"That's insane," I said. "Where was the sighting?"
"In Houston."
"That's where one of the murders took place—wait, you know all about that, don't you?"
"Yes. We can table that discussion for later; I suspect your investigator should join that conversation."
"He should, and the enforcers who were with him. They saw most of the murder scenes firsthand."
"Then they have the advantage; I have only seen photographs. It troubles me, too, that Shakkor Agdah made an appearance on the full moon and has not been seen, since."
"My wife and the sprite did a full squad of them in," I pointed out, my words dry. "Daniel has photographs of the last two bodies we examined before they were destroyed."
"The ones the sprite killed?"
"Yes. He says it requires a vampire's claws or a spelled blade to kill them by beheading."
"That is what my contact with the Council says as well. He tells me the only spelled blades are produced and wielded by sprites. I know of no other magical paranormals capable of producing the necessary spells."
"I can't think of other paranormals who can appear from a manufactured hole in my backyard, either," I said.
Trey hid a smile; he found it funny, which I'd intended. "I will show my photograph to your wife, and would like to see those your investigator has of the dark cloaks."
"Deal," I said. "Follow me; I hope the scholars know something about that pyramid by now."
"Pyramid?"
"Come to the kitchen and see for yourself. Otherwise, it's a long story," I said.
* * *
Cassie
I was glad vampires didn't eat pizza; every box was empty by the time Parke walked into the kitchen with the vampire FBI agent. Introductions were made; Trey Rivers was very respectful to Averill.
"Trey has a photograph of Dalton King, your father's father," Parke said. "Someone reported a sighting of Dalton in the Houston area; he wants to know if Dalton resembles your father well enough that they mistook Mort for Dalton."
"All right," I said. "I've never seen pictures of my grandfather, so this will be something new," I added.
Trey pulled a photograph from a jacket pocket and handed it to me. I couldn't speak at first, when I saw the image. When I got my breath back, I almost didn't want to speak.
"Parke," I turned worried eyes on him, "This is the man I saw with Claude Ullery."
* * *
Parke
"It may not be Dalton," Daniel said.
"And yet it may," I countered. "Cassie sounded pretty sure of it."
"She's never seen him before? I find that odd," Daniel argued.
"I don't find it odd at all—Dalton was hunted as a serial killer," Trey said. "When he was reported dead, many in the paranormal community breathed happy sighs and went about their business."
"That's two we know of who were reported dead and conveniently came back to life," I said.
"Who else?" Trey asked. We hadn't discussed Ray Diablo, yet.
"Ray Diablo," I grimaced. "He attacked Rob, Cliff and Cassie. Cassie was forced to take him down."
"Your wife has been busy of late," Trey observed.
"I realize that," I said. "How was I to know this would become ground zero for what looks to be another war?"
"Where was Ray killed?" Trey asked.
"Ross' mansion. It's a burned-out ruin, now. Cassie swears that Claude Ullery passed a package similar to the one her aunt sent to her. If she is correct, then that envelope could have a pyramid in it, too."
"I will send photographs of the pyramid you have to my Council contact, but it is likely they have no more idea of what it is than the sprite King's scholars," Trey said. "The mystery of it, and the fact that there could be two that Shakkor Agdah may or may not seek, troubles me."
"It troubles me that we haven't seen any of them since the full moon," Daniel said. "Are they gathering again, to strike again? I worry that they know where we are and could show up at any moment."
"Rob has placed a perimeter shield about the property," I said. "Only someone who knows us and knows where we are can lead Shakkor Agdah in, like they did on Cliff's property."
"Why did the sprite King not take the pyramid with him?" Daniel asked.
"He saw no reason to, and perhaps has no desire to lead Shakkor Agdah to his own door," I said.
"How will we know they want the thing?" Daniel continued his questioning.
"No idea. They didn't announce their purpose, other than trying to kill us when they showed up during the full moon," Cliff strode in and took a seat in the media room where Trey, Daniel and I had settled for our meeting. "Nobody said anything about a pyramid; they were too busy attacking my pack."
"We need to talk to Claude," Daniel reiterated.
"Tomorrow," I agreed. "Take Cliff or one of the others with you; he can't stand against both of you anyway."
"You'll need compulsion, I think," Trey said. "We will visit him after dark."
* * *
Cassie
"You're waiting for Trey to rise before questioning Claude?" Parke had made the announcement shortly after he raided the fridge to make himself a sandwich. He'd only gotten one piece of pizza before Trey arrived. The sprite King and his entourage had eaten the rest.
I didn't tell Rob that his pizza-loving King had destroyed all my myths about them living organically and only eating vegan or something.
"We should probably consider asking for nominations for a new Prince of Alabama," Rob said while handing a loaf of wheat bread to Parke. Parke stilled for a moment to consider the suggestion, then nodded and set two pieces of bread on a plate.
"Tomorrow," he agreed. "I'll send a message. We need a short turnaround on this, since we could use someone in that seat as of yesterday."
Parke's calendar was filling up; I knew he had to have a long conversation with the Prince of California about the flood and poisoning deaths. I still hadn't been caught up on that story.
Finding a suitable Prince for Alabama, after the last one had been murdered, could prove difficult. "Want chips?" I asked, going toward the cabinet that held several varieties. It was easy to tell that men had done the shopping; there was a multitude of items for quick meals, while fresh meat hadn't been on the list at all.
"Cliff and I may have a suggestion," Rob said. "We'll let you know when we see your e-mail."
"Tomorrow," Parke repeated. "I'll fit it in. I'll take chips," he said when I held up a bag.
* * *
When someone knocked on the bedroom door later, I thought it was Parke. It wasn't—it was Rob.
"Blankets on the floor, not the most comfortable bed," Rob made a face at my makeshift pallet.
"The beds should be here tomorrow; Parke doesn't want delivery people out here, so Lance and Lyle are renting a moving truck to bring mattress sets and headboards," I said. "What's up?"
"My King asked me to give you this," he held out a small box. It was made of wood and delicately carved.
"What's this?" I asked, taking the box from Rob's hand.
"It's a gift of gratitude. Not many receive them," he said.
"For what?" I asked.
"For saving me twice. And Cliff twice."
"I don't recall saving you a second time," I pointed out while staring at the box in my hands.
"I couldn't have stood against all the dark cloaks sent against us; you trimmed the numbers down to something I could manage."
"I would have done it anyway; there's no need for a gift," I said.
"Open it," he nodded toward the box. I lifted the lid carefully; the box felt so fragile in my hands.
Inside, on a scrap of red velvet, lay a necklace. I blinked; the chain was gold, its pendant a tiny, golden acorn. It looked like filigree; it had been so carefully made. "This is beautiful," I breathed, touching it reverently.
"It will survive your fire, if there is need when you wear it," Rob said. "This means we hold you in the highest regard."
<
br /> "Really?" I blinked at Rob in confusion. "Everything gets destroyed when I turn."
"Not this. Wear it as a token of our esteem."
"I will." Lifting the necklace from its bed of velvet, I settled it around my neck. The tiny acorn lay over my heart and moved with my breath.
"It looks good," Rob grinned.
"Thank you. Thank your King, too. This is such a thoughtful gift."
"I'll let him know. He loves pizza, by the way. Doesn't get it often, as you can guess."
"Why is that?" I asked. If he were King, surely he could get whatever he wanted to eat.
"His master cook says it isn't real food," Rob grinned. "Averill learned long ago not to argue with the cook."
"Because you won't get decent meals?" I guessed.
"Something like that."
"You're his General?"
"I am, and have been for centuries."
"Wow." I touched the acorn again. "I feel as if I should be more respectful, somehow."
"After a while, bowing and scraping, as humans put it, becomes an annoyance. I like it better when I'm treated as an equal. I laugh more and enjoy my life when that happens."
"I'm grateful for you and Cliff," I admitted. "When I first had that internship forced on me, I was pissed. I didn't think anybody was looking out for the people who couldn't afford lawyers."
"And that meant the poorest of the poor, more than anything," Rob nodded. "Yes, many of them are guilty. By the law of the land, they are still entitled to representation, and not just a sham performance in a courtroom before a judge and jury who may have already made up their minds."
"Yeah. I thought that, too, what with the prison system and the overcrowding in Alabama," I agreed. "Which I still don't understand. Everybody knows it's overcrowded, and they're still putting people in jail for nonpayment of fines."
"I can see this upsets you. Shall we talk of other things? Discussing a troubling subject before bed causes sleepless nights."
Rob was right—if I dwelled too long on this, it would only mean little sleep and a sluggish morning. "All right, what kind of pizza is Averill's favorite?" I changed subjects.
"He loves the ones with thick crusts and meat piled high. He looks for any reason to visit Chicago," Rob chuckled. "Now, with that, I will say good-night," he turned toward the door. "Pleasant dreams."
* * *
Zedarius
Why am I waking? It was my first coherent thought after staring at the stone ceiling above me for who knew how long.
The stone slab beneath me was uncomfortable, too; I'd only just realized it. Why had I chosen this place to fall asleep? My mind struggled to make sense of that. I also searched for a name to call the place where I lay.
Crypt. Mausoleum. Those words in many languages filtered into my brain.
Brain. Yes, I had one. I was beginning to recall that it was stuffed with information, some of which I never wanted to know again.
They are waking, my brain informed me.
"I am still tired," I croaked, my voice as dry as the dust that lay upon me. I hadn't moved for centuries; I understood that.
Never intended to wake or move again, I reminded myself. Rest in Peace. I laughed a humorless laugh. That was my intention—to rest in peace. Would it do to curse my fate?
None could be left to hear me.
When I sat up, a waterfall of dust from centuries of non-movement slid off me. I coughed as some of it entered my lungs.
I hadn't breathed in all that time. The stench of stale air offended me. With a scraping noise that pained my ears, I turned on my stone perch to set my feet upon the floor. There was a way out of here; I merely had to remember where it was.
* * *
Parke
I decided to send the e-mail to the Alabama Paranormal Society while having breakfast in the kitchen. Cassie sat nearby, eating quietly while I worked on my tablet. I had two fears regarding the e-mail; one, that I'd get too many nominations and would be forced to weed out the unsuitable; two, that I wouldn't get any nominations, after what happened to Blake Donovan.
To me, it looked as if Blake had a huge target painted on his back from the beginning. For whatever reason, Shakkor Agdah waited for the full moon to murder him and attempt to murder Cliff and Rob.
It was too early to contact Prince Alfred in California. Daniel was doing research on the back patio, searching Claude's financial records and such in preparation for the questioning later.
I was glad Trey wanted to go with Daniel; a vampire was a good ally to have at your back. Rock demons were good; a vampire combined with rock demons was much better.
Especially if Dalton King were still alive.
I'd spent several hours the previous evening going into my father's records on Dalton King. He'd killed human and paranormal; robbery was sometimes a motive. Not always, though. Dalton had a volatile temper. In one of my father's notes, he'd written that Dalton was probably dealing with mental illness of some sort.
It mattered not to me; Dalton was dead (again) if we ever crossed paths with him. I'd completed and signed his death warrant after doing my research; every Prince in the United States received a copy in an e-mail, along with the offer of a reward for Dalton's death.
I toyed with the idea of placing a reward for Morton's death, too, but held back; I wanted to talk to him first. Too many questions concerning Ross Diablo needed answers, and I had no doubts, now, that Morton held those answers.
The murder of Delyn King, Cassie's mother, was also a topic for discussion. I wanted Cassie to have some kind of closure on that front.
Mostly what I wanted to know was this; where the hell was Shakkor Agdah based, and how many of them were there? How were they connected to Morton King, Ross Diablo and Fli-Bi-Net?
Why were they connected to those things? There had to be an advantage to them somehow or they wouldn't consider any sort of alliance.
When would they strike again? Were they involved in the water demon murder in California? I still hadn't heard what type of poison was used.
Last time, they'd used a terrible plague to destroy hundreds of millions. This time, there were so many more humans inhabiting the Earth, and so many new ways to commit genocide. I doubted they'd allow all their genocidal plans to rest on a single method of destruction.
Trey said the vamps had records of the Black Death and Shakkor Agdah's involvement in that plague. He claimed that they'd interviewed a handful of Shakkor Agdah before beheading them.
I wanted to see those records for myself. Determine the truth in them, if there was any. In all my research into my father's records, nobody claimed to have questioned any member of Shakkor Agdah.
The other thing that troubled me was this; I felt as if the air had been sucked away from the Earth; as if it were waiting for a definitive shoe to drop, revealing Shakkor Agdah's plans.
A part of me wanted to put that off as long as possible.
Another part of me wanted the waiting to be over.
I had no idea which of those options we'd end up dealing with.
* * *
Cassie
Since Parke was buried in work, I poured him a fresh cup of coffee, put his empty breakfast plate in the dishwasher, wiped off counters and then went looking for something else to do.
Bedding would come with beds and mattresses; new sheets would have to be washed before being placed on beds. I hoped Lyle and Lance knew what they were doing and bought mattress pads, too.
Cliff and Rob had gone back to the PD's Office to turn in official resignations. They intended to use paid leave to cover their final two weeks' notice.
As an intern, I wasn't required to do anything; Rob would handle that part for me. With my cell phone in a sweater pocket, I walked out the back door, past the covered patio where Daniel worked while drinking coffee and wandered toward the boathouse.
The section of ground Averill split for his arrival had disappeared as if he'd never been. I wondered at that. I'd never asked R
ob about what power he and his kind held; I'm sure he didn't like talking about it. It could place them in danger with someone searching for vulnerabilities.
My cell phone rang. Lifting it from my pocket, I saw Rob's number displayed.
"Rob?" I answered.
"Cassie, the courthouse is on fire and Cliff and I are trapped in my office," Rob coughed.
Chapter 11
Cassie
"Daniel," I screeched, running toward the house while holding my cell phone aloft. "We have to get to the courthouse. It's on fire and Rob and Cliff are trapped inside."
Before I could reach the patio, the ground between us erupted. Three earth sprites boiled from the split.
"Come, there is no time to waste," one sprite shouted. Daniel, who'd risen and strode toward me, was pulled into the cleft with barely a struggle by one of the sprites. The other two each grabbed one of my arms and pulled me in, too.
What occurred in the following thirty seconds I will never describe properly. Everything was so dark, I felt as if I were riding a roller coaster through mud while veering around rocks and other obstacles.
Somewhere behind us, Parke could be clueless as to what was happening.
How was the Courthouse on fire? Most of it was built of brick and concrete, so it had to be an interior fire.
Didn't it?
You'll have to go through the floor to reach them, filtered into my mind. Well, it wasn't only Parke who could send messages mentally. We will wait below with the ice demon; they may be burned and have need of his cold, the voice added.
I hadn't thought about that. What I was thinking about was that I had to control the external fire. Shelbie said there were myths and legends of other fire demons doing exactly that, but I had no clue where to start, if such a thing were even possible.
What I could do was burn through the floor or floors, and create an opening to get through in order to rescue Cliff and Rob. My main worry was harming them further when I burst through the floor beneath their feet to perform the rescue.
Robin is above us, here, the voice came again. We will retreat into our temporary tunnel while you move upward and create an opening for their escape.
Your Money's Worth: Seattle Elementals, Book 1 Page 15
