The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song)

by Adams, Cat

  extended the cup to her. “It’s black, but I

  have cream and sugar available in my

  office if you’d prefer.”

  “Black is fine.” She stood, smoothing

  her dress with an automatic gesture

  before taking the cup from my hand.

  God, she was tiny. I felt awkward and

  huge standing over her. Normally, this

  kind of thing doesn’t bother me. Hell,

  Dawna had to be about this woman’s

  size. So what was the problem?

  Attitude. Which meant I needed to

  adjust mine. Stat.

  Baker took the lead up the stairs;

  Angelina, Griffiths, and I followed. The

  stairs to the third-floor office are steep.

  I’m used to them, and I knew the agents

  worked out. And it seemed Ms. Bonetti

  did, too, because she made it to the top

  without getting breathless or spilling her

  coffee. Point to her.

  As we climbed, I remembered the

  night I’d gone to the winery in the Napa

  Valley for the debut of the new wine

  John Creede had helped create. Before

  that evening, Dawna, Emma, and I had

  spent several days in a spa. I’d been

  pampered and patted, trimmed and

  manicured. Hair extensions, smoking

  dress, and perfect makeup.

  It took me a few minutes to channel

  the Celia I’d been that night, but by the

  time we reached my office, I was the

  woman John’s assistant had mistaken for

  a model. Point to me.

  We took our seats, me at my desk,

  Angelina in one of the matching wing-

  backed visitor chairs. Baker and

  Griffiths waited outside the closed door.

  “So.” I smiled with saccharine

  sweetness and grabbed the bull by the

  proverbial horns. “Shall we sharpen our

  claws, or should we just cut to the

  chase? I’d prefer the latter. I’ve got a lot

  to do today.”

  She didn’t even blink. “I want him

  back.”

  Wow, that was direct. I took a sip of

  my coffee before answering. “I’d say

  that’s up to him.”

  “He wouldn’t be with you at all if it

  weren’t for you using your siren magic

  on him.” Her words were crisp, her

  back rigid. It was obvious that she was

  furious, and I hadn’t done a damned

  thing. I hadn’t deliberately worked siren

  magic against Bruno and I’d taken

  measures to protect him, but I couldn’t

  help having my siren abilities work

  against me with Angelina. It made me

  uneasy, since jealousy can be used to

  kill us.

  I shook my head. “Nice try. But I gave

  him a charm that counteracts siren

  magic.”

  “He doesn’t wear it.”

  She stated it as a fact. There was no

  doubt in her voice, none, which I found

  very interesting indeed. She knew about

  the charm. Bruno might have told her,

  but I doubted it. No, I’d lay my money

  that Bruno’s mother was the source of

  her information. It made me wonder if

  talking was all Mama had done. The

  charm had been made with my hair—

  hair that could be used in all sorts of

  spells: tracking spells being first among

  them. Assuming, of course, someone was

  a witch or mage with a certain level of

  ability. Bruno’s mother is such a witch.

  He comes by his talent naturally.

  “Not my fault. Not my problem. We

  got involved and were engaged before

  the bite. I was no more siren than you

  when he gave me a ring.” I took another

  sip, trying to look casual.

  “You’re not even faithful to him. You

  expect him to share, of all things.” She

  was practically spitting out her words.

  Funny, now that she was getting angry,

  she wasn’t nearly as attractive. She

  looked cold, hard, and capable of almost

  anything.

  “Why did you come here?”

  “I wanted to see what I was up

  against. Now that I have, I realize I

  shouldn’t have worried.” She rose to her

  feet, using rage and posture to make

  herself more imposing. “Good-bye,

  Princess, ” she hissed.

  I stayed right where I was and kept my

  voice bland as butter. “Good-bye, Ms.

  Bonetti.”

  I watched her sashay out. She didn’t

  slam the door because of the agents

  standing outside. But she would’ve.

  Bitch. A beautiful bitch, but a bitch

  nonetheless.

  Meeting with her probably hadn’t

  been smart, but hey, not my fault.

  “Whatever.” I shook my head. At

  some point I was going to have to really

  think about what had just happened—

  probably talk it over with Emma and

  Dawna. But right now I had an

  unexpected hour to myself and I had all

  sorts of uses for it.

  I spent the time productively, going

  over the schedule of wedding events,

  looking for a spot to shoehorn in my

  party. It seemed that my best choice was

  the night of the rehearsal dinner on

  Serenity. The notice was so short it was

  practically breathtaking. There was no

  way was I going to get a venue. They’d

  all be booked up. I suppose there was

  probably a suitable room in the palace.

  It was a palace, after all. But what kind

  of party happened in the bride’s home?

  I looked around, trying to come up

  with some inspiration, and found it. The

  office. This building was secure. It was

  historic and elegantly furnished. There

  were multiple bathrooms and a kitchen.

  If Ron took me up on my offer (and he

  would—there was no way he’d miss a

  chance to save a buck), there was a good

  chance he’d be out of the way. We could

  put a bar in the lobby and the buffet in

  the conference room, and have a DJ and

  dancing in the empty offices.

  It might just work.

  Holy crap. It really might.

  I called Baker and Griffiths in to

  review the plan with them. They

  immediately started poking holes in it.

  “No caterers. There isn’t enough time

  to do background checks on their staff

  and drivers,” Baker stated.

  She was right, of course. Small

  caterers wouldn’t have the facilities to

  do something this quick. Big ones were,

  well, big. “Crap.”

  “You could use staff from the royal

  kitchens,” Griffiths suggested.

  “There are all sorts of laws about

  importing food,” I pointed out.

  “True,” he agreed. “But if they come

  over today, they could buy and prepare

  the food here.”

  Baker grinned; her smile lit up her

  face, taking years off of her appearance.

  “What?” Griffiths and I chorused.

  “I am
picturing Chef Antoine’s

  reaction to working in an office kitchen.”

  The two of them laughed. Apparently

  it was an inside joke. Whatever. “Do

  you think it’s workable?”

  “Call the princess. She’s in charge. If

  she agrees to it, we will make it work.”

  20

  Adriana’s answer (to my secret relief)

  was no. She already had plans with her

  gal pals from Serenity during that time

  slot. Even though they were no longer in

  the wedding party, they were her best

  friends, and she wanted some time with

  them before she moved to the other side

  of the planet. And, as she pointed out,

  there was no other room in the schedule,

  and security would be a nightmare. She

  thanked me for the thought, but insisted

  that it just wasn’t workable. She added

  that her friends had asked her to invite

  me to come along. I told her I’d be

  happy to, but as her security. She didn’t

  argue, just said, “I’ll tell them you’re

  coming.”

  I didn’t dance out of the office after

  that call, but I wanted to. I’d have done

  my duty by Adriana the same way I

  would for Dawna and Emma when the

  time came. But Dawna and Emma, I

  know. I know who to invite, and that if I

  didn’t have it at La Cocina my friends

  would be seriously disappointed, as

  would Barbara.

  So with a smile and a clear

  conscience I told Dawna, Baker, and

  Griffiths that the princess had declined. I

  promised Dawna I’d keep in touch by

  phone and e-mail over the next few days,

  and with quiet delight, grabbed my

  things and headed off to the islands.

  * * *

  The Isle of Serenity is actually the

  largest of a chain of small islands in the

  Pacific between the mainland and

  Hawaii. For centuries the Pacific branch

  of sirens have made it their home and,

  until recently, kept it and themselves shut

  off from the rest of the world. The

  islands hadn’t appeared on maps. They

  weren’t on flight paths. Magic had been

  used to keep people the sirens didn’t

  want to see at bay.

  That was all changing, and changing

  rapidly under my aunt’s new “inclusion”

  rules, with mixed results. East Island has

  the royal compound, the queen’s private

  docks, and the nature preserve. West

  Island is as modern as you could want,

  with a couple of actual cities and the

  international airport. I’d been worried

  that there’d be trouble since I was

  bringing in enough weapons to arm a

  developing nation. Although Baker and

  Griffiths had assured me that my permits,

  my rank, and the direct orders of the

  queen herself would smooth the way, I

  was fretting.

  Turned out I shouldn’t have worried.

  Adriana had decided to meet the plane,

  with Queen Chiyoko at her side, and

  with all the pomp and circumstance that

  a real princess would receive. It was so

  weird. But I’d wager it would be best

  not to get too used to it, because once the

  wedding was over, things would get

  back to normal with startling speed. The

  attention span of the public in general

  and

  the

  press

  in

  particular

  is

  exceptionally short.

  What a relief that would be. Until

  then, however, the spotlight was on the

  sirens,

  particularly

  their

  royalty,

  including me. I knew full well that my

  appearance was a direct reflection on

  Adriana. So before we got ready to land

  I popped into the miniscule but well-

  appointed

  on-board

  bathroom

  and

  primped. I could, and would, look my

  absolute best.

  So my hair was fluffed, my makeup in

  place, and my smile fang-free when I

  stepped out of the plane and onto

  television screens throughout the world.

  Adriana embraced me with actual

  warmth. To my surprise, Chiyoko

  hugged me, too. Her posture was so stiff

  she might as well have been wearing a

  whale-bone corset under her pretty red

  suit. But while it was obvious she didn’t

  like me any better than she had the last

  time we’d met, and hated having to touch

  me even the littlest bit, she smiled like a

  pro for the cameras and said all the right

  things.

  I was expected to say a few words, so

  I told everyone how happy I was that

  King Dahlmar and Princess Adriana had

  found each other, and added that I was

  incredibly flattered to have been asked

  to be part of the bridal party.

  One of the reporters in the back tried

  to ask probing questions about my

  mother and my childhood. I pretended

  not to hear, answering other, lighter

  questions instead. Then I posed for a

  few more photos, before we were

  whisked across the tarmac to the

  motorcade.

  We drove swiftly through the city, our

  path cleared by an advance team.

  Neither Chiyoko nor Adriana seemed to

  want to talk, which was fine by me. I

  contented myself looking out the car

  window.

  Serenity City was a lot like L.A.—

  minus the movie stars and plus a lot

  more flowers. There were lots of

  boutiques and a handful of high-end

  department stores. There were few signs

  of the earthquake that had roused me

  from sleep that night at Bruno’s, though I

  knew from news reports that it had been

  felt here, too. If there had been any

  damage, it had already been cleaned up

  thoroughly. Everything had been gussied

  up for the royal wedding. Banners of

  black and silver alternated with ones of

  purple and gold above all the main

  streets.

  Posters

  of

  Dahlmar

  and

  Adriana’s engagement photograph hung

  in shop windows that also displayed

  commemorative plates, knickknacks, and

  anything else you could think of. Adriana

  looked

  stunning,

  nearly

  ethereal.

  Dahlmar looked regal and elegant. I

  think they’d added a little more black to

  his hair than he really has. But hey—

  artistic license and all that.

  The place was pulsing with life, too.

  Gulls wheeled and cawed overhead,

  their voices competing with the sounds

  of the city. Baker commented that the

  roads were packed because so many

  people had come to witness the first half

  of the wedding festivities. It had to be a
/>   security nightmare, but an electric

  current of excitement ran through the

  town, and for the most part everyone

  from the mainland seemed happy in their

  ill-fitting lavalavas and Bermuda shorts.

  They lined the streets, shouting and

  waving wildly as we went past, cameras

  and cell phones clicking away, capturing

  fleeting images of royalty. Adriana and

  Chiyoko did the tipping-hand “royal

  wave” as we drove down the street. I

  couldn’t bring myself to, so I just smiled

  a lot.

  We’d reached the highway leading to

  the east half of the island before Adriana

  broke the silence. “What is the status of

  the bridesmaid dresses?”

  “They should arrive at Levy’s today.”

  I smiled. “Isaac and Gilda have agreed

  to do the tailoring and the spell work.

  Agent Baker told me that they’ve cleared

  their background check, so no worries

  there.” I hadn’t been worried. I’ve

  known and loved Isaac and Gilda for

  years.

  But

  Adriana

  had

  wanted

  reassurance from her own security

  people. Her big days were coming up

  very quickly and things hadn’t exactly

  been going smoothly. She needed to

  know that something, at least, was going

  according to plan. Well, plan B. Or C,

  or whatever plan we were on by now.

  “You should be using one of the royal

  tailors, not some stranger.” Chiyoko

  didn’t even bother to look at Adriana

  when she said it. It was a small slight,

  but a deliberate one. Since she outranked

  my cousin, she knew she could get away

  with it.

  Still, Adriana isn’t one to let things

  slide. She smiled ever-so-sweetly and

  answered, “Isaac has done all of Celia’s

  tailoring for years. In fact, that’s one of

  his outfits she’s wearing right now.

  Cousin, how many weapons do you have

  on you at this moment?”

  I took a quick mental inventory. “Two

  guns, a pair of knives, two One Shot

  guns with holy water, about a dozen

  various spell disks”—I paused, knowing

  I was forgetting something—“oh, and the

  garrote.”

  Chiyoko turned away from the

  window, her eyes just a little bit wider

  than usual. “Truly?” She stared at me,

  looking me up and down very carefully.

  “I can’t see any of it.” Her voice was

  more curious than disbelieving.

  I don’t like flashing my weapons, but I

  could tell that Adriana was up to

  something. So, sighing, I pushed up my