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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 165 из 293“I have an almost perfect handprint right here, where someone braced to take out a deeplyembedded blade. I have almost the same print pattern on the second victim. But I also have partial fingerprints where the knife was wiped clean of blood. They may or may not be Peasblossom’s.”
“If we are sure it is her print, then she would be our murderer,” I said.
“Yes, but if she is, then where’s the blade? Rhys traced it to your bottomless pit. The other kitchen help say that once Peasblossom found the bodies, she didn’t leave the area. She didn’t have time to go all the way to your pit to dispose of the knife.”
“Someone else did it for her,” Mistral said.
“We found one good, clear handprint on the wall near the reporter’s body. It doesn’t match any of the guards in the hallway, but the hand is of a similar size.”
“Sidhe,” Adair said.
“Probably,” she said.
“So either Peasblossom is a ruthless killer and had an accomplice, or the killer is imposing her print over his to hide his guilt.”
She nodded.
“Can’t we check her for spells?” Galen said.
Frost shook his head. “We have no one with us who is good enough at subtle magic. Humans tend to reek of magic once they’ve been in the underground for an hour or more. To differentiate between the things that might simply cling and those that are deliberate we would need Doyle, or Crystall, or Barinthus.”
“I could do it,” Aisling said.
“No,” I said.
“Don’t you trust me?” he asked, with that ghostly smile.
“Not around Dr. Polaski and her people, no.”
“You were able to gaze upon my naked body and not be bespelled. Perhaps I have lost some of my allure for mortals.”
“Or perhaps Meredith is a sidhe princess,” Mistral said, “and not mortal.”
“Using your powers has made your tongue bold, Aisling,” Hawthorne said.
Nobody seemed to like him much. Had everyone been as shaken as I had been by his little show?
Aisling looked at Hawthorne. “You gazed upon me without anything between my face and your eyes. That is a hero’s task, or was it harder to resist my beauty than you let on?” He sighed, and the teasing left his voice, replaced by sorrow. “After going so long with our needs unmet, there is no shame in being attracted to what you once would not have been. We all crave the touch of another sidhe. Sometimes I think I will go mad without the touch of another being.”
Hawthorne did a brave thing then, clasping Aisling’s shoulder in a brotherly way.
“If we are sure it is her print, then she would be our murderer,” I said.
“Yes, but if she is, then where’s the blade? Rhys traced it to your bottomless pit. The other kitchen help say that once Peasblossom found the bodies, she didn’t leave the area. She didn’t have time to go all the way to your pit to dispose of the knife.”
“Someone else did it for her,” Mistral said.
“We found one good, clear handprint on the wall near the reporter’s body. It doesn’t match any of the guards in the hallway, but the hand is of a similar size.”
“Sidhe,” Adair said.
“Probably,” she said.
“So either Peasblossom is a ruthless killer and had an accomplice, or the killer is imposing her print over his to hide his guilt.”
She nodded.
“Can’t we check her for spells?” Galen said.
Frost shook his head. “We have no one with us who is good enough at subtle magic. Humans tend to reek of magic once they’ve been in the underground for an hour or more. To differentiate between the things that might simply cling and those that are deliberate we would need Doyle, or Crystall, or Barinthus.”
“I could do it,” Aisling said.
“No,” I said.
“Don’t you trust me?” he asked, with that ghostly smile.
“Not around Dr. Polaski and her people, no.”
“You were able to gaze upon my naked body and not be bespelled. Perhaps I have lost some of my allure for mortals.”
“Or perhaps Meredith is a sidhe princess,” Mistral said, “and not mortal.”
“Using your powers has made your tongue bold, Aisling,” Hawthorne said.
Nobody seemed to like him much. Had everyone been as shaken as I had been by his little show?
Aisling looked at Hawthorne. “You gazed upon me without anything between my face and your eyes. That is a hero’s task, or was it harder to resist my beauty than you let on?” He sighed, and the teasing left his voice, replaced by sorrow. “After going so long with our needs unmet, there is no shame in being attracted to what you once would not have been. We all crave the touch of another sidhe. Sometimes I think I will go mad without the touch of another being.”
Hawthorne did a brave thing then, clasping Aisling’s shoulder in a brotherly way.