The car ride had been mostly silent.
And, while she wasn't frowning, I could feel the frown wanting to form. She was worried, ashamed, and guilty. But she couldn't decide which emotion should have more weight and was struggling to sort them out.
As we walked up the steps toward Jackson's apartment, I paused and put a hand on her head. Giving her a light pat, I turned her towards me and smiled.
"I'm not even a little disappointed in you," I told her. "Your doubts were valid."
"But I questioned your knowledge!"
"No," I said. "You questioned the authenticity of a grimoire you had never seen or read. That's not stupid. That's intelligent. When you questioned it, you weren't aware of my role in its creation. You assumed it might be the dangerous rantings of a madman. That you voiced your doubt pleases me, Hina. Let your heart be at ease."
"I-"
"Have suffered enough tonight, I'm sure," I finished for her. I gave her a smile I had once been told was somewhat mischievous. "I let you suffer, Hina. Not as punishment. But so when I praise you for your concern, you can look back and realise it was all for nothing. Think of it as a lesson, if you like."
She bowed her head to hide her face. "Now I feel ashamed."
"Oh, good," I grinned at her. "Consider it also punishment for showing your legs to me this morning in a most provocative manner."
"I wasn't!" Her cheeks flushed bright red as she let out a strangled squeak. "I was just getting dressed!"
"The lady doth protest too much," I chuckled, patting her head one last time. "But I won't humiliate you any further. Come, my little Renfield. Let's humiliate someone else together."
She trotted behind me, her face still blushing as she busied herself by smoothing out her skirt.
Jackson was on the fifth floor. The elevator smelled old and like someone had pissed in it recently.
The hallway's carpet was stained and worn thin in places. One of the lights was out. Another flickered. Graffiti was sprawled over the walls, bright but illegible. I couldn't see any rats or cockroaches, but I expected they were there.
Watching.
It was not a nice place.
I couldn't help comparing it to the apartment I was living in. Which made me remember something I'd told the Renfields about Noblesse Oblige. But did I owe this Jackson any obligation?
I didn't think so. He wasn't my employee. Nor was I responsible for him.
Then I remembered the security guards who monitored my tower. Some of them had been injured when the Hellsings had attacked. There were also a handful of other employees involved in cleaning and maintenance. And a Building manager.
Did they live in places like this?
I made a mental note to check and have them relocated if they did.
Jackson answered the door and looked pretty much exactly as I'd expected him to. Lean and wiry with a weasel's eyes and a sour expression which seemed to rest naturally on his face. Deep lines courted his eyes and cheeks.
As his door opened, the stink of stale cigarettes and beer waved past us.
I didn't want to enter, but I wasn't going to talk to him in the hall.
He had time only for his dazed eyes to widen before Hina shoved the muzzle of her precious FN-P90 against his nose. Again, I hadn't seen where she'd pulled it from!
"Tch," I grunted.
"Make a sound," Hina growled at the frightened man. "And I'll put a hole through your face. Move back. Slowly."
He obeyed, lifting his trembling hands. Biting his lip so he didn't say anything.
She guided him back into the living room and pushed him onto the couch. Stood over him, the gun never wavering from his head.
I looked around.
The interior was worse than the hall.
Kitchenette looked barely serviceable. Covered in dirty dishes. Some must have been there for days.
The couch was frayed, with bits of foam spilling out. A baseball game was playing on the television. Molly had tried introducing me to baseball. I wasn't sure what to think of it.
The little coffee table was covered in crumpled beer cans, an ashtray overflowing with ash and stubs.
I couldn't tell what colour the carpet had originally been, and everything seemed to be glazed with a dull greasy film that made my skin crawl just to be near.
I sighed.
I'd seen pigs living in a cleaner environment.
"Your name is Jackson," I said. "You worked in my tower. And you stole a book. Where is it?"
"Huh?" He flicked his gaze from Hina to me. "I don't know what you're talkin' about! I ain't no fuckin' thief!"
I stared at him. He was clearly on some kind of narcotic.
This would all be so much easier if I could just dominate his mind. Impatience tugged at my heart. I needed time! Time to fix everything.
"Hina?" I didn't take my gaze away from his. "Please remind him."
The Renfield cocked her head, thinking.
Jackson's hands shot up to protect his face. "Wait!"
As Hina dropped her aim and pulled the trigger. Once.
The bullet splashed into his foot and passed through to bury itself in the concrete floor.
He blinked.
Then started howling in agony. "My foot! You fuckin' shot my foot! You fuckin' bitch!"
"Hush!" My arm snaked out, gripping him by the throat as I slammed him back into the couch and glared down into his terrified eyes. "I only want to hear one thing from you. Where is the book?"
"I-"
"Shoot his other foot please, Hina."
The suppressed weapon burped another bullet. Blood pulled quickly, soaking into the already-stained carpet.
His scream shattered the air until it cut off with a gurgle as I squeezed his throat tighter. "I told you," I hissed. "All I want to hear is an answer to my question."
"I didn't," he wept. "Didn't steal nothin'."
"I will have her shoot your knees next."
"Please…" His whine was like a puppy beaten half to death.
"Where is it?"
I could see his mind clanking away like an old engine. Trying to figure a way out which wouldn't involve confessing to a crime. A thousand stories were forming in his drugged brain. Each more outlandish than the last.
His eyes narrowed, crafty despite the pain, then he looked up at me.
Licked his lips.
And his face drained completely of all colour as he saw in my sardonic smile that I knew he was about to try and lie. That I didn't care if he did. Because all it would earn him was more agony.
As though emphasizing his fear, Hina lifted the gun's aim to point directly at his knee. Her expression was absolutely empty. Bordering on cold.
I reflected, with proud amusement, that she was pretty good at this.
"I…" He bit his lip again, conflicted.
"Hina?"
"Wait! Wait, I'll tell! I'll fuckin' tell!" His voice came out as a thin squeal. "Please don't shoot my knee, man…"
"Where is it?"
"I… I sold it."
"Sold it," I repeated wearily. I hoped this wasn't going to turn into a rabbithole. "To whom?"
"Huh?"
"Who did you sell it to?"
"Oh." He grimaced, showing his yellowed teeth. His head clicking again as he considered sending me down that rabbithole. I gave him a shake of my head and he closed his eyes, blurting; "I sold it to Gibbon Reys."
I glanced at Hina, who shrugged.
"Who?"
"Gibbon Reys," he repeated. "I sold it to him. I know him from some jobs I did for him. He's a collector of old books. But he don't like to call them books. He calls them grimoires like they're somethin' special. I don't know. I took it to him. I sold it to him. Please don't shoot me anymore…"
"Hmm." I really wished I could dominate him and go through his memories. "Where does this man live?"
He pointed to a small table by the door. "I got his card in my wallet…"
"Hina?"
Without a word, she went to get the wallet.
Digging around, she came up with a small card. She looked at it. An address was scrawled on the back. "It's here," she said.
"See?" He looked up at me hopefully. "I didn't lie to you…"
"If he doesn't have the book, I will return. And you won't like what I do to you when I do."
"I ain't lyin'! I sold it to him, I swear!"
I studied him for a few heartbeats. He seemed to be telling the truth.
I nodded.
He sighed in relief.
Then I snapped his neck with a swift twist of my wrist. A sound like the snap of a moist twig was all he made. Then he was gone.
How easy it is to end a life.
It was a waste of blood, but there was no way I was going to touch whatever putrid fluid ran through his veins.
Hina was already opening the door to leave as I turned away from the corpse, wiping my hand on my jeans.
"Disgusting creature," I grunted.
As we drove away from Jackson's apartment, I couldn't get the foul stench of his room out of my nostrils.
I was not in a good mood anymore.
Gibbon Reyes, I thought, I pity you.