"Lang's no victim," Qui says with a sniff. He pulls out one of the vials of Blood and holds it up to the light of the room's single lamp. "Lang wouldn't be here unless he chose to be."
Jordan stares at Qui, aghast. "He's cuffed to the wall! It looks like he's been bled out for hours now! How could you say that he wanted this?"
"Of all the Warlocks I've ever met," Qui says, "Henrik is the most devoted to the study of Kindred vitae. He's experimented on his own for decades."
"Why the shackles, then?" Jordan asks. "This isn't okay; we can't just leave him like that!"
"Of course not," Qui says. "I'll be taking him in for questioning."
"We discussed this already," Lucca says, cutting into the conversation. "Corliss wanted any survivors to be brought directly to her. No exceptions."
"This hunt is my jurisdiction," the Sheriff growls. "Your sire may speak to my prisoners after they've been questioned."
Lucca shakes her head, unflappable. "Arundel has been gone for weeks. In the Prince's absence, the Seneschal governs his domain until such time as he returns or is formally replaced when someone declares praxis." Her words sound rehearsed—like she'd been expecting a situation like this to develop.
"There's no formal ruling to that effect," Qui says. "And I certainly wouldn't be the first of us to question Corliss's right to seize praxis this soon. Kindred history is littered with the corpses of ambitious vampires who thought to usurp their Princes' thrones."