by Mur Lafferty
Zoë winced. She did not want to be debriefed by her boss. “We’re going to have to work hard to get the goddamn book done. Especially since we’ve lost Kevin.”
“Such useful medicine came from such horror,” Eir said after visiting the back room. “The man in the back room is beyond my help. I was able to restore some health to the woman, but she is close to death regardless. This is your domain, I’m afraid,” she said, looking at both the disease god and the death goddess. They both nodded and went to the back room together.
Neither Opal nor Arthur would look at Zoë, although she suspected they had different reasons for their silence. Zoë busied herself with the tea—thank goodness the supernatural beings could confirm that it was simply chamomile grown in the Doyenne’s garden, downstream from where the golem had tried to kill Reynard.
“It’s over,” Arthur said again, breaking the silence.
“I know,” Zoë said. “I’m sorry. You understand she couldn’t be allowed to continue doing what she did? That Public Works was trying to shut her down? And there are a lot of herbs in there to keep you going for some time, anyway…” She trailed off. Arthur was shaking his head.
“It’s inevitable now. Why fight it anymore? I’ll just let it happen; tomorrow I’ll turn. There’s no hope now. I can’t believe you had a hand in killing her,” he said, his voice tense.
Her rage countered his own. “You want to live on the life force of other people? You want to live off my life force? She was taking it while you were talking to her, the herbs you bought were already soaked in my blood. If you took them right now, I would be directly responsible for the next few weeks of your life. I could have died back there, no extra days, no purchased months. She was draining me dry, I could barely walk at the end. And you’re calling me selfish?”
He buried his face in his hands. “I know,” he said, his anguished voice muffled. “I was just so ready to die when I got bit, and then when life continued, and it was good, I suddenly wanted it. I don’t want to die.”
Opal looked up from where she had been staring into the lantern’s flame, her face a mask as she slowly healed.
“There’s another option,” she said softly.
Zoë shook her head. “No, that’s no better than being a zombie. I mean, no offense, but he doesn’t want to be an undead anything. This is a guy who likes being human.”
Arthur looked at the vampire. “I think that would be all right,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”
“Seriously?” Zoë asked.
He nodded. “I’m going one way or another. Vampires don’t rot and they don’t lose their shit if they don’t eat. At least, not as bad as zombies. If I have to choose, I choose vampire.”
“And I need a companion,” Opal said.
“I’m not agreeing to anything intimate here,” Arthur said, holding up his hands. “I just got out of a relationship.”
Zoë smiled sadly. “I can hear you, you know. Anyway, she doesn’t want to have sex with you, she wants a baby vampire to call her own. She’ll show you what it is to be one. She’ll take care of you. She’s good at it.”
Opal looked at Zoë and actually smiled. “Besides, I owe Zoë. If I can help her friend, then I’m happy.”
Arthur got up. “So, uh, when do we do this?”
“Whenever you like. Before the sun comes up. Before you turn into a zombie, naturally.”
“Now. Before I change my mind,” he said, holding out his hand to help her up. She accepted, and turned to walk into the forest.
“Now? Just like that?” Zoë asked.
Arthur nodded. “We knew it was coming. Something was coming. I need to go.” He put his arms around her, his shirt still wet from the river. “I’m sorry for the drama. Sorry for hurting you.” He kissed her softly on the forehead.
“I’m sorry, too. Don’t eat me when you turn, OK?” She smiled, even though the request was real.
He grinned at her. “You take all the fun out of everything.”
“I’m actually not kidding,” she said.
He sobered. “I know.”
And he walked after Opal.
“And he dead now,” said He Who Kills and Is Thanked for It, coming out of the house. “Doyenne has been draining them for years. Possibly decades, considering the scarcity of citytalkers. She must have been happier than a pig in slop when she found out you and that other talker was in town, Zoë.”
“How did she—Oh, the inugami. Right,” Zoë said.
He nodded. “She had spies all over the city. Her dogs, her golems. She knew you were in town, and she knew the other citytalker was coming for her. Good work with the golems, by the way. Quick thinking.”
“So first I talk to cities, then I am descended from assassins, and now my blood is the elixir of life? No wonder we got hunted to extinction,” she grumbled.
The god hobbled out to where she was sitting on the ground. “I am turning this place into a shrine, once I cleanse it with fire. But before I do that, I want to bless you, child. You fight for the earth, and for my people.”
Zoë frowned in confusion. “Who are your people?”
He laughed. “All people are my people.” He stuck out his hand and pressed his thumb on her forehead, and she felt a warm rush come over her. “That will come in handy, to be sure.”
The god turned his back and raised his staff, calling for everyone in the house to vacate.
Gwen and Eir came hurrying out, leading behind them the old woman who had helped Zoë.
“Is she going to be OK?” Zoë asked.
“Shh,” Eir said, watching the god. “This is a sacred moment.”
He Who Kills and Is Thanked for It called out over the swamp, beckoning. Fire answered, coming from the sky to bathe them all in fierce heat. They all retreated to a safe distance as the heat became unbearable for all but the god.
It burned for a good five minutes, white hot, and then as quickly as it had lit up, it was gone, as was the god. The only thing left was the charred bank of the water, where a smoking black statue of the god was overturned.
Gwen went and picked it up, not affected by the heat that the statue clearly was radiating, and righted it on the bank. “This is a blessed space now,” she said. “You have witnessed something glorious.”
“I’m starving,” Zoë said suddenly.
Ten minutes later Opal and Arthur returned, Opal looking very pleased, Arthur looking dazed.
“Is—is it done?” Zoë asked.
Arthur nodded.
“Sometime you’ll have to tell me how it’s done. Do you feel different?” she asked.
Arthur blinked a couple of times. “I’m tired,” he said.
“We’ll go get your things from your hotel and you can come to the bed-and-breakfast to stay in Kevin’s old room,” Opal said happily. “Freddie will have a meal for you, and then I can teach you how to hunt without getting caught by those awful Public Works people. This will be such fun,” Opal said sweetly.
“You know I’m Public Works, right?” he asked.
“That’s what will make it fun!” Opal said.
Arthur looked at Zoë, panic flaring in his newly red eyes.
Zoë tried hard not to laugh.
Later that night, in Freddie’s kitchen, they ate their respective meals and had a long talk to officially end their relationship. They agreed that both their lives were too complicated at this point. Arthur had to focus on his new life, or undeath, or whatever. Zoë had a book to manage. They’d stay in touch, but now, mutually, it was agreed to be over.
“I wonder if we’ll be safer, or in more danger, this way,” Zoe said after they’d hugged for the last time.
“Guess we’ll find out,” he said.
Phil was furious.
“You lost a member of your team, you killed the most powerful zoëtist in the world, and you kept from me that you were a citytalker? What else are you hiding, Zoë? By all the gods around me, I trusted you!”
Zoë held the phon
e away from her ear. Anna had left her after the group had returned to the B and B, and after her talk with Arthur she had slept for twelve hours. She felt much better after sleep and a shower, and was looking forward to an iron-heavy breakfast, but she’d had to call the boss first.
Phil was reacting the way she had feared. She had confessed she was a citytalker when she had called, afraid that too many people around her knew the secret, and that his finding out was inevitable.
“I work with people who would eat me, Phil. I needed whatever ace I had,” she said. “And it was self-defense! She was going to kill me slowly over the next few decades.”
“But if you had told me this when you found out, I could have protected you, have let you know your heritage without you having to go through all of this!”
“Wait, you’re mad because you’re concerned about me? Not because I lied?”
He sputtered, and she realized his fangs had elongated because of his anger. “Of course I am! Just think of what you could have avoided! Have you heard from this Reynard person since the battle?”
“Not at all.”
“He will be in touch, I guarantee it. He’s not going to let a powerful rogue citytalker loose in the world. He will recruit you for this mysterious shadow organization,” he said. “And I’m going to have to look into that more closely. I knew about the purge and about citytalkers, but I thought they kept to themselves.”
“Great.”
There was silence. Finally Phil said, in a calmer voice, “So do I need to send another writer to you, or are you all right?”
“I’ve got someone who may work out,” Zoë said, thinking about Anna. “I’ll let you know.”
“And you think Opal can keep it together?”
Zoë snorted. “Are you kidding me? She’s practically glowing with excitement now that she gets to have another ‘baby.’ I had to stop her from taking Arthur shopping last night.”
“So your boyfriend is a vampire now?” Phil sounded amused.
“Yeah. And he’s not my boyfriend, not anymore.”
“Can’t date a vampire?” he asked, a funny tone in his voice.
“Actually, he pretty much dumped me. Says we’re both dealing with too much shit to support the other one.” She didn’t say that she honestly didn’t know if she would have stayed with a vampire or not. She’d burn that bridge when she came to it.
“All right. Keep me posted for the rest of the time, is that too much to ask? I want to know even if a coterie looks at you funny while you’re down there.”
“Sure. We’re taking the ghost train home the Sunday after Mardi Gras. I can probably hold it together till then. And when I get home, Phil?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to know everything you know about citytalkers. And we can find out Grey Cabal stuff together. The city told me all sorts of shit, including about the assassins, the murder of the citytalkers, and stuff. But I want to know what you know. No more secrets about the humans’ past.”
“Fine. I’ll see what I can dig up on the Cabal. But we’ll discuss that when you get home,” Phil said.
“I can wait. Thanks,” she said.
“And for the sake of all the gods, Zoë, be careful, please.”
She smiled. “But boss, I’m always careful!”
CHAPTER 4
Travel Essentials
DANGERS
Since Katrina, New Orleans Public Works has been a tightly run operation, with a solid coterie liaison, so you won’t find a lot of prejudice there; they will still bust you if you go overboard on feeding from a local or a tourist, but everyday coterie should be fine. Some of the local vampires have taken residence in Louis Armstrong Park and are not friendly to tourists. Visit during the daytime, or simply steer clear of the park if you’re worried about your safety.
The only unwelcome coterie in town is the water sprite. Water gods are not forbidden, but you may find prejudice in Uptown.
As for sexuality, anything goes in New Orleans, but the asexual budding fae will possibly face teasing here and there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Zoë had worried about losing more blood to repay her debt to the voodoo shop, but it turned out the owner was so happy about the return of his missing sister, the old citytalker from the Doyenne’s houseboat, he called it square.
Her gris-gris bag was gone, all its power burned away to protect Zoë from the release of the Doyenne’s concealment spell. She turned down his offer for a new bag, saying she’d let them know if she needed anything in the future.
Zoë also visited Public Works again to report Christian’s death to the Poison Ivy receptionist, and after allowing the woman to cry on her for a while (all the while batting away curious vines trying to entwine their mistress to comfort her), Zoë asked what the woman knew about imprisoning water sprites. Namely, could they be frozen?
“Of course they can,” Poison Ivy said, sniffling. “That’s how we held most of the sprites we caught after Katrina.”
“How do you thaw them? Can they be hurt by the process?”
“I don’t know. We’ve never thawed one before,” Ivy said, thinking.
“Good enough, thanks,” Zoë said, and left, deep in thought.
The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. They gathered their information, they took notes, met for meals to discuss chapters, and continued research. They attended another ball hosted by He Who Kills and Is Thanked for It, and Zoë even danced with the host.
Arthur spent much of his time with Opal, and Zoë would talk to him nightly about what he had learned. He enjoyed testing his new abilities, but his first feeding on a human was traumatic for him, even though it was a mugger who had just rolled a young tourist.
“Just think. You were like Batman. Hey, maybe Batman is a vampire,” Zoë suggested, which made him laugh.
The time was over all too quickly, and the Sunday after Mardi Gras, with the city moaning in Zoë’s head as if she had the biggest hangover ever, Zoë boarded the ghost train.
Lastly, both Arthur and Anna resigned from their jobs. For different reasons.
Arthur got to sit in first class with Opal, using Kevin’s ticket. He looked resigned, used to Opal’s maternal attention, even if he may not have liked it. Right after Zoë had settled into her seat, her phone dinged with a text.
I AM GOING TO REGRET THIS, AREN’T I?
She smiled. IT’S BETTER THAN THE ALTERNATIVE, RIGHT?
The response was immediate. THAT REMAINS TO BE SEEN.
YOU WILL GET USED TO IT. AT LEAST YOU’RE IN FIRST-CLASS. ALSO, COACH SUCKS.
Ten minutes before the train was set to leave, someone sat in front of Zoë, across the table from her. Reynard’s wounds from the battle were still fresh, but he moved with an easy grace.
Zoë looked back calmly at this man she wasn’t sure she should have saved.
“Why did you run? You won, the Doyenne died,” she asked, finally. “You did your job. Or someone did, anyway.”
“It’s not wise to be around too many gods,” he said. “They can figure us out faster than most people. Besides, as you said, my job was done.”
Zoë raised an eyebrow. “You run away a lot. It seems I might be better at your job than you are.”
“Would you like to do my job?” He smiled that cocky smile.
“Not really,” Zoë said. “Assassination is not really my thing.”
Reynard examined his fingers. “I prefer to be considered a cleaner. I get rid of messes.”
Zoë leaned back in her seat, trying to her hide her anxiety. “So how long until I’m a mess, Reynard? A rogue citytalker with no allegiance? When will you come clean me up?”
“You could avoid it entirely. Come with me for training, learn about the cities, learn about the coterie. Your skills are raw, but strong. You need a mentor.”
Zoë shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I want to be an assassin. Or a maid. Cleaner. Whatever.”
Reynard nodded once and slid a bus
iness card across the table. “Have a good trip home, Zoë. I’ll see you around,” he said. Then he exited the train.
The card was blank except for an address in tiny, cramped, precise writing. It was an address in England, but that’s all Zoë knew.
The location of the Grey Cabal? Is this the recruiting Phil mentioned would come?
Probably. They don’t want to lose a power like yours. The city sounded soft and sad. She’d been relatively quiet since morning, when Zoë had firmly informed her that she was leaving.
Zoë stashed the card in her pocket and looked out the window at the city in the night.
I’m sorry I tried to kidnap you. I just like you so much.
“I understand,” she whispered.
The other talker did say he’ll keep me company until he has to leave for London.
Zoë sat up straight and felt the train’s engines come to life. “Really?”
Sure, and he said some really interesting things about the Grey Cabal! We joined last night, and he told me that they were recruiting, and that he had a promising… As the bullet train gained speed, it shot out of the city limits, and the voice in her head stopped.
“Shit. She couldn’t have told me that stuff earlier?” Zoë muttered as she fished the card out of her pocket again. While researching the book, she had ignored the occasional pleas from the city to forgive her, and discovered she could access the power of the city without engaging her in conversation while she was doing her research. She had decided to forgive the city before she left, and realized she probably should have done so earlier.
She punched the address into her phone, and found a small village west of London. The Grey Cabal couldn’t be in a city, she remembered.
“He will recruit you or hunt you,” Phil had said.
He had also said they needed to find out more about the Grey Cabal.
“Looks like I’m going to England. I wonder if I can get Phil to take the Shambling Guides international.”
APPENDIX IX
New Orleans for the Sober, the Solitary, the Humble, and the Quiet
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