Keeping my tone as grim as theirs, I said, “Preservation? Not supposed to be possible.”

“Joses’ blood is different,” Sabina said, her dark eyes on her teacup. She sipped, her robes shushing in the quiet library as she lifted her arm. “It has been known to survive the test of time.”

“We need his blood. It is necessary to bring my Leo to great power,” Bethany added, also not meeting my gaze, but watching Sabina, a disturbing light in her eyes. Bethany wasn’t always sane, even as vamps went, and the jewelry in her ears and twisted and knotted and braided into her hair caught the lamplight with shots of gold and the glint of rubies. “It is necessary to make him fierce and stalwart enough to defeat the Blood Challenge of the Son of Darkness, when our enemies come to us for war.” She meant the other Son of Darkness, Joses’ brother. The EuroVamps were already making plans to show up there. When they found final proof that Joses had been held prisoner in NOLA vamp HQ, they would be there pronto, probably not waiting for any parley date decided upon. Joses was already an open secret even before draining a few vamps and humans and taking off into the day. If he wasn’t caught / killed true-dead / whatever, that just increased the chances that the EuroVamps would declare war on the New World vamps.

When I caught up with him (when, not if), I could kill Joses outright, like he needed, or capture him, like the priestesses and Leo wanted, but capturing a rabid vamp was a lot harder than staking him and beheading him. And from where I sat, we were all screwed, no matter what I did. Rather than voice that, I sipped the très expensive tea.

“Our master did not drink of the blood of the son of his body. Think on this.”

I had a feeling this arcane tidbit of info was important, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it just then. “Yeah. Whatever. How am I supposed to track and capture one of the two Sons of Darkness, the maker of all vamps? Are you gonna show up with the Blood Cross and herd him into a silver cage?” I asked Sabina.

She still didn’t meet my eyes. I wondered if that was an admission of some kind of guilt or if she was afraid I’d read something in her gaze that she wanted kept secret. Or maybe not meeting a person’s eyes was a cultural thing from her own time and people. Like not making eye contact when asking a favor or standing in a crowded elevator. Something like that. I didn’t know, and there was no way to ask.

“I still cannot embrace the true Blood Cross,” Sabina said. “The injury I suffered the last time I wielded it burned deep. I am not healed from the fire I suffered.”

“You may never be healed enough to wield it again,” Bethany said. “You should give it over to a stronger priestess. To me.”

Oookaaay, I thought. The rift between the priestesses wasn’t getting any smaller, in spite of the tea and the apparent agreement on the subject of Joses Bar-Judas.

“When it is determined that I am permanently no longer able to carry out my duties,” Sabina said, starting to sound testy, “I will turn it over to another. For now, I am healing, and—”

“For now? You have been healing for too long!” Bethany said, anger ringing in her voice.

I had seen paintings of the last time Sabina had wielded the Blood Cross, trying to stop the Damours, a vampire-witch clan, from practicing blood magic on witch children. That had taken place hundreds of years ago, so no way was I entering what had to be an old, old argument. The idea of Bethany in control of that powerful icon was terrifying. The idea that Sabina might not be up to using it in a time of war was just as terrifying. I sipped and kept my eyes on my tea. Very pale, with the cream. And in a lovely china cup.

Implacable as mountain stone, Sabina continued. “I am the Keeper. I am able to wield the sliver of the Blood Cross and thus will remain the Keeper. I will assist Jane Yellowrock in capturing Joses Bar-Judas.”

Bethany laughed. “Capture? You will die at his fangs if you try to capture him.” She looked at me, her black skin seeming to absorb the lamplight. “You must call me when the time comes, if you can. There will be no way to capture our maker without me.” With a soft pop of displaced air, Bethany vanished and appeared at the door, which opened and closed behind her, leaving me with Sabina.

Officially, the day sucked. If I kept a diary, that would have been the day’s sole entry.

I risked a glance up at the most powerful vamp in the U.S. Well, maybe the second-most powerful now that Joses was free. She was serene, sipping her tea, the cup cradled in both pale, pale hands. “Two young Mithrans were attacked as they slept this day,” she said. “Liam and Vivian were drained by a nightmare. They were brought here, to my sister priestess and to me. They may survive. Their humans were attacked as well, and are all dead. The nightmare escaped into the daylight, smoking and gibbering.”

My body tightened. Humans dead. By a nightmare. Joses had needed human and vamp blood to start his transformation, and he would need human and vamp blood to continue his healing. I wondered how much blood it would take to change him from the starving bag of bones that had hung in sub-five to anything that could pass among humans. There would be more humans killed and more vamps drained if he stayed free. I nodded my understanding. I had met the two young vamps, Liam and Vivian, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what they looked like. I should have been able to remember people I was paid to protect, but there were hundreds of vamps in New Orleans.

“You will find where Joses Bar-Judas lairs and call upon me, not my sister priestess. We will bring him back to the Master of the City.” It wasn’t a request, which officially placed me between several rocks and several hard places. “Witches have workings that can locate and follow many different forms of sentient beings. You have entrée to the witches of this city through your Trueblood friends. Witches who, if asked, will assist in tracking the Son of Darkness.”

A cold shaft of fear went through me, as I realized that Sabina was talking about Molly and Evan, who had recently been in New Orleans and who would be back soon to put together the Witch Conclave, a national meeting of the covens to try to reach reconciliation with the vamps. I was supposed to be in the middle of it all. “You’re talking about me using my friends?” I said, putting emphasis on the words.

“Yes. Your friends.” She smiled as if she had said something blissful. “You are friends with witches.” She settled vamped-out eyes, pupils blown with scarlet sclera, on me. They hadn’t looked like that a moment before. I managed not to flinch at the sight, but my breath caught and she breathed in, as if she scented my sudden apprehension. Carefully, I set the cup and saucer on the table, glad when they didn’t clink with shaking hands.