by Eli Grant
Dee curtsied elaborately, and winked at me. Flint just waved.
“They’re champions,” I explained. “Pretty rad, right?”
“Oh.” Understanding cleared the wary confusion from Ryan’s face. “Right. I don’t know why I—It’s a pleasure to meet you. Detective Ryan Carpenter.”
“Yeah, I remember you,” Dee said, shaking his hand. “You’re stationed in the Mission, right? I think you arrested me once.”
“Uh, well—”
“No need to apologize,” Dee said quickly as Ryan started to stammer. “Nicest arrest I’ve ever had. And more or less justified for once. Some uppity witch bitches were trying to get Flint thrown out of a bar for being intimidating or some shit and I’d had a few too many long island iced teas so I smashed a bottle and threatened to glass them. You know how it is.”
Ryan, to his credit, only paused for a moment, expression stoic.
“You know,” he said. “I think I remember that now. Weren’t you trying to cut someone’s hair off?”
Dee laughed. “Yeah! I sure was. Broken beer bottles are not great at cutting hair, let me tell you.”
“It’s a goblin honor thing,” Flint explained quietly, looking deeply embarrassed.
“I think I still have the one decent lock I managed to cut off,” Dee said, baring her teeth in a thoughtful grimace as she tried to remember. “Not that it makes much of a trophy. Dry and dull and full of split ends. What is it with humanoids refusing to condition properly?”
“I should introduce you to my friend Judith,” I said, grinning. “She was lecturing me about conditioner earlier this morning.”
“She wouldn’t have really hurt them,” Flint was telling Ryan, flustered. “I mean, besides cutting their hair. We’d just come from a funeral and we were both on edge—”
“It’s fine,” Ryan assured him. “Really.”
“If you’re going to be arrested,” Dee said, “the Mission is the place to do it, honestly. They keep the cops nice because of all the drunk tourists they have to arrest and they’re too busy to pay you special attention. I got arrested over in Cow Hollow once, barely survived. Much nicer facilities, mind you.”
“I’ve only been arrested in Soma,” I replied. “And once in Twin Peaks. Turns out they don’t appreciate drunk high-schoolers stumbling around at three am looking for Laura Palmer.”
“I thought that show was set in Washington?”
“Drunken high school Evie was not aware there was more than one Twin Peaks. The arresting officer was nice enough to show me the Wikipedia page on his phone when I sobered up a little though.”
“I’ve decided you and I definitely need to get drunk together.”
“That sounds like a recipe for disaster,” Flint added, looking like he was already more or less resigned to it.
“I need someone fun to drink with,” Dee insisted, prodding Flint in the knee. “If you have more than two you start crying.”
“No I don’t!”
“What about that time in Lola’s last month?”
“One of those commercials with the sad animals came on the TV. That’s not my fault, everyone cries at those.”
“And last time, at Tish’s birthday party?”
“... I started thinking about the sad animals again.”
The orchestra finished another tepid classical piece and moved into something a bit faster. The center of the room had gradually cleared out for dancers, beautiful dresses sweeping across the floor in the steps of some kind of formal dance. Ryan cleared his throat and offered me his hand.
“Since you’re still waiting on your date, feel like a dance? Just to pass the time.”
I deliberated, for a moment scrambling for an excuse. But I did still have time to kill, and he was cute. I could afford to indulge myself for one dance. Hopefully it wouldn’t make it too difficult to get away from him once things got rolling.
“Alright,” I said, giving in. “One dance. And if Lord Heuron throws a fit, it’s not my fault.”
“Deal.”
Flint and Dee were still arguing about Flint’s sad drunk status, only pausing for a moment to say they’d catch me later as Ryan pulled me out onto the dance floor.
“Just so you know,” I said, looking at the other gracefully twirling couples around us. “I don’t know shit about ballroom dancing.”
“Don’t worry,” Ryan said with a small laugh. “I don’t either.”
“Damn, we’re really in trouble here, aren’t we?”
“I think I remember the basic waltz they taught us at the church dance back in high school?”
“It’s better than nothing. Break it down for me.”
He took my hands and put one on his arm, holding the other. His hand on my waist was warm even through my dress.
“Not sure how to do this when I can’t see your feet,” he muttered, looking down between us at my ocean of skirts. I could barely see his feet past all the fabric, let alone mine.
“Just give it your best shot,” I said with a shrug.
“Alright.” He took a deep breath, fixed his posture. “So when I step forward on this foot, you move back.”
“Or else you’ll step on my toes. Makes sense.”
“Then I step to the left like this. Just mirror me. Then you step forward with your left, and I move back. Then we go right, and end up back where we started. Simple, right?”
“Yeah, we’re doomed,” I said with a chuckle. “Let’s just go for it, I’ll figure it out.”
After a few bruised toes, I got the hang of it. It wasn’t much to look at, but at least we were sort of dancing and not just shuffling awkwardly in place like two teenagers at prom.
“Want to try a spin?” Ryan asked.
“Why not?”
He stepped back, raising the hand holding mine, and I tried not to feel too silly as I spun beneath it. My dress did twirl just as nice as I’d hoped it would, so there was that. I barely missed a step as he pulled me closer again and we returned to our limping waltz.
“You know, I think I might actually be alright at this,” I said. “Maybe I’ll look up a class at the rec center tomorrow and learn how to do it without staring at your feet.”
“Not a bad idea,” Ryan agreed, smiling at me. “I might look up a class myself. I mean, obviously I’m already a master of the church dance waltz, but I could stand to refresh my skills.”
I laughed, and almost stepped on his foot again.
“We’ve only got, what, thirty years to practice?” I said. “By the next tournament we’ll both be world class. We’ll meet up here again and knock all these vampire’s socks off.”
“Why wait thirty years?” Ryan said, squeezing my hand. “I could take you dancing next weekend if you want.”
It took me a second to realize what he was suggesting. I looked down, pretending to be watching his feet.
“It doesn’t have to be dancing,” he tried again, laughing awkwardly. “We could start with dinner and a movie, work our way up to dancing. Whatever sounds like more fun to you.”
Hell. Why did he have to be so cute? I couldn’t make date plans with a police detective while I was in the middle of a heist. I wasn’t that stupid. And I’d stopped dating for a reason. The first time I’d nearly set fire to my bed while Domino was asleep in it, I’d decided being that close to anyone was a bad idea. Hell, I’d known it was a bad idea before that. Anyone I spent that much time with would figure out I was a changeling. And if things went bad, they could use that information to ruin my life, and Aaron’s on top of it.
“I’m sorry,” I said, still looking at our feet. “With work and taking care of my brother and everything else, I just don’t have time...”
“Yeah, no, it’s fine, I understand!” he said quickly, disappointment there and gone on his face. He hid it well. “You don’t need to explain. Just thought I’d regret not asking.”
He cleared his throat, our dancing getti
ng worse as we held ourselves stiffly away from each other.
“I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now,” I said reluctantly. It was almost worse that he was being gracious about it. The guy was too good for me, frankly.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with an embarrassed but sincere smile. “I like you Evie, but I’ve only known you for like half a day at this point. I think I’ll live.”
I laughed a little, shaking my head. “You sure? I can’t have guys pining to death over me. It sets a bad example for my brother.”
“Lord Heuron probably wouldn’t like it either,” he added.
“Right,” I said, clearing my throat. I’d forgotten my cover for a minute. “Yeah, can’t imagine he’d be into that...”
Ryan looked into my eyes, wearing a little half smile that kind of broke my heart. He really was a great guy.
“You’re not a Host, are you?”
I did step on his foot that time, but he just winced and kept going.
“What do you mean?” I asked to buy time, trying to think of excuses. Ryan sighed, wistful expression turning serious.
“When I took your statement at the station, you gave me a pretty exhaustive list of all the jobs you work,” he said. “Professional vampire escort wasn’t one of the jobs you mentioned. Besides, if Lord Heuron was spending the kind of money on you that someone must have spent on that dress, I sincerely doubt you’d still be working the night shift at a bodega in the Tenderloin.”
“So the Detective title isn’t just for show then,” I said with a strained laugh, trying to figure out just what the fuck I was going to say.
Over Ryan’s shoulder, I saw Mariposa and Whisper through the crowd, moving casually along the wall towards the stairs down into the crypt. If they were on the move that meant there was only about five minutes left before the ceremony began. Almost on cue, my earpiece buzzed.
“Places, people,” Domino said in my ear. “Show’s about to start.”
“Already on our way backstage,” Mariposa replied.
“It’s obvious Dante has you over a barrel with something,” Ryan said, his expression concerned, pulling my attention back to the situation at hand. “Whatever it is, I can help. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, pulling away from him.
“Evie.” He caught my hand, imploring, but didn’t fight me when I pulled it away from him.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I lied, and hurried away through the crowd, my face burning.
God, I was stupid. Not here for an hour and I’d tipped off the actual police that something was going on. No, this was Dante’s fault for deciding to make Ryan my escort, and I was going to punch him in the dick next time I saw him. I did my best to shake it off. I needed to focus. I was a god damn professional, and it was almost time for work.
chapter
11
AS TIME DREW NEAR, PEOPLE who had been out in the courtyard or the upper dance floor made their way back into the main transept, gathering near the sanctuary altar. As the room grew more packed, I carefully picked my way towards the Chapel of Grace again.
“Curtain’s rising,” Domino said in my ear. “I’m all set in the lighting booth. How’s it looking backstage?”
By lighting booth I assumed he meant the van, which Dante had equipped with a surveillance set up so that Domino could watch the security feeds and direct us as we worked.
“Found what we were looking for,” Mari replied, presumably referring to the open panel that hid the wires to the mundane security on the case. “Just waiting on some extras to clear out.”
“Need me to run crowd control?” Trip chimed in.
“No, we got it. You in position?”
“Just waiting on our leading lady.”
“I’m on my way,” I whispered as I ducked around a column to get around a group of people loitering in the middle of the walkway.
“That just leaves catering.” Domino said. “All good, Chef?”
“No problems here,” Anton answered cheerfully. “Just me, a couple of sous chefs, and a metric ton of tiny cakes. Oh and they let me prop the back door open so I can take as many smoke breaks as I need.”
Which was code for our way out being secure, of course.
“Good to hear.”
“Remember when we used to just pick the locks on rich Mundie's vacation houses and pawn their electronics?” I muttered. “When did we start talking in code and shit?”
“It can’t all be bottle rockets in the movie theater parking lot,” Trip replied, a grin in his voice.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” A female voice cut through the chatter of the crowd as the orchestra died down, and my earpiece went quiet as well, listening. “Esteemed Ancients and Elders, great lords and ladies of the Summer and Winter courts, wizards of the High Circle, and all our honored guests. The Triumvirate would like to welcome you to Grace Cathedral!”
A cheer answered her and I glanced towards the altar as I passed it, curious. I’d never seen the Triumvirate before. There weren’t any photographs of them for obvious reasons, and they were rarely out in public.
A beautiful Chinese woman stood at the altar, resplendent in a dark green qipao. She’d be Lady Xia then, I assumed. She’d joined the Triumvirate a few years before I was born, replacing an Ancient whose name I’d forgotten. She was pretty well liked from what little I knew of vampire politics. Strong focus on economics apparently, for whatever that was worth. Triumvirate members were hardly chosen based on their platforms. I wasn’t really sure how they were chosen except that they had to be an Ancient, and there were only about a hundred of those on the planet. Only vampires who had been turned at least two thousand years ago, around the end of the Holocene, could be called Ancient. Lady Xia was said to be around four thousand. You could see it in her face. Like the man I’d met earlier, she seemed visibly in conflict with time itself.
“We are delighted to have all of you here tonight,” Lady Xia said, continuing her speech. “To celebrate, not just the beginning of the Tournament of Five Races, but the renewal of the most important moment in the history of all our kind. The anniversary of the first Tournament and the signing of the Treaty, which marked the end of the last Great Occult War and the beginning of a new era of peace and cooperation between all the magical races.”
I was so unsettled by the strange aura of age she had that I almost missed the other two triumvir as they stepped forward to stand beside her. Then I realized I recognized them. To her left stood the old man in the black and gold kaftan. I’d only ever heard him referred to as Grandfather, and that title made a lot more sense now. And on her right was the man Grandfather had called Alulim, who I knew better as The Sumerian.
I felt my heart stop in my chest for the second time that night. Jesus H. Christ. The Sumerian had hit on me at a party. I’d almost been eaten by the oldest living vampire on Earth, considered by some to be the progenitor of the whole vampire species, though I’d heard he denied that. I might have started laughing, if I’d been able to breathe. Talk about a taste for younger women, the son of a bitch was six thousand years older than me. I had no clue what a bullet I’d dodged there. I was going to send Grandfather the biggest, nicest gift basket after this. Can you send immortal heads of state gift baskets? Fuck it, I’d find out.
“The importance of the treaty and this tournament can never be understated,” the Sumerian said, taking over for Lady Xia. His voice was clear and authoritative, unlike the soft tone of menace he’d used with me. “Six thousand years ago when I was reborn, the first Occult War was already on the horizon. Over the centuries I watched it continue, rarely pausing for more than a few decades at a time. Two races would declare peace, only to start a war with two others. It seemed to me that the conflict was inevitable as the sunrise, and that as long as I lived I would still die before I saw it end.”
A low whistle caught my attention and I tore my eyes from
the altar to see Trip waving to me from the south transept. I hurried towards him, embarrassed.
“All good?” I asked him in a low murmur as we headed into the chapel.
“There were a couple making out in here but I convinced them to take it to the bathrooms,” Trip said quietly. “You should have the place to yourself.”
I nodded and left him standing by the entrance to the Chapel of Grace, keeping watch, as the Sumerian’s speech continued, clear even from here.
“Then came the last Great Occult war, when all five races turned on one another at once, and it seemed nothing but total extinction would bring an end to the fighting. Little did I know then that five rare individuals, heroes of their kind, were already meeting in secret, laying the groundwork for what would become the Treaty of Five Races. After what can only be described as the greatest diplomatic endeavor in history, the war was finally ended, and peace restored.”
I made my way directly to the case, sweeping the room quickly for a sign of any stragglers. But, as Trip had assured me, it was safely empty. And there was the Treaty in its display case. I swallowed, my throat tight with sudden nerves.
“Hey, uh, this set doesn’t look quite ready,” I said quietly, noticing the sensor lights were still on inside the case. “Has backstage finished working on it yet?”
“Somebody missed their cue,” Domino said. “Mari, what’s happening?”
“Sorry,” Mariposa replied, sounding out of breath. “Those ‘extras’ would not leave. Drunk vampires are the worst. Practically had to carry them upstairs.”
“Just hurry,” I said, wandering idly over to the next display and trying not to look suspicious while also keeping my back to the security cameras.
I waited for a few seconds that felt like ages, tapping my foot restlessly while outside the Sumerian continued his speech about the treaty.
“It was decided,” Lady Xia picked up again. “That once every thirty years, a great tournament would be held. Five champions would be chosen, one from each race, to compete in five events, culminating in a final glorious battle for total victory. For the winner, a bounty of treasures wagered by his competitors. And more importantly, for the winner’s race, the greatest prize of all—the crown. The leader of the victorious race will occupy the highest seat on a ruling council composed of the leaders of all five races, and have the deciding vote on all matters the council addresses for the next thirty years, until the tournament arrives to challenge them again.”