“What’s wrong? Who is it?”
The phone rang a second time. Curtis swiped the screen and held the phone up to his ear. “Hello,” he said. His voice was carefully neutral.
Luc tilted his head. Predator hearing was one of the many gifts his vampire nature gave him, and he knew Curtis was well aware he could listen in to the conversation. The wizard locked eyes with him.
“Mr. Baird.” The voice on the other end of the line was cultured. An older man, if Luc had to wager. He didn’t know the voice, though.
“Mr. Stirling,” Curtis said, and Luc tilted his head. “This is a surprise.”
“Malcolm?” Luc mouthed the word.
Curtis nodded.
Anders appeared in the archway to the dining room. Luc wondered if he’d felt the concern coming from Curtis or if he’d just overheard from where he’d been sprawled out on the couch.
“I imagine so.” Malcolm’s voice was without emotion. Luc remembered the great divide that used to exist between the aristocracies and the common man, and wondered if Malcolm Stirling had heard those days had ended. He doubted it.
“Is there something you needed?” Curtis said. Luc gave him a small smile of encouragement, and Curtis shrugged. He was glad to see Curtis wasn’t feeling particularly outclassed by Malcolm Stirling.
“It is perhaps something best spoken of in person. I am requesting a visit from you. I have a matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
I’ll bet, Luc thought. Stirling was no doubt more than aware now of the strange death that had happened in his city. No doubt he was, as Curtis had predicted, trying to make sure all those who had access to magic and were not completely under his yoke were accounted for.
“Well, we’re just getting started for the evening here,” Curtis said. “Where would you like to meet us?”
Anders chuckled. Luc grinned. Curtis shrugged again, but he had a small smile of his own in place. Not for the first time, Luc thought Curtis could have been quite adept among the royalty of old, playing their polite games of one-upmanship and out maneuvering each other into positions the other would rather not be.
“There’s really no need to bother your companions.” Malcolm’s voice betrayed no annoyance at Curtis’s suggestion.
“It’s never a bother,” Curtis said. “If this is about what I think it might be about, it can’t hurt to include the local Duc, don’t you think? And I can’t help but think Anders might have valuable insight, too.”
A pause. “Very well. I suppose our church in the Glebe would not be appropriate, then.”
“I’m afraid not,” Curtis said. Neither Anders nor Luc would be able to enter the small church.
“I will have Nineteen made available. There’s no reason we cannot eat. At least, those of us who do. In an hour, then?”
Curtis raised his eyebrows. “Okay. We’ll see you then.”
Malcolm hung up first, which didn’t surprise Luc in the slightest. Curtis looked at his phone for a few seconds, then put it down.
“Guess who’s coming to dinner?” Curtis said.
“Malcolm Stirling,” Luc said.
“No, that was a joke,” Curtis said, but when Anders and Luc both stared at him blankly, he sighed. “Never mind. Yes. Malcolm Stirling just invited us to Nineteen for dinner and a chat.”
“Nineteen?” Anders said. “Where’s that?”
“In the Market,” Curtis said. “In an hour. We need to change. It’s a pretty swanky place. You still have those suits Luc bought you?”
Anders grumbled. “I don’t want to wear a suit.”
“This is my surprised face,” Curtis said. “Fine, at least the jacket and a collared shirt, okay? Maybe the brown one Luc got you for Christmas? No tie if you don’t want to.”
Anders grunted and left the room.
“You already look perfect,” Curtis said to Luc.
Luc tilted his head. “Thank you, lapin.” He regarded Curtis’s T-shirt, which proclaimed “no power in the ’verse” could stop him.
“I’ll change,” Curtis said. He rose. “I’m trying to decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing he called and asked politely to meet with me.”
“And did not fight too strenuously when you invited Anders and me along. Which was clever, by the way.”
“Thanks. I’ve been known to be clever on occasion.” Curtis looked at his phone a moment longer, then shook his head. “You know, I’d hoped we’d figure out a way for a Valentine’s Day dinner out someplace nice or something, but this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” He shook his head. “Whatever. I’ll get changed. Then we can go meet with His Crusty Lordship.”
“There’s still time for Valentine’s Day,” Luc said.
“A boy can hope,” he said, but Luc could feel Curtis’s unease beneath the easy humor.
*
Curtis parked his hybrid but paused, holding the steering wheel and looking straight ahead. “Before we go in, let’s be clear on a few things, especially a couple of topics off the list.” When he turned to look at Anders and Luc, he stopped. Luc rarely let surprise show, but his eyes had widened, and even Anders, grumpy already from being relegated to the back seat, looked like he’d chewed tinfoil.
“What?” Curtis said, worried. “What’s wrong?”
“This is…unlike you,” Luc said.
“Ducky doesn’t like being told what to do,” Anders said. “Which I get.”
Curtis laughed. “Seriously? Wow. Okay, both of you tell me what to do all the time. And for your information, I wasn’t about to give you side quests, complete with dialog trees.”
Luc shook his head, frowning. Curtis waved his hand. “Never mind. The point being, when we were invited to that vampire evening, you told us what to expect and how to behave, right?”
Looking like as though he might have realized he was on shakier ground, Luc nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, now it’s my turn. Unless you’re both suddenly wizard experts?” Curtis looked at Anders. “You think you can try taking an order or two for once, rather than giving them?”
Anders scowled, but he didn’t argue.
“Okay. As I was saying, before we go in, a couple of things—no mention of how I hang out with Mackenzie or the others, and don’t bring up my helping out David. If they ask about anything magical, defer to me if you can. Otherwise, try not to volunteer anything. Oh, and if there’s a feather on the table and it’s balancing up on one end, maybe just don’t talk at all.”
Luc’s expression softened. “Is this what it was like when I briefed you on what to expect at a séance?”
“You were worse,” Anders said.
“In that case, I shall do my best to obey,” Luc said.
“I don’t mean to be harsh. It’s just…Maybe they’ll be trying to trip you up. Both of you. I want you here, don’t get me wrong. But Malcolm Stirling is all about control, and something is happening right now he’s either in control of and doesn’t want us in, or he had nothing to do with, in which case he’s going to be pissed.”
“Wizards and tempers don’t mix,” Anders said from the backseat.
Curtis’s eyebrows rose.
“What?” Anders said. “I do listen to you. Why does no one think I listen?”
“Let’s go,” Luc said. “It wouldn’t do to keep men accustomed to power waiting.”
Curtis blew out a breath. “You know what? I’m sorry. I should trust you both more. You’re not dumb. You’re both a lot more experienced than I am. Don’t mention Mackenzie or the others, but if he asks you a question, maybe it’ll rattle Stirling if I don’t step in to answer. Anything rattling him is good by me.”
“Yes, sir,” Anders said. He saluted, and Curtis rolled his eyes.
They moved quickly through the nearly empty parking lot. It wasn’t snowing, but the wind was cruel and cold. Even in the short run to the door of Nineteen, Curtis’s teeth were chattering. Luc held the door open, and they all ducked inside.
Curtis had been to
Nineteen once before, with his parents. His sixteenth birthday, he recalled, and was surprised to find the memory didn’t choke him as much as it once might have. The place looked much the same, a dimly lit but classy interior with narrow black linens over glass tables and leather chairs. Back then, however, it hadn’t been almost empty. Malcolm Stirling sat in a sea of otherwise empty tables. Curtis was surprised to see the other coven heads present, too. He wondered if Stirling had invited them along before or after Curtis had told him he’d be bringing Luc and Anders. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to be outnumbered.
For some reason, even though he was now facing down four older men and Mackenzie’s mother—any of whom could probably outclass him in one-on-one magic—he felt a little bit bolder thinking maybe Malcolm Stirling was unsettled at the thought of facing his triad alone.
The hostess waiting for them took their jackets. A waiter, looking spiffy in black tie, led them across the room to the table. Stirling and his group looked up when they approached, as though only now noticing they had arrived. Stirling himself was at one head of the table, and Katrina Windsor at the other. Between the two, down one side of the table, were the other three coven heads. They rose when Curtis reached the table, which surprised him even though it was obviously a facile politeness.
“Hello again,” Curtis said. “These are my coven mates, le Duc Luc Lanteigne, and Anders Hake.” He turned to Luc and Anders, introducing them in turn.
Luc was the picture of charm, and Anders managed a smile that wasn’t entirely feral.
“Katrina Windsor,” Katrina said, offering her hand. Luc brought it to his lips, and she colored. Anders mimicked the gesture, and she colored further. Curtis fought hard to keep a straight face. When they wanted to, his guys really pulled off that whole sexy vibe. Not that Katrina Windsor should be a stranger to that kind of affection. Mackenzie’s mother was beautiful. She had the same waves and curls Mackenzie had, though she kept them tamed and controlled in a way that showed off the curve of her neck.
“As the newest coven head, may I present to you Alastair Spencer, Jonathan Mitchell, Thomas Knight, and, of course, Malcolm Stirling, our head of moot.” Katrina’s voice was the measure of decorum, and the light smile she offered with each name seemed genuine enough. In his previous run-ins with the coven heads, only Katrina Windsor had shown anything remotely like compassion to him.
Luc shook hands with the men first, Anders following suit. Then they sat.
Stirling looked at the waiter for the first time. “The usual for the table.”
“Very good, sir.” The waiter moved on. Curtis wondered what they’d be having and tried not to be annoyed at the opening play. Stirling was making it clear who was in charge.
“It pleases me you could manage to meet us on short notice,” Stirling said.
Curtis felt his defenses going up. “The last thing we want to do is offend,” he said. “We didn’t have plans we couldn’t rearrange. Though I have to say, I’m also pretty curious.”
“Oh?”
Ugh. He’s going to make me ask. “Honestly?” Curtis shrugged. There was no point in dancing around it. “What’s up?”
Stirling shared a look with the other coven heads, though Curtis couldn’t help but notice his glance didn’t linger nearly as long on Katrina as it did with the other grey-haired men. “To be direct,” Malcolm Stirling said. “You are in a position, perhaps, for your…coven…to be helpful.”
It took everything Curtis had not to laugh out loud. He took a sip of water and managed a quick glance at Luc, who regarded Malcolm Stirling with a placid expression of mild interest. He didn’t dare look at Anders if he wanted to keep a straight face.
“I’m not sure I follow,” Curtis said after a moment.
The waiter returned with a bottle of wine, and conversation paused while the man poured a small amount into Stirling’s glass. Stirling tasted, paused, and then nodded. The waiter filled his glass and moved around the table, until they were all served. Anders regarded his glass with obvious distaste, but Luc took a sip, then smiled at Stirling, revealing a trace of fang.
“Australian, yes? Penfolds?” Luc paused and sniffed the glass. “One of the Shiraz years?”
Stirling nodded. “Yes. It’s a personal favorite. They keep some here for me.”
“We are lucky to be here with you, then,” Luc said. “From the 2011 stock or earlier?”
“Earlier.” Stirling offered a tight smile.
Curtis tried a sip. It tasted like wine. He put the glass back down.
“There have been a pair of incidents in the city,” Stirling said, after putting his own glass back on the table.
“Do you mean the dead demon?” Anders said. “Or the werewolf beatdowns?”
All attention turned to Anders. Curtis knew that had been absolutely the point. Smug satisfaction hummed through their connection.
Point to the demon, Curtis thought.
“Yes,” Stirling said. “I see you’ve already heard.”
“It’s a small city,” Anders said. “Word gets around. And I go different places than you.”
“I’m sure.” If Malcolm was bothered by Anders’s less-than-subtle snark, it didn’t show. “That’s actually part of why we thought of you three.”
Curtis frowned, not quite following. “It is?”
“Yes,” Malcolm said. “We’d like you to aid our main investigator into the situation. Solve this issue, report back to us if there are any problems, that sort of thing. While we have plenty of resources, you, Mr. Baird, are in a more unique position of having…ties…to the other groups we do not. As you said, you have the ear of the new Duc.” Malcolm lifted his glass to Luc. “And while this is a demonic matter, which normally would preclude much in the way of our involvement, there are shades that concern us.”
“The whole ‘how come there’s a body’ thing?” Anders said.
“Yes,” Stirling said.
The waiter returned with two other servers, and soon small bowls of a hot, spicy-scented soup were in front of each of them, with the exception of Luc.
“I assumed you wouldn’t be joining us to eat,” Malcolm said to the vampire.
“Of course,” Luc said.
“Hey, while you’re here,” Anders said to the waiter placing the bowl. “Could I maybe get a beer? You can take that away.” He gestured to the wine glass.
The waiter didn’t so much as miss a beat, taking the glass away and offering a mild “Of course.”
Curtis covered his reaction with another sip of the wine. He wished he had the guts to send it away. The only wine he’d ever enjoyed had been a dessert wine he’d had once from Niagara. It had been very sweet and had almost tasted like strawberries, which was far more his speed.
Once the wait staff had left, though, his smile slipped away.
“I understand what you’re saying about our ties, but I’m not an investigator,” Curtis said. Also, why the hell would I want to help you?
“Think of it as being a liaison,” Stirling said. “We have an actual investigator, but I daresay none would turn down the…insight…Mr. Hake can offer.”
“I don’t get turned down often, no,” Anders said. He ate a spoonful of the soup and grunted. “This is good. What is it?”
“It’s a spiced potato leek soup,” Katrina said.
Anders nodded, having another mouthful. The others were eating at a much more sedate pace.
“Your investigator is David Rimmer, I assume?” Luc said. “We’ve met him before.”
Stirling took a moment to pat his lip with the napkin before responding. “Yes. He’s worked alongside us for a long time.” The word choice was telling. Stirling and the Families had offered protection of a sort for David as long as he worked for them and made sure their shadier activities were never traced back to the sources or made public. It had more or less been blackmail for indentured servitude. David’s freedom, something Curtis wondered if they knew Anders had a hand in arranging, had certainly shaken thin
gs up.
“I know him,” Curtis said. “He’s a good man.”
“Let me be frank, Mr. Baird,” Stirling said. “Working with us would go a long way to easing the…friction…of our past dealings.”
You had my parents killed. Curtis worked hard not to let his spoon shake as he took another mouthful of the soup.
“We certainly appreciate our situation is unique,” Luc said.
Stirling narrowed his lips. “Yes.”
“What do you know so far?” Curtis said.
Malcolm shared a glance with the other coven heads. Katrina Windsor nodded easily enough, but it took longer for the Spencer and Knight coven heads to do the same. Only Jonathan Mitchell seemed unwilling to move forward, but Stirling didn’t seem to care to wait for his agreement.
That was interesting.
“Little, at the moment,” he said. “Bite marks to the forearms and neck, which lead us to believe a lycanthrope is involved, likeliest a werewolf. But the state of the body, and that there is a body at all, precludes that being the end of things.” He finished his last spoonful of soup and placed the spoon beside the bowl, dabbing his lips again with the napkin before he continued. “The pack leader in question demanded the return of the body, and as such, we only had time for the most cursory of examinations.”
“That surprises you?” Anders said.
Stirling’s nod was perfunctory. The waiters came and did another dance, spiriting away the soup bowls and topping up a few of the wine glasses. Curtis shook his head when the waiter reached for his, and he moved on.
“So, this pack leader took back his own and kicked you guys to the curb,” Anders said. He had a glass of beer now and took a swallow, making a face Curtis knew meant the beer was less than he’d hoped. “And told you he doesn’t want any of your help, right? That it?”
Mitchell bristled. “I’m not sure I’d put it that way.”
“Jonathan,” Malcolm said, warning in the tone. Mitchell looked down at the table. Curtis watched him regain his composure and wondered what had set him off. It occurred to Curtis that Rebekah didn’t say very much about the man. None of his craft night friends talked much about their families. And for the first time, it also struck him to wonder how the two were related. Jonathan Mitchell was as white and stiff as the rest of the old men at the table. Was Rebekah an Orphan adopted into the family? She seemed to think she could pick up the family inheritance, so probably not.
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