Instead, the door closed behind her on what looked more like a very exclusive gentlemen’s club. Not the kind of gentlemen’s club they had on the sides of highways, advertised with pink billboards and the words LIVE NUDE GIRLS! She was thinking more along the lines of the gentlemen’s clubs you read about in Victorian novels. The ones where disgustingly wealthy and probably aristocratic men went to read newspapers, smoke cigars, drink brandy, and play card games no one without at least a “Sir” before their name had ever heard of.
The room was dimly lit by subdued chandeliers and small table lamps with leather or Tiffany-style shades. Cassidy could see two fireplaces, both blazing cheerfully and managing to keep the somewhat expansive space of the former warehouse comfortably cozy. The air smelled faintly of fine cigars, pipe tobacco, and old leather. A dark, polished bar stretched along the left wall, and the room that opened up in front of it was filled with clusters of comfortable club chairs, card tables and leather sofas. The bare spaces on the wall had been covered with a dark flocked paper in a mellow shade of mossy green.
If someone had shouted “Tallyho!” just then, Cassidy would not have been at all surprised.
“Miss Poe. So glad you could join us.”
The voice lacked the cultured, British accent Cassidy had been half expecting, and she turned to see its source. A grouping of furniture stood in front of the closer of the two fires, curiously ill-lit for its positioning. A shadow stirred in one of the black club chairs and unfolded into the tall, narrow shape of a man. Francis Leonard.
He stepped toward her until the light caught in his pale, blond hair and illuminated his fine, sharp features.
Cassidy forced herself not to grimace. “I try never to ignore a summons to a command performance, Councilman. Especially when I’m given the impression it could lead to more rude phone calls.”
Leonard laughed, though he managed not to sound amused, and held out his hand. Cassidy shook it as briefly as possible and reminded herself it would be impolite to then wipe it on her jeans. Something about her host didn’t sit right with her. It never had. It had very little to do with him being a vampire. Mostly it had to do with him being a supercilious, smarmy, altogether repulsive individual. She felt pretty sure he’d still been all those things before he became a vampire.
“Ah, yes. I apologize if you felt our efforts to arrange this meeting were . . . heavy-handed.” His smile reflected about as much regret as his laugh had amusement. “But my associates and I felt our business together necessitated moving quickly.” He gestured with the brandy snifter he cupped in one elegantly soft hand. “Can I offer you a drink?”
Cassidy resisted the urge to point out how she was so not there to hang. She shook her head. “Thanks, but no.”
“Well, then. Come and take a seat. We’ve all been looking forward to talking with you.”
She stepped closer to the fire, watching as the shadows on the furniture distilled into distinct shapes. Two figures sat at either end of an old-fashioned, camelback sofa upholstered in claret velvet. On one side, the firelight reached just far enough into the darkness to gild the edges of a woman’s smooth, honey-colored complexion. Marie-Claudette Touleine, priestess, voudun, and altogether terrifying woman of power.
Cassidy felt a surge of awareness in her gut, and reluctantly looked to the other side of the sofa. In the second seat, the light held even less sway, but she could still make out the scarified visage of an ebony-skinned man of indeterminate age. Thabo Ngala. Animus.
Neither witch nor sorcerer, animi figured sparsely in the history of Others of the Western world. They appeared chiefly in the aboriginal cultures of Africa, Australia, and South America. They possessed the ability to take animal shapes, but unlike werefolk, they could assume more than one; and unlike a Foxwoman, their change was not merely a shift in form.
An animus took the shape of an animal through sympathetic magic. He needed to drape himself in the skin of the animal, or wear a bracelet made of its teeth, or a necklace of its claws. He had to use the power inherent in the animal in order to mirror not only its form, but its spirit. When the animus took the shape of a leopard, he didn’t become a man in a leopard’s body. He became the leopard, his mind thinking the thoughts of the leopard and his soul raging as the soul of the leopard.
They were powerful and dangerous magicians who could be consumed with the predatory instincts of their animal forms, whereas a were or other shifter retained the morality of a human mind. Maybe it was a good thing they were so rare.
She fought off a wave of uneasiness and took the seat Leonard indicated for her.
“Madame,” she said, nodding respectfully. “And Mr. Ngala. I’m honored to meet you both in person.”
“Miss Poe.” Madame Touleine didn’t have one of those fake Jamaican/Creole accents. She spoke in a quiet voice touched with the lilt of the bayou. “I have heard much about you.”
Somehow, that didn’t make Cassidy feel any better. Madame’s was not the sort of radar she’d ever wanted to be on. In fact, the longer she sat there, the less she wanted any of this to be happening.
“I’m flattered,” was all she said.
“I know more of your family than of you, Miss Poe,” Ngala said, drawing her attention. His voice was deep and smooth and exotically accented. And it sent cold shivers down Cassidy’s spine. “Of your grandmother in particular. She is a woman to be respected greatly. Wise and powerful. If you share even a bit of her mind or her talents, I am sure you must be a force to be reckoned with in your own right.”
She didn’t like the light in his dark eyes, or the way the elaborately patterned scars on his face seemed to writhe and dance in the firelight. Struggling for a casual air, she pushed her long hair back over her shoulder and reclined into the cool, button-trimmed leather. “Call me Cassidy. All of you. I’m not much into formality.”
“Cassidy, then.” Leonard smiled, keeping his fangs to himself, probably in an effort to be charming. “I suppose you must be curious why we insisted on setting up this meeting.”
“You might say that.”
“Let me first assure you that this is all informal, and we are pleased to count you as a sort of ally of ours.”
Ooooookay. “Well, that’s good to know.”
“Indeed, Cassidy,” Madame added. “From what Francis has told us of your recently expressed sentiments, we feel very fortunate to know you share with us a certain way of thinking.”
Not something Cassidy had expected. “Really? I’m sorry, but I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re talking about.”
Leonard settled back in his chair, cradling the bowl of his snifter in his hands. “What Madame Touleine means to say, Cassidy, is that I told them about your speech before the Council the other night. I was quite impressed with the points you made to De Santos and the rest of those cretins on the sure folly of allowing our secrets to be revealed to the humans. I simply had to share the tale with my friends.”
“You see, Cassidy,” Ngala murmured, “we feel very much the same way. We do not believe the humans are ready to have their eyes opened quite so wide as the Europeans have suggested.”
Cassidy’s uneasy feelings intensified. “Well, Mr. Leonard must also have told you that circumstances might have already taken that choice out of our hands.”
“We know the story of the missing Russian woman. It is of little consequence.” Madame waved a long, thin hand heavily decked in silver and gold. “Much more depends on the Council’s ultimate decision on what action they will take in response.”
Cassidy raised her eyebrows. “If that’s what this is about, you might have been better off harassing, you know, an actual member of the Council. I’m not exactly the first person they run to tell when they make a big decision.” She looked at Leonard. “In fact, as a member of the Inner Circle, Mr. Leonard, you’re a much better source of information about the Council’s actions than I am.”
The vampire’s lips tightened. “Unfortunately, De Santos
and I are not on the best of terms. But we all know your grandmother holds considerable sway over the Council and has for quite some time. And, of course, she has spoken of you often as someone she envisions following in her footsteps. Upholding the family tradition, as it were.”
“My grandmother envisions a lot of things, Mr. Leonard,” she said cautiously. What the hell were they fishing for? “But you know how it is. When you get older, your sight gets blurry.”
Madame fixed her with a stare so sharp, she wanted to make some sort of sign to ward it off. “Does that mean you do not see the same future for yourself, Cassidy?”
“No matter what the family tradition might be, I’m an anthropologist, not a politician, Madame.”
“Ah, but a woman changes when she finds herself in love, n’est-ce pas?”
“I think what Madame meant to say, in her very polite and feminine way,” Ngala put in, “is that a woman’s mind can often be swayed by the opinions of her lover. It is the nature of the female to meld her wishes with those of her mate, after all.”
“In what century?” Cassidy shook her head and gave a quick, uncomfortable laugh. “My wishes are my own, thanks very much.”
Leonard smiled and shrugged with particular snobbery. “It does seem awfully rude to pose these sorts of questions to such a new acquaintance. But surely you can understand our concern.”
“Not really, but that’s probably because I still don’t get what you all want from me. Grend, er . . . Gretel made it sound like this meeting was a high priority for you guys, but I’m still not sure why.”
“Then let us be clear,” Leonard said, his ingratiating smile still in place. “We represent a rather large contingent of the Other community who feel it would be imprudent to move toward Unveiling at this stage.”
“Not really a surprise, and not something you needed to drag me out here to tell me.”
“Perhaps not, but we hoped the four of us could have a frank discussion, away from outside influence. Not that we believe you to be a woman who is easily influenced, of course.”
All the “of course“s felt a little like being deferred to by a pit of vipers.
“I’m being frank. How about you?”
“Absolutely.” Leonard’s smile turned haughty. “As I said, we represent a larger contingent of our peers, some of whom have a great deal to lose should they find themselves the subject of unfriendly human speculation.”
Cassidy took a moment to chew on that. She knew very well that Others had made their way into all facets of the human world by this point, from the entertainment industry to the business world to politics. It didn’t take much of a leap to conclude the “associates” Leonard had mentioned belonged to those spheres. They were the type of folk who had the most to lose if their identities came out.
“Then you should be glad the Council is looking into the people behind Ysabel Mirenow’s disappearance,” she said after a beat. “The faster we find out who’s responsible, the better chance we have to contain the repercussions of the incident.”
She didn’t mention the governor’s daughter. Somehow she didn’t want to be the bearer of those particular bad tidings.
“We believe there are ways the Council might not consider to achieve that containment, chère,” Madame said, her dark eyes seeming even blacker. “That is where we need your help.”
The only way Cassidy felt inclined to help these three was over the edge of a cliff, but she thought it might be imprudent to say so. Instead she leaned forward, covering up a wince when a few strands of hair caught in the chair’s buttons behind her. No way did she want to show even that small a sign of weakness in front of this crowd.
“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.”
Ngala smiled at her. “We ask only a small favor, young lady. Mr. Leonard has told us that De Santos requested you discover if the religious sect responsible for Ms. Mirenow’s disappearance is operating here in America. All we need for you to do is share that information with us before you share it with the Council at large. Tell us if the Light of Truth is in this country and who their leaders are. You see? It is a tiny thing.”
He sat back in his seat, looking like a smug and benevolent tiger shark, the kind who struck for no reason. Cassidy kept her expression neutral, but her mind was racing. She wasn’t an idiot. Between Madame Touleine’s talk of “other ways” of dealing with the Lightheads and Ngala’s request for their names, she knew very well the Terrible Trio here intended to cover up all the problems the sect was causing with a little bit of murder. And quite likely torture. With maybe a side of mayhem thrown in.
The question was, did Cassidy want to stop them?
She was shocked to find herself hesitating over that. On the one hand, things would be so easy if the whole problem just disappeared, the way these Others seemed to imply it would if she helped them. But on the other hand, could she live with the responsibility for all those deaths? After all, the Lightheads seemed to have no compunctions about murder, but would the Terrible Trio stop at the Lightheads? What about innocent people who might get caught up in their web? Like witnesses to Mirenow’s disappearance. And what would happen if these three found out about the governor’s daughter? Would they kill the doctors at the hospital just because they might know too much? What about the EMTs? The police? The secretary who’d processed the girl’s admittance?
Then on the third hand, saying no to Thabo Ngala, Madame Touleine, and Francis Leonard probably wasn’t the world’s healthiest decision, either.
“That doesn’t seem like all that big a deal,” she hedged, trying to sound as positive as possible without actually committing herself to anything. “I don’t see why I couldn’t.”
“Excellent!” Leonard clapped his hands, and this time he smiled widely enough that Cassidy caught a glimpse of fang. She’d been around enough vampires in her life that it shouldn’t have bothered her, but she had come to realize that Francis Leonard wasn’t just a vampire, he was a heartless bloodsucker. Sort of like being a bastard. Some people were born that way, and some had to work at it.
“We appreciate your assistance,” Madame said, her own smile soft and contained and no less chilling. “Perhaps the three of us are getting old, but we have not the desire to rock the boat, as it were, and to Unveil our existence at this late date, especially to do so hastily, seems to us unwise.”
“Our ancestors have been doing quite well with the present system,” Ngala added. “We should not assume it must change now.”
Cassidy offered him a false smile. “Everything changes, Mr. Ngala. It’s only a matter of how and when.”
The animus chuckled. “Beware of your words, Miss Poe. Someone might think you’re going to change your mind after all.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, forcing a laugh. “I’m pretty set in my ways.”
They watched each other for a few moments, and Cassidy thought she saw something unpleasant flicker in Ngala’s gaze. Before she could pin it down, Leonard stood and neatly cut through the tension.
“Well, we do thank you for indulging our request for a meeting, Cassidy,” he said. “Would you care to join us for dinner before you leave?”
Cassidy looked around her at the vampire, the voudun, and the animus, and any hint of an appetite fled screaming.
“Thanks, but uh . . . I think I’ll have to pass.”
Twenty-three
By the time the cab left Cassidy back at the corner near her building, she was wishing she’d waited to bathe until after her meeting with the terrible trio.
She felt as if a ton of sticky, tarry grime were weighing her down as she trudged up the block to the entrance of the apartment building. How had her parents been able to stand night after night of meetings like the one she’d just had?
She huddled deeper into her coat and entertained visions of a steamy hot shower, crisp cotton sheets, and a full night of sleep. Her attention became so focused on the pictures in her head that she nearly didn’t notice
the figure leaning against the wall beside the front door. With the way her day had been going, she was about to assume it was either a mugger or a messenger from some newly cranky faction of Others, but the light showed a much more welcome image.
Quinn smiled and pushed himself out of his casual slouch. “Good evening, Cassie love. I’ve been wondering if you’d decided to go and sneak off without leaving me a forwarding address.”
The gentle teasing made Cassidy smile, and the smile made her realize how utterly exhausted she felt. She was physically and emotionally drained, and her instincts guided her straight to him. She never said a word, just crossed the last few steps, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his shoulder, burrowing into the soft, dark cashmere of his coat.
“Ah, what’s this, love?” he murmured, slipping a hand under her chin and lifting her face to his. “What’s the matter?”
Cassidy just shook her head and tucked her cheek back against his chest. “Long day. Long, annoying, surreal day.”
“I know it, sweetheart. I’ve had one of those myself. Did De Santos tell you about Alexandra Thurgood?”
She nodded but didn’t bother to open her eyes.
“Richard and I have been working on that all evening. Not to mention a whole mess of finance stuff De Santos dragged out of the Russians.” He paused and she rubbed her cheek against his coat. “We’ve started to make some sense of everything. Enough so that you and I should probably talk.”
“Tomorrow.”
Quinn opened his mouth to protest, but Cassidy just hid her face against his chest and pressed her fingers to his lips.
“I can’t right now,” she said. “I really can’t. I promise we can talk about it first thing tomorrow, but just . . . not now.”
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