The Turn: The Hollows Begins With Death

by Kim Harrison

  “Are they all Inderlanders?” Trisk asked, and Leo followed her attention to the people pausing to pay their respects to the anonymous shroud-wrapped body. Yet the city was functioning, and she couldn’t help but compare it to the locked-down fear that held Chicago.

  “I’d say most are,” Leo said as they bumped over a railroad trestle. “Simply because of the hour. This isn’t Cincinnati’s first plague. We know what to do, especially the old ones.” His smile faded. “They started a new cemetery up by the museum. Spring Grove is already full with cholera victims from the 1800s.”

  “Old ones?” Daniel questioned, and Orchid flew back from the rearview mirror where she’d been charming Sam and the driver with her pert smile.

  “Don’t worry, Daniel. I’ll stick with you,” she said as she landed on his shoulder. “It’s a fact that even old vampires leave you alone when there’s a pixy on your shoulder. Right, Leo?”

  Leo looked at her, and Orchid touched the tiny blade on her hip. “Sure,” he said, his attention going to the elaborate Victorian house the car was pulling up to. It looked as if every light was on. A small marina lay to one side, and a restaurant on the other. A huge stone-foundation barn that had probably once held carriages was set behind it under even larger trees. Sleek cars and old vehicles were parked before it under security lights, with no regard to age or style. It was here that they stopped.

  Immediately the driver and Sam got out, the trunk popping up so they could get Kal. Leo put a hand on Daniel’s knee, stopping him from opening the door. The dome light made odd shadows on his face. “Have you met with the undead before?” he asked.

  Daniel stared at him. “I don’t think so.”

  “Just one,” Trisk said. “And he blew up my truck with us in it.”

  Daniel’s expression went empty as he began to put it all together.

  Leo took his hand back. “Some advice. Piscary appreciates manners above all. He will forgive untidiness, but not disrespect. You,” he said, looking at Daniel. “Don’t eat anything in front of him, even if he offers. You can drink if he hands it to you, but otherwise, no. It’s probably a good idea if you don’t even talk.” Leo’s brow furrowed as he turned to Trisk. “Are you sure you want to bring him down? I can keep him entertained upstairs.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Daniel almost growled.

  Orchid snickered. “He can handle it,” she said, then punched Daniel’s ear in a show of fondness. “I won’t let him eat you, Daniel. Promise.”

  I feel so much better now, Trisk thought as the back doors opened and they all got out.

  The predawn morning was warm despite their being right on the river, and when Leo headed for the barn instead of the house, she balked. “Ah, I don’t think so,” she said, and Sam, currently carrying Kal over his shoulder, snickered.

  “It’s this way,” Leo insisted. “There’s an entrance downstairs from the old whorehouse, but I’d rather bring you in through the business door. You’re his guests.”

  A smile, real this time, came over his face, but it still didn’t feel safe as she followed Leo into the cool depths of the barn. The echoes were almost nonexistent, and she could tell there hadn’t been a horse in here for more than a hundred years. Now it housed old cars under tarps and furniture in the rafters, everything lit with new, modern lights. There was even a corner holding an efficiency kitchen and a plastic-top table where drivers could relax, complete with a couch and a color TV. A man watched them pass before him, the thump-thump . . . whap of the Super Ball he was throwing against the wall getting on her nerves.

  “We’re putting in an elevator next week, or at least, we were,” Leo said as he opened a pair of double doors. They looked like mahogany, dark from age and incredibly thick. There were burn marks on the outside. “Shipping has slowed dramatically. Sorry about the stairs.”

  “No problem,” Daniel said, and Orchid’s dust glowed as they spiraled down two stories. Wondering if she’d ever walk back up, Trisk clasped her arms about herself.

  Leo used a key, then whispered a password to open the metal fire door at the base of the stairs. Lips pressed into a bland smile, he passed ahead of them to hold the door. Sam went first with Kal, and then she and Daniel followed, Orchid still on the man’s shoulder as promised. Not a password, a charm, she thought at the tingle of magic prickling through her aura when she crossed the threshold and stopped, gaping.

  Trisk wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the height of the ceiling surprised her, even if the walls were the original stone. The room felt airy, too, as if the evenly spaced banks of closed curtains might have a view of the river instead of bare wall should she twitch them aside. It was tastefully decorated with wood floors that threw back the glow of the numerous lights.

  Being about the size of the barn upstairs, the large space was like one big living room, with modern-looking couches and chairs clustered in several areas. One centered around a color TV, currently muted and showing the news. Another had a large album collection with two turntables. A third sported a wet bar. The artwork on the walls was flamboyant and colorful, very much not her taste. There wasn’t even a hint of musty dampness, surprising her. It was warm, and she unzipped her jacket.

  “Wow, that’s a smell you don’t forget soon,” Orchid said, and Daniel breathed deep, shrugging. The musky scent was pleasant, like incense.

  “All I can smell is pasta,” Daniel said as he took his police jacket off. “This is amazing.”

  “Do you like it?” a man at the bar said, and Trisk started, not having seen him. “It began as a hole under the stables, a place to hide escaping slaves. They were free once they were on the other side of the river and in Ohio.”

  The man set his glass down and came forward. It wasn’t a suit he had on so much as an elegant housecoat, something an Englishman of the eighteenth century might wear before retiring to bed. His face was clean-shaven, and there wasn’t a hint of hair on his head to give away his age. There was a youthful tightness to his features, but his eyes were old, the pupils so wide that his brown eyes looked black. Even with the slippers he wore, he looked more in charge than if he had been wearing this year’s suit with a briefcase in his hand. Egyptian? Trisk wondered as he stopped before them, a pleasant, closed-lipped smile on his face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he said, and Daniel gasped when the man’s lips parted to show very long, sharp canines.

  “Knock it off!” Orchid said, smacking his ear. “You’re embarrassing me.”

  “My God,” Daniel whispered, a bright red as he ignored Piscary’s proffered hand.

  “No, but close.” Piscary turned to Trisk. “Dr. Cambri?” he added, taking her hand.

  Her pulse quickened; a predator who killed without a thought was kissing the top of her fingers. “Piscary,” she said, having to try twice before her voice worked.

  “And Dr. Plank,” he said, trying again now that Daniel had recovered. Trisk breathed easier when he looked away. Daniel cautiously extended his hand, his breath coming out in an odd, stressed almost-giggle, causing Orchid to dust an embarrassed red. But honestly, the man was doing remarkably well for not even having known vampires existed three days ago.

  Has it only been three days?

  “And that must be Dr. Trent Kalamack,” the master vampire said when Sam unceremoniously dumped the unconscious man on one of the couches. “Sam,” Piscary admonished, and the man propped him up to look as if he had simply fallen asleep watching TV. Leo had gone behind the bar, and Trisk was ten times thirstier when he poured what looked like lemonade into three tall glasses.

  “Thank you, Leo. Could you stay?” Piscary said, and the soft-spoken man went to sit in a far chair facing an unlit fireplace as Sam left. The door clicked shut, and Trisk stifled a shudder.

  “Do you need anything?” Piscary said, playing the gracious host as he led them to the bar and handed them each a condensation-wet glass. “Are you warm enough? We’re under a time constraint, of course, but I believe we can grant yo
u time to relax, perhaps eat.”

  Trisk cautiously reached for her glass, her sip turning into an appreciative gulp at the tangy, sweet lemonade. Realizing Piscary was smiling at them as if they were wayward children he’d taken in, she set the glass down. Orchid was perched on the rim of Daniel’s glass, grumbling as she ladled a portion of his lemonade out into the cup she carried tied to her waist.

  “A dark-haired elf,” Piscary said, and Trisk jerked, stiffening when he reached to run a long-fingered hand through her travel-dusty hair.

  “Hands off!” Orchid shrilled, but Trisk had stepped out of his reach.

  “My apologies,” Piscary said, actually giving her a little bow. “I spend so much of my time with my children that I forget the outside world has personal space. I’ve never seen a dark elf. I can’t help but wonder if your blood is as dusky as your hair.”

  She didn’t know what to say, but she set her glass on the bar. “If this is a choice between being your blood slave or being blamed for the plague, I’ll take the plague,” she said, and Piscary laughed. It sounded natural enough, but it ended fast.

  “No,” the man said, turning his attention to Daniel. “Dr. Plank,” he said, and Daniel almost choked on his drink. “I find myself in the odd position of needing to thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked suspiciously, but it only made Piscary more delighted.

  “For not being afraid,” he said, moving toward the nearest cluster of chairs and gesturing for them to sit. “I wasn’t expecting that. It makes it easier to talk to you.”

  Daniel sat down, holding the glass in his hands between his knees. “I’m too tired to be afraid,” he said, and Piscary laughed again. It was putting Trisk on edge.

  “Don’t get me wrong, sir,” she said as she gingerly sat on the edge of a chair, “but why are we here?”

  Piscary settled deep into the cushions, a careless hand waving in the air. “To die, of course.”

  Daniel tensed, Orchid whispering furiously in his ear to keep him from standing again. Trisk didn’t look away from Piscary’s eyes as they dilated in response to Daniel’s sudden fear, but she’d give the master credit where it was due: that was the extent of his reaction. Trisk glanced at Leo, hunched in his distant chair, staring at the empty fireplace. Perhaps the master had just fed. It would make resisting temptation easier.

  “Trisk.” Daniel rose in alarm, and Trisk took his hand, trying to pull him back down.

  “Sit, you lunker!” Orchid hissed, pinching his ear. “He’s not going to kill us.”

  “That’s correct,” Piscary said, inclining his head solicitously. “But I’m sure someone will try. I want to talk to you, and perhaps change the outcome if the truth is to my liking.”

  Trisk slowly exhaled, not knowing she’d been holding it. Daniel, too, sat down.

  “Just so,” Piscary said, then relaxed into a taut lassitude. “I want to know what passed before it’s clouded by elven lies. My range of easy movement is limited, so I plotted to bring everyone to me.” Smiling again, he inclined his head to indicate Trisk. “You’re quite the draw, Dr. Cambri. Sweet honey to the stingless bees that surround you.”

  Trisk frowned, the lemonade not sitting well, but Piscary’s next words were forestalled when a narrow door set to the side opened and Sam came back in, his pace fast and smooth. Eyeing them, he whispered in Piscary’s ear. Trisk knew it was about them when Piscary’s attention touched on them as he rose. “Already?” Piscary glanced at his watch. “It’s not even sunup yet.” Then he turned with a closed-lipped smile. “I apologize. I thought we’d have more time.”

  “They’re here now?” Trisk all but squeaked.

  Daniel was white-faced. “You said you’d let her talk first.”

  But Piscary had taken off his housecoat to reveal a white linen suit underneath it. Leo stood from his distant position, coming close to take the coat. “And I will,” Piscary said as he scuffed off his slippers and donned he slip-ons that Leo gave him. “Cormel can keep you company as I speak with them first.” He touched Leo’s shoulder. “Fetch Rynn.”

  Housecoat in hand, Leo slipped out the small door Sam had come in through.

  “Rynn?” Trisk said, not knowing if that was another vampire, or maybe his dog. “Piscary, why are we here?” she asked again, and he turned to her, still adjusting his suit.

  “To prevent what happened in Detroit,” he said as he ran a hand over his bare skull.

  “They destroyed Detroit,” Daniel whispered, and Orchid dusted a pale pink.

  Piscary’s smile took on an anticipatory gleam. “Which is why I lured not just the elven enclave to me, but the witches’ coven of moral and ethical standards. The Weres haven’t had a ruling body since they lost the focus, but by an incredible stroke of luck, I obtained the ear of the only Were who might speak for all, having followed Dr. Plank’s virus from its onset.”

  “Colonel Wolfe?” Daniel guessed.

  Piscary beamed as if he thought Daniel incredibly clever. “The same.” He turned his gaze to Orchid, and the tiny woman’s wings faltered. “We even have a pixy to weigh in. The rest can decide collectively what to do.” He turned to go, pausing to add, “If the majority of us agree on my proposed course of action, that is.”

  “And what is that?” Orchid asked, and Piscary stopped at the small door.

  “Agree to break the silence,” he said, and Trisk felt a wash of both fear and desire that made Piscary’s eyes flash black. “I want us to reveal ourselves to save humanity,” he added carefully. “And in the process, save ourselves. And, incidentally, your life, Dr. Plank.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Daniel said breathlessly, but Piscary was gone.

  35

  The small door shut behind Piscary with the sound of a lock sliding into place. Trisk was sure the other doors set in the corners and behind the bar would be locked as well, and she didn’t insult their host by trying them. Instead, she sat at the bar and drank her lemonade down to the ice. What have I done to Daniel?

  “Lemonade.” Oblivious to the danger, Daniel went behind the bar to find the pitcher and refill her glass. Shaking his head, he began to laugh weakly. “I am standing in a vampire’s lair, and he serves me lemonade.”

  Trisk set her glass down and he filled it tinkling to the rim. “I’ve heard citrus helps vampires maintain control of their bloodlust. Covers the ‘I’m scared’ pheromones.”

  Daniel looked at Orchid, and the pixy nodded, even as she poked a hole in a sugar packet and delicately fingered the sweet grains right off her sword tip.

  Something stronger would have been welcome, but Trisk didn’t dare, even if liquor was tastefully displayed behind the bar in neat rows, the expensive labels under spotlights. Ulbrine was somewhere close. She could almost smell him.

  Daniel’s laugh turned into a sigh as he leaned into the counter toward her. “I’m a scientist, Trisk. Vampires, witches, werewolves, elves?” He winced as Orchid’s dust turned a happy silver. “Pixies,” he added. “You’re all real. And you’re ruling the world.”

  “Not really, but after this?” She winced. Something was going to break, and break hard.

  But Daniel seemed comfortable behind the bar, even if his hair was untidy and his conservative vest and slacks were dirty from riding cross-country in a boxcar, followed by sleeping on the floor of a band’s van. Though not as suave or continental as Kal, he had an air of adaptable confidence, even with the stubble on his cheeks. I still don’t know what happened to his dress shoes, she thought as she slipped out of her coat and set it carefully on the stool beside her.

  They all looked up at the faint click of a distant door, and a man in brown slacks, a button-down shirt, and a homey-looking brown sweater-vest came in. He was clean-shaven, average height, perhaps a little thick from being behind a desk too much. But his brown eyes quickly took them in as he paced eagerly forward with a contagious enthusiasm.

  Orchid rose up, brushing the sugar from her as if embarrassed to have been eati
ng it. “Hey, hi,” she said, her dust a faint pink. “You must be Rynn Cormel.”

  “Senator Cormel, actually, but call me Rynn,” he said, a slight Bronx accent making him seem even more easygoing. “Piscary asked me to keep you company and answer any questions while he’s attending his other guests.”

  Trisk’s first worry vanished as she decided he was a living vampire, not a dead one. “Ulbrine,” she said, and Cormel nodded. He looked exactly like a politician, young, idealistic, and clever with words.

  “Among others,” Cormel said, reaching across the bar to Daniel to shake his hand. “Dr. Plank,” he said before taking Trisk’s, the rings on his fingers glinting. “Dr. Cambri.”

  Cormel turned to Kal, asleep on the couch, and Orchid piped up. “Dr. Dumb-Ass,” she said, and the living vampire chuckled to show his small but pointy canines.

  “That’s Kalamack?” Quick on his feet, Cormel went to stand over him. Trisk’s eyes narrowed when the vampire’s eyes closed and he breathed deep, as if scenting Kal. He might be. Elves were uncommon enough that he might not have ever met one before. “I thought he’d be taller.”

  Orchid flew to hover beside Cormel, and the man’s eyes flashed open at the clatter of her wings. “I thought he’d be smarter,” she said, her high voice holding a world of disdain.

  Cormel smiled, hand dipping into a pocket to bring out a silver wire. “You should wake him up. It’s either now or before the council.”

  Trisk clamped down on a flash of fear, not liking that Cormel noticed it. “He’s only going to lie. Try to get away. In that order,” she said.

  “Truths will be outed.” Cormel crouched to fasten the silver around Kal’s wrist. “He can’t do magic now. Or at least not ley line.”

  Orchid snorted, a burst of dust coming from her. “He couldn’t do that much magic before,” she said, and Daniel, content behind the bar, muttered about it being more than he could do.