by Cat Adams
What? So once again I was bait? I was supposed to think out the solution and risk my neck. I could hear the sound of my own anger when I responded, “Why the hell should I? I don’t even get a thank-you for getting your ass out of the prison and taking a bullet in my shoulder before you’re sending me out again to die? Fuck you both.”
That took some of the starch out of both of them. Kevin reared back in surprise and Warren’s eyes went wide and panicky. “Celia,” Warren began.
“No. Seriously. Who elected me the sacrificial lamb?” All my pent-up hurt and anger came roaring to the surface. Of course, it was getting closer to sunset, which probably didn’t help. And I hadn’t eaten since I woke up. But the words were no less true because of all that. Sudden tears stung my eyes and my words were daggers laced with poison: “I trusted you. Respected you. Hell, I’ve idolized you since college, Warren.” I pushed back the stool so I could stare at Warren’s shocked face. “That night, you betrayed me and destroyed every single warm feeling I ever had for you. I’ve never gotten an ‘I’m sorry,’ a thank-you, or even an acknowledgment that you made a mistake. I don’t know that I can ever forgive you and can’t imagine why I should ever help you—either of you—again. Get yourselves out of this mess.” I stood up and stormed toward the stairs just like Jones had.
Kevin’s growling voice stopped me: “You would have done the same damned thing.”
I turned and gawked at the screen even though he couldn’t see me. “What? You really have gone insane.”
His eyes were burning bright but with intensity rather than power. “If you’d known me back when your sister had been kidnapped, you would have taken the same chance. You would have known that I’d constantly beaten the odds and triumphed when everybody said I would fail. You’d know that I could take care of myself long enough to get everybody out alive. I’ll admit that the sister I promised my dying mother I’d protect is more important than you. And if you can’t admit that yours would have taken the same place in your mind, then you’re just lying to yourself. I’ll thank you, but I won’t say I’m sorry, Celia, because it was the highest compliment I could have given you.”
Bringing Ivy into this was a low blow. If his intent had been to throw a spear at my heart, he’d succeeded. But if I were going to be honest … If I’d known a skilled werewolf who could have skewed the odds enough that Ivy would still be alive today … what would I have done? Who would I have thrown, unknowing, into danger to save Vicki? Or Bob Johnson, who’d died in my arms the night I was nearly turned? The words came out of my mouth and they were so calm and soft that at first I didn’t realize I’d spoken: “You’re wrong.”
Warren was standing back, letting Kevin and me have it out. I could see regret and pain in his eyes. I honestly don’t believe he realized that he’d lost my trust that day and the consequence of that was just coming home to him.
Kevin just shook his head and snorted. “No. I’m not. You’ve thrown plenty of people into the line of fire for your own plans. Don’t give me that holier-than-thou bullshit.”
I walked back to the monitor but then decided instead to go to the door. There was a small bulletproof glass window set into the silver steel. I had to go up on tippy-toes to see inside, but I wanted him to see my eyes—so that he would believe what I was saying. I knocked on the glass and he turned to meet my eyes. I spoke loudly, in case the mic wasn’t strong enough to reach across the room. “Yes. I’ve thrown competent people into danger. I freely admit that. But they agreed to help. That’s the difference. I haven’t hijacked them against their will. I haven’t dismissed their intelligence. I wouldn’t have done what you did and people wouldn’t have died.” His face showed sarcastic disbelief. “Okay, fine. They might still have died. You say you paid me a compliment by trusting my skills. But you decided my intelligence couldn’t be trusted. That hurts . Face facts, Kevin. Your ego is why that plan failed. You thought you had it all figured out, thought nobody could be smarter or better. You couldn’t accept that a friend of your little sister, the sister who needed your protection, might come up with a useful strategy. That she—that I —might be just as smart and competent as you. So tell me, what makes me suddenly competent? The fact that you’re stuck in there and can’t do it yourself? You have to trust me because there’s no other choice? Well, guess what? You may not have a choice. But I do. So. No.”
I could see the final blow strike home as his eyes went from angry and self-righteous to shocked beyond words. I turned away. Warren couldn’t even look me in the face. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard a quiet voice break the silence behind me: “I’m sorry.” Warren’s apology sounded sincere, but I wasn’t ready to hear it.
“You should be.”
Jones was at the top of the stairs when I got there. “Remind me never to piss you off,” he said with raised brows. “But you do realize he’ll go insane if we don’t find his Vaso. The Company will put him down if that happens.”
I hadn’t known that. It didn’t change things enough, because most of the problem was still due to his stubbornness and his ego. “Then he should probably tell you her name. It’ll speed up finding her.”
A wry smile turned up one side of Jones’s mouth, but there was as much anger as humor in it. “He doesn’t trust me.”
I shrugged and adjusted my ball cap for the long walk back to my car. “Neither do I.” My hand was on the doorknob when something occurred to me. Jones was staring at my back. I could see his reflection in the glass, and his face held both confusion and thoughtfulness. “But … I’m not heartless. I’m willing to find the Vaso.” His brows rose until I added, “For a price,” then lowered in suspicion and anger.
“You don’t seem the mercenary type.”
I turned and stared at him calmly. “I’m not. I’m the self-preservation type.” I told him about my little run-in with Edgar the previous night. By the end of the story, Jones was openly growling and the flames of magic in his eyes were licking at his pupils. “So. You tell me what Edgar is trying to get from me and I’ll find Kevin’s Vaso. You refuse and so do I.”
His lips pursed and I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was nothing if not a smooth negotiator. “What makes you think I know?”
I chuckled. “Call it a hunch. He didn’t want my knives, even though they qualify as artifacts. The only other thing I have of any interest is the Wadjeti the sirens gave me. Is that what he wants?”
He shook his head. “Hardly. He must think you have a Millennium Horn. It does sort of make sense. We haven’t been able to find it and you are part siren.” The Millennium Horn? That sort of rang a bell, but I couldn’t place the term right away. Jones must have noticed my confusion, because he let out a small sound of exasperation and continued. “Didn’t you learn anything in college? The end of the first age of the sirens was marked by a battle with a greater demon of immense power.”
Oh! Wait, it was coming back to me. “Right. I remember now. All of the siren queens banded together to seal the rift between our reality and the demon one. The Millennium Horn—”
“Horns. There were two. If they were blown simultaneously, the psychic and magical sound would shatter the barrier between the two dimensions. The sirens, as guardians of the oceans, decided after they defeated the demon that they could never again risk a demon finding the horns.”
I was nodding now as the old folktale came back to me. “So they were hidden away and nobody ever saw them again.”
He held up his palms and shrugged. “The Company has searched for them for years.”
Why was I thinking it wasn’t to destroy them? The very thought made me shudder. “But if Edgar left the Company—”
The frown was back on Jones’s face. He put a hand on the banister. “Then he’s working for someone else. Who I don’t know. But I’d suggest that if you have an old horn hidden away somewhere, you keep it out of sight.”
“Nobody’s ever seen the Millennium Horns. There aren’t any photos, drawings,
or even descriptions of them. They purged the records so there was no trace. The only way someone would recognize one is if they were around to see them the first time they were used.” And funny thing … I happened to know someone who was around. Queen Lopaka. It might be worth asking about it, especially if Edgar knew more than I did about them.
“So now I guess it’s time for you to find a Vaso.”
I sighed. I’d made the terms, and even though I had no idea how to accomplish it, I’d follow through. “I guess it is.”
11
Sometimes the best way to think of something is to not think of it. This was not one of those times. My mind was working on two questions: who Kevin’s Vaso might be and why Edgar was looking for the Millennium Horns. The problem was I didn’t know which was more important. Night was almost here, which meant that Edgar would be out and looking for me. But how long could Kevin hold out with no way to drain his power? It had already been a full day that I knew of. How often did he need to give power to his Vaso? Did they have to do it in person? I could swear I remembered something about distance feeding from my lycanthropy classes. But maybe that just wasn’t possible in this case, and Kevin obviously didn’t want Jones or anyone else knowing his Vaso’s identity. Her cover would definitely be blown if she went to him.
My hood ornament was missing when I got back to the car. Damn it. It was probably somebody’s necklace by now, and I didn’t have time to mess around searching. I’d just order a new one from the dealership or on the Internet and deal. Hey, I still had four tires and they weren’t slashed. That was something.
The steering wheel was hard to hold with my burned hands, which were swollen and ached like I’d poured scalding water on them. I was betting they weren’t healing as fast as usual because I hadn’t eaten enough today. I hadn’t had a chance to restock the car, and though I’d seen a thousand and one food items in the little Indian convenience store, I hadn’t spotted even a single nutrition shake.
The bottom line was that by the time I got back to the office I was beyond twitchy. My pulse was throbbing in my head and every person on the street was glowing and looking tasty.
I parked the car in my reserved space and locked the door. I had to get a handle on my hunger before I walked into the office. I could feel the heat of the day sliding into cool darkness … as slow and delicious as easing your body into a pool. It was a sensual feeling that made my muscles come alive with the need to flex and chase. Hunt and feed.
My eyes snapped open when a tentative tap sounded on the window. Dawna was on the other side of the glass, but I couldn’t see her face past the bright band of pulsing red energy that lit her up from the inside. She held something up to the window and it pulsed, too. “You’re going vamp, Celia. Drink this.”
Drinking was exactly what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t the cup I wanted. Still, I held on to my sense of self long enough to lower the car window. I grabbed the Styrofoam container from her hand and raised it to my lips. Thankfully, I’d left my seat belt on.
She stepped back quickly, went into the building, and locked the door—I could hear the bolts snap home.
Smart woman.
The lid of the container defeated me for a moment, which told me just how badly off I was. I stabbed at the lid with my fangs until it finally gave way and wonderful warm bloody juices began to flow down my throat. It was a large container and I had no idea where she’d gotten it or how she’d known I needed it. But thank heavens she had. It was just what I needed. By the time I’d finished what must have been a quart or more I was feeling nearly normal. I’d even managed not to spill anything down the front of my shirt.
After I sat there long enough to see the sky edge to velvet, my hands felt like normal and I could see without a haze of red over everything. I didn’t shake when I stood up, and when I went into the office Dawna looked like Dawna, not like dinner. She was working on bills, which was typical of this time of the month. While best intentions ruled and all of us tried to get bills out by the fifth, it was usually the tenth before they were approved and ready to mail. “All better now?” she asked as I walked up to her desk.
“Don’t know where you got the au jus, but it was perfect. Right temperature, good spices. Yum.”
She looked up at me and smiled. “Found a new source, that barbeque place down on Third. I stopped there for dinner the other night and they were pulling out this huge pan from under the grill, filled with juices that dripped down during cooking. Beef, chicken, and pork, and they were just pouring it down the drain, so it didn’t take much effort to convince them to pour it into a bunch of containers for a few bucks. They’re in the freezer, so all it takes is a few minutes in the microwave. But don’t forget to do a shake chaser. Meat juice might feed what’s still alive in there, but you need vitamins, too.”
Good point. I went into the small kitchen and opened the fridge. Ooh! Chocolate caramel. That was new. I popped the top and took a sip as I walked back to her desk. “Sorry I flaked out on you earlier. It was sort of an emergency. And thanks for restocking the fridge.”
She nodded but didn’t look up from her data entry into the computer. “It’s not the first time we’ve missed lunch,” she said, and laughed. “The seminary called. They picked up Maria’s folks and everyone’s safe. What’s going on?”
Dawna’s a member of my team, so I didn’t hesitate to fill her in about the girl and the balloons and the unexpected exit down the toilet.
“Omagawd! You’re kidding!” She howled with laughter and I finally got to smile about it. “Oh, the poor thing. She must have been frantic. Is it all sorted out now?”
“Not by half, unfortunately. Fingers crossed, though.” I held up my hand to show Dawna that I’d done just that. I didn’t want to go into detail in case we hadn’t gotten all the bugs out of the office. “Hey, you want to get out of here for the night? I really need someone to bounce some ideas off and I’m still a little nervous after Justin’s visit.”
A little snort escaped her. “You and everybody else. Ron wants to bring in someone for a second opinion. He’s threatening to move out if the owner can’t guarantee him some client confidentiality. Hard to blame him, y’know?”
I sighed. “Terrific. You know who the owner is, right?”
She furrowed her brow and cocked her head, sending dark hair spilling out of her tasteful bun to land on her shoulder. “C and S Corp. Do you know the contact there?”
I pointed a thumb at my chest. “Moi. C and S was Vicki, and I’m the new owner once the probate goes through. Haven’t you received your letter from the attorney yet?”
“You’re kidding! She left you a building ? Wow. Yeah, I got a letter saying that Vick had left me something but that it was being held up in the lawsuit her mom filed. I figured it was a few bucks. I hope it’s enough to pay off my credit cards.”
I smiled. It really had been a while since Dawna and I had had a normal conversation. “It probably won’t pay off your cards, but it’ll free up your rent money.” At her questioning look, I patted her hand. “She owned your building, too. That’s your inheritance. In a year or so, you’ll own an apartment building and will get all the headaches thereof. Just like me.”
Her jaw was open so far a bird could have flown in without pulling in its wings. When she finally recovered, I’d nearly finished the shake. “There’s like forty apartments in my building! How the hell am I going to take care of them all?”
“Join the club. At least Ron’s not one of your tenants.”
She rested her elbows on the desk and dropped her chin onto her hands just as the lights flashed twice and the temperature dropped enough that I could see my breath. I looked up at the sparkling formation near the ceiling. “Hey, Vick. Glad you’re feeling better. Thanks for your help last night. Kevin’s okay.” I waggled my hand. “Mostly.”
No prob. S’up? The words appeared on the front window in frost.
“I need to find his Vaso. He’s in pretty bad shape. Needs to drai
n his energy. Any ideas?”
Nooo. But … I waited while she thought and then watched as white cursive letters appeared while the glass snapped and popped from the sudden temperature shift: Work, sleep, eat. All he did.
“True that,” Dawna added with a nod. She’d noticed her undone hair and was putting it back into the bun by stabbing it repeatedly with the ornate chopsticks she used as hair ornaments. “We had to drag him out of the computer lab when we went out somewhere. Half of the time he wouldn’t come because someone on campus had a broken computer. His Vaso must be someone he knew at school. He never went anywhere else.”
“Makes sense to me. But it was a big university. Could be any of a hundred people.”
No. Day or night? The words were hurried, like the ghost had an idea.
I knew so little about Vasos. I pointed to the computer screen. “Bring up the Internet. See if there’s a time of day that a werewolf has to drain his energy. I’ll bet Vicki’s right. She usually is.”
A few clicks later I was reading over Dawna’s shoulder, feeling a chill on my neck as my dead best friend did the same thing. “Ooh, look at this. The best time is right before bed. But Kevin never went to bed until late. What’s open on campus at night?”
“Infirmary,” Dawna offered.
Security appeared on the window.
But I was the one who got it and we all knew it the minute I wrote the word on the pad on Dawna’s desk. Library. I wrote it to protect her identity from anyone listening or watching, just as Kevin had asked. The university library was open until midnight every day except Sunday.
The Vaso could be only one person. Anna, the metaphysics section librarian, had worked at the college for more than a decade. She was a smart, powerful witch who I didn’t doubt could manage the excess energy. I’d seen them talking at least once a week but hadn’t ever thought about it because everybody talked to her. She knew the library backward and forward.