The Eldritch Conspiracy

by Cat Adams

  Finally he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled to tap against his lips. His expression was serious and thoughtful.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  “I think,” he said, leaning forward and setting his hands, palm down, on the desk, “that this is a fucking mess.”

  Well, that was honest.

  “And while I don’t think you should be held responsible for it, your actions were one of the root causes of recent events. Still, I can’t see what else you could’ve done under the circumstances, and you can’t be held responsible for your enemies’ terrorist actions.” He sighed. “Your aunt wants me to keep you safe, but you’re caught right in the middle of this mess. I don’t see that there’s anything that can be done about that, either. The death curse has something to do with that, no doubt. If Queen Stefania wasn’t already dead…” He let the sentence dangle. He didn’t need to finish it. I knew exactly what he meant. I felt pretty much the same way.

  We had a moment of silent accord. Then I said, “So, now what?”

  “Now you go back to the hospital to stay with your grandmother and I get to work. But please, if you can, try to stay out of trouble, at least for the next few hours. My agents are stretched thin enough as it is.” He gave me a real smile. His eyes sparkled and a pair of deep dimples creased his cheeks. He rose. With a gesture of his hand, the runes disappeared, the magic dissipating like mist before the sun.

  “I’ll do my best,” I promised as I rose to my feet. When I extended my hand to Thorsen, he shook it.

  It was late by the time we got back to the hospital; my conversation with Thorsen had taken quite some time, and then I had my driver stop at an all-night pharmacy. I picked up some toiletries and clothes for Gran plus baby food and nutrition shakes for me. I downed two of the shakes in the car, so I was reasonably well fed by the time we got to the hospital. The guards at Gran’s door checked my identification and squirted me with holy water. Once they were sure I was really me, I was able to enter the room.

  She was still out cold. Lying on the hospital bed, she looked so tiny. Her slight body barely raised a lump beneath the thin green hospital blanket. She was snoring a little, a sound familiar from the many times I’d slept at her house. Hearing it made me smile. As I stood next to the bed, looking down at her, I promised myself that I’d keep her safe somehow; that we’d work out our differences, whatever it took.

  But it wasn’t going to be easy.

  Still, that was a problem for later. For now, I just needed to be here with her. So I stacked my packages in the corner and settled into the recliner next to the bed.

  The chair wasn’t too uncomfortable and I was freaking exhausted. This had been an incredibly long day. I needed rest. There were guards on the door. So I closed my eyes and soon dozed off.

  Previous experience had taught me that I wouldn’t get a lot of sleep in a hospital. Every few minutes, one staff member or another would come check on my grandmother. Still, I did get some rest, but it was just dawn when I woke for the first time in years to the sound of her voice.

  “Celie? What are you doing here?” She didn’t sound happy to see me.

  I used the lever to shift the chair to its upright position and tried to shake the cobwebs from my head. Gran was sitting on the edge of the bed, feet dangling.

  She scooted off of the bed, steadying herself with one hand on the mattress as her feet reached the floor.

  I rose, intending to help her, but she waved me aside.

  “No. I can get myself to the bathroom without your assistance, thank you.” The words were as bitter as acid, and I stepped back, stung.

  She was steady enough to make it the few steps to the bathroom and use the facilities. That seemed like such a good idea that I followed her example as soon as she was done.

  When I came out, she was back in bed, tucking in to the breakfast I’d heard arrive while I was in the bathroom. She had the wheeled tray pulled close and the bed adjusted to allow her to sit up straight.

  “Before you say anything,” Gran said, setting down her spoon and looking me straight in the eyes, “I remember now why I’m here. I was just sleepy and disoriented. So you don’t need to worry about that.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but she kept talking.

  “And I don’t want any lectures from you about where I’ve been living. It’s my choice and my money. I’ve been making my own decisions since before you were born.…” She was starting to work up a good head of steam. If this kept up, we’d have a fight, which I didn’t want, but she apparently did. Most likely she thought the best defense was a good offense. But she didn’t need to defend herself from me. Why didn’t she realize that?

  “Gran, stop. Just stop. All right? I get it. You wanted to be close to Mom so you could visit every day and you wanted to make sure she had everything she needed at the prison. Money just doesn’t ever go as far as you think it’s going to.”

  She subsided a little, but her expression remained wary. She stared at me, chin down, eyes narrow with suspicion. That look, more than anything, told me just how hard times had been for her lately.

  “I wish you’d talked to me. I could’ve helped, could’ve visited.”

  “Why would you bother? You don’t visit your own mother.” Wow, the amount of bitterness she fit into that sentence was enough to choke on.

  I took a deep breath, fighting to maintain my self-control. “I love Mom. I will always love Mom.” God help me, that was the absolute truth. “But I won’t let myself in for more abuse. I’m not that much of a masochist.”

  “Celia Kalino Graves! Your mother never—”

  I cut her off. “Bullshit. You don’t believe me, hire a clairvoyant. Have them take a look back for you. Hell, I’ll even pay for it. But I’m warning you—you won’t like what you see.”

  Gran’s jaw set in a hard line and we glared at each other. This probably wasn’t a good time to have this particular argument. She was in the hospital for a reason. But this confrontation had been brewing for months, years even.

  God help me, I was tired of trying so damned hard to do everything right, to make everything work, only to watch my mother destroy my efforts … and then have to listen to my gran make excuses for her.

  To my own surprise, I wasn’t shouting when I responded. “You want to know why I act the way I do? Go find out. Then we’ll talk. But until you know the facts, don’t you dare judge me. Don’t you dare tell me that Ivy and I lived some idyllic childhood with a mother who cared about us. Because we didn’t.”

  “Get out.” She didn’t yell, but there was a cold fury in her voice.

  “Gladly,” I snapped back.

  I picked up most of the packages I’d stacked by my chair, leaving only the ones with the clothing and toiletries I’d bought for her. Then I left, without saying good-bye, without so much as a backward glance. But not without regret.

  None of the guards said a word as I left the room—not the two by the door, and not Baker or Griffiths, who were seated beside a small table on the far side of the hall. They had to have heard. I’d kept my voice down, but Gran hadn’t, and the walls were paper thin. But all four were tactful enough to at least pretend they didn’t know what had happened on the other side of that closed door.

  Baker offered me a box of tissues, which is when I realized that I was crying. Damn it! I took a few tissues and tried to pull myself together. It took a few ragged breaths, and blowing my nose several times, but eventually I calmed down.

  “Not that I’m objecting, but why are you two still on duty? Don’t they ever let you sleep?”

  Baker gave a delicate snort, which pulled a small smile from me. “Please, this close to the ceremony, with as many tourists and strangers as we have on the islands, it’s all hands on deck.”

  “Besides”—Griffiths gave me a grin that didn’t seem the least bit weary despite the long hours—“you’re where the action is.”

  Wasn’t that the damned truth?

&nbs
p; 24

  We were on our way back to the compound. I wanted a shower, coffee, and breakfast. I knew that I had a lot to do. But I couldn’t think what. I couldn’t seem to think at all. I was on emotional overload. So I rode in the back of the limo in silence through streets that weren’t yet crowded because it was barely dawn. Oh, there were a few die-hards, their dome tents pitched along the parade route, fans waiting for the best seats to the show of a lifetime. But mostly the thin, watery light of a new day revealed empty streets and darkened shops.

  It suited my mood.

  Adriana might be perfectly happy with how I’d handled things thus far. I wasn’t. Gran could have been killed. Queen Lopaka nearly had been. Natasha had certainly had a close call. We all kept scurrying around, putting out fires, but we were just reacting and getting nowhere in terms of finding out who was behind it all. I had no doubt there were all kinds of agencies working on this, but so far their results had been less than stellar.

  But I was expected to slap on a smile and keep marching blindly forward to the wedding.

  I hated it.

  Right now I hated my whole freaking life.

  I knew I was feeling sorry for myself. But I couldn’t seem to help it.

  I needed comfort, a friendly voice, somebody to lie through their teeth if necessary and tell me that it wasn’t all my fault, and that eventually everything would be fine.

  I checked my watch, figured out the time difference, and called Dawna. After all, what are friends for?

  Dawna sounded bright, perky, and cheerful enough to make my teeth ache. “Good morning! ’Bout time you called in. You would not believe the stack of messages I have for you!”

  “Good morning to you.” I tried to force cheer in my voice to match hers and failed, miserably.

  “Uh-oh. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “Gran’s in the hospital. She’s going to be all right, but we had a big blow-up.”

  “Let me guess, was it about your mom?”

  “Isn’t it always?”

  Dawna gave a gusty sigh. “Pretty much. Sorry. Why’s she in the hospital?”

  I told her the whole story. If the phones were being tapped, I wanted everyone listening to know that we’d stopped the a-hole and that nobody who targeted my family would survive.

  “Wow! Sorry times two, girlfriend.”

  “Me, too. I figured I’d call and see if you had any good news to cheer me up.”

  “Actually, I do have some,” she assured me. “First, Ron’s moving out today. The movers are due here at nine o’clock and the cleaners are coming at one. I’m supposed to tell you that”—she imitated Ron at his most pompous—“he’s abiding by the agreement and expects you to do the same.”

  I found myself letting out a knowing snicker. “Write the man a check and sign it. And don’t quibble.”

  A chuckle was followed by the shuffling of papers. “Dom Rizzoli called. He said I’m supposed to tell you”—she paused, and I heard another rustle of papers as she dug for the right message—“He said to tell you: “‘Good news. You won’t have to testify against Raul.’”

  That was a shock, but a good one. “Say what?” Paulo Ortega was the drug king pin whose tunnels I’d used to escape. Raul was his baby brother and right-hand man. Paulo was a violent psycho who ruled his own private army with an iron fist and practically unlimited funds. The stick, and the carrot, generally used in that order. I’d been scheduled to testify about the tunnels and the vampires in them. I wondered what had happened. Had the Mexican authorities decided—or been convinced—not to prosecute?

  Dawna continued, “Rizzoli didn’t say, but I actually know why. I read about this online. The border patrol found scattered remains in the desert, the morning after the full moon. There was enough to do DNA matching, and it’s Paulo and Raul. It looks as if they got on the wrong side of a pack of werewolves.”

  Wow. What an ugly way to go. Almost as brutal and violent as some of the things I’d heard they’d ordered. I couldn’t say I was sorry. I bet it was Maria’s family. Paulo had learned the hard way that payback is a bitch.

  Literally.

  “Celia? You still there?”

  “I’m here. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody, but I can’t say they didn’t deserve it.”

  “That’s almost exactly what the guy who wrote the online article said.”

  I believed it. Thinking about the Ortegas, though, reminded me of Mexico. Not good. Not the kind of memories that would improve my mood.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yup. When you get back, the INS and the DEA both want to meet with you and have you map out as much of the tunnels as you can remember. Oh, and the Levys are on their way to Serenity with the dresses and they are gorgeous. You are going to look so amazing! Bruno’s finished your joint present for Adriana and King Dahlmar. Since he was working on it in the same office with Jan, he had it checked to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with, and it’s fine. Emma swears it’s the best focus she’s ever seen, even better than the mirror you had made for Vicki.”

  Oh! So that’s what he’d been making at the college. I’d assumed the mirror was a class assignment.

  Wow. That was awesome. It would be the perfect gift for Adriana, who was a fairly powerful clairvoyant. And Dahlmar was enough in love that pleasing her was sure to please him. Score.

  “He said to let you know he’ll bring it with him when he flies out to Rusland. He doesn’t want to risk letting it out of his sight until then.”

  I didn’t blame him. Major magical artifacts are big business and valuable as hell. Even the express courier companies won’t insure them for full value. They’re just too likely to be stolen. “He’s sending you his itinerary by e-mail, so be sure to get online.”

  Thinking about seeing Bruno made me smile, and while Dawna couldn’t see it, she knew me well enough to guess.

  “I’m supposed to tell you he loves you and he’s really, really sorry. Just between the two of us, I’m thinking that you’re going to be able to hold that whole body bind thing over his head for quite a while.”

  I laughed. “Maybe.” Probably not. Then again, he really shouldn’t have done it. And I did not want him to get into the habit of pulling that kind of crap.

  “Ready for the less good news?”

  I groaned. “I suppose.”

  “Dottie came in and got Minnie the Mouser.”

  “What?” That was a shock. Fred and Dottie lived in government housing. No pets allowed. She’d gotten me to take in her adored cat Minnie after a friend—a cop—who’d been looking after her died in the line of duty. Since I’m gone so much, we’d made her the office cat. We all loved the silly furball. She was spoiled rotten.

  “Dottie said it was only for a couple of days, that she didn’t want her getting underfoot with the movers coming in.”

  Well, that kind of made sense. Although, come to think on it, we could’ve just locked her in my office for a couple of hours. I wondered if my clairvoyant friend was up to something. I wouldn’t put it past her.

  Dawna continued. “But she was acting all weird and sad. She wandered around the whole place, even up to the third floor.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course she had. I’d told Dottie a million times not to take the stairs with that walker of hers. But did she listen? Oh hell no.

  “She told me to ship all of your boxes—the ones in the storeroom—to your house. She was so insistent that I went ahead and did it. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Nah, it’s okay. She’s a seer. Who knows, maybe she saw that we’ll need the space.”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of how I looked at it.” Dawna paused; in the background I heard the door open and people moving around. “Gotta go. The movers are here. Call me later.”

  “Right.”

  We hung up without saying good-bye, but that was okay. Things back at the office were in good hands. The Levys would be here soon with the dresses and Bruno had come up with the perfect wedding gif
t. All in all, not too shabby. Oh, there were still plenty of things to worry about: Dottie acting strange, Okalani being in danger. But I wasn’t going to think about them now. I was just too damned tired. We were almost back to the compound. I wanted food and sleep, in that order. Everything else would just have to wait.

  * * *

  I woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door to my suite. A glance at the clock told me it was only 10:30. I’d had less than three hours of sleep, which was worse than none at all.

  “Go away,” I growled, and pulled my pillow over my head.

  Baker’s voice drifted through the door and the soft, feather down pillow. “Celia, Isaac and Gilda Levy are here with the dresses for the fitting. Princess Adriana has asked that you join everyone downstairs at your earliest convenience.”

  Oh, hell. Early wasn’t convenient. Not at all. Damn it, anyway. I needed some rest. I was tired and depressed. The last thing I wanted was to be around people. And Gilda and Isaac were so damned perceptive, they’d know something was up the minute I walked into the room.

  Still, there was nothing for it. They were here. There wasn’t much time for them to do any alterations as it was. It would be rude of me to make that time any shorter.

  “Tell them I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll tell them ten minutes.”

  “And get me some coffee,” I added. “Please. Lots and lots of coffee.”

  I could almost hear Helen smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I took one of the shortest showers on record, brushed my teeth and hair, and pulled on jeans and a little yellow T-shirt with horizontal stripes. I strapped on every weapon I’d be wearing at the weddings, from my knives on down to the Glock and ankle holster. Isaac was going to want to make sure the dress and jacket fit properly over my armament. He’d probably also renew the accuracy spells on my gear, which was never a bad thing. I practice at the range regularly and am a good shot even without the spells. But when it really matters, I want every possible edge.

  When I opened the door to my suite, a scant seven minutes after my summons, Baker was waiting outside. She offered me a huge mug of coffee that smelled like everything good in the world. Taking the mug, I inhaled deeply, then took a sip, careful not to burn the roof of my mouth. It tasted fabulous. I wondered what blend it was and if I’d be able to find it back home.