Alice raised the teacup she’d been drinking from before they’d knocked as if in a mock toast. “Further services, meaning you want me to cast the spell if I think it can be done. Right.”
Remy stepped in. “We all have to protect our reputations, ma’am. You know how it is. Would you be willing to simply have a look at the recipe for starters?”
“Well…” She sighed. “It’s not like I have much choice, do I? When the vampire who rules the city asks you to do something, it’s usually wise to do it.”
Both her visitors sat in silence for a couple of seconds while Alice sipped her tea.
Taylor, her hand still sheathed in a black glove, drummed her fingertips against the table. “I prefer to think of it as overseeing the city, rather than ruling it. I’ve not given you an order or a threat. In any event, we might as well drop the pretense.”
“Quite right,” the witch agreed and looked firmly at the other lady. “I know who you are and I have a fair hunch as to why you’re here. I hear all the rumors, Ms Steele. Your reputation precedes you. Ever since you more or less usurped control of the Council and reduced it to an extension of your will, other and even worse types have coveted your position. You want me to help you retain it.”
Remy was almost shocked. This woman had to know how dangerous his partner was, and yet there she was, saying stuff like that. Then again, he had probably said worse on multiple occasions.
The vampire was still calm but now frowned grimly. “Even worse would be a gross understatement, Ms Pendlebury. The preternatural world is volatile, and I wield a heavy hand only when it is necessary to keep the general peace. The rival to whom you allude would turn New York into their own private cattle farm, complete with slaughterhouse.”
He leaned forward and added, “Hey, I’m still fairly new to the preternatural stuff, if the truth be told. I’ve only done this about half a year. And while I’ll be the first to say that Taylor is someone you don’t fuck with without good reason, I’ve also seen that she returns the favor. She’s gone out on a limb multiple times, and virtually everyone we’ve—” He almost said killed but changed his mind. “Everyone we’ve fought against has actively threatened people, regular mortals and preternaturals alike. This isn’t only about palace intrigue or whatever. It’s about the common good.”
Alice stared briefly at him and her bright eyes seemed to grow behind her spectacles.
“You’re sincere about that, aren’t you? Naïve and a little pompous, but I can tell you’re not a complete prick. And somehow, I don’t sense that Ms Steele is simply using you as her PR guy. Very well, then, I’ll at least have a look at the spell. But if you want me to do any more than offer my professional opinion, I have a condition.”
Again, they exchanged glances and again, she nodded.
“Okay. What is it?”
The witch smiled. Well, smirked, really. “You must provide me with something I want. Besides money, that is. And I’ll only tell you what it is, young man.”
Remy spread his hands. “Sure. Anything, at this point. We weren’t lying when we said that innocent lives are at stake here.”
Alice motioned for him to stand and follow her into the living room, while Taylor waited, impassive and silent, in the kitchen. The witch leaned close to his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
“Okay,” he replied. “To the best of our ability, we’ll deliver when the time comes. Now, please fulfill your end of the bargain.”
“Of course, of course,” Alice said and suddenly seemed pleased with herself. She almost danced back to the kitchen. Taylor had taken a slip of paper out of her pocket and laid it on the table.
The woman’s spirits dampened quickly enough, though, after she looked at the spell and its list of necessary components. While her visitors sat, waiting and earnest, she sighed and rubbed her cheeks.
“Well, ladies and gents,” she proclaimed. “It seems we have a true gourmet recipe here. This will require a little more than only a sprig of white sage. My goodness. these are special ingredients—the type I don’t happen to have around the house.”
Remy looked at the vampire.
“So be it,” Taylor agreed. “I’d guessed as much. Where do we get them?”
Chapter Eighteen
Taylor’s House, Harrison, Westchester County, New York
Remy was developing a good feeling about the whole endeavor. From doubting that they’d even be able to get Alice to talk to them, they’d now convinced her to return to Taylor’s house with them. It helped, of course, that the vampire possessed a vast library of esoteric literature. In addition, she already had a few of the necessary ingredients.
During the drive to Harrison, the witch had been curious about Conrad.
“So what are you, anyway?” she’d asked as she poked briefly in the satchel of things she’d brought from home. “You’re not quite a normal human, I assume.”
Wonder Boy had cleared his throat and stated politely, “Lycanthrope, ma’am. My name’s Conrad Warfield. I understand you’re Alice Pendlebury? It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well,” she’d marveled, “isn’t he a polite one.”
Remy had almost drawn blood in biting down on his tongue.
He’d also been curious as to what, exactly, was on Taylor’s spell ingredients list, but assumed it was pointless to ask before the two women had the opportunity to look through the vampire’s motherlode of arcane tomes and decide exactly what they were dealing with.
The drive seemed to take forever, particularly since the conversation was only sporadic and mostly forced. Remy didn’t feel up to trying to inject levity into the proceedings yet. He might still need his snarking juices for whatever lay ahead.
When they arrived at the estate, Presley had been unfazed by the presence of the strange lady, although a curious look of satisfaction crept onto his face when he realized she was another ex-Brit. He hadn’t complained when Taylor asked that they be left undisturbed in the library.
The witch admired the antiquated yet tasteful style of the place. “It’s a lovely house you have here. I must say, I’m excited to examine your book depository.”
“Thank you,” Taylor replied. “Unfortunately, we do not have time to peruse every single tome. Still, a quick review of the occult section ought to point you in the proper direction. Let me know if you need anything.”
The library lay at the rear of the house. Remy had only been back there a couple of times. Although perfectly literate, he had to admit he wasn’t a very avid reader. Plus, most of her collection seemed to consist of old, dusty nonfiction written either in stilted, archaic English or in other languages altogether.
The room was decorated mostly in dark greens and deep browns, with occasional accents of rich crimson and burnished gold. The wooden bookshelves reached almost to the ceiling, and a rolling stepladder stood in the corner.
Alice, her eyes sparkling brighter than ever, practically plunged into the room.
“Oh, this is marvelous.” She chuckled. “I’m tempted to further alter our bargain to include a provision that I can come here simply to browse and read whenever I want.”
“Hmm,” Taylor hedged. “Forgive me if I don’t specifically offer that privilege yet. Let us see how things go. Now, my collection of magical works is over here.”
Remy followed as she led them to the far corner of the chamber. The vampire stepped back and stood beside him while the witch peered at the spines of the many books.
“My goodness,” she remarked. “This is impressive but also, shall we say, somewhat disturbing. You have some dark stuff here in addition to very obscure material alongside the standard classics. Let’s see…”
“Be careful,” he warned her. “Presley has a book somewhere around here called Proper Care of Topiary Gardens. You wouldn’t want to so much as touch that one by accident.”
Ignoring him, Alice mostly spoke aloud as she examined the volumes and related her feelings on Taylor’s diverse hoard.
&
nbsp; “Yes, yes. Enochian magic…it’s always nice to see some appreciation for good sir John Dee. Some ancient Egyptian stuff—fundamental. Hmm, I’m not sure I like the look of this one…what language is this? It’s rare that I can’t identify it. But the book feels cold to the touch so it’s perhaps best left alone. Not that I’m a stranger to the blacker kinds of magic but it can get complicated if one isn’t careful. Oh, and here’s some Taoist alchemy…very nice.”
She turned toward her host, her hands folded behind her back. “Yes, Ms Steele, your diverse and extensive library gets my stamp of approval.”
Taylor smiled and Remy almost sensed that she was mildly taken aback. “That’s quite a compliment, coming from you, Ms. Pendlebury.”
“Oh?” She looked at the vampire with an expression that was neutral yet somehow intense and awaited further commentary.
Taylor folded her arms over her chest. “In truth, your reputation precedes you as well. It’s surprising that we haven’t met before today.”
Remy raised an eyebrow at that. He didn’t know if she was bluffing or not. Since it had taken Bobby’s careful Internet search before Alice came up, he assumed she was at least partially lying.
Maybe she’s referring to the stuff she read about our witch last night while I was sleeping? That would make sense. Even after all these months, I still can’t read her as well as I ought.
“Yes,” Taylor continued, “when my assistants produced your name, I thought I’d heard it before. You’ve successfully worked some rather powerful magicks—notably, the perimeter spell around greater New York. That’s likely been almost as much a boon to the peace of our city as my own efforts have.”
Perimeter spell? He made a mental note to ask about it later. First, though, there was something else he still wanted to know.
“So, Taylor,” he enquired, as the witch pulled down three books and set them on a small table. “Since I’m a big boy now, may I see that mysterious list of ingredients? I’m curious as to what’s so obscure that Ms Pendlebury seemed to have developed a migraine over it when we showed her.”
Taylor pursed her lips. “Hmm. Very well. I’ll probably need you to help fetch some of them, anyway. Although not until Alice gives us the go-ahead.”
She handed him the slip of paper.
He unfolded it and squinted at the flowery, old-fashioned handwriting, his eyes slowly scanning the list.
“Wow,” he said. “I take it these ones you crossed off are what either you or Alice already have?”
“Correct.” She pointed with a red nail. “The others are the ones that concern us.”
The witch, overhearing them, smiled and patted her satchel.
Remy returned his attention to the uncrossed items.
“Fascinating,” he remarked. “That only leaves, let’s see here… One, apples from the Garden of Eden. Two, a piece of the Burning Bush. Three, fairy dust—that one I think we can manage. Four, a dead man’s blood. Cute. And five, the blood of someone ‘already under subject’s control.’ I assume that means one of Moswen’s thralls.”
He folded the paper again and handed it back, then commented, “Much of this stuff—the first two uncrossed ones, plus a few of the others—seems kinda Biblical, doesn’t it?”
“Well, of course,” Taylor snapped. “What did you expect? The spell is from Sinai, and those whom it’s meant to affect come from the surrounding environs as well.”
“It makes a certain amount of sense.” He shrugged. “As long as the last phase of the spell doesn’t consist of some guy appearing out of thin air and trying to cajole us into joining his church group. What do you mean ‘those whom it’s meant to affect,’ though?”
Alice looked up from the tome she was reading, turned her gaze to the vampire, and waited to see if she answered.
“Vampires originated from Egypt and the Holy Land millennia ago. Logically, therefore, the magic that can bind them—us—is equally ancient and comes from the same region.”
Remy shook his head and pretended to be confused. “What? I thought you originated from England.”
“Be quiet, Remington. You know what I meant. Vampirism originated there. Individual vampires, before we are turned, may vary.” Her mind already appeared to have raced ahead to consider plans for their next course of action.
“Ohhh,” he replied, “right. Of course. Mad cow disease is the one that comes from England. I had them completely mixed up in my head!”
Her eyes refocused on him. “You are truly astounding, do you know that? I wonder how many times, over the years, you rightfully should have had your ass kicked, but the person you opened your mouth to was simply too stunned at your audaciousness to act before you had time to flee.”
“Um,” he responded and squinted as he combed through his memory, “probably forty or forty-five. Maybe fifty, tops. The other nine hundred times everyone was simply won over by my good looks and charm.”
Alice stared at him. “You’re not bad-looking. But I’m not so sure about the charm, though.”
Grinning hugely, Remy thrust his hands into his pockets. “Aww. Well, that’s only because you don’t know me well enough yet. Fear not. Everyone loves me once they know what’s up.”
The witch had already returned her attention to the tome before her. “We’ll see, I suppose.”
Taylor, too, had moved away from him to watch the woman, ready to offer aid or commentary. Feeling like a third wheel, he said, “Well, I’ll leave you girls to your spellbooks and stuff. I happen to know a fairy personally, so I’ll get in touch with her about the fairy dust. I could also use a shower…”
Trailing off, he turned and left, heading to the stairs to his second-floor abode. Halfway down the hallway, he pulled his phone out and called the office.
Bobby answered after the first ring and clearly noted the caller ID. “Hi, Mr Remington.”
“Hi, Bobby. We found our witch and she’s helping for now. How are things on your end?”
“Not too bad. Kendra and I ended up spending the night here since we were still working late and we wanted to be available in case anything happened. We could use some decent shut-eye, though.”
“Hmm,” he replied, “you might as well come on over to Taylor’s. She has a few more spare rooms, and Conrad was nice enough to sleep on the couch.”
Behind him, the werewolf commented, “Think nothing of it, sir.”
Remy extended a thumbs-up in his general direction without looking at him and mounted the staircase.
“Also, we’ll need Riley’s help with things that are…uh, specific to…um, people like her.” He wasn’t sure if Kendra could overhear their conversation, so it was better not to mention the fae specifically.
“Oh, shit,” Bobby breathed. “I almost forgot about her. Hold on one sec, okay?”
He stopped near the top of the staircase. All at once, he was worried. It would have been far too easy for the fairy to slip away while Bobby and Kendra were preoccupied and make her way to the nearest shopping center. While waiting for the receptionist to return, he loosened his tie with his free hand.
A moment later, Bobby picked the phone up again. “Okay, well, she’s not here. She was sleeping under your coffee mug—that big one you keep on your desk—and I forgot that Kendra cleaned last night. I went to check the cup, and it wasn’t there. And the dishwasher had been running.”
Remy’s hand stopped working at his tie as he froze in place and went cold.
“But,” she went on, “when I opened it, there was no sign of Riley. She must have gone off somewhere. Maybe she went home to the colony?”
It occurred to him that he didn’t know what happened to fairies when they were no longer among the living. For all he knew, they might vanish in a puff of vapor. “Let’s hope that she’s okay and that she hasn’t gotten herself into anything she can’t get out of…” He trailed off, thanked Bobby for updating him, and ended the call.
“Fuck,” he rasped. His first urge was to rush to Fort Wa
shington Park and check for her. But then, if something terrible had happened, would the colony know about it via some preternatural instinct? He didn’t want to deal with that on top of his own potential grief.
Instead, he walked into his bedroom to finish the process of undressing and douse himself in copious streams of hot water.
His eyes bulged. “Jesus fucking goddamn shit,” he sputtered.
Lying on his bed was Riley herself in her true, five-inch-tall form and her usual short silky dress, sleeping peacefully.
He drew a hand down over his face as he exhaled and his shoulders slumped with massive relief. Quickly, he took his phone out again and redialed the most recent number in his contacts.
“Never mind,” he told Bobby, “she’s here. She must have drifted in this morning while we were out.”
“Oh.” Bobby sighed. “Thank God. I’m really sorry about this. I’ll tell Kendra to leave the coffee cups alone from now on.”
He reassured her that it was fine, said goodbye, and hung up again. As the phone vanished into his pocket, the tiny fairy turned, yawned, stretched, and opened her eyes.
“Remy,” she said in a small voice. “Hi. You wouldn’t believe what a weird night I had…”
“Actually,” he countered, “I probably believe it, based on what I just heard.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling tired again as the tension left him and the ongoing stress of the last few days emerged in its place.
“I slept under the cup,” Riley explained, “in case that lady from the FBI could see me. I don’t think she could, but she’s seen the people who were mutated by Snow White, so I wasn’t sure. She scooped me up in it and almost put me in that chamber where you boil things with chemicals. I woke up and escaped while she wasn’t looking seconds before she closed the door. Honestly, it scared me, and I thought I should come here instead.”
Under Pressure (Moonlight Detective Agency Book 4) Page 17
