Cat’s door was slightly ajar when I finally reached it. That was yet another oddity. The Fallen Oaks nurses kept the doors closed and only came into the rooms in these halls at the designated times. It wasn’t as if the magically comatose were demanding.
Heart lodged somewhere near my trachea, I pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. I froze in the doorway, staring at the bed in the center of the room.
It was empty. Completely and utterly bare, with nary a wrinkle to indicate my sister had been lying on it. For a panicked second, I was sure that she’d died and no one had the heart to tell me. If that was the case I was going to find the receptionist and jam the bills I’d given him right down his throat.
My wheeling eyes finally spotted a shape crouched on one of the armchairs near the bed, like a cat about to leap onto a startled mouse. My heart pounded in my chest, throwing itself against my ribs at a tempo that was sure to bruise.
“Cat?”
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall. I followed her gaze but couldn’t imagine what was holding her attention. It was just a blank stretch of monochrome wall and the monitors that reported her brain and magical activity.
None of the readings had changed at all.
I took a cautious step forward to get a better look at them. Surely that couldn’t be right if Cat was up and about? They should be reporting something. Anything. I approached cautiously. There was something off here and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
“Cat?” I asked again, reaching out to shake her shoulder. Her head snapped to the side and I let go of her like I’d been jabbed with a branding iron.
Her eyes were open, but they weren’t the warm, familiar cinnamon brown I was used to. Only the whites showed. Her mouth was slack and hanging. I jerked away from her on reflex. I was definitely peeved by the fact that I was paying out the nose for machinery that wasn’t even alerting the staff that my sister’s condition had definitely worsened. How long had this night of the living dead schtick been going on without anyone’s knowledge?
Sound burbled out of her mouth again, her perfect rose-petal lips forming words that I couldn’t understand. The language was familiar enough that I felt like I ought to be able to decipher something, but the meaning escaped me completely.
Cat’s hands shot out suddenly and seized the front of my jacket. Horror crushed my lungs in a vice and I couldn’t seem to draw in enough air. My head was spinning and I could feel every beat of my heart in the back of my throat as my sister pulled me close.
Then she bit me hard on the shoulder. Only the thick layers of fabric kept it from piercing my skin. I staggered back. Something was definitely wrong here. That was almost vampire-like behavior. But that couldn’t be right either. I’d have sensed it if someone had tried to turn her. Even a botched turning would mean that her corpse would be a sucking, soulless void to my senses. But I couldn’t sense anything from her. It was like pressing my ear to a door and hearing only silence.
And I found that muted nothingness more horrifying than any bloodsucker.
Not-Cat reached for me again, hissing the unknown words at me and I couldn’t take it anymore.
I ran. I sprinted down the hall and didn’t stop until I reached the elevators, half expecting her to follow. But nothing shuffled after me.
My heart was still galloping when I reached my car and fumbled my keys out of my pocket. I hadn’t imagined her fit the last time I’d visited. Something was happening to my sister. Something that went far beyond a magical coma or a botched ritual. Something evil was inside of her.
And I was going to find out what.
chapter
11
CHATEAU LAMONIA LOOKED LIKE IT had been cut right out of the French countryside and plopped into the middle of New York City.
The entire building was made of stone that had been bleached nearly white by time and the elements. It had at least a dozen pedimented windows that I could see and no doubt more on the side facing the harbor. It had four floors in the main building and probably more in the towers that flanked the building.
Thankfully they’d forgone the battlements, portcullis, and drawbridge that House Grieves favored. Vicious and warlike, the vampires of House Grieves were the most common targets for my contracts. For them, it wasn’t just enough to be abominations who killed to live. They reveled in bloodsport. Half the dogfighting and bear-baiting going on in the United States was their doing. Feeding girls to half-starved beasts was entertainment to them. And those were just a few of their less-stomach turning ventures. They were also a bitter rival of House Lamonia.
That wasn’t to say that the other six houses weren’t repugnant in their own ways. House Avington had guided half of the world into its current incarnation simply by buying the right politicians. They’d had a hand in almost every major conflict since Europe had emerged from the Dark Ages. I was pretty sure that Machiavelli had been a disciple of theirs.
House Cheswick was the preternatural answer to the mob. They were the ones you went to if you needed something done. They dealt in some sick enterprises, the least of which was an international Human Trafficking ring. A staggering number of Jane Doe cases that turned up on the slabs of New York coroners were due to their habit of selling foreign girls to the other vampire houses as party favors.
House Omond groomed social influencers and movie stars. No one who’d been turned by their coven leader had ever faded into obscurity. I shuddered to think of the influence that they’d had on young hearts and minds when they’d weaseled their way into Hollywood. How many young girls had gotten their throats ripped out when they approached a vampire hoping to be turned into the next sensation?
I knew the least about House Exeter. They were a secretive bunch who only emerged from their castles for long enough to eat before slipping back in. I knew they worshiped a God called the Calamitous One and that they believed heartily in human sacrifice to keep him appeased.
Technically of course, most of this behavior was illegal, but the Trust turned a blind eye except for extreme cases. Vamps will be vamps, after all, and it’s not like there were many witnesses. But every once in a while, a grieving family member would walk into Anton’s shop seeking justice, and he’d give me a call. I had the right skills, and enjoyed the challenge of pulling off the hits without getting caught, by either the Trust or the vamps.
House Lamonia kept many of their ventures above board. Corporate crime was rampant within their ranks, but they were at least discreet about their kills. I’d never been called in to permanently end one of their members, so I hadn’t been inside this particular dwelling.
It was incredibly easy to scale the wrought iron fence that surrounded the place, even in my ridiculous red dress. I landed in the middle of a hedge maze and was forced to wind my way through the thing, cursing each time I hit a dead-end and had to retrace my steps.
The place was a pushover compared to the defenses around the castle in Chicago. House Grieves took their security seriously. It was all the more gratifying to destroy an undead monster when you’d had to evade a security team, five Rottweilers, and a minefield in the backyard. There were only two guards stationed outside the main entrance to House Lamonia.
I approached them, a false grin plastered all over my face. I knew it had to be one of the oddest things they’d seen in their tenure. A woman in a party dress and bomber jacket, armed to the teeth, and wearing a shit-eating grin to boot.
They blinked at me once in surprise before the first of them raised his handgun. In a move faster than a cobra’s strike, I’d employed the most effective disarm I knew, taught to me by Roland many years ago. I heard the young man’s finger break when it was torn out of the trigger guard. He yowled in pain and staggered back, giving me just enough time to bring the newly liberated gun to bear against his partner. By the time he’d sighted me, I already had the gun pressed to his temple, my false smile never wavering.
<
br /> I didn’t want to kill these two. They looked like they were barely out of college. Between the pimples, the body odor, and their rosy cheeks I knew they were human. And too many years with the Trust had made me leery of killing humans. Yes, we could be as much of an asshole species as everybody else, but we’d been made custodians of the planet for a reason, damn it. Whatever greater power was out there had put us in charge. And I was as averse to ending innocent human life as any other mage.
These kids weren’t well-trained. They were probably hired from a nearby security company as a calculated move on Lamonia’s part. He knew that practitioners like myself would hesitate in the face of purely human adversaries, rather than go straight for the kill, the way a vampire would. This was probably their first layer of security. Humans to make me hesitate, and then a wave of vampire grunts just beyond the door. It would leave the real threats time to maneuver me into a position that wasn’t favorable. Which meant that Lamonia had been expecting an attack from me or somebody like me.
Almost as soon as the thought had crossed my mind, a pale, fast-moving shape lunged for me out of the nearby hydrangeas.
I drew out my Sig before it had a chance to make contact and loosed a shot that lodged into the wall by its head. The figure froze in place, staring at the hole in the stone in surprise. Once it was completely still the shape resolved itself into the smug and infuriatingly attractive Ashby.
He reached out a long-fingered hand and traced the blackened edges of the hole.
“You tried to shoot me.”
“You should know better than to try a frontal attack, Ashby. You’re lucky I wasn’t aiming to kill or you’d be fertilizer right now.”
“I thought stone stopped bullets,” he noted, tracing the smoking hole for a moment more. Then he straightened and turned fully to face me, face as smooth and polite as if he was talking about the weather.
“Not my bullets.”
The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’d expect nothing less, Iron Heart.”
“I want to talk to your boss, Ashby. I’ve got questions before we get started.”
He bowed at the waist and gestured toward the door with an overly dramatic flourish. “But of course. Follow me.”
Ashby brushed past the two human guards like they weren’t even there. The young man who’d attacked me was still clutching his hand, eyes streaming, trying not to betray just how much it hurt to his vampire boss. Pity stirred in my chest, but it wasn’t enough to make me return the pistol. If things went sour inside I was going to need every bullet, including the ones I’d stolen.
“Sorry kid,” I muttered as I passed. “Nothing personal.”
The inside of House Lamonia made my finely tuned senses go into overdrive. Goosebumps popped along my arms and every vertebra in my spine rattled as an involuntary shudder ran through me. Walking into an undead lair never got any easier, no matter how many times I’d done it.
It felt worse than stepping into the castle in Chicago. Most of House Grieves was usually out of their lair on any given night, picking off the local populace or hunting demi-humans that they’d loosed in Hyde Park. There was usually a guard of only about twenty grunts remaining in the house to protect the vampires that were too lazy to venture out. It kept their aura to a minimum. Not so in House Lamonia.
About twenty vampires were lounging indolently on various pieces of 17th century French furniture. I was aware of every single pair of eyes on my back as Ashby led me toward the marble staircase that dominated the center of the room. Their hissing voices sounded like the rattle of a snake in the background, a warning that I’d just stirred something temperamental and deadly.
Their clothing ran the gamut from ancient to modern. I could tell that the twin pair of vampire girls lounging by the fire had been turned recently. They seemed to believe that less was more and were wearing little more than glittering scraps of fabric over their hips and breasts. A lot of the older vampires were dressed like Ashby, in frock coats and cravats, though there were older pieces on display too. One of the men wore a billowy white shirt, a jerkin, and buckskin trousers. I might have made a crack about his appearance if he hadn’t been sharpening a truly enormous battle axe with a whetstone.
My thumb stroked along the grip of my stolen pistol on reflex. It was a comfort thing, not unlike a nervous child might stroke a beloved pet. Ashby noted the movement with a chuckle.
“You were not expected until Sunday. You cannot blame them for being nervous.”
“They’re nervous?”
“Of course. Landon’s attack dogs are just as liable to bite us as our enemies.”
I bristled at the label. It was the second time in as many days that someone had used that descriptor on me. I was getting really sick and tired of being compared to an animal.
“I’m not a dog,” I muttered. “Just show me to Algerone and nobody gets hurt.”
Ashby raked me with his gaze as we made our way up the stairs, taking in the slightly worn combat boots I’d paired with the dress.
“I was right. You do look truly delectable in red, Miss Valdez. You’d make an excellent addition to the house. Algerone loves a skilled recruit.”
“I’d rather spend an eternity roasting in hell than join you parasites.”
Ashby clucked his tongue reprovingly, though the amusement on his face didn’t drain away. Did this clown ever stop smirking?
“Such language. Careful, or you’ll offend someone. I’m sure you don’t want to face off against all of us at one time, do you?”
I glanced over my shoulder to see two dozen eyes tracking my progress up the stairs. “I could take you.” It came out sounding more confident than I felt. I was absolutely certain that I could paint the pretty receiving room red with gore and I was reasonably sure that I could clear out the first floor with the munitions I had on my person. But I wasn’t confident that I could take the remaining thirty or so I could sense upstairs and the hundreds that they could call in from the surrounding area.
The stairs wound up and up, and we didn’t stop walking until we reached the top floor. More vampires were assembled in the halls, watching us from balconies, hanging out of doorways. One vampire was even reclining on the chandelier, painting something on the ceiling like a freaking undead Michelangelo.
Ashby led me down a hall with plush, inches-thick teal carpet. There were a lot of tables and pillars supporting busts lining the halls. I took comfort in that. They could impede the progress of a few vampires if I decided that I needed to make a hasty escape out of one of the windows.
Algerone’s office was situated behind heavy and intricately carved mahogany doors.
Ashby turned back to me and all good humor drained from his face. He shoved one of his long fingers into my face and the tip of his witchy nail was almost scraping my nose. It was a real effort not to take a snap at it.
“You will keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to our master,” he hissed. “For your sake as much as anything else. It would have been one thing if you’d showed your face when he’d bid, but now you are intruding on a meeting with his fellows. Disrespect him and he will kill you, regardless of how valuable we might find your skills. Keep that in mind.”
My chest tightened with worry. This night wasn’t playing out exactly how I’d anticipated. First Cat’s strange behavior, the hospital’s inability to sense it, and now this.
“Understood,” I growled. “Now knock, you undead son of a bitch, before I do it with your face.”
The genial mask slid back into place and he ran the outstretched finger along my cheekbone. Something that tasted suspiciously like my supper crawled up my throat in response.
“If he tears your throat out, I’ll request that he allow me to sire you,” Ashby mused. “We could have fun for eternity, you and I.”
“Didn’t anyone give you the bad touch lecture?” I muttered. “Knock Ashby. I won’t ask again.”
The doors creaked open after a moment and I took a deep breath in an effort to calm my skittering heartbeat. Ashby strode in like he owned the place.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered and stepped inside after him.
chapter
12
THE INTERIOR OF THE ROOM reminded me forcibly of the Dean’s office in La Universidad de Mágica Guadalajara. The Dean tried to talk me out of leaving after I’d announced I was going to join the Trust’s equivalent of a special ops team, rather than continue on with my major in magical education. It had been a rather poor choice for me anyhow since I’d never had the temperament to deal with kids. Cat had been the one with babysitting jobs growing up. I just wanted to take a swipe at any snot-nosed teenager who’d been within arm’s reach, even when I was a snot-nosed teen myself.
Now I was starting to wish that I’d rethought my career plans. How much different would my life be now if I was teaching magic in a third rate school somewhere in the midwest? A lot more boring, to be sure. And I’d probably still be single. But at least I wouldn’t be entering purgatory to make a deal with the devil.
The room had several more windows, all of them covered by heavy blue drapes that complimented the oak floorboards. Barely any of the hardwood was visible beneath a white area rug and a myriad of antique furniture. There were several divans in the center of the room, and long wooden benches that had been upholstered. A peacock chair was shoved into a corner, and a few 17th century carved oak Wainscot chairs gathered around a table. All of the seats in the room were occupied, save one. It had probably belonged to Ashby before he’d decided to come out and make a bid to end my life. Maybe I hadn’t been as stealthy as I’d hoped. That was probably the fault of my flashy red dress.
I kept my face carefully blank as all heads in the room swiveled to face me. Well, almost every head. One man hadn’t even turned to acknowledge our entrance. He was singularly focused on what he was doing. And even though his chair was turned away from me, I could see the bleeding human woman draped over his lap, and what he was doing to her.
Agent of Magic Box Set Page 11