“Please,” I asked. “Could you tell me where he is right now?”
“I don’t know that. As I said, they move him.”
“Could you go look?”
“No! No. I . . . I couldn’t. I can’t. I—No. No, no, no,” Smith whispered, aghast.
Barnaby Smith stepped back from us, staring at each of us in turn as if we would leap on him and rend him to bits in a moment. He gasped, clasping his hands over his heart as he backed away. “I’m sorry. . . . I cannot. I cannot. . . .” And he vanished back through the red crypt doors.
“What appalling manners,” Temperance muttered from above.
“I think he’s distraught,” said Prudence. “Poor fellow. He must have seen something truly nasty down there.”
“But don’t you think he’ll reconsider and come back?” Hope asked. “Really, it would be the right thing to do. . . .”
“Which is why he won’t,” Tempe said.
“Oh, Tempe . . .”
“Do use what little brain Inwood gave you, my girl.”
“Tempe!” Prudence gasped.
“Oh, you’re just horrid!” Hope shouted, and vanished with the sound of a lightbulb exploding, leaving her statue blank and cold.
“Whatever is the matter with the chit?” Tempe grumbled. “It’s true. Mr. Inwood wasn’t overly generous in what he gave us. He even cut us short in the middle!”
“And you are not overly generous in anything,” Prudence retorted. “Now I shall have to go after her. Oh, dear.” Her statue also went dark.
“I hope you got what you were after, Peter. I doubt they’ll any of them come back.”
“It will do or we’ll make do,” Marsden replied.
“Yes. Well,” Temperance said. “I shall go and look after them. Mr. Smith is an upsetting presence. It’s quite a pity his wife, Rosemary, has left him on his own, but I suppose one can’t grumble about another’s passing on. Now I must go. Good luck to you, Peter—and your friends.”
Given the inflection she gave to “friends,” I was pretty sure she didn’t care for me and Michael. I wasn’t entirely sure she liked Marsden, either. Temperance’s caryatid also went dark, leaving us alone between the crypt and the iron fence.
We waited a few minutes in case Chastity returned, but didn’t get lucky. Marsden and I gave up. I stepped back from the Grey to what passes for normal to me and turned toward Michael. He looked everywhere but at me.
“Michael. Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly.
I hadn’t had a chance to prep him for what happened when I submerged into the Grey and got a bit see-through in the normal, and he’d said he saw and heard a little. Anyone would find such things disconcerting; for a kid who’d been through what he had in the past day, it must have been staggering.
“Michael—” I started, turning up one hand and reaching for him.
He waved me off. “No. I’m fine. Just. Fine.”
It was better than his brother’s reaction, but it still left me frustrated. Doing my job had always caused problems for someone, and it had gotten worse after I become a Greywalker. I didn’t have the luxury of making other people comfortable about what I did or how I did it most of the time. Usually, I didn’t have to worry about people seeing me do something strange; most people ignore the majority of what goes on around them, especially when it’s weird or upsetting. But Michael had had this dumped on him with no mitigation or preparation. I felt rotten about it, but what was I supposed to do? If I went at it with kid gloves, what was already bad would have turned worse—if it hadn’t already, and I feared it had.
“Time for tea and discussion,” Marsden stated. “Keep up, you two.”
He headed off through the church gates, cane out in front and confident that we were trailing him like ducklings.
I made a rueful face at Michael.
He gave a self-conscious shrug and took off after the blind Greywalker.
THIRTY-EIGHT
“St. James’s,” Marsden said over tea. “Very odd, that.”
Marsden had led us to a grubby little shop on a side street near the British Museum, which turned out to serve good, cheap tea and sandwiches that had no resemblance to delicate bits of thin bread and water-cress. We’d spent a quarter of an hour bringing Michael up to speed, though he was thinking and watching more than talking while Marsden and I tried to make a plan. Michael seemed to getting his mind around it, though.
“What’s so odd? I mean, aside from ghosts and vampires and talking statues . . .” he snarked, swallowing a mouthful of bread and meat.
“What’s odd, boy, is that the Red Brothers of St. James is the faction what Harper’s employer used to run with. Purcell was his man of business. But he doesn’t know what’s happened to Purcell, so the conclusion I draw is that either the rift is mended between the Brotherhoods—which I doubt—or someone’s suborned the whole lot. That would be a rather good trick. And if it’s done, it’s the asetem what have done it. That could be worse, but not a whole bloody lot.”
“What’s the asetem?” Michael asked.
“A different type of vampire altogether—”
Before Marsden could get started, my cell phone rang. I’d almost forgotten I had it until it started jiggling around and making my purse rattle on the tile floor. I answered it and let Marsden explain the Egyptian vampires.
It was Quinton. “Hi,” he started, breathless and sounding strained. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call you back last time. Things are getting scary here. I’m not at my place; I’m at yours—it’s safer, if that tells you anything.”
“What’s happening? Is it . . . a vampire thing?”
“Right in one. It hasn’t moved up from the shadows yet, but it’s bad. The dark places are not safe. And there’s a lot of new creeps around making a whole lot of trouble. I’m not sure if it’s better for you to come home right away or stay out of it.”
My heart seemed to be tap dancing and my stomach twisted. “I’ve only been gone . . . what? Three days? When did this start?”
“Pretty much as soon as you left. It’s like they were waiting for you to be gone.”
“Oh, no,” I said, feeling that sense of doom hanging over me again like the Sword of Damocles. “I think it’s connected to my case here. Or rather, it’s all part of the same thing.”
“Damn it. I was afraid of that. Edward’s in this, isn’t he?”
“Somehow, yeah. But I don’t know exactly how. Keep a very low profile, and especially keep away from Wygan.”
“The DJ?”
“Yeah, that one. He’s not your average bloodsucker. He’s something special and very nasty.” Just thinking of the feast for the asetem that massive destruction and unrest among Seattle’s vampires would provide nauseated me, and from what Marsden had said about Wygan’s known plans, that was just the icing on the cake.
“Oh?” Quinton prompted.
“Yeah. He’s like . . .” And I stopped, not sure I could explain it succinctly and still include the shades of suspicion, implication, and intuition that were holding it all together in my mind. “Damn it. It’s complicated. He’s got very big plans that include me and the Grey and something about Edward, too. He’s been pulling strings and causing trouble since I was kid. I still need to find one more big piece of the puzzle and I think I’ll know what I am and what he has in mind.”
“What you are? You’re Harper Blaine. You’re what you make of you, not what some megalomaniac vampire wants.”
I could have reached through the phone and kissed him for that. It reminded me that no matter what Wygan had in mind, the decisions weren’t all his.
I grinned for the first time in days. “Yeah. I’ll give you the whole messy story when I get back, but I have to finish up a few things here first. I’m not sure if Edward is playing me or if he’s really a victim, but whatever else is happening, the local vampires have William Novak and it looks like they’ve been using him to
get to me. For Wygan. Why is still a mystery, though.”
The pause grew very long. “Novak. Your ex.”
“Yes.”
“I guess the ghosts were right.”
“Sorry. I’m not sure what you mean.”
“They said it wasn’t what you thought. All this stuff that’s been going on isn’t about the vampires; this is about you.”
“Not all of it. Some of it’s a plan of Wygan’s—”
“That needs you to make it work and needs Edward or something of Edward’s. Whatever’s going on there is all about you. Or they wouldn’t have taken your ex.”
He went on as I fell silent, thinking about what he’d said. “The stuff that’s going on here has the feeling of clearing the decks. It’s dangerous, but it’s not concentrated yet. It started when you left. And I think it’ll shift into higher gear when you get back. Or whenever they find Edward.”
“Every vampire in Seattle knows where to find Edward.”
“No, they don’t and neither do a lot of other people. That’s what I needed to tell you: Edward’s missing. It’s on the news.”
“What?” I hoped that Edward had only pulled back to hide in his bunker if handbaskets were indeed hell bound. If Edward was gone, I might be in a lot of trouble when I got back to Seattle—or even before, if the things I was thinking were true.
“They’re hinting he’s been kidnapped,” Quinton said. “The vampires are going nuts. They’re all over the place and they’re all over each other. The new ones—”
“Creepy white bastards that seem a little . . . snakelike?”
“Yeah.”
“The asetem-ankh-astet. They’re Wygan’s people. They might be magic users, so stay away from them.”
“I’m already staying away. They resist the stunners and they scare the crap out of me. They seem to scare the other vamps, too. I don’t know if it’ll get worse before you get here, but it’s not pretty now. It might be better if you don’t come home.”
“You don’t want me to come back?”
“I want you, but I think, given what you’ve said, that things will get worse when you do. You don’t have to play whatever game Wygan is up to.”
“I’m afraid I do, but I don’t have to play it his way if I know how to avoid it. And I can’t leave here without getting Will out first. Even if they didn’t try to use him against me again . . .”
“No. You can’t leave a friend behind. Not even an ex-boyfriend. I’ll hold on here. Let me know if you’re coming back to Seattle or if I should bail out with Chaos and meet you elsewhere.”
I bit my lip, worried and conflicted. “How—how is the furball?”
“Crazed. She zooms around the floor like she’s chasing things, and she makes that chittering sound and dances around with her mouth open like she’s just killed the biggest rat in history.”
“You getting anything on your detectors?”
“Yes, I am. But without you to confirm it, I’m not sure I’ve got a good calibration. It could be stray cell phone signals or it could be the Loch Ness monster for all I can tell. Harper . . . God, I wish you were here.”
Something hard knotted up in my throat and made it difficult to talk. “Me, too. I’ll finish up as fast as I can,” I promised.
My companions were both watching me as I disconnected. I swallowed a few times to clear the emotion that choked me. “Change of plan,” I said. “We have to move faster than I’d hoped.”
Marsden pursed his mouth. “So it’s startin’, is it?”
I just nodded. Michael looked grim.
Marsden grinned, a terrifying and feral thing with his yellowed teeth and gouged eye sockets. “Right then. We’ll be after the Primate of St. James tonight.”
“The what?” I queried.
Michael looked startled.
“I don’t mean the Archbishop of Canterbury, boy,” Marsden said. Then he turned back to me. “It’s their little joke, y’see. They’re taking the piss by calling the head of their cabal the ‘Primate’ as if he were the equal of the Archbishop of All England.”
“Seattle’s only got one community of vampires. . . .” I said, though it appeared that wasn’t strictly true anymore.
“London’s older, more factionalized. Some of the Brothers go back to the founding of the city under the Romans. They’re playing by a different set of rules than what your lot is. You could approach the Primate of St. John and hope to get him on your side, but you haven’t got that time. You’ll have to go straight for St. James.”
“No.”
“And why not, may I ask?”
“St. James is in the Pharaohn’s pocket.”
“Hark at her. The expert!”
Annoyed now, I shook my head and snapped at him, “Listen. Two years ago in Seattle the Pharaohn used another vampire to watch me. Her name was Alice Liddell—”
“Like Alice in Wonderland Alice?” Michael asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes, but I’m not sure she’s that Alice Liddell, not really. Anyhow. She tried to use me to take Edward out so she could be top dog, but it didn’t work. She attacked us and we killed her. Or I thought we had—we left her staked down in a burning building. We assumed she was dust. But I saw her two nights ago in a club in Clerkenwell. It was less than two blocks from St. James’s church and she didn’t look like she was having any trouble with the locals.”
“Are you sure she’s got St. James’s for the Pharaohn?” Marsden questioned. “She could just be playing her game against Edward again on her own.”
I gave some thought before I opened my mouth again. Edward was a common enough name, but Wygan wasn’t, so I’d have to speak with care. Michael didn’t need to know that one of Seattle’s favorite late-night radio personalities and one of its richest citizens were vampires with a deadly grudge that had tangled both himself and his brother in its uncaring coils. “There was an asetem in the club—”
Marsden interrupted me. “‘Asete’ for just one. ‘Asetem’ is the plural.”
I gave him a sharp nod. “Asete. This asete talked to me, taunting me. She knew Alice, knew who I was, and said something about Alice and the Pharaohn’s plans as if I ought to know. She said it would be more fun if I was afraid. Alice is working for the Pharaohn-ankh-astet, and I think it’s safe to assume she now controls St. James’s or they wouldn’t have let her in the place.
“Edward used to have a line on things in St. James’s,” I continued, “but he lost it when Purcell disappeared. Sekhmet said Purcell’s lackey, Jakob, had—” I stopped myself from mentioning the charmed letter that had been sent to Will. “Had got the amphorae for the asetem. I thought she meant the vampires in general then, but now I think she meant the Egyptians. Barnaby said they were the Brothers of St. James, even though they took the jars under the priory of St. John. If anyone would know the difference between the Brotherhoods, I’d imagine it’s him. I think they used the priory basement for whatever ritual they did with the jars of blood to raise the creature Barnaby Smith mentioned, and they chose that location to intimidate the Brotherhood of St. John. The timing’s right for that skullduggery with the amphorae to be connected to Alice’s takeover of St. James’s.”
“One problem with that,” Marsden drawled. “The Brotherhoods both hate the asetem. They’ve had an agreement for ages to divide London up at the river and not interfere with one another. That’s how Edward got hisself run out: He tried to bring the asetem into the Brotherhood of St. James by pulling some jiggery-pokery with the Pharaohn.”
“The same Pharaohn?” I asked.
“Yeah. He and Edward is mortal enemies because of that.”
“Enemies united . . . Alice, St. James, and the asetem against Edward,” I said, fitting the pieces together. Wygan hated Edward for whatever had happened in London. He was running Alice now as he had when we met. “Alice is denying Edward his control in England. Keeping him trapped in Seattle while the Pharaohn starts his ball rolling . . .”
“If you say so.”
“Educated guess. My friend on the phone said things are going nuts back home, and there are asetem stirring the pot.”
“You should pray he exaggerates, girl.”
“I don’t think he does. What’s happening there is connected to what’s happening here. The big players are all in Seattle.”
“Except you,” Marsden reminded me.
“I’m not a player, according to you. I’m a tool waiting to be shaped and used. I think that’s why I was lured to London.”
He shrugged. “You say so. Why is St. John not objecting to the asetem in Clerkenwell?” Marsden demanded.
“I’m not sure, but I’d bet whatever they did with the jars under the priory has something to do with it. Probably some kind of intimida tion. If I can get to the Primate of St. John, he might help me get past Alice and get Will out.”
“You’d have to break St. James. That’ll mean breaking this Alice and whatever asetem she’s got with her.”
“I don’t think she’s very popular with them. The asete in the club didn’t like Alice. She acted like she was working under orders with which she disagreed. Once Alice is gone, I don’t think St. James will continue to work with the asetem. But I don’t give a damn what becomes of the Red Brotherhoods. I don’t care if Edward’s empire crumbles and they all kill each other so long as I get Will out alive.” And avoid whatever nasty tricks Alice has in store for me, I thought.
THIRTY-NINE
As a result of that conversation, I stood in the basement of a restaurant just off Clerkenwell Road at about ten o’clock that evening. I’d been there for more than ninety minutes. The priory of St. John was a block away and St. James’s church was about five blocks away. I’d walked past the clerk’s well for which the area was named, tucked behind its window in an office block, as I’d come down from Angel Tube station. I hadn’t wanted to run into any guards at Farringdon, even though the walk was a long one and it took me past enemy territory first; a calculated risk. Now deep in the earth, I thought I could hear the water gurgling somewhere nearby and wondered if the well’s source lay below St. John’s. The lines of the grid were a curiously placid blue with an unhealthy tinge of green from the contaminants in the aquifer. The room I was standing in, however, was charged with red and yellow energy that buzzed around the room like a swarm of bees and thick with the shades of medieval plague victims gasping and dying in forgotten corners, cast out from the clean confines of the priory. They didn’t make me feel any better about what I was about to do.
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