Vigil: Verity Fassbinder Book 1

by Angela Slatter

  ‘That’s another long story for another long day.’

  Silence, then, ‘So, you’re what? Magical?’

  I shook my head. ‘Nope, no enchantments in my skin. I’m very strong, but not magical. I can perform rituals and some spells – but so can anyone with enough belief and willing blood – but I’m not inherently . . . spooky. Some Weyrd are, and if they combine that power with a spellbook – we call it a grimoire – and a bad attitude, well, you’re in a shit-load of trouble.’

  ‘And magic wands are—’

  ‘Handy. Places to store your power, a tool to amplify it when you send a bolt out into the world. Again, not inherently spooky.’

  His look of disbelief didn’t shift. I ran fingers through my hair, hard across my scalp. Maybe I should break something? I opened my mouth to try a new tack, but realised I didn’t actually know what that tack might be. A thudding at the front door saved me from saying something stupid, but my gratitude was tempered by the knowledge that thudding never bodes well.

  A body was sprawled on the patio, bleeding quietly into the prickles of the welcome mat. The siren had lost one wing – it was completely gone, leaving only a bloody stump – and the other was still clinging on, but only by a few tenacious tendons. Her clothes were ragged, as if many hands had been trying to tear them off, her face was a pulpy mess and she was bleeding from a lot of cuts. Yelling for David to get towels, I scanned the street and the garden quickly, trying to see if anyone was lurking, then dragged her into the front room before going back and locking and bolting the door.

  I wedged a cushion under her head, then tried to wipe away some of the red. The wetness made my palm tingle – not an acidic burn, just a kind of fizzing. I didn’t recognise her, but I could make an educated guess.

  ‘Raidne?’ I asked, without much hope of an answer, but her eyes opened. Her lips parted and she coughed up scarlet, trying to speak.

  ‘What’s that? Sorry, I couldn’t—’

  ‘The baby,’ she gasped. ‘Got . . . to get . . . baby.’

  ‘Calliope? Where is she? Have you been looking after her?’

  ‘Ligeia. Teles. We took turns . . .’ She coughed again and the sound almost drowned out David’s shocked cursing as he covered the injured woman with the towels. I held her head, gently moving my fingers across the base of her skull, and was rewarded by a congealing cross-shaped void. Raidne hacked and barked and shuddered, dying noisily.

  I slid her lids closed over staring eyes.

  Silence reigned for a while. Another death, and I was no closer to an answer or a baby. But I did have a new name, which was something. Ligeia. Taking a deep breath, I looked at David and couldn’t resist saying, ‘Superpowery enough for you?’

  I dialled McIntyre, really not looking forward to telling her who was in my front room and what state she was in.

  *

  While I dealt with the cops, David retreated to the kitchen, taking refuge in cooking dinner, guessing quite correctly that if the task were left up to me, said dinner would take the form of a second bottle of wine. He was muttering to himself, obviously trying to rationalise what he’d seen and heard, and it was sounding very much like the last straw meeting the camel’s back. So maybe he wasn’t going to hang around. After the meat-wagon took Raidne away, I made my decision.

  ‘David, we need to talk.’

  ‘That’s never a good start to any conversation.’ He gazed at me reproachfully as he stirred the spaghetti bolognaise he’d whipped up. It struck me as nothing short of a miracle as I hadn’t even realised I had the right ingredients in my woefully stocked larder. ‘And don’t you think we’ve had a peculiar enough chat for one evening? I’m prepared to admit you were right and I’ll never question your knowledge of strange shit again.’

  ‘Appealing though that is . . . Look, I know I went to all the trouble of opening up to you in the interests of an honest relationship, but—’

  ‘Are you trying to break up with me?’ he asked calmly.

  ‘It’s just – you know – I don’t—’ Painful experience had taught me that once you got to the babbling stage you’d already lost.

  ‘Are you trying to break up with me badly?’ He laughed, retrieving two bowls from the cupboard.

  I slapped at his shoulder. ‘David, what I do can be dangerous – Exhibit A just got carted off to the morgue: Exhibit A, who had wings and claws, and many ways to defend herself. What are you going to do when the monsters come calling? Write code at them?’

  ‘I don’t write code – well, not all the time.’

  ‘My point is: I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want that to happen to you.’

  ‘V, I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your break-up. It’s too incompetent to take seriously.’ He put his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. ‘Besides, being single is too much hard work. Everyone’s got baggage – although I will admit that yours is a bit more exceptional than most.’

  ‘My baggage is a little more bitey than most.’ I pushed him away. ‘I spent part of the day at a house when an entire family was eaten – I was almost eaten myself. And remember what happened to Lizzie? Because of me?’

  ‘It wasn’t because of you – that old bat would have taken any child. She could have seen you talking to a kid at the shops and decided to take that one.’ He brushed the hair back from my face. ‘Lizzie was endangered by someone else’s crazy, but she’s alive because of you.’

  I didn’t think his logic would stand up to scrutiny but I kept my mouth shut. The truth was, I really didn’t want to be without him. When I’d walked away from Bela it was because that was what I wanted to do more than anything. This time, leaving was the last thing on my wish list. Besides, he was right, both about the suckiness of being single and the incompetence of my break-up, and at this point, knowing that I was loved and loving, that my life wasn’t one great gaping hole, was very, very important.

  As I set the table, I couldn’t remember the last time it had been used for actual dining rather than book storage. It felt weird. But good weird.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Later that night, after David had gone to sleep, I tried Eurycleia, but the number rang out. Then I called Bela to tell him about Raidne. He was curt when I asked how he was, more like himself; it sounded like he was rapidly rebuilding his walls. There was a lot of put-upon sighing at my failure to make at least one dilemma go away, and I felt like a kid pulling at his coat for attention. Zvezdomir Tepes, Patron Saint of the Mortally Inconvenienced.

  ‘V, I’m not saying the sirens aren’t an issue, but I’ve – we’ve – got bigger problems. Another of the councillors was targeted this evening. Mercado Wright? Lives in one of those big old Art Deco apartment blocks in Spring Hill? Luckily, he owns the building, so he’s the only tenant.’

  ‘Dead?’ I asked, hoping there was no hint of longing in my voice. Wright was one of those Weyrd: on the single occasion I’d met him, he had looked through me as if I wasn’t there. Not that I wished him ill; I just didn’t like him.

  ‘No – he was woken by the motion sensors going off, then he heard his bodyguards being eaten and ran while the golem was distracted.’ I could hear Bela tapping on something at his end. ‘I’ve stashed him and the other councillors in a safe house.’

  ‘Is his place near a stormwater drain or sewer?’ I asked, and waited for an answer. If I’d held my breath I’d have passed out. I tried again, ‘Did the wards go off at Wright’s?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’ His tone told me he was annoyed at himself for not asking.

  ‘I’m willing to bet they didn’t. Ziggi and I walked straight in at the Greenills’ place – am I right in thinking you’d disarmed the protections over the front door when you arrived?’ He grunted, which I took as an affirmative. ‘If they’d remembered to set the Normal security system, they might have had a chance.’

  ‘Your point?’ he asked sharply, and I realised a reminder that something so mundane might have saved his fr
iends was probably not what he needed at that moment.

  ‘Wright didn’t say he was woken by his wards doing whatever they were meant to do, did he? He said it was the motion sensors. Remember what Ursa said? The golem has a Normal core. So the Weyrd stuff around it is just a wrapping, not strong enough to set off magical barriers – but the mortal part, its essence, still affects Normal things. Let’s face it, a lot of apotropaic power doesn’t work on me either.’

  There was a lengthy pause, then, ‘You’ve been working on your vocabulary.’

  ‘Sometimes I’m not as stupid as I appear.’

  ‘Ziggi told me about the tunnels,’ he said obliquely. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m alive, but I fear I’ll never get the smell out of my nostrils and a very expensive dress will never be the same again.’ From the bedroom came the sounds of David’s contented snoring and I wanted nothing more than to join him. ‘You know you might have to go underground?’

  ‘By you, you mean you, correct?’

  I realised he was right, and sighed. We’d both have given our right arms for a team of dumb, gun-toting Normals willing to go beneath the city and flush out the golem for us. Alas, all we had was me.

  ‘Do you think you can get me back into the Archives tomorrow?’

  ‘Is that a good idea?’

  ‘Hey, I remained polite with Anders Baker and his surly security guard. Mostly. I’m growing as a person. Ask Ziggi.’

  ‘He mentioned it already – he seemed to think you might have been on drugs. Why do you want to see Ursa again?’

  ‘Location scouting,’ I hedged. ‘I thought I might see if she has more detailed maps of the tunnels than those available through Normal channels. It might give me some hints about something, anything.’ It sounded convincing. After a few moments I said, ‘So, can you get me back in? I promise I’ll be good.’

  His groan told me that he really didn’t want to but had no choice. Life had taught me a lot about doing things we didn’t want to do, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate my insights just now.

  *

  I headed over to Little Venice bright and early, preparing myself for the taste of crow. The bar area was deserted, but the Sisters had unearthed winter braziers, which were now dotted around the courtyard so those patrons who felt the cold could still sit outside comfortably. One of the Norns was moving between tables, putting candles into Moroccan tea glasses of yellow, orange and purple etched glass. At night they would be lovely.

  The long fall of auburn corkscrew curls dropping to a slim waist dissipated some of my tension: it wasn’t Aspasia. Boyish hips were encased in skinny jeans and a black skivvy covered barely-there breasts. I called, ‘Hey, Theo.’

  She swung around, the cataract of hair moving like a velvet curtain. Her free hand made its way to one hip as she assumed her best you’ve-got-a-lot-of-nerve pose.

  ‘You bruised Aspasia’s wrist.’

  ‘I really don’t know my own strength,’ I offered, and considered walking with a limp I no longer had in hope of sympathy. Deciding against it, I went with the truth. ‘And I have come to apologise.’

  Above me there was a displeased chorus and looking up, I saw three small serpents, one red, one blue, one green, entwined in the canopy of vines. They didn’t look happy. I pointed. ‘You wanna call them off?’

  ‘Aspasia’s babies. Don’t worry, they’re not so poisonous. And you’re doubly in luck: she’s not here.’ She grinned, sat at one of the tables and gestured for me to join her. Theodosia didn’t make me too nervous; she thought I was cute. ‘You want your fortune told? I think I’ve got my cards around here somewhere.’

  ‘No thanks, but I admire that you Norns never give up.’ I sat. ‘I’m after information.’

  ‘This got to do with the sirens?’

  ‘Why am I not surprised that you know about that?’ I asked. ‘But no – unless you know something, of course.’

  She shook her head. ‘Other than they’re turning up dead with startling regularity? No, I know nothing.’

  ‘One of them, the first one to die, had a baby. Said baby is missing, and I have to admit I’m not holding out much hope at this point,’ I admitted.

  She threw her hands in the air. ‘What is it with you and children?’ She tsk’d.

  ‘Used to be one myself. If you hear anything—’

  ‘Unlikely. You know the birds like to keep to themselves . . .’ My pitiful expression must have had some effect because she said, ‘But I’ll ask around . . . if that wasn’t what you came for, what is?’

  ‘Years ago a Normal named Anders Baker married a Weyrd woman, Dusana Nadasy.’

  She looked at me as if to say, And?

  ‘She and her house blew up. The hired help too.’

  Her face lightened. ‘Oh, that Dusana Nadasy.’

  ‘The very same. Her son’s gone missing and I’m trying to find him.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he be an adult now? A bit old for your super-nanny attentions?’

  ‘You know, it hurts me when you’re sarcastic like that.’ I crossed my arms.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Anyway, he is indeed all grown up, but his daddy wants him home.’ I rubbed at the back of my neck where the headache was starting. ‘Before Donovan disappeared he might have been looking for his grandparents on the Nadasy side. Don’t suppose the kid ever came in here, asking questions?’

  She tilted her head and studied the photo I held out. ‘Never seen him. You think maybe he found them?’

  ‘His father seems to think they’re dead, or should be, anyway.’

  ‘But you’re naturally suspicious.’

  ‘Comes with the territory.’

  ‘Vadim and Magda Nadasy were very traditional; if there was such a thing as Old High Weyrd, they were it. Not necessarily well-liked; but then people who insist on rigorously maintaining standards seldom are. Don’t know why they came to Oz; maybe the Motherland got a little too dangerous. Here, no one believes in the old monsters so it’s easier for us to hide in this godless modern society, bless it.’

  ‘So where could I find them, if they’re alive?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ She frowned. ‘They’ve been gone a long time, Fassbinder. Maybe once the daughter went pop they dropped out of sight. Or maybe they’d already decamped. Did Magda die? I think she might have – oh, don’t look at me like that, Fassbinder, it was a long time ago.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry. Can you remember anything else?’

  ‘They apparently used to hold court, the full deal, quite grand. I’m repeating gossip, of course: we’ve never been good enough to score invitations to that sort of event. Whispers had it that your father supplied their table.’

  ‘My father supplied a lot of tables, Theo. I guess if they were gone it would explain why Baker got away with killing Dusana,’ I mused, storing the other information away. The Winemaker had said she’d known Grigor – so had she known Vadim and Magda too?

  Theo’s mouth dropped open. ‘Really? He murdered her?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure, but it was strangely convenient timing. Anders Baker doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’ll take an infinite amount of humiliation. But if the Nadasys are still around, why is Baker still alive?’

  ‘What if Baker had something they wanted more than revenge?’ That hung in the air.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘How should I know? You’re the investigator.’ She rubbed at a mark on her skin. ‘If they’re alive and if the kid found them—?’

  ‘You know how popular mixed marriages are – I’m not sure how warm his welcome would have been. If he found them.’ I cleared my throat. ‘I am, of course, clutching at straws. It appears to be my specialty.’

  She grinned and tapped a long nail against the tabletop. It sounded like glass hitting tile. ‘The great thing about rumours is that they never quite go away, and at the heart of every rumour—’

  ‘—is a kernel of truth.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can f
ind.’

  ‘There’s something else.’

  ‘Isn’t there always?’ She pouted.

  ‘Well, this is more of a public service announcement. There’s a golem roaming the streets – and not a helpful one.’

  She looked away. ‘I heard about the Greenills. Shame. Adriana was nice.’

  News travelled fast. ‘It went after Mercado Wright last night.’

  ‘He’s no loss.’

  ‘Sorry to say he survived. Wagons have been drawn into a circle, and the Council is in lockdown. I don’t want to panic peeps, but forewarned is forearmed – put the word about, hey?’

  ‘Wasn’t a problem when it was taking Normals,’ she grumbled, and I shook a finger at her.

  ‘Look, thinking it’s all fine and dandy as long as the bad things are happening to Normals is not okay. Consider this: eventually they’ll be gone and the bad things will look for new targets – as evidenced by the Greenills’ extinction.’ She gave me a flat stare and I resisted the urge to grab her hand and squeeze. ‘And what happens when the sirens’ nest is cleared out? There’s no guarantee whatever’s doing that will leave town. Then the rest of us are in the firing line.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Not to mention that if this golem keeps going, keeps feeding, we won’t be able to keep it quiet: if what’s happening spills into the open, we’ll be in real trouble, Theo. A bunch of panicking Normals looking for scapegoats is not a pretty future.’

  ‘Double shit. I really don’t want to have to move again.’

  ‘Then help me. Keep an ear to the ground, and if you hear anything, let me know.’

  ‘In everyone’s interest, isn’t it?’ She grinned. ‘Aspasia’s going to be pissed off when they tell her you were in here.’ Theo’s eyes rolled upwards to the serpents, who’d subsided and were listening carefully. ‘She’ll be even more pissed off when I tell her she missed your apology.’

  ‘I’ll be back – but you might want remind her that the last person who aggravated me got shoved into an oven. Tell her not to give my address to strays.’ I hadn’t forgotten she’d told Sally Crown where I lived, and I hadn’t forgotten that was how Sally had found Lizzie. Theo’s cheeks flushed, and I knew she hadn’t forgotten either. ‘I’ll come back to apologise in person, if she promises not to spit in my food.’