Tourists gave my pregnant wife a respectfully wide berth while Dana chugged the entire bottle in one big swallow, and I felt a pang of regret as she tossed it into the trash. She wiped her mouth and turned to me. “So, where is this magic shop that you told me about?”
“It was over by the lock. We’ll be there in just a couple of minutes,” I said, seeing how little my wife liked walking. I’d stumbled on this magic shop the year before, and although it hadn’t been open, I’d heard more than a few rumors that it was the most reputable of the few places in London that traded in extradimensionally attuned items. If we could learn something about the disk here, without getting entangled in any other crap, then that would be a huge win. I was so excited that I got a few yards ahead…
“Shit!”
Dana, for a certain value of trotted, trotted up behind me. “What is it, babe?” In response, I flung one hand out, indicating the burned, broken husk of a building where the shop used to be.
“Awww…mother plucker,” Dana said. But she didn’t actually use plucker. “Did we just waste this whole trip?”
I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly, setting aside the disappointment. There was nothing I could do to change what had happened, but I had an idea that just might salvage the situation. “You know how I told you that this was the most reputable ‘magic shop’ around?” I asked, and Dana nodded in reply. “Well, there’s another, slightly less reputable option…” Dana raised her eyebrows but followed as I started shuffling through the crowd in the direction of the main part of the market.
“My friend! And you have brought your friend, who is now also my friend!” exclaimed a short, rotund, swarthy man with an unruly mop of black hair and a big, bushy beard. He wore blue jeans and a baggy Hawaiian shirt festooned with pineapples and was standing behind a long table without any signage. On said table were numerous occult trinkets: tarot cards, necklaces festooned with charms, and even a “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” statue.
“Good afternoon, Kari.”
“My friend, you do me a great disservice!” Kari exclaimed, putting his tanned, grimy hands over his heart. “You do not introduce me to this—beautiful—lady.” He turned to Dana and, with agility far greater than I would have expected from a man his size, vaulted over the table, took my wife’s hand, and kissed it with large, fleshy lips. Dana couldn’t keep back a little smile, the first one I’d seen in quite a while. “I am Karim Kalogeropoulos, but my friends they call me Kari the Greek.” My wife gave me a level look, but I was momentarily confused. Before she could kick me in the shin, I figured it out.
“Kari, this is my wife, Dana. Dana, this is my veeeery good friend, Kari the Greek.”
“A pleasure to meet you Kari,” Dana said, blushing.
“The pleasure is all mine. But, my friends, how may Kari help you today? I think that you are here not for any trinkets?” Kari said, turning toward me and clapping his big, meaty hands together.
I flashed a wide, fake, American smile. “That’s right, Kari. I don’t want any geegaws. I have a description of an item, and I was hoping that you could help me identify it.” I pulled out a rough drawing of the inscribed circle of wax that I had seen in my dream, sliding it across to Kari. He picked it up and held it to the light, squinting. He made a few noises in his throat and then sucked in a breath through his teeth.
“This thing, not many could identify it from this drawing. Is extra bad drawing. However, you are in luck. Kari can identify this!” The portly man rocked back and forth on his heels, a jaw-cracking smile on his face. This went on for about a minute, and then my brain kicked into gear.
“Ahhh…Kari, my friend. How could I be so silly? I almost forgot that I had a gift for you,” I patted at my shirt, then my back pockets. “Oh, dear. I believe that I may have left it at home. I think, perhaps, it was worth two hundred pounds?”
“Oh, my friend. I am very touched. You are such a good man. I would expect, from such a good man, a gift of, two, even three times the value that you have mentioned. You are such a kidder!” Kari exclaimed, rocking back and forth on his heels.
I ground my teeth in annoyance, but I wasn’t going to act cheap when it came to buying information that might help me save my daughter. “Of course, an excellent joke! I was of course planning to spend at least five hundred pounds on your gift.” I leaned over to Dana. “I’m going to need the emergency cash in your purse.”
“We won’t be able to cover the rent this month,” she whispered back, but I nodded.
When I looked up, Kari was frowning. “My friend, I had heard that you were working for a…publishing company?” he said, waggling his eyebrows and referring to the cover company for the Sons of Perseus’s headquarters.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with them,” I replied.
“What does it have to do with?” Kari asked, his bushy eyebrows drawing together in what I took to be genuine concern.
I wasn’t sure what I should reveal. I barely knew the man, but I wanted Olivia back so badly. I didn’t like to beg, but for her I would. I leaned over to Dana. “Should we tell him?”
My wife paused for a moment. “I’ll handle this,” she whispered, and then shooed me away. I saw that there was a Chinese barbecue ribs stall, and I decided I needed to check that out. Five minutes later, I wandered back, sucking gooey sauce off my fingers, and with a package tucked under my arm. Kari’s fake, friendly grin was plastered on his face again.
“My friend! Your wife has explained to me that you try to save your daughter. You could not ask for a more noble cause than that. Kari will, of course, do you this favor…if you could agree to do a favor for him in return, someday?” He extended his right hand and with the other hand stroked his mustache. I didn’t like the idea of an open-ended promise, but beggars can’t be choosers, so I grabbed his sweaty palm and pumped it up and down. Kari laughed with delight, making his pineapple-print-covered belly jiggle, and added, gesticulating broadly, “The item that you are seeking is verrry famous. It was made by Dr. John Dee, the court astronomer for Queen Elizabeth. The first one. It is called the Sigilum Dei Aemath, the Seal of God.”
My heat jumped into my throat. “Where is it?” A few people turned in our direction, and Dana put a hand on my arm.
The other man’s face twisted into a mournful expression, his mustache and mouth drooping. “Oh, I am so sorry. The Sigilum, it disappeared. Maybe…thirty years ago? It was hidden…maybe by one of our mutual friends?”
My mind raced ahead, and I swore. Kari shook his head at my imprecation, but I couldn’t help myself. Dana rubbed my arm. “Yes, sweetheart. The item disappeared after it was acquired by the Sons of Perseus.” Her face was a stony mask, and the last person I’d seen display that kind of hatred was Father O. The Sons seemed to have that effect on people.
“Kari—thank you. I owe you one. If there is ever something that I can help you with, then please, feel free to call me,” I said, and handed the man my business card.
“Kali tihi, good luck, my friend.”
Dana and I went our separate ways—she to follow up on the information that we’d just received, while I hopped on a complicated series of trains to Windsor. To capture the spirit of Henry VIII. Because that was somehow a necessary part of my life nowadays.
◆◆◆
Windsor Castle is enormous. It is the oldest and largest inhabited castle in the world. The brochure even says so. Walls rear up twenty-five feet around the entire thirteen acres of enclosed space, with arrow slits covering the approaches. But that’s just the first line of defense. If you were to get inside, there is a second set of walls, murder holes, and finally a massive stone keep set on an artificial hill. The castle was virtually impregnable to assault. Luckily for us, the castle is extremely pregnable to anyone purchasing a ticket, for the low, low price of twenty-five pounds. So, Windsor Castle was enormous, and Vir was late. The time was a quarter past ten, and I was loitering outside the ticket gates at the tourist attrac
tion, drawing too much attention in my stained-and-beaten trench coat, looking like a flasher that had targeted the wrong victim. The crunching of heavy boots on gravel made me turn my head, and I cursed silently as I spotted one of the security guards stomping toward me. He was a white guy in his late thirties, with a gut that overlapped his belt and thinning brown hair. Things looked like they might go needlessly wrong—until Agent Paula Smith trotted up to me, her hair pulled back casually into a ponytail to match the capri pants and T-shirt that she wore.
“Hey, baby, sorry I’m late!” she said, standing on tiptoe to give me a peck on the cheek. I don’t know where she had been, but her little bit of acting was just in the nick of time. The security guard’s interest in me evaporated, and he detoured to yell at some kids that were kicking gravel at the castle.
Paula disengaged and shot me a venomous look, wiping her lips on the back of her sleeve. “Why in the hell are you wearing that coat? It’s boiling here.”
“Armored,” I replied, folding my arms.
“Just take it off, you weirdo.”
“No,” I replied, years of marriage helping me fight down the urge to spout a double-entendre.
“Why not?”
“Vampire threatened me yesterday.”
“What? How? Screw it. I’ve heard about you, Adler. I’m going to find out where Senior Penitent Sharma is,” she said, and walked away, opening her phone. A long-suffering look on her face that told me she must have spent at least a few years living with a man, even if there wasn’t a ring on her finger.
I looked up at the castle, and I remembered bringing Olivia here one weekend with Dana a couple years ago. Ollie had only been a little bit over two, and she’d been in a princess phase, obsessed with the movie Sleeping Beauty. She’d also just succeeded in getting her potty training reward chart filled out, so we’d surprised her with a visit to a real castle. Olivia had insisted on wearing her pink Aurora dress, and when we’d walked out of Windsor and Eaton Central station, the castle looming before us, her mouth had dropped open in amazement, and she’d squealed with delight. I’d put her on my shoulders, and we’d spent a crisp spring Saturday exploring the royal residence top to bottom, and my little girl had left the castle sleeping contentedly in my arms. I’d have given one of those arms to have just an hour of that day back.
A little, brown-haired girl ran past, jolting me out of my reverie, and I noticed that it was hotter than a hot thing straight out of somewhere hot, so I sweated buckets while I fiddled with my phone for ten minutes to distract myself, waiting for Vir to show up. Finally, at nearly half past noon, he appeared, huffing and puffing.
“Sorry, guys, I was in a wicked death match in Overwatch. Just lost track of the time,” he said, flashing a mischievous grin and cleaning his glasses. I should have been annoyed, and I watched Paula try to muster up some harsh words, but neither of us could manage it.
“Time to go in,” she said tersely, taking my hand and leading us through the portcullis and toward the ticket booth.
◆◆◆
“There—in there!” Vir shouted, hopping into the air, spinning, and pointing in one wildly uncoordinated movement. I followed Vir’s flailing form and then consulted my map.
“Saint George’s Chapel,” I muttered. Before I could look up, I heard Vir’s feet pounding on the paving stones.
“Follow him,” Paula commanded, already trotting after him. I sauntered behind at a stroll. I knew that Vir would be crossing over into the astral plane to search for Henry, so his physical body would be defenseless. I’d be working as the lookout and general supernatural peon. What Paula didn’t realize was that there was no way that Vir would be able to limit himself to just the job. And what neither of them knew was that I had extra orders to carry out, somehow.
“Can you believe this, J-dog? This plaque says that there are ten, ten different sovereigns buried in here!” my partner yelled, drawing dozens of eyes to him. Paula fast-walked over to Vir and tried to quiet him, but he fled down the aisles of the chapel ahead of her advance, eliciting a chuckle from me—which made my injured side ache, so I lowered myself onto one of the blue-upholstered benches.
After a few more minutes and a few dozen dirty glances from the guards and tourists, Vir took a seat next to me, beads of sweat glistening on his brown skin. Paula squinted and grimaced, shooting him a look that could have curdled milk—you know, if she had that kind of ability. I wondered if there was someone in the office who did…I shook my head and forced my thoughts back to the present.
“That was well cool, Julian,” Vir said, wiping his brow and taking a few deep breaths. “You ready to watch my back?”
“Sure, why not,” I replied, focusing on my connection to the Dreamscape, readying myself to draw on it if absolutely necessary.
“You think Henry’s ever met an Indian guy before? Aw, hell. Here goes nothing,” Vir said, his voice quavering a bit, and his foot tapping—then he went completely still.
I spent the next five minutes staring at the inside of the chapel. It really was a beautiful final resting place for royalty: vaulted ceilings stretched high overhead, chivalric pennants lined the walls, while golden summer sunlight spilled through five-meter-high windows at the—BANG! A noise like God clapping his hands made me crouch behind my bench and sent tourists scrambling for the exits as one of the banners plummeted to the floor, its supporting pole, as thick as my wrist, snapped in half.
I quickly scanned the chapel. Paula was poised a few yards from the door, head making tiny jerks as she looked for a threat that she wasn’t equipped to detect, the guards were hustling tourists toward the doors, and Vir continued to sit, rigid as a statue. I closed my eyes against the pain of standing up. When I opened them, I spotted one other person still loitering in the chapel.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Vir, wake up, man, wake up!” I yelled, shaking my partner like an oversized maraca.
“Junior Penitent, what do you think you are doing!” Paula yelled, her indignation at my actions overcoming her previous fear.
I looked the agent directly in her brown eyes and pointed at the figure stalking toward us. “Vampire!” I yelled, my voice echoing up and down the nave as I recognized the master vampire from my dreams.
“That again? Don’t be ridiculous, there haven’t been any vampires in—” Paula started
“No. For once, that ignoramus is quite right. I am a vampire,” said the vampire as he blurred, moving more quickly than the eye could see, in our direction. He danced to the side to avoid a shimmering shaft of sunlight as he covered the last couple of steps to us. The vampire loomed in front of me and threw off his hoodie, seeming to expand as he did so, and I realized that he must have been hunching down to disguise himself yesterday. It was Cooper. He pushed back his shoulders and stood in front of me for a moment, looming. His hair was thick, blond, and curly, his skin was pale, and he seemed bigger in real life than I’d remembered from Sloane’s dream. Not tall, like Jack, but wide, and thickly corded with muscle. I thought of a golden-haired Ray Winstone…with fangs. “I am here to warn Mr. Adler, one last time, that under no circumstance should he collaborate with Edward Sloane. The man is not to be trusted,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice while looking over the top of aviator sunglasses at me. His eyes were red.
I looked into those eyes and read nothing but pain and hatred, but before I had a chance to reply, Vir spoke. “You need to come with me,” he said to the empty air, making both the bloodsucker and I turn to stare at him. Paula, trembling, couldn’t pull her gaze from the vampire. There was a slight pause. “Look, I can force you to come with, but it’ll hurt both of us. There’s no need to act this way. Ouch!” Vir said, a thin line of scarlet blood erupting from his cheek as he exclaimed.
“Your little friend is an astral projector, then? He seems to be having some problems,” the vampire said with an air of curiosity and leaned toward Vir, his eyes locked on the trickle of crimson going down Vir’s cheek.
“Get away fro
m him, beast!” Paula shouted, finally snapping out of her reverie, and pulled her gun, a small snub-nosed revolver that she’d concealed in a cargo pocket of her capris. The pistol roared in the enclosed space, and the vampire jerked, once, twice, three times as bullets ripped through his body. The creature blurred, and the gun flew through the air, landing with a clatter on the hard floor. There was a shout of, “Gun!” from outside, and I heard feet pounding on the cobbles. We’d need to get out of here. Soon.
“Miss, you need to go. Now,” the vampire said. He sounded almost bored, but he put steel into the final word of his command. Much to my surprise, Paula immediately pushed herself up and strode out the door without speaking.
I looked from the door to the creature of the night and back again, slightly jealous. There was a tinkling sound, and I glanced to the floor. A couple of deformed bullets rolled to a stop at the vampire’s feet, but he looked completely unharmed, and the monster flashed an all-too-toothy grin at me, revealing sharp, two-inch-long canines. I had to quit goggling, though, because Vir started to speak again, except it wasn’t his voice—it was much deeper and had a strange, old-fashioned accent: “Take this stupid boy out of here. If he isn’t gone in the next thirty seconds, then I will remove him permanently.”
“Now, Henry, no need to be dramatic. And you shouldn’t threaten Mr. Adler. Don’t you realize that he’s the dipshit who’s responsible for killing John Brown? Without him, you wouldn’t be free…and neither would the rest of the murderous bunch of psychos we were locked up with,” Cooper said. Another streak of blood erupted on Vir’s other cheek, and the vampire added in a bitter tone, “And I wouldn’t have ever woken.” He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Vir.
Now, I’ve probably encountered and slain a couple hundred vampires over the years in the course of my Dreamwalking. Therefore, using my vast store of personal experience, and copious rewatchings of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I was able to surmise that it was a “bad thing” that a vampire was interested in my bleeding friend. I wanted to know why I was being warned off of Sloane, but between the monster and the ghost possessing Vir, I needed to do something now.
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