“Cormac isn’t here, but you took his left arm at the elbow,” Murphy said calmly. “That leaves four more fingers, a hand, and two bones in your forearm before I start dealing anything you haven’t served yourself.”

The vampire’s pale face grew paler as his blood rushed to the wound to begin healing it. “You’re insane.”

“No, I’m livid,” Murphy said. “It’s quite different, Jean. Shall we list your other kills? Let’s name them, starting with Rens and working backward.”

Jean’s eyes were glassy, but he said, “Murphy, I don’t know what you think you know, but—”

“Rens Anker, vampire. Andrew Garvey, human. Victoria Mansfield, vampire. Sarah Leeds, human. Jason Stanton, human.”

Murphy continued, naming off every human and vampire name he could remember who had lost their lives to Elixir.

“Paul Mason, human. Dory Mason, human. Alexander Mason, vampire.” He took out the knife he’d strapped to his ankle and began to cut Jean’s shirt from his body, carefully slicing the crisp cotton away, leaving the vampire’s chest bare. The water was drawn to him, but Murphy pulled it back, fierce with rage.

“Anabeth Vargas, human. Destiny Renner, human.” The names tumbled from his mouth. Murphy hadn’t even realized he remembered so many victims. It was as if they whispered to him as he stood over their murderer.

Dillon McCaffrey.

Cristina Leon.

Otto Smith.

“Emily Neely,” he said, naming the first known victim of Elixir poisoning. Brigid’s friend. A girl raised under his protection.

The first child who had wasted away.

The first parents who had lost their trust in him.

The first funeral, but not the last.

“Murphy, I have not done this to your people,” Jean said. “I swear it. Whoever killed Rens—”

“We found your ship, Jean. Found the humans. You should know better than to think you could hide anything from the old man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jean said. “My boat is moored—”

“We know you’re working with Zara. Arranging her shipments for her.”

“Murphy, this is madness! The assassin was Spanish! The housekeeper, Portuguese. Clearly, Leonor is behind this. Even her own people—”

“Shut your bloody mouth!” Murphy took a deep breath and said quietly, “I found your ledger.”

Jean fell silent.

“I recognize your writing, Jean. I watched you take notes in meetings. Signed contracts written with your own hand. A hundred letters of correspondence…” He stepped closer and leaned to Jean’s ear. “You condemned yourself, old friend. As you condemned a thousand others. Including. My. Mate.”

Defeat flickered behind Jean’s eyes.

“Murphy,” Terry said, “it’s not that I don’t trust you, but I need to see that ledger.”

“Carwyn is bringing it in.”

For the first time, Murphy saw something other than pompous rage cross Jean’s face.

“How does it feel?” he asked. “Betraying a friend like that? Turning your back on those of your race with honor?”

Jean’s lip curled, and he looked at Terry. “You speak of honor? Was it honor when he stole my human from me? That the Spanish bitch did, as well?”

“If you treated your people better than cattle, they wouldn’t have been tempted,” Terry said. “And nothing I did can excuse poisoning humans and vampires as you have.”

“Admit it,” Murphy said, dragging the tip of his knife across Jean’s abdomen. “We both know you’re not going to live much longer.”

Jean’s face went slack. “The Elixir was Zara. I never produced it.”

“But you shipped it, didn’t you?” Murphy said, gripping Jean’s chin. “Zara knows how to run a port, but she doesn’t know how to smuggle, does she? She doesn’t know what ports to use. What people to contact. That was all you, Jean.”

“I never meant to hurt Anne.”

“You pathetic bastard.” Murphy spat the words at him, hating that his mate’s name even crossed the traitor’s lips. “What did Zara promise you?”

Jean said nothing, so Murphy reached up and twisted off another finger as the vampire started screaming again.

Murphy turned to Terry. “Soundproof?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

Leonor was watching Murphy’s interrogation intently.

“I have no quarrel with you,” he said.

She nodded regally. “Nor I you, Patrick Murphy. I am in your debt for revealing the truth of this deception.” The Spanish leader looked down her nose at both Gemma and Terry. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Gemma said, “You’d have done the same thing to us if the situation were reversed.”

“No,” Leonor said, “I would have done worse.”

Murphy turned back to Jean, who was limp in his shackles. “What did she promise you, Jean?”

“Spain.”

“Madre de dios,” Leonor swore. “This Zara promised you my territory?”

“The whole point was to frame you,” Jean said, clearly understanding that survival was no longer an option. “I would step in and take over the Iberian Peninsula, giving Zara control over Gibraltar and a direct route to North Africa.”