdered.  He was in a meeting with his mother and Aoife.  When Ciara died, he had been otherwise preoccupied with someone.

If he wasn’t such a dickhead, I’d actually say that that memory was hot.  As it is, I don’t like him and anything he does is annoying.  Even if he appears to be rather good in bed.

Karhi had to press his lips together hard to keep from laughing out loud at that comment.

“Something wrong, Karhi?” Saeran asked.  There was a smug light dancing in his eyes.  He knew that Mira was talking to Karhi.  And he knew what Mira had seen.

Karhi’s amusement extinguished into annoyance.  “No,” he said.  He moved on and continued with his questioning.

Saeran had been in a security briefing when the attempt was made on Faren.  It had been an eight-hour briefing that ended the moment they were notified about Faren.

Saeran didn’t have anything to add to what they already knew.  He had been either doing his job or otherwise occupied at each time.  He had multiple witnesses, and each time, he had been busy for at least two hours prior.

“How do you feel about these murders and the attempt on Faren?” Karhi asked.

Saeran’s brow furrowed, the first break in his otherwise professional composure.  “Feel?  Why does it matter how I feel?” 

“Humour me,” Karhi said without elaborating.

Saeran’s confusion didn’t disappear, but he answered the question without argument.  “I don’t know any of these people well with the exception of General Faren, since he’s a general.”  He nodded to Faren.  “We have no love lost between us, but I don’t wish for the death of any of the ‘bae.”

Faren didn’t contradict him, shrugging one shoulder.  But he didn’t seem offended or upset.  Saeran was stating a fact.

Saeran looked back at Karhi, and it made Karhi pause.  Saeran’s expression had barely changed, but Karhi could see the anger behind his eyes as he said, “I care about my kingdom.  And I want to know who is doing this.  And I want to destroy them.”  He smiled tightly.  “That’s how I feel about it.”

Karhi didn’t need to look at Mira to verify if he was telling the truth.  He had known Saeran long enough to know that he was.  People could say whatever they would about Saeran, but his loyalty to his house was unparalleled.  He had nothing to do with this.

I concur.

Karhi knew she would.

“Thank you, Saeran,” Karhi said.  He looked at Hazel and Matadi.  “I’m satisfied with his responses.”

“As am I,” Mira added.

“A word,” Hazel said.

Saeran nodded.  He stood up, brushing imaginary lint off of his pants.  Together, he and his mother left the study.

She’s going to yell at him about Sloane.  Or, well, sternly tell him to knock it off or there will be consequences.

I thought you couldn’t read her mind?

Can’t get specific thoughts, but I can get intentions and emotions.  Also, Matadi wasn’t masking his thoughts, and he knew why they left.

Huh.

They went through two more people that had overlapped castles, both guards for the king and queen.  They had, unsurprisingly, been with the king and queen at the time of the murders.

Their fourth person was the woman Karhi had caught Sloane with the other night.

Curiously, just before she walked in, Hazel pulled Mira aside and spoke quietly to her.  “This person may have stronger defences than you’re used to for someone so young.  And, if you get past them, any personal information you learn is covered within the confidentiality clause of our contract.”

Mira gave Hazel a bemused look but nodded anyway.

When the woman walked in, he heard Mira exhale quietly.  “Oh.”  She glanced at Hazel and nodded.

Karhi would have to pay special attention to this woman, then. 

Within the first moment of paying her special attention, he noticed her shirt was on inside out.

“Amara,” Hazel said when the woman walked in.  “If you would please sit down.”  Hazel motioned to the chair.

Amara’s brow furrowed but she did as she was told.  “Is this about the deaths?”

“Yes.  We’re talking to everyone who overlaps between the castles.  I know you weren’t in the castle for the first death, but you were around for the other two.  We’re hoping to see if anyone who overlapped remembers anything that we may have missed.”

That was a technique that Karhi had advised Hazel to use once they were done with Saeran.  If they asked someone to think about what they could have seen, it put people at ease.  They were interviewing witnesses, not potential murderers (even though they really were doing the latter).  It made innocent people less worried about being falsely accused, and it lulled guilty people into a sense of security.

Oh, this is going to be tough, Mira said.  Her sudden intrusions into his head were still a surprise, but he was getting more used to it.

Why?

Her internal monologue is primarily in Arabic.

Karhi had never really considered how people thought.  It also hadn’t occurred to him that there could be a language barrier in mindreading.

Everyone is different.  Some people think primarily in pictures and feelings.  Others think more in words.  Most people are a combination.  But she leans more Arabic.  Maybe Sloane can help me translate some stuff.

Why would Slo—

“Karhi?” Hazel prompted, pulling his attention from Mira.  “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, covering up his distraction.  He looked at Amara.  “I’m Karhi Emelyn.  I’ll ask you some baseline questions, and then we’re going to move on to the deaths, alright?”

Amara looked between him and Mira.  She didn’t seem surprised.  “Yes,” she said.

“I need you to lie for one of your answers to the baseline questions.  I’ll ask five.”

She nodded.

“Alright.  What is your full name?

“Amara Samir Youssef Zarrouk.”

“Where were you born?”

“Cairo, Egypt.”

“What languages do you speak?”

“English and Arabic.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“One.”

“Are you older or younger?”

“Younger.”

Karhi glanced at Mira.  Her brow was furrowed, looking at Amara, her fist to her chin.  She chewed on her lip before saying, “You . . . were not born in Cairo.”

“Correct, I was born in Giza.”  She smiled.  “My older sister was born in Cairo.”

Mira nodded.  Her brow was still furrowed, and she looked intent.

“We good?” he asked Mira.

She nodded, her gaze remaining on Amara, who didn’t seem to be bothered by Mira’s hyperfocus. 

Karhi continued.  “Where were you when Rami was killed?”

“I was on leave, visiting my sister.”

But she knew Rami, Mira said.

“You knew Rami?”

Instead of answering, Amara looked at Hazel.

“I can establish that Amara worked with Rami and knew him.  I’m going to head off that line of questioning as it is related to the assignment I mentioned earlier.”

“You’re sure it’s unrelated?” Karhi asked her.

“Yes.  Faren and Ciara were not at all involved in that assignment.”

Amara nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” he said, moving on.  “How about when Ciara was killed?”

“I was eating breakfast with Faolan.  We were exiting the dining hall when someone came to alert Faolan.”

“Did you know Ciara?”

She shook her head.  “Not well.”

What’s her focus like? Mira asked.

Amara was still looking Karhi in the eyes.  He reached for her focus.

He had met very few people who had such tight balls of focus.  He reached for it, tugging just the slightest bit.  It might as well have been trying to pull a brick from a wall. 

It’s gonna be tough.

Try to, please.

Going to need you to help out.

Questioning and unravelling at the same time was going to be difficult, but he’d done it before.  He was keeping to similar scripts for all the people they had questioned so far. 

“Did you go with Faolan to see Ciara?” Karhi asked. 

“No.  I didn’t have any interest in seeing another dead body.”

“Another?”

Focus was difficult to describe.  Karhi always told people it was like a ball of tangled wires.  But he couldn’t actually see it.  He just had a sense of it and an ability to manipulate it.  He could touch it and find snags that he could pull at. 

But with people who had tight focus, it took much longer to find snags.  He had to be meticulous and careful.  And it helped if he could catch them off guard or upset them in some way.  He couldn’t read minds or feel people’s emotions, but he could tell from how a person’s focus shifted when something had made them feel a strong emotion.  It was a snag he could grab.

And when he prompted her, asking what she meant by “another dead body”, something shifted in her focus.  He caught it and pulled.

Amara’s face clouded in confusion.  “Sorry . . . what?”

“I said, did you know Ciara?”

She blinked, her eyes going to floor, searching it for an answer.  “I . . . didn’t.”

Except she was sleeping with her, Mira said.  He felt the triumph behind her words.

Karhi raised an eyebrow at Amara.  He felt her focus shift again, but he didn’t touch it.  In more crowded areas, he needed to keep eye contact with someone to poke at their focus, but this was a very quiet, focused setting, and he was zeroed into her.  He could maintain his work on her.

Amara bit her lip, hazarding a glance up.  When she met his gaze, she winced.  She knew that he knew.

“Want to try that again?” he asked her.  He didn’t say it in an accusatory tone.  Being judgmental in this setting wouldn’t do anything to help his case.  He kept his voice light and uncommitted.

“She didn’t want Faren to know,” she said, glancing at Faren before looking at Karhi again.

Faren, who had just been listening quietly, straightened in his seat.  “Ciara,” he said.  There was no heat in it.  He just sounded tired and annoyed.

“Elaborate,” Hazel said, looking between them.

“I tell all of the ‘bae not to interfere with any contractor,” Faren said, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache.  He motioned to Mira as an example.  “Anyone with whom your Majesty frequently works.  I will not allow the ‘bae to be blamed for anything that happens to them.”

What does that mean? Mira asked.

I’ll explain later, Karhi replied.  “You and Ciara were sleeping together?” Karhi asked out loud.

“Just a handful of times,” Amara shrugged one shoulder.  “Maybe five or six times in the past three years?”

She’s telling the truth, Mira said.

“Had you been with her recently?” Karhi asked.

Amara grimaced.  “The night before she died.”

“Amara,” Hazel said.  It was said almost in a rebuking tone, as if Amara was a child in trouble with her mother.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think she had done something to me.”

Hazel flicked one hand as if she was brushing away a pesky fly.  “Ciara has always been very in control.  I’ve never had concerns about her.  My concerns now are—what else have you not told me?”

Amara bit her lip.  Again, it reminded Karhi of a child in trouble with her mother.  “Uh, I’m sleeping with the vampire you brought here. Sloane.”

“Well, if the way we found you the other night is anything to go by, I knew that.”  Hazel pressed her lips together before saying, “Your shirt is on inside out.”

Amara looked at her shoulder, searching for the seam on her shirt.  When she saw it, she flushed, putting her hands to her face.  “That’s it,” she said, voice muffled through her hands.  “I was with Ciara that night.  I went to breakfast with Faolan, and then we got notified.  I stayed in the dining hall because I didn’t want to see her like that.”  Her lower lip wobbled, and she looked at the floor again.

“You said, ‘another body’,” Karhi said.  “What did you mean?”

Amara glanced at Hazel through her hands.  Hazel shook her head at Karhi.  Ah, something to do with that mission, then.

Karhi silently asked Mira if she had any more input. 

She doesn’t have anything else that I can find. Though she wants to die right now because her shirt is on inside out from a quickie in a closet with Sloane.

Karhi smirked.

Before anyone else could speak, the door to the room slammed open and Cyly, Cailean, and Faolan spilled into the room together, all talking over one another.

“Children!” Hazel boomed, silencing all three of them.  Karhi thought it was interesting that even Faolan reacted to that.  “Faolan.  Report.”

“Sloane drank dead man’s blood, likely meant for the prince, and now the entire dining hall is lit up in green flames,” he said, stumbling over himself to get the words out, his eyes wide with alarm.

Fuck.

“Give me a lift,” Mira said, standing up and heading for Karhi.

He crouched to let her climb on his back, and they were gone from the room.

Mira had to direct Karhi to the dining hall, but it wound up not being hard to find.  A door up in flames, without burning, was a pretty good indicator of where Sloane was.  So was the fear and anguish that hit him like a freight train.  He stumbled to a stop, her emotions clawing at his chest.

Mira was off Karhi before he had caught himself, getting as close to the door as she could.  “Sloane!” she shouted.

The fear burrowed deeper into him at the sound of Mira’s voice.  Something like a waterfall roared in his ears, blocking out any sound beyond Mira calling into the room.  Karhi clenched at his chest, willing the feeling of Sloane’s pain out of his body.  She was feeling so much.

“Karhi.”  Pain stung at his cheek, and he jolted out of the pain to find he had fallen on the floor.  Mira stood above him, hand in a position that told him she had slapped him across the face.

“Pull it together!” she shouted at him.  “You feel her emotions, right?  And she can feel yours?”

“She feels so strongly,” he shook his head.  His throat was raw with emotion.  “I can’t—”

“You’re going to have to,” she snapped.  “Focus on something calming and push it at her.  I can’t get to her if she’s this activated.”

“I can’t—I don’t know how—fuck, she’s so strong.”  Tears threatened to spill, and he held back a whimper.  Emotion beat against him, ready to capsize his tiny rowboat in the tempest.  He could hardly see beyond the raw agony that tore at his heart.

“Karhi, you need to fucking—”

He shook his head.  Why didn’t Mira understand?  He couldn’t.  He couldn’t fight this intrusion into his mind.  He couldn’t fight this maelstrom of emotion.  He wasn’t strong enough.  He couldn’t fight Ilona like this.  Why didn’t she get it?  Why—

“I can do this,” a new voice cut in.  Karhi looked up to see Faren had joined them.  “You can get in her head?”

“Yes,” Mira said, “but I can’t do anything once I’m in there.  She can’t hear me.”

“That’s fine.  I can soothe her.”

“Thank fuck.”

“I apologize for how this is about to feel for you,” he said, holding his hand out to Mira.

“Ugh.”  She took his hand, and Karhi saw every muscle in her body tense the moment they made contact.  She cursed, but her expression remained determined.

The fear in Karhi’s chest suddenly eased.  It was still there, but a wave of calm washed through him.  With the calm, he was finally able to pull away from Sloane enough to get a handle on himself.

Immediately all he felt was shame.  It crashed into him, wrapping tendrils of anxiety and humiliation around him.  How could he be so fucking useless in the face of Sloane’s pain?  He was five hundred fucking years old.  How did a nineteen-year-old completely demolish his composure and take over all of his senses?  How could he—

Mira turned to glare at him.  “Get the fuck out of here,” she hissed.  “Your shame is bleeding into her, and you’re making it fucking hard.”

He froze, staring at Mira.

“Karhi, go,” she roared.  With the force of her words, he felt an overwhelming desire to listen to her.  It sunk into him, pushing at his limbs to move, urging him to stand up.

When he was on his feet, he realized that he hadn’t been entirely in charge of his actions.

He fled.

His thoughts were a blur as he made his way through the castle. 

Mira had forced him to stand up.  She had ridden his impulse to get up and forced him to move faster.  She had gotten into his head and forced him to leave. 

Ilona did that all the time.  She rarely forced him to do anything outright.  Her efforts were much more insidious.  She would manipulate his emotions, make him want to do whatever she asked.  And when she told him to do something, he would want to please her.  She would ride that desire to please her to manipulate Karhi.

None of the sex they had ever had had been consensual.  Nor had he ever been in charge.  He had just been a glorified sex toy for her uses.

“Karhi?”

Karhi stopped, startled. 

Sevilen stood in front of him.  Karhi vaguely registered that he wasn’t in a part of the castle he recognized.  It was another stone hallway with windows looking out onto the courtyard.

Karhi jumped on the opportunity to think about something other than what had just happened.  “Sevilen.  Hey.  How are you?”  He glanced down at Sevilen’s prosthetic arm.  “That new?”

Sevilen glanced at his plastic-and-titanium hand, flexing it.  “It’s a couple years old.  I finally have one that can handle what being a vampire entails.”

Karhi remembered that Sevilen used to go through an arm every six months or so because prosthetic technology couldn’t keep up with vampire abilities.  “Did Hazel finally buy a prosthetics company?”

Sevilen shook his head, grinning.  “No, the eldest Praecantrix sister has gotten into prosthetics and bionics.  She mixes them with magic, and it’s super fucking cool.”  He flexed his hand again.  “She does ones that seamlessly integrate with your nervous system and look like real arms.  Titanium bones and synthetic flesh.”

“Why didn’t you go with that?”

“I like being able to take my arm off.  I’ve gotten used to it.  Having all my limbs all the time sounds like a lot of work.”

Karhi didn’t know what to do with that.  “This one isn’t integrated into your nervous system?”

“The part it connects into is.”  Sevilen launched into an explanation about prosthesis and the magical ones that were available now.

Karhi lost the thread a couple minutes in.  Sevilen must not have known about what was going on over in the dining hall.  Why would he?  He was the arms master for the king and queen.  The armoury wasn’t required for dealing with Sloane.

Sloane.  Right.  Was she okay now?  Had Mira and Faren gotten to her?  Was she—

“Karhi?”

Karhi realized he had tuned out of the conversation entirely.  He shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Sevilen.  I’m exhausted.”  That wasn’t why he wasn’t paying attention, but it was true.  And easier to explain than everything else.

Sevilen nodded.  “Yeah, I’m sure.  You have a firecracker for a fledgling, and I’m sure that Hazel’s keeping you busy.”

“Yeah . . .” he said.  He looked around.  “Where am I?”

“By the armoury.  If you’re looking to get some blood, the dining hall always has some.”

Karhi was not fucking going back to the dining hall.

“And if you want to mix it with something, you can always go to the wine cellar.”  Sevilen winked when he said that.

“The wine cellar?”