Touch The Dark cp-1

by Karen Chance

  I was initially pleased to see the Frenchman, since it took only one look at him for the remaining vamps around me to take off, but I quickly changed my mind. I blinked, and Louis-César's bloody blade was somehow under my chin. The look in his eyes made it very clear that he had no idea who I was. "Your Circle made a mistake challenging us," he told me calmly, as if we were chatting at a party. "Fortunately, monsieur, I do not need you alive to send a declaration of war. It should be sufficient that I have your body left somewhere your people frequent."

  "Louis-César, no!" I couldn't speak for fear of jamming his rapier farther into my throat, but the voice coming from behind him was mine anyway, as was the hand clutching his sword arm. It looked like Billy Joe had decided to earn his keep.

  "Mademoiselle, please go back to Tomas. This will not be pleasant."

  "Tomas is kinda busy right now," Billy replied, "and anyway, I'm not Cassie. She's in there." He pointed at me. "And I don't know what'll happen if you kill the body while she's in it. Maybe she'll come back here, but maybe not."

  Louis-César's voice softened slightly. "You are delusional, mademoiselle. You may have a concussion and must not exert yourself. Give me a moment and I will escort you from here myself."

  I swallowed. I knew that with his strength he could run the rapier through me even with Billy Joe hanging off his arm. I could feel the mage panic, too, and his fear fuelled the battle of wills we were having. The tide of what felt like chilly water was up to my knees.

  "Billy! How do I get out of here?" The movement of my mouth pushed the edge of the rapier into the mage's skin, and I could feel a warm stream of blood begin to trickle down his neck. Someone screamed in my head, but I ignored it.

  "I don't know." Billy Joe was gripping Louis-César's arm with both hands and practically hanging off it. Sweat was pouring down my face, but it didn't look like he was making any difference at all. "I'm stuck in here until you get back. Your body knows it'll die without a spirit, so it's got a death grip on me. There's no way for me to help you."

  "I can't believe you talked me into this!"

  "How the hell do you think I feel? I don't want to end up inside a woman!" He paused. "Well, at least not that way."

  Louis-César was losing patience. In a swift movement that didn't cause the rapier to waver even slightly, he pulled Billy Joe against him. "You may wish to close your eyes mademoiselle. I do not wish to cause you further distress."

  "I think it's safe to say that killin' her counts as distressing," Billy Joe choked out, but Louis-César wasn't paying him any attention. He'd written me off as a hysterical female, and that was that. If I ever got out of this mess alive, I'd show him hysterical.

  I only had one idea, and it was a long shot. "Don't kill me! I know about Françoise!" It was all I could think of, the only fact about Louis-César that I knew that the mage probably didn't, but it didn't seem to make much of an impression.

  "You will not save yourself with feeble lies, Jonathan. I know your tricks from of old."

  "What about Carcassonne? Huh? What about that damn torture room? I—you—saw her burn! We were talking about it a few hours ago!"

  "Enough! You die." Billy Joe kicked upwards at the last second and hit the blade so that it went through the mage's shoulder instead of his heart, but it hurt like a bitch. I yelled and wrenched back, but the blade was so long that I was still trapped on it like a butterfly on a pin.

  I finally got some help when a small vial flew into my hand. Apparently Mr. Mage had decided we had a common cause. It looked like one of the row of small containers Pritkin had strapped to his belt, but this had leapt out of some inner pocket. The cool water was up to my waist, and I didn't know what would happen if it overwhelmed me, but at the moment I was more concerned with Louis-César. I didn't try to resist the impulses that ran through my brain, but thrust the vial at him.

  "I will gut you before you can say the incantation," he promised, but I noticed that he eyed the tiny vial with a certain amount of respect.

  "I don't need the incantation at this range. Kill me, and you die, too. So does she." The words appeared in my brain, but they weren't mine. I said them anyway. They seemed to have an effect, for Louis-César hesitated.

  The mage must have been waiting for that reaction, because he took the opportunity to step up the inner fight. I was suddenly up to my neck in icy water. "Billy! He's winning, what do I do?"

  "I'm thinking… let him?" Billy Joe didn't sound very sure of himself, but he'd done this a lot more than me.

  "What?"

  If he answered, I didn't hear, because the water closed over my head. But, instead of drowning as I'd half expected, I was abruptly flying again. I landed hard, and the disorientation I'd felt when Tomas and I returned was nothing to what hit me a second later. It was like there were two of me, each going in a different direction, tearing me apart in the process. I screamed and someone tightened their hold around my waist. My blood was pounding in my veins as if it was about to burst out of the top of my head, and the pain was awful. It felt like every migraine I'd ever had all rolled into one. I wanted to pass out, but no such luck. I stayed conscious as the world rocked wildly around me like a carnival ride gone crazy, until I threw up on the asphalt.

  "Cassie, Cassie!" Billy Joe appeared before me, his eyes so wide that I could see a strip of white all around the pupil. It took me a second to realize that they were his eyes, and that he was in his usual gambler-cowboy-ladies' man getup instead of my skin. His ruffled shirt was bright red, his hazel eyes as clear and sharp as if he hadn't been dead for a century and a half. At that moment, I really believed I could reach out and touch him and he'd be solid. Then it occurred to me that it was my energy making his eyes shine like that and flushing his cheeks. Bastard. I would have told him off for draining me almost dry in my hour of need, but I was way too sick. It felt like someone had reached inside and turned my stomach inside out. I wanted to throw up again but didn't have the energy.

  Louis-César picked me up as if I weighed as much as a rag doll, and I looked around, bewildered. How could he pick me up with only one arm? Didn't he need the other one to hold the rapier on the mage? Only there was no mage and no body. It was just me, a master vampire and a really tanked-up ghost; nothing to worry about.

  We rejoined Pritkin and Tomas, me being carried because I was in no shape to walk. I was having trouble figuring out which way was up, since it seemed to be changing on a regular basis. I did notice that Tomas was busy bespelling a rather large group of people, including several police officers, who had come by to see what all the commotion was about. I hadn't known he could trick multiple norms at once. Come to think of it, I hadn't known anyone could. Just another clue that I wasn't dealing with a run-of-the-mill vamp. No, those types were scattered about all over the landscape, interspersed with the dead weres. The hearts and heads were several feet away from the bodies, but at least they all appeared to be there.

  Pritkin was stowing away his arsenal, which hovered in front of him in an obedient little line, each weapon waiting its turn. He looked at me with narrowed eyes as he wiped off and tucked away his bloody knives. "You possessed a member of the Black Circle," he said, as if this was news, "and have powerful witches in your service. Who were they?"

  I glanced back to where the women had been, but only the second dark knight was there, lying at an unnatural angle, his bone white face turned up to the first rays of the sun. His eyes were open, but I doubted he saw anything. I realized that they must have killed him, but at the moment it didn't matter much to me.

  "I don't know." My voice came out all croaky, which considering the amount of abuse my vocal cords had taken lately, shouldn't have been a surprise. But it was.

  "You are not human." It wasn't a question, and Pritkin looked like he expected me to sprout another head at any moment.

  "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a demon," I told him. I seemed to be having to say that a lot lately. Probably not a good sign.

/>   "Then what are you?"

  Billy Joe floated by and gave me a thumbs-up and a cheeky grin. "I'm gonna check out some stuff. See you later."

  I sighed. It was barely sunrise, hardly the best time to get into trouble even in Vegas. So why was I absolutely certain Billy Joe would manage? "I'm your friendly neighborhood clairvoyant," I told Pritkin wearily. "Cross my palm with silver, meester, and I'll tell you your fortune. Only" — I was interrupted by a huge yawn—"you probably won't like it." I snuggled closer into the wall of warm cotton behind me and drifted off.

  Chapter 9

  I woke because little fingers of sunshine were getting in my eyes. They were coming from a large window over the queen-sized bed somebody had put me on. I yawned and grimaced. My mouth was all cottony and tasted awful, and my eyes were so gummy I had to pry them apart to see. When I could, I blinked in confusion. It did not look like vamps had furnished the place, unless it was Louis-César's room. It was yellow from the painted stucco walls to the patchwork quilt and shams. Only a few washed-out pastels in the braided rug and a couple of Native American-inspired prints fought with the yellow tide, but it looked like they were losing.

  I sat up and quickly decided that hadn't been a good idea. My stomach tried to heave something up, but there wasn't anything there. I felt as weak as if I'd had the flu for a week, and I desperately wanted to brush my teeth. After the room stopped spinning, I staggered to my feet and went exploring. Poking my head out the bedroom door, I learned two things: I was back in my rooms at MAGIC and I had guests. The short hall outside my room ended in the living area where I'd been taken before my side trip to Dante's. Several very familiar heads swiveled towards me and I scowled at them until I spotted the entrance to a blue-tiled sanctuary a few yards away. Someone, and I really hoped it had been Rafe, had peeled off my battered clothes and wrapped me in a terrycloth robe. It was okay except that it was about three sizes too big and tended to trip me up at odd moments. But I made it to the bathroom without falling, and shut the door in Tomas' face.

  For the hell of it, I checked the window. No angry little face greeted me this time. Instead of the Marley, the wards had been strengthened to the point that I didn't even have to concentrate to see the glittering silver web that blocked my only way out. It was a little much, considering that an armed human guard was also right outside. You'd think they had something really scary in here, instead of a beat-up clairvoyant with what felt like the mother of all hangovers. I pulled the curtains closed and shrugged. I hadn't really expected to get away with that twice.

  No one interrupted even though I took a long bath. It didn't help much. My list of injuries had lengthened and I was exhausted despite having had, at a guess, six hours' sleep. I'd also received a gift. Someone had put the dark mage's bracelet firmly around my wrist. Someone had also repaired it, because a perfect circle of tiny daggers ran under my fingers, like beads on a rosary. Great; exactly what I needed: another piece of tacky jewelry. I tried to get it off, but it wouldn't fit over my hand, and I didn't feel like trying to bite it. The last time had been with the mage's teeth; this time it would be with mine.

  I got stiffly out of the bath, feeling about a hundred, and peered in the mirror. I've never been particularly vain, but it was a shock to see myself looking so haggard. My hair stood up in little clumps and had almost come out of the gold slide. I fixed it as well as I could with only my hands to work with, but there was nothing I could do about my dead white complexion or the dark circles that rimmed my eyes like a professional football player's. I guess almost getting killed about a dozen times takes it out of you.

  I turned away from the mirror and searched for some sign of my clothes. I found only the boots, which had been cleaned and polished and tucked behind the door. I didn't think they went with terrycloth, and left them where they were. I'd have given a lot to at least have had some clean underwear, but I couldn't find any. I finally shrugged back into the robe and decided to go bare underneath rather than put back on the tattered, bloodstained remnants of what had once been a nice set of lingerie. I was grateful for the robe's bulkiness, since at least everything was covered. It made me look about twelve, but maybe the Senate would spring for something else if I asked. They'd been in a good mood earlier. Of course, that was before I ran off and almost got three people killed, four if you counted me. I took a deep breath and went to face the music.

  There were six people in the outer room, if you included the golem in the corner. It took me a second to notice him because the blackout curtains had been drawn over the windows, blocking the sunlight. Electric lights were on and sputtering a little because of the wards, but the room was dim.

  Louis-César, still in the tight jeans outfit, was leaning on the mantel, looking stressed for once. Tomas was in the red leather chair by the fire, He and Rafe were in almost identical black dress slacks and long-sleeved silk shirts, except that Tomas' was as black as his hair and Rafe's was a dull crimson. Rafe was on the couch with Mircea, who alone among the group appeared the same as the night before. Looking at him, relaxed and elegant, I could almost believe that I'd accidentally fallen asleep in the bath and that none of the stuff at Dante's had ever happened. That happy thought was crushed by the sight of Pritkin, in khaki everything like some big-game hunter, standing by the door. He didn't take his eyes off me, as if he'd like to see my head mounted on his wall over a sign reading problem solved. Oh, yeah, this was gonna be loads of fun.

  Rafe moved as soon as he saw me. "Mia stella! You are feeling better, yes? We were so worried!" He hugged me tightly. "Lord Mircea and I went to Antonio's headquarters in the city, but you were not there. If Louis-César and Tomas had not found you—"

  "But they did, so everything's fine, Rafe." He nodded and tried to guide me toward the sofa, but I didn't want to be wedged in there. It wasn't like I could escape, no matter where I sat, but I didn't like the idea of being confined. Besides, the only people in the room I could sort of trust were Rafe and maybe Mircea, and I preferred to be where I could see their faces. I sat on the ottoman near Tomas' feet and concentrated on keeping my robe together. "I am sorry, but your clothes were unsalvageable," Rafe said apologetically. "Others are being arranged for you."

  "Okay." I didn't attempt to make small talk. I was about to learn what the Senate wanted, and since I was absolutely sure I wasn't going to like it, I didn't feel like helping things along.

  "Mia Stella." Rafe glanced at Mircea, who cocked an eyebrow at him unhelpfully. Poor Rafe; he always got the crappy jobs. "Could you tell us, who is Françoise?"

  I stared at him. Of all the things I'd thought he might say, that would have been near the bottom. In fact, it wasn't even on the list. "What?"

  "You mentioned her to me," Louis-César said, moving to crouch in front of me. I shrank back, even though he'd carried me around the parking lot and nothing had happened. I didn't feel like taking chances. "At the casino."

  "Don't you want to talk about Tony? He's selling slaves to the Fey."

  "We know," Mircea answered. "One of the witches you assisted came to the Circle to describe her captivity. I was allowed to sit in on the questioning, since Antonio is my responsibility. The mages are… quite concerned, as you can imagine."

  I was confused. "Maybe I'm being slow here, but why witches? Wouldn't humans be easier targets?" The women I'd freed had certainly been no welterweights, as one dead mage proved.

  "For centuries, after their own bloodlines began to die out, that was their strategy. Have you not heard the stories about human infants being spirited away by the Fey?" Mircea asked. I nodded—it was standard fairy tale stuff. "Such children were brought up in Faerie and married into some of their great houses. It did improve their fertility, but they soon noticed that the magical ability in the children of such unions was considerably less than their own."

  "So they started stealing witches."

  "Yes, but an agreement was worked out between the Fey and the Silver Circle in 1624, stating that no more ab
ductions were to take place."

  "I guess it's sort of void now."

  Mircea smiled. "On the contrary. The light elves swear they know nothing of this practice, and that it is solely the dark who are involved." I frowned. From what Billy had said, it sounded like the opposite was true. "The dark, of course, claim the reverse," Mircea said, noticing my expression, "but in any case, it is not our concern. We will not be drawn into Fey politics because of one person's greed, as we made clear to their ambassadors a few hours ago. Antonio will be dealt with, but that ends our involvement."

  I wasn't surprised. Despite their presence at MAGIC, the vamps had never been all that interested in other species' affairs. They cooperated as far as they did only to guard their own interests. "Just the one witch came forward? What happened to the other two?"

  "They must have been dark," Pritkin said, watching me narrowly, "under interdict by the Circle for their crimes. Otherwise they would not have been so quick to flee. Our witch learned little about them because they were gagged much of the time. But she said that one of them recognized you and insisted that they help you against the dark mage. Yet you said you did not know them."

  "I don't." I couldn't tell him about Franchise—it would sound crazy and I didn't understand it myself. Magic users tend to live longer than most humans, but witch or no, if it had really been her in that French castle, she should be long dead of old age. Not to mention that it took some memory to immediately recall the face of a person seen for a few minutes hundreds of years ago. I'd recognized her because, for me, our meeting had just happened. But how she had known me was an open question.

  "And I suppose you also do not know the pixie who aided you in freeing your servants? She is a well-known operative of the Dark Fey."