by Ilana Waters
“You mean the locator spell can’t tell us?” asked Arthur.
Abigail shook her head. “Not exactly. I can see where he is in physical space. But the spell doesn’t provide you with an address or anything.”
“On second thought,” Arthur said, staring at the frame of the now-ordinary mirror, “I think I might be able to. I recognized the exterior of that building he was in. It’s an abandoned distillery just outside Rome. I have an Italian friend who does inspections, and he took me there right before we had lunch on the day the government shut it down. Something about the whiskey they made being contaminated. Anyway, that was a few years ago. I guess they never got back up and running.”
“Do you know exactly where it is?” I asked.
“Sure,” Arthur said. “It’s just off the highway after you pass—”
“Great, let’s go.” I grabbed the keys of our jalopy from the table where Titus had left them and reached to press the elevator button. But Abigail grabbed my hand before I had the chance.
“No, Joshua. We have to wait.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait? What are you talking about? We’ve got those animals right where we want them. It’s daylight, when vampires are most vulnerable.”
“Exactly.” Abigail took the keys from my hand and put them back on the table. “Even if we could get Titus out of there, we have no way to safely transport him because . . .” she motioned to the sun rising outside the windows, “. . . daylight.”
My brow furrowed. “So what? He’s weak and exhausted now, so he’ll just be more weak and exhausted while we rescue him. He won’t like it, but—”
“No, Josh,” Abigail shook her head, “you don’t understand. In the state he’s in, even the slightest exposure to sunlight could kill him.”
“You mean . . .?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t know that.” How could I not know that? “I thought sunlight just knocked vampires out.”
“Usually. But if they’ve lost a lot of blood like your father has,” she explained, “it can cause them to burn up.”
“Can’t we just cover him with a tarp or something?” asked Arthur.
Abigail shook her head. “And take him through the lobby of the Hassler? How are we going to explain a tarp-covered man who looks like he was beaten half to death? I mean, the staff here is discreet, but not that discreet. No, whatever we’re going to do, we have to wait until tonight, when Titus can come out safely.”
“And when the other vampires will be right there ready to kill us!” I threw up my hands and paced the room again. This was unbelievable.
“I admit, it’s not ideal.” Abigail closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. The lines of her face looked more pronounced, as if she’d aged ten years in the past few minutes.
The room seemed uncomfortably quiet all of a sudden. My eyes and Arthur’s fell to the bellboy the vampires had used as a decoy.
“In the meantime, what are we going to do about him?” Arthur indicated the body. “Poor soul,” he muttered.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said. The others stared at me in shock. “What? When you’re the son of a vampire, you tend to learn a thing or two about corpse disposal.” Yes, dear reader, I’m sorry to say it’s one of the more unseemly aspects of my heritage.
“Look,” I continued, “if anyone asks where he went, just say you haven’t seen him.” I felt badly that he would be just one more unsolved disappearance in a big city, but that was the way it had to be.
“Fine.” Abigail heaved a sigh. “We’ll put him in the spare bedroom for now. We’re all exhausted; I suggest we get a few hours’ sleep and reconvene around noon. There’s no risk of another vampire attack while the sun’s up.”
I brought my fist down on the wall. “God’s sake, I feel so helpless. How in Christ’s name are we supposed to rescue Titus?”
“We’ll figure it out in a few hours.” Abigail slowly took my fist down.
“I suppose there’s nothing more to do until then,” Arthur said, his voice sounding as low as I felt. He walked over to his satchel and bent down. “I’ll just grab my things and—oh, bloody hell!” A mess of files and folders fell from the bag. I walked over and knelt down to help gather them.
“Thanks, old boy.” Arthur shook his head. “I swear, every day I get clumsier and clum—”
“Wait,” I said. A black-and-white photo that had fallen out of the satchel caught my eye. It showed a man in his early thirties giving the camera a knowing smile. His mass of curly dark hair was offset by a neatly trimmed moustache leading to a close-cut beard. I held the photo out to Arthur.
“Is this the witch you’re investigating?”
With his broken glasses on the table, Arthur held the photo at arm’s length so he could make it out. “Why yes. Yes, it is. Do you know him?”
I grinned back at the man in the photo. “As a matter of fact, I do. And now I know how we’re going to rescue Titus, too.”
Chapter 9
We slept until noon. Shortly after we woke, I ended up having to transport the expired bellboy in a garment bag on an overflowing luggage rack. Following that, I—
No, gentle reader. You really don’t want to know how I got rid of him.
We were wondering just how the vampires dragged Titus out of the Hassler without the staff noticing. That question was quickly answered by the fact that it happened very late, and few staff members were present at that hour. It didn’t help that the night clerk was found slumped over his counter, dead of a heart attack.
“Poor thing,” said Abigail as we tried to clean up our suite. “Probably happened when Ferox’s minions revealed what they were. He didn’t even have a chance.”
“Better than having his throat ripped out, which is surely what they would have done.” I picked up the shards of a broken lamp. “And I hate to sound cynical, but better for us, too. The less evidence of vampires around, the better.” I swore as I cut my finger on a piece of the lamp. I knew I should have used telekinesis to clean it up. Putting the finger in my mouth, I wished for the thousandth time we could get a maid to do this. But we couldn’t risk it. She’d ask too many questions.
“Evidence of vampires will be a somewhat larger problem if Ferox has his way.” Arthur swept more broken glass into a dust pan. “They’ll quickly go from legend to reality, and not in a way that will make humans happy.”
“Let’s just worry about getting Titus back,” I said. “After that, we can work on the fate of humanity.” The elevator buzzed. “Oh good,” I said. “That’ll be George.”
“Just make sure it is!” Abigail called, a note of panic in her voice. “Remember what happened the last time.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “Yes, Mom. It was only eight hours ago. I remember.” Still, I peered carefully into the monitor before buzzing him in.
I’d contacted George as soon as I woke up, and he immediately agreed to come over. At first glance, it was hard to believe he was an explosives expert. He looked more like a librarian or a professor. He even wore a dark reddish-brown tweed suit and bow tie, and wasn’t overly tall at five seven. With an impish grin and a newsboy cap, he seemed about as harmless a person as you’d ever meet. Although he appeared to be in his early or mid-thirties, I knew for a fact he was much older.
His hair was similar to his suit in color, like rust. The same went for his bushy eyebrows, moustache, and beard. When I learned he was a fellow Monty Python fan, I knew immediately that we’d be friends. Plus, he was another fire witch, like my father. Oh, witches can control elements other than their primary one. It just takes more effort and energy. Still, with the fire connection, it made sense that George would be interested in explosives.
“Joshua! How are you, mate?” George stepped out of the elevator and shook my hand. It was nice to hear another English accent in addition to Arthur’s. It made me feel like I was back in the UK, and all these horrid problems were a long way off.
The feeling didn’t last. “What
in gods’ name did you do to your face?” George demanded.
I didn’t blame George for his bluntness. Although Abigail had healed Arthur’s cuts and bruises a while earlier, I wouldn’t let her do the same for mine. She needed her strength. And besides, I reasoned, they’d heal in a day or two on their own. Abigail already looked like she did before we were gassed.
George stepped further into the suite with his mouth hanging open. “What in Westeros happened here? Is this why you called? You mentioned rescuing Titus from some sort of fox.”
“Ferox,” I corrected, and filled George in on everything that had happened, including saving my mother, the business with the crystal, the PIA, and all the rest.
“Blimey!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
“There wasn’t time,” I said. “Besides, I didn’t want to put you in danger.”
“Danger? Ha! I eat danger for—”
“Joshua?” Abigail called, lifting one finger in the air. She and Arthur were standing a few feet away. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
“What? Oh, yes. Sorry.” I led George over. “Mom, this is George, the witch I was telling you about. He’s also my best friend. George, this is—”
“The goddess Aphrodite, come down from the heavens to grace us with her presence! Allow a humble servant to bestow a kiss, my lady.” George took my mother’s hand and pressed his lips to it. Despite all the chaos of the last few hours, Abigail managed a smile.
“Well, they call this goddess ‘Abigail,’ but thank you,” she said. “I must say, Joshua, if all your friends are this charming, I can’t wait to meet who else you’ve been palling around with since I’ve been asleep.”
“Oh, just wait until you meet Collee—” George started.
“Plenty of time for that later,” I said quickly.
Abigail turned to me. “I actually didn’t know you had that many witch friends.”
“Well, Mom, as you said, you’ve been asleep for twenty years.”
“How did you two meet?” she asked.
“George is the brother of . . . a friend of mine. From boarding school days,” I explained. And one of the few witches who doesn’t look down on me for being a half-breed, I thought to myself.
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Your father sent you to boarding school? Ooo!” She balled up her fists. “Just wait till I get my hands on him!”
“We have to get him back from the evil vampires who kidnapped him first,” I reminded her.
“Don’t worry, Joshua,” George said. “We will.” Then he looked down and shook his head, chuckling. “I mean, if you managed to infiltrate the PIA, you can do damn near anything. I still can’t believe it.”
“We can’t believe it either,” Arthur said, and coughed into his fist.
“Er, right.” I turned to Arthur. “Sorry again about that. George, please meet the manager of the PIA’s London Branch: Arthur Hartwood.”
George shook Arthur’s hand. “Glad to meet you. But if you manage the London branch, what are you doing here in Rome?”
“Helping rescue Titus,” Arthur said at the same time I replied, “Investigating you.”
George looked from me to Arthur and back again with a grin. “I see.”
“I do hope you won’t mind having a member of the PIA in our little platoon,” I said quickly. “Arthur really is taking a great personal risk by helping us.”
“I don’t mind in the least, Josh old boy,” George said. “I’ve managed to live several hundred years without the PIA being a bother to me. I just hope his own organization won’t have him fired or beheaded on our account.” He nodded to Arthur. “I know how strict they are about such things.”
“Yes, here’s hoping,” Arthur said, with a wry smile. “So this is George, the munitions expert?”
“Of course,” I said. “You know who he is. You saw his picture.”
“What were you expecting?” George asked. “Someone clad head to toe in leather and chains?”
“Erm, no,” Arthur said. “This is fine. Much better. More or less what I anticipated.”
“Well, you’d be the first.” George grinned again. “I’m quietly violent, that’s all.” Arthur swallowed.
“But who is looking after the London branch if you’re in Rome?” George asked as we all went to sit down.
“Oh, they’ve got a temporary manager while I’m away.” Arthur lowered himself into an armchair. “I let them know I’d be here a bit longer than expected. Philip as well.”
“Wonderful,” I groaned, plopping into a seat on the couch.
Abigail took the seat beside mine, and George looked from me to Arthur as he sat next to her. “Who’s Philip?” he asked.
“You remember,” I said. “The chap I just told you about who followed me to Rome with Arthur. He hates me because he thinks I’ve got undue advantages or something.”
“Magical powers, extraordinary wealth, a handsome face . . . I think you rather do,” said George.
I gave him a light punch on the arm. “Well, thank you for the vote of confidence, but when it comes to Philip—”
“He’s got a bit of a chip on his shoulder,” Arthur piped up. “His father and grandfather were prominent PIA members, and his grandfather a war hero to boot. Always feels he has something to prove. When he saw Joshua being treated special—going to Rome so soon, et cetera—he probably assumed he was throwing his money around.”
“Which I sort of was, among other things,” I said. “Anyway, he’s resented me ever since. And now that the PIA’s aware I was a liar and a spy, I don’t think his feelings have warmed any.”
“Right.” George nodded. “Quite a bother, that.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Abigail asked, pouring herself a glass of water from the coffee table, “what are you doing in Rome, George?”
“What? Don’t I have the right to be here as much as the next witch?” A slight smile played on George’s lips. “As a matter of fact, I happen to be meeting some clients.”
“Arms dealers again?” I asked. Abigail’s mouth made a little O.
“No, I’m selling pyrotechnics for a children’s birthday party,” George deadpanned. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s only for insurgents in a small nation. Trust me, I’m doing the world a public service. I wouldn’t be surprised if, in a few months, there were some very happy nationals who’d been all but slaves.”
As much as I wanted to ask George what part of the world he was playing God in this week, time was of the essence. I reiterated what we knew about Ferox, his minions, and his motives so we could formulate a plan.
“Wait—steady on,” interrupted George. “The crystal’s in a safe place now, yes?”
“It’s in the hotel safe,” Arthur said.
“I’ve got a couple of squibs in here,” George said, fumbling around in his pocket. “I could get it out for you, easy.”
“What? No, George,” I said. “We want it in the safe. We put it there so Ferox wouldn’t get it.” And I can’t believe you brought explosives to the hotel, I thought to him.
“Riiiight,” George said, slowly removing his hand from his pocket. “Because a vampire’s strength is no match for a little puny lead and steel.”
“He can’t get to it if he doesn’t know where it is, no matter what it’s encased in,” Arthur explained.
“Yes, and besides,” Abigail said, “aren’t you afraid of something going wrong when the explosives go off?”
George pursed his lips. “Madam, when I do something wrong, the explosives don’t go off. And isn’t my fire power the reason you called me here in the first place? Of course I’m not afraid. Unstable substances are my life.”
I clapped George on the shoulder. “Under normal circumstances, I’d find that attitude terrifying. But right now, I think it’s exactly what we need. Now we just have to figure out the opportune moment to rescue Titus. Wait!” I snapped my fingers. “I just thought of something. We may have t
o wait until nightfall to take Father out, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still go in. To the distillery, I mean. There’s nothing stopping us from marching over there right now and taking care of the vampires when they’re most vulnerable. Then we just stick around until we can safely transport Titus back here.”
George shook his head. “Bad idea, mate. It’s possible they have alarms or booby traps or something. One of us should go on a scouting mission first and report back. I’ll do it.” Both Abigail and I tried to speak, but George cut us off. “Look, aside from Titus, I’m probably the oldest and strongest witch here—no offense intended. I’ll go first and see if I can dispatch with the vampires while they’re sleeping. If I run into any trouble, I’ll come back and we’ll have to face them together when they wake up.”
“Go there alone? Are you out of your mind?” Abigail demanded.
George shrugged. “Undoubtedly, but that’s beside the point. Vampires are practically comatose in daylight, so there’s no danger. Pity, really.”
“Are you sure about this, George?” I asked. “They could have magical beasts guarding them, like hellhounds or something.”
“Josh, I think you’ve been reading too many novels,” he said.
I looked at Abigail. “There’s no arguing with him.”
Abigail set her mouth in a line. “Fine, but you’d better let us know if there’s trouble. Don’t you dare go taking on all those mongrels on your own.”
“You seem wholeheartedly committed to spoiling my fun,” sighed George. “But all right, madam. I give you my word as a witch.”
We hashed out the details of how to rescue Titus if George’s original attempt was unsuccessful. Then we agreed to gather our individual supplies and reconvene at the suite later that night. From there, we’d take the pickup truck to the distillery.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” I asked, walking George to the elevator door.
“I’m sure.” George pressed the elevator button. “You’ve all been through enough. Besides, you may need to save up your strength for tonight.” For once, I was glad his soft voice did nothing to mask the steely resolve often found in it. I felt better just knowing George was on the case. The elevator doors opened, and he walked inside and turned around.
