by Eli Grant
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said awkwardly. I just shrugged. I heard him clear his throat, shift awkwardly in his seat. He tried to change the subject. “You look nice.”
“It’s just the dress,” I said dismissively. “A goblin would look nice in this get-up.”
“That’d have to be some goblin,” Ryan countered, and chuckled. “Seriously. You look great.”
I tried to act like I was blowing him off, but it’s hard to completely ignore a guy who looks like that complimenting you.
“You’re a wolf, right?” I asked.
“What do you think?” he shot back, echoing what I’d said at the department. But it made more sense for him. There weren’t many Otherside cops who weren’t wolves. The vampires put a lot of effort into recruiting wolves into police or private security.
“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “So where’s your pack from?”
“Santa Fe.”
“What made the pack move out here?”
“Nothing,” he said, and smiled at my confused expression. “They didn’t move. Just me.”
“You don’t have pack here?” I asked, because I had to be misunderstanding.
“No, not really. The rest of my unit, maybe. It’s not the same, but it’s close enough.”
Well that was unusual.
“What made you leave?” I asked, then realized the answer was probably personal and backpedaled. “I mean, if you want to tell me, or whatever, I don’t care.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal.
“Needed a change, but I wanted to stay close to the magical community. Otherside presence is pretty thin on the ground everywhere else in the country, unless you want to move to New York or Miami. I can’t stand the cold so New York was out, and everybody magical in Miami ends up in hock to the Mouse, working at a theme park. So San Francisco was my only option, really.”
That was true. Magical folk were a fraction of a percentage of the population and we tended to congregate. Outside major cities, our presence dropped to just isolated pockets, small settlements of just two or three families, usually gathered around some landmark of magical importance. But I also knew Santa Fe had a decently sized community, at least big enough for a Fae-space shopping district. And wolves just didn’t up and leave their packs for no reason.
“Living alone isn’t that unusual,” he said, seeing my incredulous look. “Especially since the housing initiative. A lot more wolves are going packless. Pack living just isn’t practical anymore. We had to adapt eventually.”
I just nodded and didn’t press it. Whatever his reasons were must have been serious and personal for him to be bullshitting like that.
The conversation dwindled awkwardly into silence again. He cleared his throat.
“So,” he said. “You live with your brother, if I’m remembering right?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Why?”
“You got to interrogate me about my family,” he said. “Now it’s my turn. Is it just you and your brother or are your folks around?”
“Just us,” I answered stiffly. “And if I were you I’d drop it at that and ask me about something else.”
He frowned at my sudden prickliness and, like I’d expected, didn’t take my advice.
“Why—?”
I cut him off before he could finish the question.
“They’re dead,” I said bluntly. “And I’d rather not talk about it.”
I tried not to see the immediate guilt and pity in his expression. Nothing pissed me off more than the pity.
“Well I sure put my foot in it there, didn’t I?” he said with an awkward chuckle.
“In your defense,” I said, forcing myself to sound casual. “Dead parents isn’t exactly something anyone expects to have to avoid during casual conversation. You’re far from the first person to step on that particular landmine.”
“Still.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the fashionably messy hairstyle Dante had probably made him spend an hour in a stylist’s chair to perfect. “What do you say we just rewind and pretend that never happened?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said immediately. As long as the conversation moved to something else, or preferably to comfortable silence, I’d be happy.
“You like music?” he asked after a moment with an air of desperation that almost made me laugh.
“That’s what you’re going with?” I asked. “You sure you don’t want to talk about the weather?”
“I’m doing my best here,” he said with a helpless laugh.
“Yeah,” I confirmed, if only because I felt bad for the guy. “I like music. Classic rock, indie stuff. Goblin metal, when I’m in the right mood.”
“Goblin metal?” He gave me a look from the corner of his eye, grinning.
“It’s really great when you’re pissed off and just want to throw things and break shit,” I said, returning the smile.
“I’m pretty sure that’s how the goblins record it.”
“The lyrics can be surprisingly deep, okay?” I said while he shook his head, laughing under his breath. “What about you? Please don’t say country.”
“Classic country,” he said with careful emphasis. “Modern stadium country is written by New York music executives based on a shallow stereotype for sale to middle class Midwesterners who like to pretend to be rednecks.”
“Amen.” I propped my elbow on the window and my chin on my hand. “So we’re really doing this? Small talk.”
“Unless you want to get in depth about the politics behind the evolution of modern country.”
“I could say a thing or two about the Dixie Chicks.”
“I’m just saying, this conversation is already two strikes down. Maybe we should pitch a few underhanded before we end up benched.”
“Nice baseball metaphor.”
“Thank you. I love baseball.”
“I’m more of a hockey fan. Never saw the point of baseball.”
“Well, I grew up in a football town. Being into baseball was just a way to be rebellious.”
“Now that I understand.”
“You were a rebellious kid?”
I grimaced, watching the traffic crawl past through the window.
“Rebellious would be an understatement,” I said finally.
“I’m sure you weren’t that bad,” Ryan said, trying to play it off.
“I was a fuck up,” I countered, looking him in the eye. “Major league.”
“In your defense, I don’t think I’ve ever met a teenager who wasn’t a fuck up of some variety. Being stupid little shits is just part of growing up.”
“I had a shot at a full ride athletic scholarship and instead I decided to get arrested for petty theft, underage drinking, and shooting bottle rockets at parked cars from the roof of the dollar theater.”
“All at once?” Ryan asked. “Or were those separate instances?”
“All at once. Stole the bottle rockets.”
“Not the booze?”
“No, I paid for the booze. But I stole the cash I paid for it with.”
“Wow.”
“Like I said. Major league.”
Ryan nodded thoughtfully, processing this.
“What did you play?” he asked after a moment.
“Pardon?”
“The athletic scholarship. What was your sport?”
“Oh. Track and field. Primarily hurdles, long jump, and pole vault, but it was my long distance running that got me noticed for the scholarship.”
“Really?” he said, looking genuinely surprised. “Somehow I was imagining something more aggressive.”
“Hand me a javelin some time, I’ll show you aggressive,” I said, laughing. “I’ll shot put your ass into next week.”
I decided not to mention that I’d tried out for girl’s basketball first and broken someone’s arm before deciding contact sports were a bad idea. Being a changeling gave me a leg up in track
too—I was effortlessly faster and stronger than most of my teammates—but at least I couldn’t hurt anyone.
Having finally discovered a topic in which neither of us had so many buried landmines, we talked sports for the rest of the drive. He complained about the police department’s lackluster team, I bitched about finding decent places to run that worked with my schedule. Despite the awkward start, he made conversation easy, easier than it was with almost anyone but Judith. For a minute I almost forgot my anger and the desperate thing I was about to do. And, just for the length of a drive, I could almost see how we might have been friends, more even, if it weren’t for the fact that, though Ryan didn’t know it, we were on two very different sides.
chapter
8
THE SUN HAD BEEN NEARLY down when he picked me up and as we approached Nob Hill it was dark enough for vampires to be on the street without the protection of coats and hats and parasols to shield them from the direct sunlight. Grace Cathedral glittered in the darkness, lit up in full splendor for whatever mundane event was being held to cover the activity of the opening ceremonies. The Fae-space border was a good distance away from the cathedral itself. I felt us drive through it like a shiver over my skin, and in the soft purple light of the other side, the true cathedral was all the more splendid.
Though its French gothic architecture made it seem ancient, the oldest parts of Grace Cathedral had been built in the 1920’s. Most of it had been finished in the 60’s, or at least that was true of the mundane cathedral. The vampires had been building in that spot since probably the 1700’s, using Fae magic and witchcraft to hide it before the invention of Fae-space. They influenced the building of the mundane cathedral later to better hide what had become the seat of vampire government in the Americas. The mundane cathedral was a close match to the part of the true cathedral it overlapped, but in Fae-space it was only a small part of a much grander building. A palace sprawled behind the cathedral, a forest of gothic towers and domes, home to the vampiric government and the Triumvirate themselves. All those towers were dripping in magical decoration, but I doubted most of the guests would be allowed any deeper in than the main transept.
I’d been doing a good job of ignoring my nerves so far, but as Detective Carpenter helped me out of the car at the valet stand, I felt my stomach twisting again. Why couldn’t Dante have just let me break in through a window?
The stress must have shown on my face, because Ryan took my arm to help me up the steps and patted my hand reassuringly.
“You know,” he said. “I am supposed to be your escort tonight. Look out for you and all that. If you need help with anything, you’ve only got to ask. Even if it’s about this Lord Heuron.”
I shot him a look, not sure whether I should laugh. On the one hand, it was nice of him to offer. On the other, even if that was what I was worried about, there was hardly anything a police detective could do about a vampire lord. Titled vampires could do anything they liked to their Hosts except kill them. And if Lord Heuron murdered me it’d be a bit late for Ryan’s well-intentioned but useless intervention. Besides, with what I was planning tonight I couldn’t exactly have a police detective following me around.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him. “Seriously. You should just enjoy the party. I don’t need any looking after.”
“Alright,” he said, backing off. “But the offer stands. Just let me know.”
We were a bit early, but there were already other couples, mostly vampires and Fae, dressed to the nines as they ascended the cathedral steps. San Francisco’s only magical news network had a reporter standing out front, streaming live on the Othernet. I avoided the camera’s gaze, the butterflies in my stomach feeling more like a knife in my gut. I didn’t like that anyone here was going to see my face. The last thing I needed was for it to be all over the Othernet too.
The golden doors of the cathedral stood partly open so that the guests could still see the shining bronze work panels, masterfully sculpted relief images of Adam and Eve, David and Goliath, Solomon and Sheba. Beyond them a small line waited in front of a check in desk.
“Did you know those aren’t the replicas?”
“What?” I’d barely noticed Ryan speaking, too busy nervously eyeing the security flanking the desk, and couldn’t make sense of the statement. He gestured to the doors.
“The Ghiberti doors.”
When I looked at him blankly he explained.
“The doors, the originals anyway, were made by a human, Lorenzo Ghiberti, back in the 1400’s, for a cathedral in Florence. Then during World War II they were taken down and hidden to keep the Nazis from stealing them. While they were in hiding, someone took casts and made replicas of them, which were bought by Grace Cathedral.”
“Vampires love their religious imagery,” I said dryly, looking at the door more closely. It was beautiful now that I gave it more than a passing glance. “Though I’m surprised they’d care about something made by a human.”
“Eh, vampires are weird about art. They can talk shit about humans all day, but for some reason art is always the exception. It’s like people who complain on and on about Indian cab drivers, then decorate their apartments with Buddha heads and statues of Ganesh. There’s a willful disconnect.”
“Say no more,” I replied. I knew the type. “But these aren’t the replicas? Don’t tell me the vampires snatched the originals.”
Ryan laughed. “Nah, they’d never dare. Nominally, the Triumvirate rules all vampire kind, but the European courts basically operate autonomously and they have a lot of power in Italy. They’d start a war for that kind of insult.”
“So they’re not the originals, but they’re not the replicas either?” I asked, confused.
“In the 90’s they decided the replicas were getting too weathered and needed to be protected,” Ryan explained. “So they made replicas of the replicas. These doors, and the version in the mundane Cathedral, are copies of copies. One of them is a copy of a copy of a copy, though I’m not sure if the mundane doors or the magic ones came first.”
“Huh. Weird,” I said, thrown off by the unexpected trivia. “How do you know?”
“I used to come here all the time,” he explained. “The mundane version, anyway. Take the audio tour and wander around.”
“Around the Vampire Whitehouse?” I asked, baffled. “Why?”
He just shrugged.
“Why not? It’s a beautiful building. Peaceful. I used to walk the labyrinths, look at the art.”
“I think I’ve only ever been here on school trips,” I muttered as the line brought us closer to the check in desk. “You wouldn’t catch me dead here normally, not even in mundane space. Too many vampires.”
Even outside of Fae-space, vampires were in and out of the cathedral all day. It was the seat of their government, and thus of all magical government. You wouldn’t find more vampires anywhere else in the city.
“Fair,” Ryan admitted with a chuckle. “But not the sentiment I’d expect from someone in your, uh, career.”
I nearly choked and was fortunately spared having to answer by reaching check in. I gave the woman with the clipboard the invitations and the fake ID Dante had given me, being careful to angle it away from Ryan so he wouldn’t notice I wasn’t using my real name.The security guards gave us a perfunctory sweep, glanced inside my bag (now empty except for the lipstick Judith had loaned me, red as my dress, in case I needed a touch up during the night), and waved us through. It felt like my heart stopped beating until we were past them.
Inside, the cathedral was even more spectacular. The rose window had been magically illuminated and spilled color across the shining tile of the floors. The great pillars and archways seemed to stretch into infinite dark vaults of an impossible ceiling, where stars glittered. Above the central aisle, an art installation made of thousands of paper birds given magical life soared serenely towards the ceiling in a flock so dense it seemed to form a path you could walk on. Appar
ently that was the intention, as the couple ahead of us tested it cautiously at first, then rushed up it like they were afraid it would give out if they slowed down. Couldn’t blame for that to be honest. But the birds were deceptively solid. The couple, laughing, vanished into the infinite dark of the ceiling, probably to a hidden dance floor.
“Cute idea,” I said, not meaning it.
“Want to try it?” Ryan suggested. He smiled, revealing dimples, and I had to stop myself from agreeing immediately. He was cute as hell, and fun. I could easily lose the whole night just enjoying the party with him. God knew it had been a long time since I’d enjoyed myself. But I had work to do. I needed to check in with the others and the sooner I ditched Ryan the easier it would be to avoid him when the time came to get down to business.
I considered it for a minute, sorely tempted, but I shook my head.
“No thanks. I’m not a fan of heights. Besides, I need to find Lord Heuron.”
If Ryan could tell I was lying, he didn’t show it. He reluctantly released my arm, stepping back with an awkward little shuffle.
“I’ll see you later then,” he said stiffly. “When, uh, when you aren’t busy with him.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said evasively, not wanting to make promises, but also suddenly reluctant to be here alone. I shook off the feeling and forced a smile. “Later detective.”
With a small wave I turned to make my way through the hall, leaving him behind.
Though the evening was just beginning, the hall was already full of people in beautiful clothes. The women wore spectacular dresses that made mine seem plain by comparison and many of the vampire men had chosen elaborate historical formal wear instead of the expected white tie, with the favored theme seeming to be French baroque, though I also saw elaborate cultural traditional outfits on some of the presumably older vampires. The Fae, never to be outdone or restrained by a dress code, were moving modern art pieces regardless of gender or court affiliation. Few wore glamour, which made it difficult to tell where fashion ended and their bodies began. When they weren’t making the effort to look like humans, Fae were anything but. Summer Court Fae tended towards the insectoid, all glittering wings and iridescent carapaces, accented by copious amounts of greenery, fruit and flowers. Winter Fae were more bestial, with a penchant for the dead or dying, thick fur parting around bare black ice-mummy faces, white lichen growing over heavy hooves, rodent skulls strung between their antlers. I nearly bumped into one who bristled with six-inch thorns, most of them decorated with impaled songbirds which, kept alive by some magic, twitched and cried in weird synchronization. I would have been as skewered as those birds if I hadn’t caught myself. As if the Fae weren’t already dangerous enough. There were more Winter Fae than I’d expected given how close we were to midsummer. The Wild Court was, of course, not in attendance. They didn’t even come into the city if they could help it.
