She shrugged. "I have to admit, I was bored and wasn't really taking that much notice of proceedings. But his name was Ammon. Ammon Nasser, I think."
It was a start, at least. I pulled out the photo taken from Kye's computer from my pocket and showed it to her. "Is this Nasser?"
She frowned at the printout, then shook her head. "Nasser is tall, with spikey brown hair and odd colored eyes."
"Odd how?"
She hesitated. "It's almost like the color is unstable. It shifts hue constantly. It's very weird."
It sounded it. "Are mirror wraiths vampires?"
"Generally no, but like any other person born to this world, they can chose to become one." She took a sip of coffee, her expression considering. "And he uses the mirrors extremely well, so I'd say he was a fairly old wraith when he changed."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because wraiths have certain restrictions when it comes to mirrors, much like vampires with sunshine. The ability really to use mirrors only becomes honed to a true skill as they age."
"How come you know so much about wraiths?" Rhoan asked, voice full of curiosity.
Her smile was bitter. "Because many years ago, one of them killed my family. It took me a very long time to track it down, but I eventually did."
Which was why she'd become a vampire. She didn't say it, but she didn't have to. "So how do you kill them?"
"The best way is to catch them in human form. Then you can dispatch them by any means that would kill a normal human. In smoke form, however, they are virtually unstoppable—though I have been told if you can hold them within the surface of one mirror, then smash that mirror in sunshine, you will destroy them."
"That doesn't exactly sound easy."
"No, which is why I chose the more old fashioned method." Her gaze skated down my body and she smiled when she saw I was wearing wooden heeled stilettos. "I would suggest stronger stakes. Those would not penetrate the heart of most vamps."
The weren't actually designed to do anything more than cause great discomfort, but Sal knew that. She was just getting back to her normal snarky self. Which was a good thing. "Are you able to give Jack a list of the councilors?" I added. "We really need to give these people protection."
Or, at the very least, warn them to get rid of the damn mirrors in their houses.
She hesitated, then nodded. "As long as Jack promises to keep his source confidential. They'd kick my ass if they found out it was me."
I couldn't help grinning. "I think you'll find there'd be more than a couple volunteers at the Directorate ready, willing and able to protect that ass of yours."
An eyebrow winged upwards. "Why, Riley, is that a compliment?"
"God, gag me with a spoon if I ever did that!"
She laughed—a throaty, warm sound. "Of course. How foolish of me."
"Riley," Jack said into my ear. "Get over to Vinny's and get whatever information you can about this man you saw leaving her building last night—and by whatever means necessary. You'll have to fly, because I want Rhoan to bring Sal back to base."
Jack was obviously using a party line to talk to us all, because Sal immediately said, "I am quite capable of bringing myself in."
"Yes, I know, but I refuse to lose any more councilors—or part time councilors—especially when that person is one of my own. So you will do as you're told."
"Boss," I said, "have you managed to get Kye's tracer signal yet?"
"We're only just now picking it up. He's not in the area." Which was no guarantee that he hadn't been. "Get moving, Riley."
"As soon as I finish my coffee." Which was a stupid thing to say, really.
"Now, Riley," he said, in that voice that suggested I'd better or there'd be hell to pay.
I blew out a breath, gulped down as much hot liquid as I could, once again burning my insides in the process, then did as ordered and got the hell out of there.
Of course, I might have been ordered to drag the information we needed out of Vinny, but that didn't mean I was stupid enough to do it alone. I'd confronted her like that once before, and it was only thanks to fact that Quinn had been there as back-up that Rhoan and I had gotten out relatively unscathed.
Once I'd gotten back to my car—which had been surprisingly ignored by vandals or looters in what was traditionally a high crime area—I grabbed my phone, hit the vid button, and dialed Quinn.
"Well, hello there," he said, in that softly lilting tone that always made my toes want to curl. "I was wondering when I was going to hear from you."
"Sorry, it's been a horrible night." If you could call great sex with a decidedly unwanted man who also happened to be your soul mate horrible, that was. "Have you got anything important on right now?"
"Why?"
The way he said it told me it wouldn't have mattered if he did. He'd be there for me, no matter what I needed. God, I really did love this man—even if it had taken me forever to realize that fact.
"I have to go question Vinny, and I suspect she's not going to like the subject matter—"
"And you'd like my presence as a motivational tool," he finished for me.
I grinned. "Well, she did become very motivated the last time you accompanied us."
"That's because whatever else she is, she possesses a sensible respect for beings that are far older and far more powerful than she is." He paused, and a deliciously sensual smile touched his lips. "Unlike some werewolves who shall remain nameless."
I laughed. "As you've noted repeatedly, werewolves have no sense."
"A truer point has never been made." He glanced at his watch. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"I'll be here waiting."
"Let's hope it always remains that way," he said, and hung up before I could say anything.
Making me feel even more horrible than I already did.
I rubbed the heels of my palms against my eyes and wished it would all become simple. Wished that the problem that was Kye would just disappear and that it could go back to being just me and Quinn.
But that was never going to happen, and I had to learn to deal—no matter how much pain that caused to both me and to those I loved.
Of course, Quinn would never understand the way I'd dealt with things last night. He was an old-fashioned sort when it came to sex, and giving in to what was basically blackmail would be something he'd never understand.
Or condone.
Not that he'd ever learn of it. Not if I could help it. I might love the man, but I also knew what he was capable of, and the one thing that worried me was him taking out Kye in a fit of anger. Or—worse—a fit of jealously.
He might know about the soul mate bond of werewolves, but I doubted he understood the true depth of it. Doubted he believed it could really lead to the death of the surviving partner, even though he'd witnessed the devastation Rhoan had gone through when Liander had almost died.
I leaned back against the head rest and turned on the music. But it didn't stop the thoughts from going around and around in my head, like cats chasing their tails. Nor did it help ease the worry that, sooner or later, this was all going to blow up in my face.
Fifteen minutes later, Jack buzzed me. I picked up the phone from the seat and hit the receive button. "If you're wondering why I haven't moved, I'm waiting for Quinn. I've got a feeling I'm going to need his help if we want Vinny to talk."
"Good idea," he said, "but that's not what I'm calling about."
The edge in his voice had my heart just about leaping into my throat. "Nothing has happened to Rhoan or Sal, has it?"