"Yes. How perspicacious of you to know that. Are you familiar with the era?"
"Only in a collateral sense. I am doing some research on a knight in the service of Marco Polo. He was in China during the Ming dynasty. What proof do I have that any of what you're telling me is true?"
Caspar smiled yet again. Paen was starting to get tired of that knowing smile. He felt decidedly out of his depths with the man, and it wasn't a feeling he relished. "I thought you might ask for some proof. I have here"—Caspar pulled out a small leather case, the size to hold a passport—"a document signed by your father, and bearing his seal."
Paen took the document over to where a magnifying light sat on his worktable. He read the document quickly. It simply stated that one Alec Munroe McGregor Scott, of Darmish, Scotland, did swear to provide the lord Oriens or his due representative with the statue known as the Jilin God in exchange for services rendered him. Paen, no stranger to antique parchment, and certainly familiar enough with it to detect modern paper doctored to look old, examined the item closely with the magnifying glass. He went so far as to pull out a small pocket microscope to examine the fiber content of the document, as well as the red wax seal.
"Very well. I concede this document is real. But why has Oriens waited two hundred and forty years to collect this debt?"
"Oriens is a busy demon lord. Perhaps it slipped his mind, or perhaps he had no need for the statue until now. Regardless of the why, the debt is now being called due, and it must be paid."
"I have no idea what or where this Jilin God statue is. If Oriens waited this long, he can wait another three months until my parents return from the depths of the Bolivian forests to their home in La Paz."
Caspar spread his hands. "Alas, it is not so easy. The debt must be repaid within one lunar cycle upon being called due, or else Oriens is entitled to claim the collateral used to secure his services."
Paen could have sworn his blood turned to ice. The situation was quickly going from bad to worse. "What collateral?"
"There is really only one thing a demon lord wants—a soul."
"My father promised his soul in order to have you locate his Beloved?"
"No, his soul was held in trust for another, so he could not use it," Caspar answered, shaking his head. "He tried to, but Oriens wouldn't accept that as collateral."
Little glaciers rose in Paen's heart. "Then whose soul did he use?"
Caspar smiled, just as Paen knew he would. "Why, that of his Beloved, naturally. Although strictly speaking he wasn't in possession of her soul, the fact that she was his Beloved, and would by her very nature agree to sacrifice herself on his behalf, served as a guarantee. I'm afraid that means if you do not provide me with the Jilin God in the next five days, your mother's soul is forfeit. Unfair to her, true, but that is the nature of these arrangements."
"Five days?" Paen asked, his mind awhirl. He would die before he let a demon lord lay one hell-spawned finger on his mother, let alone her beautiful, pure soul. "What happened to a lunar cycle?"
"I'm afraid that it took me some time to track down your whereabouts," Caspar said with faux apology.
"That's ridiculous! Right, there are four of us. We'll just divide up the work…"
"Oh, no, I'm afraid that's not possible." Caspar gave him a sad little smile. "Didn't I tell you? This debt is yours alone to fulfill. You are your father's son, you see."
Paen frowned. "Why mine? My brothers are just as much the sons of my father as I am."
"Yes, but you are the eldest. According to the agreement your father signed"—he gestured toward the note—"the debt must be repayed by the debtor himself, or the nearest member of his blood. That would be you, the oldest son."
"That is completely outrageous. My brothers—"
"—are not eligible to locate the missing statue. If they do, the debt will be considered forfeit, and the collateral will be collected." Caspar plucked the promissory note from Paen's hands and tucked it away in the leather case. "All that remains is five days. If you do not have the statue in that time… well. We won't dwell on the unpleasant."
"Get out," Paen said, gritting his teeth against the pain that threatened to swamp him at the thought of what the alastor was saying.
"I understand that you are upset, but—"
"Get the hell out of my house! Now!" Paen roared, starting toward the unwelcome visitor.
"I will be in touch about your progress with the statue," Caspar said hurriedly, backing toward the wall as Paen prepared to grab him and throw him out of the room. Hell, he wanted to throw him out of the country… off the planet, if he could manage it. "Until then, farewell!"
Paen snarled several obscenities and medieval oaths as the man's form shimmered, then disappeared. He continued to swear under his breath over the next half hour as he placed four international phone calls and authorized three messengers to be sent out into the depths of the Bolivian forests in an attempt to locate his parents.
"I don't suppose you have any idea where they are, or where this monkey god statue is?" he asked his brothers that evening.
"Not a clue on either count," Avery said as he slipped on a leather jacket. "No one tells me anything. The whole thing sounds a bit dicey to me, to be honest. We can't help you search for this statue because you're the eldest? What's up with that?"
"Some archaic medieval law still around a few hundred years ago, no doubt," Paen grumbled. "There were all sorts of agreements then that operated under obsolete laws."
"Well, I hate to be callous, but since we can't help you search for the statue, I guess I'll go out."
"You'll do nothing of the kind," Paen said, stalking past his brother. "You and Dan will go to the Lachmanol Abbey in the Outer Hebrides, and beg the abbot for access to his very rare collection of sixteenth-century manuscripts. There you will scour the collection for references to this damned statue."
"Me? Why me?" Paen's second-youngest brother looked up from the evening paper. "Why can't you go? And I thought this demon said none of us could look for the statue."
"You're not going to be looking for the statue itself. I want to know more about it—where it came from, what its history is, that sort of thing. You're the only one besides me who knows Latin. Avery can use his charm to get access to the manuscripts, and you can translate them."
"Sounds like a bloody bore, but I'll do it for Mum." Avery admired himself in the mirror again, then frowned at Paen. "You're not going to brood the whole time we're gone, are you? Because if you are, we won't bring back any souvenir girls for you."
"We're going to an abbey, you idiot," Daniel said, smacking his brother on the arm as he stretched and grabbed his coat.
"Bet you I could find some."
Paen only just kept himself from rolling his eyes. "I'm not brooding. I never brood."
His brothers, all three of the rotters, laughed.
"Paen, you're the world's champion brooder," Daniel said, stretching again and squinting at the clock.
"Aye, and a broodaholic, to boot. I'm thinking we need to do an intervention, or maybe get you into one of those twelve-step programs. 'Hi, my name is Paen, and I'm broody.' Maybe that'll help you lighten up a bit." Finn grinned at his brother.
Paen stifled the urge to sock him in the arm. Finn was just as tall as he was, and although he had a good twenty pounds on his brother, it had been a near thing the last time he wrestled Finn—or any of them, for that matter.
Instead, Paen gave them all a narrow-eyed look, wondering for the umpteenth time how his fair-haired mother and dark-haired father could produce four sons who differed so greatly in appearance. He took after his father in looks, with black hair that insisted on curling despite his efforts to make it lie flat, and grey eyes. Avery was every bit his blond-haired, blue-eyed mother's son, while Finn and Daniel were somewhere in between. "There is a vast difference between being concerned for Mum's soul and brooding. What you see here is concern, with just a dash of worry thrown in to keep from going st
ale. There's not a single shred of brood on me."
"Here it comes," Avery told Finn.
The latter nodded. "The bit about us lot being so lucky because we have our souls, and him being damned and all. Same old, same old."
"Well, I am damned! You don't have the slightest concept what it is to be in my position," Paen argued. "You have no idea the torment, the pain—"
"'—the agony of living each day without any hope, without love shared with a soulmate, without any chance at redemption,'" his brothers all chanted together.
Paen growled. He loved his brothers, but there were times when he would pay good money to be an only child.
"And yet you claim you're perfectly happy that way. We've told you that we'd move heaven and earth to help you find your Beloved," Avery said. "Just say the word, and we'll scour the length and breadth of Scotland for her. The whole of Britain, even!"
"I met a woman yesterday you might like," Daniel said thoughtfully. "I could ring her up before we leave—"
"No!" Paen said quickly, a little chill running through him. "I've had enough of Avery all but pimping for me—I've no need for any more of you bringing home women you just know will turn out to be my Beloved. I don't need a woman to save me. I'm perfectly happy, in a completely non-brooding way, just as I am, and besides, I'm well on the way to locating the Simla Gestor Coda."
"Oh, not that faery story again," Daniel said, rolling his eyes.
"It's not a faery story."
"I know, I know," Daniel said, holding up his hands. "This book you're always going on about supposedly contains the details about the origins of Dark Ones, including a way to unmake the curse binding you guys."
"Exactly. I just have to find it, and I will be able to lift the curse myself. Completely without the assistance of any interfering woman, thank you."
"Paen, you've looked for the last twenty-five years for that manuscript—I think it's time you admit it doesn't exist," Avery said. The others nodded. "I don't know why you're so bent on fighting the fact that you need a woman to save you. Women are nice! They are smooth, and they smell good, and god knows they do things to my body that make my eyes cross with bliss. You need to get off this high horse of 'I'll save myself and get with the program, brother. Find your Beloved, let her save you, and make lots of little Paens."
Paen glared at his irresponsible brother. "Just because I can keep my dick in my pants and you can't—"
"Oh, I can, it's just a lot more fun out and about," Avery answered, pausing to punch Finn in the shoulder until keys to a car were handed over. "Ta, mate. We're off to this abbey of fun. I'll call and let you know how many women I manage to find there, too."
"Between the fast cars and faster women, you're going to kill yourself one of these days," Paen warned.
"One of the perks of being immortal, brother, is the ability to do whatever you want whenever you want, and to hell with the consequences. You should try it sometime."
A muscle in Paen's jaw twitched. "One of us has to have some responsibility and keep things together while Mum and Dad are off."
Avery rolled his eyes and left the sitting room. Daniel grabbed his jacket and followed after his brother, saying, "I'm with Av on this, Paen. You need to loosen up a bit, and let go of some of that responsibility you're always harping on. I've got my mobile phone. I'll give you a ring if we find anything."
"Well?" Paen turned to his remaining brother. "Don't tell me you're going to pass up an opportunity to get in a few digs about how I need to ignore the castle, the family, and Mum's eternal happiness and instead live like there's no tomorrow."
Finn grinned. "Could I pass up such a wonderful chance? All that repressed sexuality—what you really need is to fall in love with some delicious bird, fuck your brains out, let her save you, and try out happy instead of gloomy."
"Do you know how tiring it gets repeating that I don't need a Beloved? Women I can, and do, have whenever I'm struck with the desire for sex. A female doesn't need to bind herself to me to satisfy my sexual desires."
"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but here goes—Paen, you're missing out on a whole world of pleasure by keeping yourself at an emotional distance from women. You might as well use slags for all the involvement you have with them. I know you equate feeling affection for a woman with a Beloved, but you know, you can actually like a woman you sleep with without her saving you. Maybe even love her a little, if you're determined not to find your true better half."
"I don't have a better half," Paen said, fighting the desire to punch something, anything. "I'm whole as I am. I might be in eternal torment, but love, souls, and emotional commitments are all overrated. If I didn't know that for myself, all I'd have to do is look at you lot. Always falling in love with some woman or other, then moping around when they end up stomping all over your hearts—no, thanks. If all you're going to do is lecture me, you might as well go, too."
"I was about to ask what you wanted me to do to help you," Finn said with a grin.
"To find the statue?" Paen ran a hand through his hair, happy to change the subject of conversation. "You can't."
"Not technically, no. So what can I do to help you find it?"
Paen felt as if the weight of the world had descended upon his shoulders. "To be honest, I've no idea where to even start looking for it. I've never come across a mention of it in the family papers, and since Dad is completely incommunicado until someone tracks him down and forces a satellite phone into his hand, I'm at a loss as to where to begin searching. It could be in the castle, hidden somewhere. It could have been lost or stolen or sold over the years, and I'd have no way of knowing."
"Hmm," Finn said. "Sounds like we need some professional help."
"What sort of professional help?" Paen asked as his brother went to the phone. "If it's anything involving demons, it's right out. We're in enough trouble because of them."
Finn dug around in his jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of miscellaneous items, extracting a blue sticky note from his keys and change. "Not a demon. I met a woman last week in Edinburgh, an underwear model—man, she had great tits, just how I like them, big enough for my hands but not fake-looking—and she said her cousin was trained as a Diviner, and the two of them were just opening up a private detective business. I bet a Diviner could figure out where the statue is. I'll give Clare a ring and get the cousin's number."
"Might as well," Paen said glumly as he slumped down into a chair. Despite his protestations to the contrary, he wanted nothing more than to brood about the latest trial fate had dumped on him. As if things weren't bad enough already… "It's not like a Diviner could make things any worse."
Chapter 1
"What do you think of the sign?"
Clare set down a box of desk supplies and a bouquet of fresh cut flowers, and frowned. "Well, to be honest, Sam, I wasn't going to say anything about it, but I don't think the crow landing on your head this morning is a good omen. It means your life is about to go crisis central. But I'm here to help, and you know I'll do what I can to keep you from going outright insane."
"No… I meant the sign on the door." I nodded to where a local sign painter was putting away her stencils and paints.
"Oh. Mmm." Clare tipped her head and considered the freshly painted words on the upper half of the open office door, "EYE SCRY, SAMANTHA COSSE AND CLARE BENNET, DISCREET PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS. It's nice, but I Still think it's a bit too strange. People are going to think we're not normal private investigators."
"We aren't normal, Clare."
"Speak for yourself. I'm as normal as they come." She plucked a tulip from the bouquet and went to the window, using her elbow to wipe a small clean patch on the grimy glass. "Isn't it a lovely morning?"
I glanced out the window at the grey, sodden-looking sky, and shrugged as I arranged paper in my new printer/copier/fax machine. "It's a typical Scottish May: grey, cold, and wet."
"When I woke up this morning," Clare said dreamily, unconscio
usly striking an elegant pose that made her a star on the fashion runways, "the dew had kissed all the sweet little flowers just as if faeries had danced upon them with damp little slippers. Don't you think that's lovely? I thought that up all by myself."
"Very, um…" Clare blinked silver-tipped lashes at me. I relented under her hopeful expression. "Very poetic. But not terribly accurate, is it?"
She blinked again, her large blue eyes clouded with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Well… just look at you." I waved a hand toward her torso. "You're the opposite of short, sturdy, dark-haired me—you're tall, lovely, elegant, and have that silver blond hair that everyone seems to rave about, but you're hardly in a dancing-on-the-dew-kissed-flowers sort of form, are you? You'd squash the little buggers flat were you to try it in your human form."
She rolled her expressive eyes and bopped me on the arm with her tulip. Clare always had flowers with her—she couldn't help it any more than my mother could. It was just part of their genetic makeup. "You're going to start that silly business again, and I won't listen to it, I simply won't listen to it."
I took her by both arms and shook her gently. "You're a faery, Clare. It's time you face up to that fact. You're a faery, your real name is Glimmerharp, and you were left with my aunt and uncle because your faery parents wanted you to have a better life than running around in wet shoes, stamping dew onto flowers. I doubt if they would have done so had they known that your idea of a better life is to parade up and down in scanty lingerie in front of strangers with cameras, but that's neither here nor there. You are a faery, and the sooner you admit that, the happier everyone around you will be."
"I am not a faery; I am an underwear model."
"You're both."
"Oh!" She plucked a piece of the smooth red tulip's flower and popped it in her mouth. "You take that back!"
"I won't," I said calmly, releasing her to hook the printer up to the laptop that sat on the scarred and battered oak desk I'd claimed as my own. "It's the truth, and you know it, even if you are in denial."
Even Vampires Get The Blues do-4 Page 2
