“We might have to interrogate someone,” Eli said. He didn’t sound happy about it.
“Interrogate” didn’t mean ask questions. It meant torture.
“That’s not good,” I said. Gunnies did what they had to do to get the job done, but I had never heard of a job where that meant torture.
“Ritter or Seeley?” he asked. He wanted to know which one I thought would break first.
I pondered it. Didn’t like either choice. I said, “Rogelio. I think he knows something. He’ll cave faster than the Iron Hand people, specially if you offer to cut his face.”
Eli brightened. “Good idea.” He didn’t have the stomach for this any more than I did, but he had taken a dislike to Rogelio.
If that was the best idea I had—picking the person who’d break under pain the fastest—I really needed to think harder.
“Can’t you spell him to tell the truth?” I asked. Eli hadn’t stretched his magic muscles in a couple of days.
“I can try,” Eli said. “There’s a new…” He slapped his chest, feeling for the vest pocket that wasn’t there. “I’ll have to go back to the room,” he said. “People were staring at the vest and not listening to me, so I left it there.”
I stood. I had more questions, but they would wait. I was going to keep us moving while we were temporarily at peace with each other.
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was a lot of activity at the hotel. Not normal activity. There were people standing outside and in the lobby, all talking, all excited. There was a doctor running up the stairs, holding one of those black leather bags.
“I can only guess which room he’s running to,” I said, giving Eli a sideways look.
“But… oh, the vest,” he said, smacking himself on the forehead. “Dammit. What was I thinking?”
A middle-aged woman turned and looked at him, her face in harsh lines of rebuke. “Watch your mouth, young man,” she snapped, and let him see her back real pointedly.
“What should we do?” Eli asked me, almost whispering.
I considered. “We should find out why someone went in our room while we weren’t there, since we’d already had maid service,” I said. “We can’t pretend we don’t know about this hubbub. They’re in the wrong.” I straightened up to my tallest, which wasn’t very tall at all, and I went up the stairs mad. Eli was right behind me. Got to the top to see that sure enough, the doctor was going into our room. Mr. Mercer was standing outside trying to make up his mind if he was going to cry or beat someone up.
“You fiend!” he’d decided to scream, to work himself up into hitting Eli.
“What has happened?” Eli said, managing to sound concerned without sounding guilty.
“My daughter! My daughter! Your damn magic has hurt her! She may not live!” Now Mr. Mercer’s face was red and he lurched toward Eli, his chest leading, his arms pulled back, reminding me of a Tom turkey. It wasn’t good that I had that thought, because it made me want to smile.
“Mr. Mercer, why was your daughter in our room?” I asked, working to keep my voice absolutely level, but also to make sure it carried. “I know the maid’s already been in this morning.”
All the people listening began to remark on this in low voices. They didn’t want to miss anything. Good.
Why would the daughter of the house enter a guest’s room?
Mr. Mercer said, “I have no idea why she was in there! Maybe she was checking to make sure the maid had done her work properly! Maybe she was… I don’t know.”
He’d lost a little of his steam.
“Surely she wouldn’t handle our possessions,” I said, trying to sound amazed. “Surely she wouldn’t go through Eli’s things. That’s the only way I can picture her getting hurt in our room.”
Eli put his hands on my shoulders. His grip was gentle. I was doing okay. Mr. Mercer didn’t speak—how could he argue with what I’d said? He was peering into our room, his shoulders and hands jerking with anxiety. I did feel sorry for him, to my surprise.
“May we see how she was hurt?” I asked.
“It’s your fault!” he said again. But much more quietly.
“Is it not clear that Eli is a wizard?” I asked.
“Yes, of course,” Mercer said, paying little attention.
“And wizards have magic stuff.”
“Yes, of course.”
“So your daughter touched something of Eli’s? Knowing he was a wizard and that wizards have to have magical things with them?”
“I suppose she did!” Mercer all but shouted.
“I’m sorry she was hurt, but no one can be surprised that that happened,” I said, aiming for reasonable but gentle. “Please let Eli go in, to see if he can help her.”
The look Mercer gave us would have made me feel ashamed… if I’d been at fault. I met his eyes. After a little more hesitation, Mercer stood back from the door. “Help my girl. You owe it to her,” he growled, looking from me to Eli.
“We don’t owe her a thing,” I said. “But because we hate to see anyone hurt, we’ll do our best.” Somehow I’d gotten included in this, so I went in with Eli. I hoped I’d made our point. I hoped there wouldn’t be a lynch mob outside the hotel.
I also hoped like hell that Eli could help Miss Mercer, because otherwise nothing would keep us from big trouble.
In our room the doctor was bending over the bed. Miss Mercer was sprawled upon it, her face covered in a terrible rash. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh out loud. Eli squeezed my hand, in lieu of exclaiming in relief.
The doctor was a young man with a small beard and gold-rimmed glasses. He looked up at us over the top of those glasses, as if that would scare us. “Are you responsible for this?” he asked, his voice not as sharp as I’d expected.
“No,” Eli said. “This young lady appears to have entered our room and opened the pockets of my vest. Everyone knows a grigori’s vest contains magic powders and potions.”
“Did you hear that, Nellie?” the doctor asked. “Your curiosity almost killed you.”
Nellie Mercer whimpered. “I didn’t know…,” she said.
“You did, though,” the doctor said, not unkindly.
I was beginning to like the man.
“I’m Dr. Jerry Fielder,” he said, looking from Eli to me. “Can you help her?”
“I’m Eli Savarov, and this is Lizbeth Rose… Savarov.” Eli tacked on my new last name just in time. “Yes, I think I can help her.” He picked up his vest from the floor. Nellie Mercer had clearly rifled it, since the pocket flaps were all askew and there were some powders and a pebble on the floor.
“At least she didn’t use the pebble,” I said.
“What would have happened?” Jerry Fielder asked.
I met his eyes. “You really don’t want to know,” I told him, and for once, someone believed me when I said that.
Eli began murmuring a spell, and the air over Nellie Mercer thickened. She got all blurry. Dr. Fielder watched with great interest. He didn’t seem alarmed, for which I gave him high marks.