respect for the hired help.
“You are excused, daughter.” The president’s face clearly reflected a father’s pride.
“Are we discussing politics?” Monique asked, her voice betraying her excitement.
“No, my dear, we are discussing your security while you tour around the country.”
The young socialite shrugged then wrinkled her nose as a servant poured her a large glass of light purple liquid. Erik’s senses caught the unfamiliar scent emanating from the freshly opened decanter – alkaloid compounds, pharmaceutical in nature. His gut tightened as he saw Monique raising the glass to her lips.
Erik grabbed a spoon from a tray and hurled it at the young woman’s wrist with deadly accuracy. “Don’t drink that. It’s poisoned!”
The spoon struck the nerve bundle in the young woman’s wrist, causing her hand to go numb. Her grip on the glass was broken, and it tumbled onto the table, its contents staining the white tablecloth.
“Ouch!” she screamed, more in surprise than in pain.
The president and his aide watched in shock while guards rushed in to subdue Erik. The president rose and motioned the guards to stop. “What the hell is going on?” President LaSalle asked him.
Before they could react further, Erik was by the young girl’s side, rubbing sensation back into her numbed hand.
Erik pointed accusingly toward the open decanter of juice. “Whatever is in that pitcher has been poisoned, a strong alkaloid poison derived from a plant oil. Somebody’s not wasting any time here, Mr. President.”
“Come, come now!” the elder LaSalle exclaimed in disbelief. “How could you possibly know such a thing?”
“Have your people check the contents if you doubt me.” Erik turned his attention back to young woman, applying gentle pressure to her wrist trying to restore sensation to her hand.
Jean-Paul studied the remaining fluid in the spilled glass. The man reached in and rubbed two of his fingers into the remaining liquid, then put a finger up to his nose and sniffed. His eyes popped open.
“Dear God,” he murmured, his face losing color. “This pomegranate-grape juice smells and feels foul.” He slumped into his chair, wiping his fingers on a starched handkerchief. “Pierre, your daughter is the only one who drinks this particular cocktail. This was set out just for her.”
“No, it cannot be,” President LaSalle whispered with dread. “Not here, in my own home!”
Monique’s composure collapsed. “Father, I could have been killed!” She turned toward the detective with tear-filled eyes. “You saved my life, Mr. Knight. I don’t have the words to thank you.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, as if warding off a sudden chill. “Dear God, they really do want to kill me.”
Erik felt sorry for the young woman who was coming to terms with some unpleasant facts regarding her station in life. “It’s okay, Miss LaSalle. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he whispered. Erik read the fear in the eyes of the president and his aide. Martin Denton was right; this was truly a job for him, for the hybrid.
She raised her eyes to Erik with new respect. “You can call me Monique.”
He forced out a reassuring grin, then grabbed a nearby empty metal pitcher off the table. “They had their shot; now it’s my turn,” he announced crushing the empty container in a fit of anger and disgust.
The president and Jean-Paul gasped but otherwise remained silent. Erik relaxed and let the anger run its course.
The anger of an Esper was far more potent than any human fit of rage. He called a guard then breathed deeply. Now was the time to plan and calculate. Later he would need to open the warrior part of him for this assignment, but for now the detective and OSA agent needed to take charge.
“Have the juice pitcher dusted for fingerprints and the content analyzed for the type of poison.” He gave napkins to the guard. “I’m not counting on success here but maybe our
“You are excused, daughter.” The president’s face clearly reflected a father’s pride.
“Are we discussing politics?” Monique asked, her voice betraying her excitement.
“No, my dear, we are discussing your security while you tour around the country.”
The young socialite shrugged then wrinkled her nose as a servant poured her a large glass of light purple liquid. Erik’s senses caught the unfamiliar scent emanating from the freshly opened decanter – alkaloid compounds, pharmaceutical in nature. His gut tightened as he saw Monique raising the glass to her lips.
Erik grabbed a spoon from a tray and hurled it at the young woman’s wrist with deadly accuracy. “Don’t drink that. It’s poisoned!”
The spoon struck the nerve bundle in the young woman’s wrist, causing her hand to go numb. Her grip on the glass was broken, and it tumbled onto the table, its contents staining the white tablecloth.
“Ouch!” she screamed, more in surprise than in pain.
The president and his aide watched in shock while guards rushed in to subdue Erik. The president rose and motioned the guards to stop. “What the hell is going on?” President LaSalle asked him.
Before they could react further, Erik was by the young girl’s side, rubbing sensation back into her numbed hand.
Erik pointed accusingly toward the open decanter of juice. “Whatever is in that pitcher has been poisoned, a strong alkaloid poison derived from a plant oil. Somebody’s not wasting any time here, Mr. President.”
“Come, come now!” the elder LaSalle exclaimed in disbelief. “How could you possibly know such a thing?”
“Have your people check the contents if you doubt me.” Erik turned his attention back to young woman, applying gentle pressure to her wrist trying to restore sensation to her hand.
Jean-Paul studied the remaining fluid in the spilled glass. The man reached in and rubbed two of his fingers into the remaining liquid, then put a finger up to his nose and sniffed. His eyes popped open.
“Dear God,” he murmured, his face losing color. “This pomegranate-grape juice smells and feels foul.” He slumped into his chair, wiping his fingers on a starched handkerchief. “Pierre, your daughter is the only one who drinks this particular cocktail. This was set out just for her.”
“No, it cannot be,” President LaSalle whispered with dread. “Not here, in my own home!”
Monique’s composure collapsed. “Father, I could have been killed!” She turned toward the detective with tear-filled eyes. “You saved my life, Mr. Knight. I don’t have the words to thank you.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, as if warding off a sudden chill. “Dear God, they really do want to kill me.”
Erik felt sorry for the young woman who was coming to terms with some unpleasant facts regarding her station in life. “It’s okay, Miss LaSalle. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he whispered. Erik read the fear in the eyes of the president and his aide. Martin Denton was right; this was truly a job for him, for the hybrid.
She raised her eyes to Erik with new respect. “You can call me Monique.”
He forced out a reassuring grin, then grabbed a nearby empty metal pitcher off the table. “They had their shot; now it’s my turn,” he announced crushing the empty container in a fit of anger and disgust.
The president and Jean-Paul gasped but otherwise remained silent. Erik relaxed and let the anger run its course.
The anger of an Esper was far more potent than any human fit of rage. He called a guard then breathed deeply. Now was the time to plan and calculate. Later he would need to open the warrior part of him for this assignment, but for now the detective and OSA agent needed to take charge.
“Have the juice pitcher dusted for fingerprints and the content analyzed for the type of poison.” He gave napkins to the guard. “I’m not counting on success here but maybe our
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