“Curran’s whore comes to visit us,” Jarek said in accented English.

The three men laughed as if on cue. I glanced at Mahon. “You really shouldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

Mahon’s bushy eyebrows came together.

I sat in the chair. “Your daughter was attacked last night.”

“And?”

“Looking for some fatherly reactions here: is she okay, was she hurt?” I leaned forward. “You know, things men ask when their children are attacked.”

Jarek shrugged. “Why should I worry? That’s why we hired you. To keep my precious daughter safe.”

“Where were you last night at midnight?”

“Here. Wasn’t I?” Jarek spread his arms.

“Yes,” the older bald man said.

“Here,” Renok said and winked.

Jarek Kral leaned toward me. Oh boy. Here we go. “What does he see in you?” His tone was light, almost conversational. “You’re not a shapeshifter, you’re not powerful, and you’re not beautiful. No body. No face.”

Behind me Barabas took a sharp breath.

“Do you give good sex?” Jarek Kral propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his fist. “Do you suck his cock?”

Oh look, someone looked up a couple of dirty words in the English dictionary. Cute.

Jarek leaned a little forward, happy with himself. “Does he like his cock sucked? Or did you not do a good job? Is that why your face looks like this?”

Amateur. “Why are you so curious about Curran’s cock? Are you looking for something new to suck? You’re welcome to ask him, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like you like that.”

The three men drew back. Jarek blinked. Barabas laughed under his breath.

“Try to pay attention,” I told him. “I will speak slowly, so you can understand. Your daughter was attacked. There are strange creatures in this castle. We have a blood test that can identify them. Will you let us test your blood?”

Jarek laughed.

He didn’t seem nervous, but he was so animated, I couldn’t tell if he was reacting at all.

“Maybe we should test your blood.” Renok grabbed my left arm. He was fast, but I saw him move and I let him do it. His fingers closed on my wrist. He pulled my arm, bending it at the elbow to expose the inside of the forearm. I waited half a second to make sure everyone saw it and drove the flat palm of my right hand against his wrist. He was strong, but he didn’t expect me to be. His hold slipped. I grabbed his wrist with my right hand and twisted it, wrenching his arm. He bent forward, trying to keep his shoulder in its socket. I yanked a throwing knife out of my sheath and drove it through his trapezius muscle at the top of his shoulder, nailing him to the coffee table with a knife.

The whole thing took half a breath.