Great, another Italian. Maybe Dominic knew him. “What’s in the container?”

“Blood.”

“Why are you bringing Mal blood?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“You don’t have to live, either.” Creek shoved the halm harder into Luciano’s chest. “Who are you working for? Dominic?” The faintest hint of recognition flared in Luciano’s eyes. “So you are. Why the blood then?”

Luciano looked like he’d rather sunbathe than answer, but he did anyway. “The blood is drugged. To keep Mal from killing anyone. The comarré requested it.”

“Chrysabelle?”

“Si.”

“We’re not enemies then. Not yet.” Creek moved the halm, but kept it at full length in case the situation changed. “Why would Chrysabelle want to keep Mal drugged? And why would Mal kill anyone? He gets all the blood he needs from Chrysabelle.”

Luciano sighed and glanced at the sky. “The sun comes soon. Perhaps we can talk elsewhere?”

“I like the sun. Explain.”

With another very exasperated sigh, Luciano answered. “Mal’s love for her was stolen by a fae. Now he is like he was before. A beast. A creature controlled only by his desire to feed.” Luciano shrugged. “This comarré still loves him and does not want him to die. Not yet. Not if she can bring his love back. So until then… we feed him. Keep him sedated so he harms no one. Are you satisfied? Can I go? Otherwise I may be forced to kill you so that I do not perish as well.” He smiled like that was funny.

Creek aimed the halm at him again. “One more question. Did you sire the mayor?”

Luciano’s smiled faded. “Cazzo! Will no one let me live this down? Yes, what of it?”

Creek had orders to kill the vampire who’d sired the mayor, but Luciano was keeping Mal from killing anyone else with these blood deliveries. He’d have to explain to Annika what was going on so the situation could be reassessed. He jabbed his halm into Luciano’s chest. “Sire anyone else and I’ll kill you myself, understand?”

Luciano sneered. “Under what authority, human?”

Creek twisted the halm so that Luciano’s shirt wound around the end in a tight knot, and then he pulled the vampire in close. “Under the authority of the Kubai Mata, bloodsucker.”

He laughed. “The KM don’t exist.”

“You don’t believe me, ask Chrysabelle. She’s seen the brands on my back. Or maybe you should just take a nice deep inhale and get a whiff of the holy magic in my blood. I’ve heard it smells sour to your kind.”

Luciano’s nostrils flared, and then his eyes went a very fearful shade of silver. He nodded. “I won’t sire any others. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Creek yanked the halm back, tearing it loose from Luciano’s shirt. A second later, he stood alone on the deck, the only reminder anyone else had been there the container of blood on Mal’s doorstep and the breeze left behind in Luciano’s wake.

Chief Vernadetto arrived just after lunch. Within half an hour, Doc had set him up with a conference room to use to take statements. Barasa and Omur waited with Doc in his office. They’d have their turns too, but he was up next. “This is a mess, you know. I’ve lied to Fi. I’ve lied to Remo. Now what, I’m supposed to lie to the cops?”

Barasa cleared his throat. “You have no choice. None of us do. We have to tell the same story or this house of cards will fall.”

Omur nodded. “I’m sorry, Maddoc. I know this goes against your grain.”

Doc snorted. “I used to run drugs for Dominic Scarnato. You think lying to the Five-Oh goes against my grain? It was the only grain I had for a lotta years.” He sighed. “I just don’t like doing it where Fi’s concerned.”

A knock on the door turned their attention.

“Come in,” Doc answered.

Remo entered, looking less than pleased. “Vernadetto’s ready for you.”

Doc stood and went without a word. Vernadetto sat at the far end of the conference table with an e-tablet in front of him, the screen black, and a cup of coffee. Doc shut the door, then sat near him. “Chief.”

“Maddoc.” Vernadetto tapped the screen to bring it to life. “Where were you the night of the alleged murder?”

No small talk then. “In the stands of the arena.”

“What was your relationship with the deceased, Heaven Silva?”

“Her husband by pride law.”

Vernadetto nodded. “I remember that. Because you killed Sinjin, correct?”

“He challenged me. And I killed him in self-defense,” Doc added.

“Yes, self-defense.” Vernadetto scrawled something with his stylus. “Were you aware that the sand in the arena had been laced with silver dust?”

And so it began. “No.”

“Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Heaven?”

“To be honest, I didn’t know her well enough to be able to answer that. She may have had enemies, but I couldn’t tell you who. I can give you her tablet and password though. You can look through her contacts yourself.”

“Thank you. That will help.” More scribbling. “Who has access to the arena before a fight of this nature?”

Doc shrugged. “Pretty much anyone with access to the building. When the arena’s being prepped, it’s hardly ever locked.”