Sleight of Fantasy: Sasha Urban Series: Book 4

by Dima Zales

  “No,” Felix and I say in unison.

  “Ariel would have to decide if you can use her room,” I say. “Help us find her, though, and you can stay in mine.” Seeing a glimmer in her eye, I add, “While I stay on the couch.”

  Kit looks thoughtful. “If you’re sure Gaius had something to do with this, perhaps Vlad—”

  “That’s a great idea,” I say and sprint for the front door.

  Rushing over to Rose’s apartment, I ring the doorbell and cross my fingers.

  “Sasha.” Rose opens the door, smiling. “What a treat.”

  “I’m actually looking for Vlad,” I say. “Ariel is missing, and I think she might be with Gaius, so—”

  “Vlad isn’t here.” The smile evaporates from Rose’s face. “A lot of Enforcer business accumulated when we were on vacation. He’s only going to be back tomorrow evening.”

  “Do you think you could call him and ask about Gaius for me?”

  “Of course.” Rose waves me into the apartment. Walking over to her circa-nineties landline, she dials a number.

  I do my best to follow the movement of her fingers, storing the digits in my memory—just in case.

  Vlad must pick up on the second ring, because Rose immediately asks if he knows where Gaius is.

  Then she frowns, covers the mouthpiece, and informs me that he doesn’t.

  “Sorry,” she mouths. “Vlad said he’ll try to find him, but he’s still on leave.”

  She then makes kissing noises into the phone and hangs up as I try not to blush.

  “He’ll let me know if he hears anything,” she says, walking over to her couch. “Now please tell me about Ariel.”

  I do as she requests, then return to my apartment and tell Kit and Felix what happened.

  “Interesting that Vlad didn’t pick up when I called him a moment ago,” Kit says archly.

  “We have to do something,” I say and start pacing the living room.

  “Like what?” Felix asks.

  “I don’t know.” I stop and look at him, then at Kit.

  “If she isn’t kidnapped, there isn’t much we can do.” Felix rubs his chin. “She’s a big girl. If she wants to drink—”

  “No.” My hands curl into fists. “You saw how she was when we rescued her.”

  “I’m afraid he’s right, though,” Kit says. “One has to want to get help. I speak from personal experience.”

  “We’ll see,” I say and storm into my room.

  As I pace next to my bed, crazy ideas swirl through my head. Would Nero be willing to lock up Ariel for me? There’s already a food-stocked cage at the fund that doubles as my office. We can put her there—

  What am I saying?

  I can’t lock Ariel up.

  If she isn’t kidnapped, I’ll have to use words, not force, to get her to go clean.

  Though knowing how headstrong Ariel can be, it might be easier if she were kidnapped—

  My phone rings.

  It’s a video call from Nero.

  Great.

  Maybe he has some answers.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nero is running on a treadmill. His sweat-dampened, broad-shouldered frame bobs up and down as he makes Olympic leaps forward with every stride. Vatican City is visible in the large window behind him.

  “Baba Yaga said she isn’t trying to kill you,” he says without wasting time on pleasantries.

  “She’s not?” I ask, taken aback by the confidence in his voice.

  “No. I asked her point blank. She can’t lie to me about that or anything else,” Nero says, his voice unaffected by the brisk jog. “No one can.”

  “But someone just tried to kill me.” I walk up to my table, smack the phone into a stand, and plop into the chair. “That’s a fact.”

  “Which is why I want you to keep your head down until I get back,” Nero says. “Stay home under the protection of your domovoi and—”

  “You can’t tell me what to do on the weekends.” I narrow my eyes.

  “Actually, as your Mentor, I can and have told you exactly that,” Nero says. “Remember Orientation?”

  “Exactly,” I say. “That’s tomorrow, and I’m not missing it.”

  “You can miss one session.” He waves a hand dismissively.

  “No, I can’t. Besides, Orientation isn’t the only reason I can’t stay home. Ariel is—”

  “How about we make a deal?” Nero’s running pace speeds up. “You stay home, and I prove to you Ariel isn’t kidnapped.”

  “Do you know something?” I lean toward the screen.

  “Does that mean we have a deal?” he asks, not hiding his smug expression from the camera.

  “If you can prove to me Ariel isn’t kidnapped, I’ll stay home—with the exception of Orientation.”

  “Fine,” he says. “But Kevin takes you there and back.”

  “Deal.” Why would I say no to a limo ride?

  “Your inbox,” Nero says. “Check it.”

  Instead of interrupting our call, I open my laptop.

  There’s an email from Nero with a video attachment.

  An email that arrived five minutes ago.

  “You bluffed me?” I say into the phone incredulously. “You emailed me something, then made a bargain for it after the fact?”

  Nero shrugs, his expression turning even smugger.

  “If I weren’t mad, I’d be impressed,” I mutter as I launch the video.

  It’s security camera footage from a crowded place. I instantly recognize it as Earth Club, Nero’s property in Gomorrah. The camera zooms in on one of the VIP tables, and I see Gaius sitting there, drinking a dubious red liquid from a large goblet. Next to Gaius is Ariel, her face placid.

  “It looks like they went there straight from rehab,” Nero says gently. “And then left together afterward.”

  “But why would my vision show her sitting alone in an empty room?” I ask stubbornly. “All this does is show me the culprit.”

  “She might simply be waiting for something,” Nero says. “To what end would Gaius kidnap her?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m going to ask him when I find him—oh, and our deal is off.”

  “No, it isn’t.” The limbal ring in Nero’s eyes takes over a chunk of the whiteness. “Stay home and I’ll talk to Gaius to see if he can find himself another toy.” The white in his eyes is nearly gone, and even the blue-gray of the iris shrinks. “Break your word to me, and there will be consequences.”

  “Fine,” I say, fighting the urge to cringe or look away. “When you ask me nicely like that, how can I refuse?”

  “Smart,” he says in a calmer tone, and disconnects.

  Great. I’m a prisoner in my apartment again. The more things in my life change, the more they stay the same.

  Then again, maybe this bargain was worth it. If Ariel isn’t kidnapped, then this is just Gaius being her enabler—so if Nero convinces him to stop providing Ariel with his blood, she might be forced to seek help on a longer-term basis… that or find another vampire.

  In any case, Nero didn’t forbid me from exploring the outside world with my powers, so that’s what I’ll do. In fact, this is a good chance to practice entering Headspace while angry.

  I stand up and try to focus.

  I fail. My racing thoughts make concentration nearly impossible.

  I take in a calming breath, and just like that, the focus slots into place, and I find myself floating in Headspace, surrounded by eerie cuboid shapes.

  Instead of thinking of Ariel’s essence, I decide to see if the shapes I first encounter are the ones something—perhaps my subconscious mind—is making available to me for a reason. Before proceeding, though, I zoom in on the nearest shape a few times to make sure the duration of the vision is fairly short.

  I don’t want to waste too much power on this theory.

  The eerie sensation worsens when I reach for the looming cuboid, but I suppress the hesitation and make contact—activating
the vision.

  An intricate coffin made of polished redwood sits in front of me.

  Moisture blurs my vision and anguish squeezes my chest as I contemplate the bitter finality of this moment.

  Inside that box is the dead body of—

  I’m back in my room, still standing.

  My knees feel weak, so I preemptively collapse on the bed and try to make sense of what happened. It doesn’t take long because there’s little room for misinterpretation.

  I just saw a vision of a funeral, and the anguish I felt during it can only mean one thing.

  Someone I care deeply about is going to die.

  Chapter Twenty

  My thoughts swirl like a tornado.

  Who was in that coffin? My vision self was about to think the name before the vision halted.

  Whoever it is, how will he or she die? And when?

  More importantly, what can I do to prevent it?

  The vision was too short for me to get any of the answers. I just know that the deceased was someone I would cry over, which rules out everyone I wouldn’t mind seeing dead, like Baba Yaga.

  Could it be one of my parents?

  They’re too young and in too good of health to suddenly die, but what if that vision is from years in the future?

  No. I’ve never gotten one from so far ahead before. Why start now? It’s more likely a near-term unnatural death that has something to do with me and the various enemies I’ve made since discovering my nature. If so, the easiest way to safeguard my parents is twofold: keep them away from me and change whatever near-future plans they may have.

  Thus determined, I grab my phone and video-call Mom.

  “Bonjour,” Mom says with a smile as soon as she picks up. “How are you doing?”

  I look her over carefully. She appears healthy. Her jewelry is as impeccable as always, and she’s wearing what look like expensive new glasses—meaning she’s being her usual extravagant self.

  “I’m okay,” I lie. “Just wanted to check how you’re feeling.”

  “I’m feeling great.” Mom moves the phone closer to her face. “Finally relaxing. Too bad I have to go back soon.”

  “I have good news in that regard,” I say, moving on to the “mess with plans” stage of my idea. “I got my job back, so if you still need me to help you stay in France, I can do so.”

  Mom literally jumps up and down in excitement, so I use my laptop to wire her some money and then extricate myself from the conversation as quickly as etiquette allows.

  I then call Dad the same way.

  “Hey, kiddo,” he says, his Boston accent stronger than usual. “Is this urgent?”

  Though he doesn’t look as healthy as Mom, nothing particularly worrying stands out, so I smile. “Not urgent at all,” I say. “Just wanted to say hello.”

  “Things are crazy with the business this weekend, but I’m glad you got in touch.” Dad’s eyes radiate pure joy, making me feel guilty that it took such dire circumstances for me to reach out to him. “Can I call you back in a few days?”

  “Sure,” I say. “But you’ve got to take it easy. Stress isn’t good for you.”

  “I agree.” He runs his hand through his gray hair. “This is why I have a Bahamas vacation planned.”

  “You don’t want to do Bahamas,” I say, getting into magician-level lying mode. “Didn’t you hear about the virus on the news?”

  “I was too busy,” Dad says. “But I didn’t book anything yet, so—”

  “I think you should go to the Cayman Islands instead,” I say, frantically searching the internet for an excuse as to why. “They don’t have any outbreaks of disease and”—I find a useful tidbit on the web—“the Miss Universe pageant is happening there next week. I bet there’s going to be lots of tourists down there for the event—a chance for you to meet some people.”

  Did I just tempt Dad with scantily clad women?

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he says. “But I really ought to run.”

  “No problem,” I say. “Don’t forget to send me some pictures from the Cayman Islands. I want to live vicariously through you.”

  “I will, I promise,” Dad says. “Talk soon.”

  I hang up and step out of my room to share my vision with Felix, Fluffster, and Kit.

  “Do you think it was me?” Kit asks and instantly makes her skin look pale and parchment-like, à la an embalmed corpse.

  “My intuition says no,” I say tactfully, and what I don’t add is, “I don’t even know you well enough to cry at your funeral.”

  “What about me?” Felix turns almost as pale as Kit.

  “It could’ve been you.” I place a calming hand on his shoulder. “This is why I want you to carry the gun I gave you everywhere you go. And if you can, work from home over the next couple of weeks.”

  He nods. “I like your idea of changing up the usual routine. I’ll do that as much as I can.”

  “Smart,” I say. “On my end, I’m going to try to have more visions and zero in on the cause of this funeral.”

  “Could it have been your funeral?” Fluffster nervously stuffs his tail under his butt. “Someone is after you again, after all. Is it feasible that you saw a warning of what happens if they succeed?”

  “I would not have had a body in the vision if I were dead.” I strengthen my grip on Felix’s shoulder. “Since I had tear ducts, I know I was alive.”

  Felix’s shoulder tenses under my hand. “Could it have been Ariel?”

  “I doubt it,” Kit says and turns herself into Ariel. “Out of all of you, she’s the hardest to kill. On top of that, if she is indeed hanging out with Gaius”—she makes herself look like Gaius—“she would be extra hard to dispatch.”

  “But could it be her addiction that does her in?” I let go of Felix to rub the bridge of my nose.

  “No.” Kit turns back into herself. “Blood addiction mainly interferes with one’s ability to function in non-vampire society. If anything, the addicts heal faster and don’t get sick as often.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Let me go get more visions. Don’t disturb me unless you have something pertaining to this new development.”

  Everyone nods as I leave.

  Once in my room, I learn that having a funeral-sized sword of Damocles hanging over my head isn’t Headspace conducive.

  It takes me what feels like hours of meditative breathing to get my mind clear enough. But finally, I end up back in Headspace.

  Unfortunately, the shapes that surround me look nothing like the cuboids of the funeral vision. They are closer to cones and don’t even play scary music. I bet the vision would be of me going to my accountant, or something even more mundane.

  I make sure the vision is super short and touch one of the cones anyway.

  “Today we continue the subject of the Otherlands,” Dr. Hekima says. “Let’s begin by—”

  I’m back in my chair.

  That was clearly a vision of tomorrow’s Orientation—and it wasn’t as useless as I feared. If someone I cared about had died before the lesson, I wouldn’t have gone to class. That means either the funeral future isn’t a threat anymore, or the death that prompts it will happen after tomorrow’s lesson.

  I go into Headspace once more.

  Again, the initial shapes are not the same. This time around, I ignore them and seek out funeral-related visions.

  I dwell on the time when Grandma Ballard passed away. I was eight years old, and my parents took me to the funeral. Not surprisingly, the experience was a blend of confusing and scary. Mom was devastated, and even my dad cried. The funeral parlor smelled like rotten cabbage. Strange people I’d never met before (or seen since) took turns pinching and slobbering on my cheeks...

  New shapes show up in front of me.

  Though they’re not the cuboid shapes I sought, something about these is similar somehow, though I can’t put my ethereal wisp on how. Extending the length of the vision in case I’ve found something useful, I proc
eed to touch the shape.

  I don’t have a body.

  Around me is a funeral home, a ton of gloomy people, and a prominently displayed corpse. The deceased is an ancient woman who looks completely unfamiliar to me. Same goes for all of the mourners. As I keep watching the funeral for what feels like a few hours, I don’t recognize a single person.

  When the vision terminates, I start pacing around my bedroom in frustration.

  I managed to see a random funeral instead of the funeral I targeted. My powers are clearly not up to snuff.

  Oh well.

  Without much ado, I go into Headspace again.

  This time, I see a funeral of an old man, but otherwise the vision is just as useless—not a single person involved looks familiar.

  I repeat the feat a few more times with similar results.

  Sounds like merely thinking of a funeral’s essence isn’t a workable strategy. I heard that at least one person dies every ten to sixty seconds, which is too many random funerals for me to sift through.

  So, I return to Headspace with another strategy: see the futures of the people I care about—starting with the parental units.

  I think of Mom. In my resulting vision, she’s walking inside the Louvre, happy as a clam on Prozac. Thanks to Mom’s serendipitous phone check, I even know this happens a week from now.

  Next, I get a vision of Dad snorkeling on Seven Mile Beach in Grand Cayman, though I don’t get a chance to figure out when. However, given what Dad said about his busy schedule, I can assume it will be a while from now, so he must be okay as well.

  Next, I think of Ariel, ready for a vision I’ve been dreading the most.

  To my huge relief, she isn’t in the empty room this time. Instead, she’s walking the tourist-packed streets of Midtown, with Gaius at her side.

  So, the good news is that Ariel doesn’t seem kidnapped in this future and is alive. The bad news is that I don’t know when she will be walking where she did. I didn’t get a chance to sleuth that out.