Industrial Magic

by Kelly Armstrong

  ***

  Upstairs we found more red velvet wallpaper, more paintings of questionable artistic merit, more S amp;M-themed knickknacks, and no John. There were four bedrooms. Two were furnished as sleeping quarters, but seemed to be used only as dressing rooms. The third could best be described as a museum of vampire-fetish, and is best left undescribed in further detail. The fourth door was locked.

  "This must be his," I whispered to Cassandra. "Either that, or the stuff in here is even worse than the stuff in the last room."

  "I doubt that's possible." Cassandra's gaze darted toward the fetish room. "Perhaps, though, I should wait in the hall. In case John returns."

  I grinned. "Good plan."

  I cast a simple unlock spell, assuming it was a normal interior door lock, the type that could be sprung with a hairpin. When that failed, I moved to my next stronger spell, then to the strongest. Finally, the door opened.

  "Damn," I murmured. "Whatever he's got in here, he really doesn't want anyone to see."

  I eased open the door, guided my light-ball around the corner, and found myself looking into… an office. An ordinary, modern home office, with gray carpet, painted blue walls, fluorescent lighting, a metal desk, two computers, and a fax machine. A whiteboard on the far wall held John's to-do list: pick up dry-cleaning, pay property taxes, renew cleaning contract, hire new dishwasher. Not a single mention of sucking blood, raping the local virgins, or turning his neighbors into undead fiends. No wonder John didn't want anyone coming in here. One glance through that door and all his image-building would be for naught.

  I stepped out and closed the door behind me.

  "You don't want to go in there," I said.

  "Bad?"

  "The worst." I looked along the hall. "So he's not here, and it doesn't look like he's slept up here in a while. So where does a culturally faithful vamp sleep? You didn't see a mausoleum out back, did you?"

  "Thank God, no. He seems to have had the sense to draw the line at that."

  "Probably because he couldn't get the building permit. Okay, well…" I looked at her. "Help me out here. I'm not vamp-stereotype savvy."

  She paused, as if it pained her to answer, then sighed. "The basement."

  ***

  We stood in the center of the basement. My light-ball hung over the only object in the room, a massive, gleaming, ebony black, silver-trimmed coffin.

  "Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, huh?" I said. "At least it's not a mausoleum."

  "He's sleeping in a box, Paige. It doesn't get any worse than that. A mausoleum, at least you could fix up, add some skylights, perhaps a nice feather bed with Egyptian cotton sheets…"

  "He might have Egyptian cotton sheets in there," I said. "Oh, and you know, it might not be as bad as you think. Maybe he doesn't sleep in there. Maybe it's just for sex."

  Cassandra fixed me with a look, "Thank you, Paige. If those pictures upstairs weren't enough to taint my sex life for weeks, that image will certainly do it."

  "Well, at least we know he's not having sex in there right now. I think it'd need to be propped open for that. So what's the proper etiquette for rousing a vamp from his coffin? Should we knock first?"

  Cassandra grabbed the side of the coffin and was about to swing it open when her head jerked up.

  "Paige-!" she called.

  That was all I heard before a body struck mine. As I pitched forward, pain shot through my torn stomach muscles. I twisted and caught a glimpse of a naked thigh and a swirl of long, blond hair. Then a hand grabbed me from behind and a head plunged toward my neck.

  I reacted on instinct, not with a spell, but with a move from a barely remembered self-defense class. My elbow shot up into my attacker's chest and my other hand slammed, palm first, into the nose.

  A shriek of pain and my attacker stumbled back. I scuttled around, binding spell at the ready, and saw Brigid huddled on the floor, naked, cupping her nose.

  "You bitch! I think you broke my nose."

  "Stop whining," Cassandra said, reaching down to help me up. "It'll heal in the time it takes you to get dressed." She shook her head. "Two vampires laid low in two days by a twenty-two-year-old witch. I am embarrassed for my race."

  I could have pointed out that I was twenty-three, but it wouldn't have had the same alliteration. At least Cassandra had some vague idea of my age. Most times she was doing well if she bothered to remember names.

  Behind us, the coffin creaked open.

  "What the hell is-" John grumbled, yanking a sleep mask from his eyes. "Cassandra?" He groaned. "What did I do now?"

  "They broke in, Hans," Brigid said. "They were prowling around, looking at everything-"

  "We weren't prowling," Cassandra said. "And we were trying very hard not to look at anything. Now get out of that coffin, John. I can't speak to you when you're in that thing."

  He sighed, grabbed both sides and pushed himself up. Unlike Brigid, he was, thankfully, not naked, or I'd have been unable to resist vocalizing comparisons with the statues out front. Though John was shirtless, he wore a pair of billowing black silk pants, cinched at the waist. I assumed they were supposed to look debonair, but I was having serious MC Hammer flashbacks.

  "We need some information," Cassandra began. "Last night, we weren't entirely forthright with you for security reasons. But, after we spoke to you, it was obvious that I may have underestimated your… stature in the vampire world."

  "It happens," John said.

  "Yes, well, here's the situation. A vampire has been killing Cabal children-the children of Cabal employees."

  "Since when?" John said, then coughed. "I mean, I heard about that, of course."

  "Of course. As of yet, the Cabals don't realize that they're hunting for a vampire. The interracial council would like to keep it that way, to catch the perpetrator quietly. We know the Cabals don't like vampires. We don't need to give them an excuse to come after us."

  "Let them," Brigid said, stepping forward. "They want a war, we'll give them a-"

  John hushed her with a wave. As he watched us, I realized that, as I'd hoped, Cassandra had indeed underestimated him. Playing the fool didn't mean he was one.

  "If you catch him, what are you going to do with him?" John asked. "I'm not going to help you find a vampire so you can kill him. I could argue he's doing us a favor."

  "Not if the Cabals find out."

  John paused, then nodded. "So I assume you want to know who has a beef with the Cabals."

  "Shouldn't she already know?" Brigid said, slanting a look at Cassandra. "That's her job, as our representative isn't it? To know who's been naughty and who's been nice?"

  Cassandra met Brigid's sneer with a solemn nod. "Yes, it is, and if I have been remiss in performing my duties, I apologize. As of now, expect me to do so, and if I do not, you may petition the council to have me removed. As well, I may consider seeking a codelegate."

  "We'd appreciate that, Cassandra," John said. "We've all talked about this. We'd like a second delegate on the council. I'd be willing, of course."

  "I… appreciate the offer," Cassandra said. "Right now, though, we need to resolve the most pressing concern. If you know anyone who has had a problem with the Cabals-"

  "First, I want your word that whoever is responsible won't be executed."

  "I can't do that. Council law-"

  "Fuck council law."

  Cassandra glanced at me. I shook my head. This we couldn't do. We both knew that the killer had to go to the Cabals. To do otherwise would be to risk having them turn on both the vampires and the council. All we could do now was negotiate with them to minimize the fallout.

  "We can't promise absolution," Cassandra said. "But we'll make sure he's treated fairly-"

  "No deal."

  "Perhaps you fail to understand the importance of this. The more children this vampire kills, the uglier this will get. We need to stop him-"

  "Then stop him," Brigid said. "You shouldn't need us. And I don't think
you do. I think this is all a little act for your council buddies, so they don't find out the truth."

  Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "What truth?"

  "That you knew exactly what was going on. You knew how bad things were. You want us to tell your little witch friend here so you can claim you didn't know a thing about it. Well, you can't possibly be that out of touch-"

  "I'm afraid she is," said a voice behind us.

  We turned to see Aaron step into the basement, followed by Lucas.

  "Cassandra doesn't know what's been going on," Aaron said. "But I do."

  Edward and Natasha

  "Hello, Aaron," Brigid said, sliding up to him and running a finger down his chest. "You're looking good… as always."

  Aaron lifted her finger off his shirt and let it drop. "Put some clothing on, Brigid."

  She smiled up at him. "Why? Tempted?"

  "Yeah, to cover my eyes."

  Brigid sniffed and swung to Lucas. "So this is the Cabal crown prince, is it?" She looked him up and down. "Nothing contact lenses and a better wardrobe couldn't fix."

  She took a step toward him.

  "No, thank you," Lucas murmured.

  "Brigid?" John said. "Please, get dressed."

  "Don't bother," Cassandra said. "If Aaron has what we need, then we'll leave you two to your immortal slumber."

  She headed for the door.

  "Hold on," John said. "I may have details Aaron doesn't. My deal still stands."

  "Deal?" Aaron said.

  I nodded. "He wants us to promise not to execute the killer or hand him over to the Cabals."

  "Ah, fuck, Hans, you know we can't do that. They'll come after us, hunt us down."

  Brigid laughed. "You think we're afraid of the Cabals? We're vampires. The gods of the supernatural world, impervious to harm-"

  "Yeah, until someone chops off our heads, then we're worm food like everyone else. Hans, maybe you've got Brigid believing that vamp-superiority crap, but I know you're smarter than that."

  "We don't need this," Cassandra said. "If you have a name-"

  "I do, but Hans may know more. I want to find this guy before he kills another Cabal kid."

  "Why?" Brigid said. "Who cares about another dead Cabal brat?"

  "The Cabals do."

  John hesitated, then nodded. "Let's talk."

  ***

  At Cassandra's insistence, we moved out of the basement. John suggested the backyard, so we waited for him there. Like the front yard, the rear was surrounded by a high fence. Here, though, the fence had been erected by John, not his neighbors. The yard was almost as big a shock as the home office, which is probably why he kept it hidden.

  It was small, no more than a few hundred square feet. Instead of grass, it had rock gardens and koi ponds surrounded by gravel paths. In the center of the yard was a pagoda with a teak table and chair set, where we waited for John.

  Brigid had already made it clear that she wouldn't be joining us. Apparently, she took her role as a "true" vampire very seriously, never venturing outside during the day. I suspected this was why John chose to have the meeting outdoors, so he could speak without her interruptions.

  As we waited, Lucas explained how they'd found us. Aaron had called him early this morning, thinking we'd be sleeping in after our night chasing John. They decided to hook up and come to New Orleans together. Lucas knew we were heading to John's house, but didn't have the address. Aaron had the address.

  I was anxious to hear Aaron's findings, but before I could ask, John returned. He was dressed in black leather pants and a white linen shirt. Still pretty Goth, but not as theatrical as last night's attire. I suspected there was a lot of theatrics to John's image. Last night he'd gushed about Aaron, but when the man showed up in person, Brigid had been the only one vamping it up.

  "It's Edward, isn't it?" Aaron said as John pulled out a chair.

  "That would be my guess," John said. "I don't know him well enough to say for certain-"

  "No one knows them well enough to say for certain," Aaron said.

  "Them?" I asked.

  "Edward and Natasha. They're a couple. Been together a very long time."

  "I've heard those names," I said. "In the council minutes. They're immortality questers."

  "Did the council investigate them?" Lucas asked.

  "Investigated and exonerated, if I remember correctly," I said. "It was at least thirty, forty years ago. Another vampire expressed some concern about their questing-no outright allegations, just a bad feeling. Anyway, Edward and Natasha weren't breaking any codes, just searching for answers, like most questers."

  "Well, it's gone beyond bad feelings," Aaron said. "Seems rumors have been circulating about them in the vamp community for a while, saying they've gotten into some nasty shit up in Ohio." Aaron caught my look. "Yeah, they've been living in Cincinnati. Lucas told me that's where you figure the killer's from. I'd say we've got ourselves a suspect."

  "Is this connected to their questing?" I asked.

  "Possible," Lucas said. "They may have uncovered a ritual requiring supernatural blood."

  "Then where's the Cabal connection? Sure, it's a great way to find supernaturals-just hack into the Cabal employment records-but you think they'd stick to the periphery, with runaways like Dana. Attacking a CEO's family is only going to raise the stakes."

  "That could be a side effect of the killing itself," Lucas said. "After Dana and Jacob, Edward saw the chaos he was creating and couldn't resist a bigger challenge."

  "Or maybe the ritual wasn't working and they thought Cabal royal blood might help."

  "Not they," John said. "Only Edward."

  Cassandra shook her head. "Those two don't do anything alone."

  "They do now," Aaron said. "No one's seen Natasha for months. Rumor is she'd finally had enough, that things got too bad, and she took off."

  "I find that hard to believe," Cassandra said. "They'd been together for over a century. After that long, you don't just-" Her gaze flicked toward Aaron. "What I mean is, it seems unlikely that those two would separate."

  "Well, one way or another, she is gone," John said. "And I doubt Edwards happy about it."

  Quest for Immortality

  Next stop: Cincinnati, Ohio. Using Edward and Natasha's known aliases, as provided by Aaron, Lucas had found two Cincinnati area addresses for the vampires. There, we hoped to find either more evidence or some clue as to their current whereabouts. Aaron offered to come along, and Cassandra was in for the long haul, so all four of us were going, which seemed an expensive proposition… until Lucas led us to the private airstrip at the Lakefront Airport.

  "I wondered how you two got to New Orleans so fast," I said as we approached the Cortez jet.

  Lucas's gaze slid away and he shifted our bags to his other shoulder. "Yes, well, after I spoke to you, my father called and when I told him we were pursuing a lead, he offered the use of the jet. It seemed a wise idea, allowing us to bypass the schedules and restrictions of commercial flight." He shifted the bags again. "Perhaps I should have-"

  "You did the right thing," I said. "The faster we can move, the better."

  "I don't see what all the fuss is about," Cassandra said as the flight crew scrambled to lower the boarding ramp. "This business about refusing to join your own Cabal makes absolutely no sense. If you want my opinion-"

  "I'm pretty sure he doesn't, Cass," Aaron said.

  "Well, I was just going to say-"

  With impeccable timing, the pilot hailed Lucas to discuss last-minute flight details. A crew member took our overnight bags, then the attendant showed us to our seats. By the time Lucas returned, the plane was taxiing down the runway. The attendant followed him in and took beverage orders, then chatted with Lucas for a moment as the plane lifted off. And if you think this sidetracked Cassandra from voicing her opinion about Lucas's situation, then you don't know Cassandra.

  "As I was saying," Cassandra said after the attendant delivered our drinks. "I really
fail to understand this whole rebellion of yours-"

  "Cass, please," Aaron said.

  "No, that's fine," Lucas said. "Go ahead, Cassandra."

  "One would think, if you are serious about this Cabal reformation business, then the best position from which to effect change is within the organization itself."

  "Ah, the Michael Corleone strategy," I said.

  Aaron grinned. "Hey, I hadn't thought of that one."

  The light flashed, telling us we could remove our seat belts. After taking his off, Aaron stood and shucked his jacket. Underneath, he wore a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Now, not every guy can pull off the sleeveless T-shirt look, but Aaron… well, Aaron could. And the sight temporarily diverted Cassandra from her course. As Aaron reached around the corner to hang his jacket, her gaze slid down his well-muscled arms, and came to rest on his backside. A look flitted through her eyes, more wistful than lustful. Then she jerked her gaze away with a sharp shake of her head.

  "Michael Corleone," she said, honing in on her target again. "Do I know him?"

  "From the Godfather movies," Aaron said as he lowered himself into his seat. "His father was a Mafia don. He didn't want any part of the family business, but finally decided to take over and mold it into a legitimate business. In the end, he became exactly what he'd rebelled against."

  "Is that what you're afraid of?" Cassandra asked Lucas.

  "No, but the basic premise holds. One man cannot reform an institution, not when everyone working for him is happy with the status quo. I'd face such serious opposition that my authority would be completely undermined and, if I continued, the board of directors would have me assassinated."

  "So you pursue individual acts of injustice from outside the organization." Cassandra sipped her coffee, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense."

  "And I'm sure he's thrilled to hear that his life meets with your approval," Aaron said.

  She glared at him. "I was simply clarifying matters for my own understanding."

  "Okay, but why do you always have to be so damned antagonistic about it? You never just ask questions, Cass. You lob them like grenades."