William Bannock, Will the Decapitator.
I closed the dictionary to read the title. The Akashic Record: Being a List of All Immortals Possessing Membership in the Court of Divine Blood and Abaddon.
"Theo, I found it. It's very large."
He hurried over, frowning slightly. "They keep it out here in the open?"
"Evidently. I thought it was a dictionary. F, G, H…ah. Here it is: Hope, originally internuncio, later designed virtue by request of holder. Primary residence: Court of Divine Blood, Grand Apartments, third floor. Mundane residence: Seaton. Seaton?"
I looked up at Theo.
"That's near Newton Poppleford."
"That would explain why she was around the faery ring, then. Mundane name: Hope Campbell. Is that ink blotch covering another name, do you think, or is it just a blot?"
Theo bent over the book, squinting at the black area next to Hope's name. "It's hard to tell. It could be either."
"Hmm. I'm willing to bet she covered up her mortal-world name on purpose."
"She could have." Theo looked thoughtful as he tapped his chin. "If she thought she was in danger, she might have destroyed any proof of her name as a safety precaution."
"That's lovely. Is there anywhere else we can go to find out what name she is using now?" I asked, miffed that our lead had fizzled out.
"Not that I know of."
I sighed. "Well, at least we have one of her names and a town to go on."
"Indeed you do. That was very clever of you to think of consulting the Akashic Record."
I spun around at the sound of a man's voice coming from the doorway.
Terrin leaned against the door, a slight smile on his face. "I particularly liked the fog. Very effective. Hello again. Is that your friend guarding the other side of the door?"
"Yes, she is. She wasn't supposed to let anyone in," I said, trying to come up with an excuse for being in the Court when I'd been forbidden entrance.
"Good morning," Theo said, giving Terrin a little bow. "You have us at a disadvantage. It is somewhat disconcerting to be caught breaking and entering into the Court."
Terrin's smile widened. "And yet you managed it with such ease. A very admirable feat."
"Is my friend all right?" I asked, a bit nervous about Sarah.
"She is right where you left her. I'm afraid I had to obscure her vision for a moment or two while I slipped past her, but she is unharmed."
I relaxed a little bit. I was willing to take responsibility for my own actions, but I hated for anyone else to suffer on my behalf. "I suppose you'd like to know why we're here when we were told to leave."
"I assume your purpose is two-fold: to consult the Akashic Record, and to conduct your final trial." Terrin strolled over to the window, looking out at the still-dense fog. "Yes, a very clever use of your Gift. Quite effective."
Theo and I exchanged glances. "You're partially correct: We did come here to see the Akashic Record. But as for my trials…well, even if I hadn't been disqualified, I would only have been on trial number four, not seven."
"No, that cannot be correct." Terrin frowned, walking over to a desk on the other side of the room and sitting down to access the computer there. "You have completed all the trials but the last one, I'm quite sure."
"I'm afraid not. Trial number four got put off. I skipped ahead to five, which I did when I was in the Akasha. The two women who did my first trial came back earlier this morning for the fourth trial, but I…er…I failed it."
"How very odd." Terrin's fingers tapped out a few words on the computer's keyboard. He perused the resulting screen, a puzzled look in his eyes. "That's not what it says here. According to the official records, you have completed all trials but the last one: four of them successfully, two failures."
"How could I pass the fourth and sixth trials? I didn't do them!"
"What elements did the fourth and sixth trials test?" Theo asked, looking even more thoughtful.
Terrin consulted the monitor. "The fourth was logic, the sixth grace."
"Now I know your records are at fault. I was the least graceful person alive this morning," I said, shuddering at the memory of my muck-covered self.
"Grace," Theo repeated, his eyes on me.
Why are you looking at me like that?
I was thinking that grace doesn't necessarily indicate physical adeptness. Perhaps it is another type of grace for which you were being tested.
What other sort of grace is there? I asked. A blessing?
No, I was thinking more the quality of forgiveness, or mercy, if you will.
Mercy? To whom have I been merciful?…
A vision rose in my mind of Dame Margaret taunting me, baiting me to throw her into the mud. I hadn't given in to that almost overwhelming desire, though. I'd walked away from her with as much dignity as I could muster.
"I didn't throw her in the mud," I said slowly.
"You did not. You demonstrated grace sufficient to pass the sixth trial," Terrin said.
"So Leticia deliberately caused that accident, arranged it so I would be put into a position where I was covered head to toe in the worst sort of muck, then baited me to see if I would retaliate?" I nodded. In an odd sort of way, it made sense. "That explains the sixth trial, but not the fourth one. I haven't done it at all."
"According to this, the trial was conducted last night at"—Terrin peered at the screen—"ten minutes to midnight. You successfully completed the trial seven minutes later. That was rather pushing it as far as time goes, but all ended well."
"That can't be right," I said, shaking my head. "Last night at midnight I was in a haunted mill, watching my friend and a ghost hunting group as they examined the building. There was no logic trial…"
Goose bumps crawled up my arms.
"Didn't you say you played a logic game with someone last night, while you were waiting for Sarah?" Theo asked.
"Milo," I said, more confused than ever. "Milo gave me one of those logic puzzles to solve, but it wasn't a trial. Milo is a person, a normal person, not someone from the Court…" My voice trailed away again as Theo and I both turned to look at the large book sitting on the dictionary stand.
Theo beat me to it, hurriedly thumbing through the book as I peered over his shoulder.
"Milo, originally archon, later banished from the Court of Divine Blood for abuses of power," Theo read. "Cleared of charges, and removed to vessel of mortality at request of mare Irina. Mundane residence: Newberry, England. Mundane names: Milo Lee, Miles Leighton. Miles Leighton is the man I was trying to find last night, the one who had disappeared, the man who is known to be one of Hope's friends, and supposedly the one she sought shelter with."
"This is wild. Milo is a…a…"
"Vessel," Theo said grimly, his jaw tight. "In other words, a servant to mortals."
"Ha! That's what he meant about being in customer service. He deliberately hid his connection with the Court from me. But why?"
"I think it's time we had a few words with him to find that answer, and a few others as well."
"Agreed. Er…" I glanced over to where Terrin sat watching us, a pleasant expression on his face.
"Hello there. I wondered when you'd remember me."
"We hadn't forgotten," Theo said slowly, eyeing Terrin. "I'm curious as to why you haven't raised the alarm about us, though. And why, for that matter, are you here now?"
"Life possesses so many questions, doesn't it?" Terrin leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. "Since I am a tidy person by nature, I will answer those I can. I am here, my good nephilim, because this is one of my offices—I have three. And I have not turned you in because I am one of those people who are somewhat offensively labeled cockeyed optimists. A reverse Cassandra, if you will—rather than no one believing what I say, I believe most of what people tell me."
"You believe I didn't have anything to do with Hope's disappearance?"
He nodded. "It's been my experience that life is often ful
l of irony. Your story is very ironic, thus I am inclined to believe that you inadvertently summoned Hope just as you described, that she bequeathed her Gift to you without your knowing it, and that you subsequently not only accepted these facts, but determined to triumph over the adversities that have met you face-to-face."
I slumped into a chair, relief easing my jangled nerves. "Then you'll help us find Hope?"
"Oh no, that would be quite unacceptable." His lips quirked. "Giving aid to someone banned from the Court would be a serious matter involving repercussions I would prefer to avoid."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so selfish. Of course we don't want you to get into trouble on our behalf—"
"I am, however, willing to risk the censure that might follow should the blind eye I'm about to turn to your presence here be found out."
"Portia? I think you both had better get a move on. I just heard someone say that the mare were on their way over to investigate the odd fog." Sarah's voice was hushed and muffled as she opened the door a smidgen to speak to us.
"On our way." I stood and offered my hand to Terrin. He looked surprised for a moment, then rose and shook it. "Thank you for believing us."
"And thank you for not turning us in," Theo added, giving Terrin a wary look.
"It has been my pleasure. I do hope you find the answers that you seek."
We slipped out of the door, leaving Terrin standing in the middle of the room, a benign expression on his face. Outside the room, the fog was beginning to thin.
I concentrated a moment on bringing it back to full denseness, but it continued to disperse despite my efforts.
"Something wrong?" Theo asked as we hurried down the hallway, averting our faces whenever a foggy figure loomed up. "Are you not able to control this any longer?"
"No, I'm not. Let's get out of here before it's gone completely."
We made it to the side entrance of the Court without being seen, but rather than follow Sarah and me through the door to a dank, empty subbasement in the castle, Theo stopped and looked back through to the stone wall that represented the outer boundary of the Court.
"Theo? Shouldn't we get out of Dodge while the getting is good?"
"We're safe here for a minute or two. Have you ever felt as if you were being manipulated?" he asked, turning toward me.
"Frequently. I'm a woman in a traditionally male-dominated workplace. I'm always being manipulated into taking less-than-desirable projects, or taking on extra work, or covering for someone when I'd rather not—it's part of the job, unfortunately. Do you think someone is manipulating us now?"
"I'm not sure. It just seems to me…" He frowned at the door. "I am going back. You and Sarah take the car back to the pub."
"No!" I said, unhappy with the thought of separating. "You can't go back in there!"
"Sweetling, I haven't survived as long as I have by being reckless. I know a thing or two about getting around unseen." He gave me a quick kiss and turned back to the door.
I grabbed his arm to stop him. "My fog is gone. You can't stealth around the Court in full daylight!"
"It'll be no different than running from a building to the car. I have my hat—I'll be careful."
"Fine, if you insist on going, then we'll go with you. Let me yell for Sarah—"
"No, I will do this alone. You two go ahead without me."
"Why?" I asked, hurt by his exclusion.
He took my face in his hands, kissing the frown between my brows. "Because there is a slight, a very slight, chance I will be caught. The Court can do nothing to me, but you have too much to lose to risk visiting there again. I will speak with Terrin, then leave immediately."
"We just talked to him. Why do you want to see him again?"
His eyes were a light shale grey. "Because I dislike being made to act the puppet, and I think he knows who's behind that feeling. Portia, you must trust me—I am not going to put myself or you at risk. I simply want to ask a few more questions."
"But—"
"Go," he said, giving me a push toward the door that led out of the subbasement. "I will be with you shortly."
"And just how do you expect to get back if we take the car?" I asked, my hands on my hips. Theo could be the most fabulous man alive, but he was also one of the most frustrating.
"There's a magical thing known as a taxi," he answered, his lips curling into a smile. "You just call them up, and they take you to wherever you wish to go."
"Oh, very funny. Fine. Go off on your own on mysterious errands, and don't include me. See if I care, you incredibly annoying man!"
I love you, too, he said, his laughter soft in my mind as I made my way up out of the bowels of the castle.
"If he wants to be that way," I said, slamming the car door shut on the questions Sarah had been peppering me with as we left the castle, "then so be it. We'll just go ahead and solve the whole thing while he's off doing his lone-wolf act."
"Atta girl," Sarah replied, pulling a U-turn to get us onto the road back to our town. "What's next?"
I pulled out the packet of maps given to us by the local auto association. "I believe a little visit to the town of Newberry is in order."
Chapter 20
"That's it, number twelve. Boy, that's a mess, huh?"
"Very." I examined the outside of the small house that sat across the street. A black wrought-iron fence lurched drunkenly around a small garden that was more weeds than flowers, tall grass sheltering what appeared to be a rusted wheelbarrow. Butterflies provided brilliant spots of color as they flitted about the yard. "It's not exactly what you'd expect from someone who used to live in the Court, is it?"
"I don't know," Sarah answered thoughtfully as we got out of the car. "I suppose once you'd lived in heaven, anything else would be…crap."
The battered gate screeched painfully as I pushed it open, making my way through cast-off garden implements and boxes of unnamed refuse to the dirty front door.
"You're not just going to knock, are you?" Sarah asked as I raised my hand to do just that.
"Of course I am. What did you think we were going to do here?"
"Well, I don't know." She clutched her hands together in an agitated manner. "I thought maybe we'd stake out the house for a bit, and watch to see where Milo goes, and who he meets, and things like that. That's what I'd do, anyway."
"This isn't one of your books, Sarah, it's real life, and we don't have the time to play private detectives." I knocked on the door, taking a deep breath to calm my suddenly twitchy nerves.
"Yes? What is it?" The door opened, Milo's wife visible as she frowned out from the depths of the entrance. For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of surprise in her eyes, and I was overcome with a sense of similarity, a déjà vu that sent a skitter of goose bumps up my arms.
"Hello. You probably don't remember me, but my name is Portia Harding. My friend Sarah and I were at the ghost-hunting event last night."
She didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "Yes?"
I trotted out my friendliest smile. "I wondered if we could have a word with your husband?"
"Milo?" She frowned, giving us a look that expressed all sorts of suspicions. "I suppose so."
"Thank you—" I started to walk to through the door, jumping back when she closed it literally in my face. "Well, damn!"
"She isn't the friendliest person in the world," Sarah said behind me. "Wouldn't chat at all during our time at the mill. Mr. Richings told me he thought she was just shy, and that she'd probably loosen up once she started making regular runs with the group."
"Shy isn't quite the word I'd use to describe her," I said, rubbing my nose where it had bumped into the door. I turned back to Sarah, puzzled by something she'd said. "Once she started—"
"Hello, ladies! What a pleasure it is to see you both again, although a bit unexpected." Milo smiled at us, shaking our hands. "To what do I owe this honor?"
"You'll have to forgive us for stopping by without calling first, but to be honest
, I wasn't sure if you would see us, and I really would appreciate the chance to talk."
"Of course," he said, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. "Please, come in and make yourself at home. Would you like a coffee?"
"Coffee would be lovely, thank you."
He escorted us down a dimly lit hallway to a small room that was clean, but had an unused feel to it, as if it was the room saved solely for company. "I'll just tell the wife that we've got visitors," Milo said, making a quick escape.
"Quaint," Sarah pronounced after making a cursory examination of the room. "Very English. Do you think Milo knows that we know who he is?"
"I'm not sure. He's a difficult man to make out." I sat in a flowery gold and scarlet chair, making a mental list of things I wished to ascertain.
"Oh, I don't know, he seems pretty straightforward to me." She shot me a quick glance. "With the exception of the obvious, that is. You know I don't like to make snap judgments, but I'm not sure I like his wife. What did you say her name was?"
"Carol. Sarah, does she remind you of anyone?"
"Milo's wife?"
I nodded, trying to pinpoint what it was about her that seemed so familiar.
"No. Unless you're talking about someone back home, and then I'd have to say Janice Del Rio. She used to come in and clean for me when the twins were little, remember? I caught her one day trying on my best dress."
"That's not it. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she reminds me of someone. I just can't think of who."
"Whom." Sarah went to the window to look out. "Do you want me to ask him about Hope?"
"No. I can ask my own questions."
"Portia, honey," Sarah turned, her hands spread wide. "You know I love you like a sister, but if you have a failing, it's that you're invariably blunt when you want information."
I lifted my chin and looked down my nose at her. "I am not blunt. I'm straightforward. The difference between which you are clearly unable to appreciate."
"Call it what you will, it seems to me that this situation is going to need careful handling. Since I am the soul of tact and subtlety, why don't you let me handle it?"
The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires Page 21
