by Adam Thomas
“Do you know where Wiggins is? I’d like to warn him personally.”
“I don’t, but if I see him, I will tell him the danger.”
“Please do. Thank you for your time, Ms. Alder.” Nar tipped his hat and saw himself out.
Elsany turned to her back room and made a particular noise of aggravation, a sort of high-pitched growl.
Wiggins poked his head from his hiding place. “Did the big one mouth the word ‘vampire?’” he asked.
“Don’t you change the subject. What are you doing running afoul of Padraig Duna?”
“I don’t know what that man was talking about. Now, how about some of that sweet tea?”
“You get tea when you tell me the truth.”
Wiggins took a deep breath and sighed. “Let’s just say your package from the ship isn’t the only interesting cargo Syne and I move.”
Elsany continued to withhold the pitcher. “You better keep your wits about you. The Duna family is no laughing matter.”
“I will, Auntie,” Wiggins said, chastened.
“Now, run along and find your friend and warn him too.”
Wiggins abandoned his quest for tea and left through the back door. He found Syne and filled him in. “So these adventurers know about Magnolia Hall? You don’t think they procured the luranko for Elsany?” Syne mused.
“They said they worked for my aunt. It makes sense,” Wiggins said. “I’m the last person to put myself in harm’s way, but I’m worried about what we delivered.”
“Look at you, growing a conscience.” Syne patted Wiggins on the head. “I’m proud of you.”
“So you’ll come with me?”
Syne shuddered at the memory of the woman at Magnolia Hall, but he shrugged it off. “We’re partners, right?”
thirty-one
The Smugglers
Why are they just standing there in the middle of the street?” Wiggins put his palm against his brow and shook his head. “Amateurs.”
“The big one is armed to the teeth,” Syne said. “Perhaps they just don’t care if they’re seen.”
Wiggins chuckled and said, “Looks like they’ve been spotted now. That’s the detective I told you about. Real piece of work. Didn’t even drink my auntie’s sweet tea.”
The pair watched the chief inspector converse with the B-Team from afar. They were out of earshot, but even from this distance they could see Ronin Nar’s face go red and splotchy with anger.
“Why antagonize him?” Syne asked. “My mantra is, Don’t give the guard a reason to know you exist.’”
“Maybe they’re not amateurs. Something tells me these folks have been up against worse than a mid-level government functionary,” Wiggins mused. “Now what’s he doing?”
Nar turned on his heel and stalked up the path to the front door of Magnolia Hall. The B-Team began walking down the street in the direction of Wiggins and Syne. Wiggins was about to hide them in an illusion when Syne gripped his shoulder. “Maybe they know something. Let’s introduce ourselves.”
Syne peered around the edge of the building and waved the B-Team over. When all six were safely hidden behind Wiggins’s illusion of an empty alley, Syne asked, “Who are you and why are you interested in that house?”
“We could ask the same questions,” Sorvek said. But his bluster was half-hearted. Syne was too strikingly beautiful to arouse Sorvek’s anger, and the newly partnered warlock had to remind himself of his experimental monogamy, lest he begin flirting unconsciously.
“Look,” Wiggins said. He was once again disguised as the nondescript halfling. “We made some deliveries to that manor over the last few weeks that have distressed us. I don’t like feeling distressed, so I am trying to confirm I have nothing to worry about.”
The members of the B-Team looked at each other and burst out laughing. They laughed for a full minute before Shonasir calmed down enough to respond. “Do you find vampires worrying? Because there are two in that house.”
Syne’s eyes went wide. “I knew there was something off about that woman.”
“Rosamund Steele,” Emric said in a wistful sort of way.
“She’s a hundred year old vampire,” Rhys confirmed. “And her lover is a brand new one.”
“Well, that certainly changes things,” Wiggins said. He began backing up the alley. “It was nice meeting you all. I’m going to, ah, go now and erase this whole episode from my mind with some very nice drugs.”
“Drugs?” Rhys echoed. He fished around in his bag. “How about one of these?”
He held up a frilly mushroom, pink with dark purple fringe. “Let’s say you and I share this, head to the bar, and you tell us what you know about the vampires.”
“Chief Inspector Ronin Nar of the Emerald Spire Guard.” Heinrich’s voice managed to sound officious and lazy at the same time.
“Ah, yes, Chief Inspector, I have not forgotten your heroic actions in rescuing the staff of my former neighbor of blessed memory.”
Rosamund Steele wore a soft violet sundress, as befitted the expected fashion for the beginning of summer. When Heinrich announced they had a visitor, Rosamund had run upstairs to change clothes, and Serafina had pointed out the irony of a vampire wearing such an outfit. But now it served double duty. The sundress reinforced Rosamund’s secret identity, and she knew she looked vulnerable wearing it – just a single garment of loose flowing fabric.
Nar tried on an ill-fitting smile at Rosamund’s praise. “Just doing my duty, Miss Steele.”
“And your duty has brought you back here…” Rosamund tilted her voice upward and trailed off expectantly. She reflected Nar’s smile, and hers fit just right.
“Well, ma’am, I’m not sure how to put this delicately.”
Rosamund’s smile vanished, and now the sundress was the only thing about her hinting at vulnerability. “I am not delicate, Chief Inspector. Please, you may speak freely.”
“Ever since Lord Sindar assigned me to the case of the missing socialites –”
Rosamund cut it. “Is that what you call it? How grand and official.”
“Not my words, ma’am. The press, you see.”
“Of course, Mr. Nar. Do continue.”
Ronin Nar tried to take a deep breath, but he was finding it curiously hard to do so. He tried to look at Miss Steele full on, but he found that curiously hard to do as well.
He sucked down enough breath to say, “The suspects in that case have been seen in the Diamond Spire recently, and I felt it was my duty to warn you.”
When he was done, Nar felt winded. It was as if all the air in the room was being pulled toward Rosamund Steele, such was the force of her personality. Nar tried to back up, but he was rooted to the spot.
Then Miss Steele chuckled and the pressure released. Nar took in small gulps of air while Rosamund said, “I am aware of various less-than-savory elements in the neighborhood, thank you. I have made my own private arrangements.”
“You’ve hired bodyguards?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I don’t want you disappearing again.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Rosamund stepped forward and placed her hand on Nar’s shoulder blade. She kept herself at about a tenth of the physical strength she could exert. “Now, if that will be all.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your time.”
The Dockworker was a rough and tumble tavern in the Shipping Quarter. An accident of geography made it the closest pub to the elite Diamond Spire, owing to the paired facts that the wealthiest of the wealthy desired seaside homes and ships needed somewhere to dock. Such an arrangement made the Diamond Spire properties on the border with the Shipping Quarter the least desirable ones in the district.
Wiggins and Rhys were bo
th riding high on pieces of the frilly mushroom by the time they darkened the Dockworker’s door.
“Why is it so crowded in the middle of the day?” Shonasir called out over the din.
“It’s Festival,” Syne said. “At least we won’t be overheard.”
Shonasir did not like loud, crowded spaces. They thought longingly about sitting by a quiet pond in one of the many small parks that dotted the city, perhaps chatting with Imral, Halla’s caregiver. They reluctantly took a seat at a table that Sorvek procured by trading it for a round of drinks. The B-Team, Syne, and Wiggins put their heads together – Wiggins and Rhys literally.
“Your head’s not where it’s supposed to be,” Rhys said, his S’s taking up too much real estate in his speech.
“I know,” Wiggins said. “It’s not my head. It’s an illu-u-u-u-sion.” The gnome turned the middle vowel into a creepy ghost sound.
“Do you have a head?” Rhys asked suddenly, full of concern.
“Depends who you ask. My aunt is always wondering where I put mine.”
“That’s deep, man.”
Sorvek banged on the table. “Since you didn’t see fit to share that mushroom with the rest of us, can we get down to business.”
“We made two deliveries to that mansion for Elsany of Alder,” Syne said. “Both were what you might call nonstandard items.”
“How nonstandard?” Emric asked.
“Several pounds of luranko,” Syne began, but stopped when he saw their faces. “So that was you then? You procured the bone dust for Elsany.”
“Undead bone dust,” Emric clarified.
“So we risked our lives to get something for Rosamund Steele?” Shonasir said.
“I got something too,” Rhys said vaguely, and his hand wandered up to the hilt of Tyrevane.
“Whoa, big guy,” Emric said. “Let’s leave your sword where it is.”
“Is it there? I can’t find it.” Rhys’s hand was groping around a good six inches above the top of his blade.
“It’s there, don’t worry.” Emric turned back to Syne. “What was the other item?”
“If the bone dust was worrying, you’re not going to like it,” Syne said and recounted the whole tale that ended in delivering the will’-o-wisps to Magnolia Hall.
When Syne was done, Shonasir sat back in their chair and crossed their arms contemplatively. “We first met Rosamund when she was controlling a whole bunch of undead in the mines in Sul. Anyone thinking that nothing has changed?”
“What hasn’t changed is that we need to capture her for Apranashar,” Sorvek said. “A further undead presence in her house just complicates matters.”
“I don’t like complicated,” Wiggins said. His forehead was resting against the table, so he spoke these words to the floor.
“Look, we all bear some responsibility for whatever the vampires are planning,” Shonasir said. “We are down a person on our team right now, and you two together might come close to making up for Alurel. What do you think?”
Wiggins looked up at Syne. “What were you saying about growing a conscience?”
“I said that before I knew we were up against vampires.” Syne looked from one member of the B-Team to the next around the table. No, these were definitely not amateurs. “All right. I’ll do what I can.”
Wiggins put his head back on the table. “I’ll help with some illusions, but I’m not getting into biting range.”
The B-Team delayed their mission to Magnolia Hall by one night to allow Rhys and Wiggins to sleep off the effects of the frilly mushroom. The plan they decided on would only work in the dark so they spent the next day enjoying Festival and trying not to think about the fact that they were willingly about to invade a vampire’s home. Shonasir called upon Imral, and the two elves spent a peaceful day living out Shonasir’s daydream. Imral was everything they seemed to be when they were on duty at Halla’s: caring, attentive, fierce. Shonasir tried not to fall too hard, considering they might get eaten by a vampire that very night. But Imral’s presence was a gift that was all the more lovely because they arrived in Shonasir’s life when they were least expecting it.
Emric and Sorvek spent the day describing the elder vampire Apranashar to Wiggins. The disguised gnome asked every question under the sun, from size and shape to tone of voice and demeanor. The two B-Team members cudgeled their brains into remembering as many details as they could. Thankfully, the Frozen Rose had not affected their brains, and since the paralytic had kept their necks stationary for so long, they had not been able to look away from the vampire. They were able to answer most of Wiggins’s questions satisfactorily.
Rhys took Syne with him on a mission to distract the chief inspector. They planted casks of beer all over the Emerald Spire to encourage the Festival revelers to descend on Nar’s beat en masse. It would have worked, too, if Nar himself hadn’t caught them. In a moment of mature mercy, Rhys decided to come clean.
“I don’t want you to get eaten,” Rhys said.
Nar took a swig of the beer Rhys had offered him. Drinking on the job: either Nar wasn’t as straight-laced as Rhys had thought or else he was playing along to gain information. For his part, Syne was hanging back, trying to make himself look small and insignificant.
“Eaten by what?” Nar asked.
“You know the manor you went into yesterday after we expressly warned you not to?” Rhys said.
“Expressly warned me?” Nar snorted into his beer. “You called me an idiot and then egged me on.”
“You remember it your way, I’ll remember it mine. The fact of the matter is that the women in that house are vampires.”
“Don’t be daft. Now you’re just –”
But Nar’s words trailed off. He stared at the foam bubbling atop his stein. He replayed his conversation with Rosamund Steele in his mind. Her force of personality had been so strong, like gravity, like he was falling and she was the ground. He squinted up at Rhys. “Let’s say, for the moment, I believe you. What’s your proof?”
“One of them did this to me.” Rhys pointed to the twin scars on his neck. “If you want to measure and confirm they are bite marks, be my guest.”
The chief inspector started pacing. “So the missing socialites were captured by vampires and turned.”
“Close. Miss Steele was already a vampire, and she turned Serafina Sindar and Karin Astor.”
“And which one bit you?”
“Serafina.”
“There were rumors that Miss Steele and Lady Sindar were more than just friends. When I was on their case, Lord Sindar said he thought Steele had kidnapped his wife. If what you’re saying is accurate, he was close to the truth.”
“Except she wanted to be kidnapped,” Rhys explained. “She became a vampire willingly.”
“What about the one we killed?”
Rhys decided to leave out the deal they made to procure the vampire’s mist. “Miss Steele wanted her land, so she turned her and got us to dispatch her.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“I told you before. I don’t want you to get eaten.”
Nar drained his mug and set it down with a thud on top of the cask. “Now that I know, I need to do something about it.”
“Funny you should say that,” Rhys said. “Because we could use all that help we can get.”
The third night of Festival arrived, ushered in by fireworks off the coast of the Eldasin Sea. The B-Team, Syne, and Wiggins watched the display from their hiding place across the street from Magnolia Hall. Chief Inspector Ronin Nar watched Syne and Wiggins. Surely, these were the two smugglers he was chasing. But he found he didn’t much care. If a few cases of pipeweed fell off a cart, that was small potatoes. Nar was made for the big cases. Like vampires. He had already killed one, and that made hi
m bold. Conveniently forgetting how afraid he had been in the basement of Roseview, the chief inspector turned his attention to Magnolia Hall. The fireworks gave way to a fingernail moon hanging low in the sky above the vampires’ mansion.
“Here’s the plan,” Emric said. “Syne and I are sneaking inside to get a lay of the land and find my karest. We’ll need it if we’re not successful at capturing Rosamund. Wiggins is on distraction duty.”
“My specialty,” the gnome said, twirling his illusory mustache.
“The rest of you are on standby for when everything goes horribly wrong.”
“When do we capture Rosamund?” Sorvek asked.
“After we get back and can describe the floor plan of the house,” Syne said. “There are two vampires in there, so we need to know exactly where they are and what defenses they have in place. We need to gather as much information as we can get.”
“Once we know the layout, we charge in,” Nar said. It was not a question.
“Wiggins, you’re up,” Emric said. “Remember what to call her.”
The master illusionist clambered to his feet and bowed to the B-Team. “Time for my greatest performance.”
He walked out into the street and vanished. A moment later, floating a foot off the ground at the front door of Magnolia Hall, hovered the hooded and cloaked form of the elder vampire Apranashar.
thirty-two
Magnolia Hall
From behind the illusion, Wiggins cast a small spectral hand and floated it to the door. The hand curled around the brass knocker and clacked it against the door once, twice, three times.
The door opened, revealing Heinrich, whose normally passive demeanor crumbled into knee-knocking fear at the sight of the menacing figure before him.
“Bring me Samantha Esris,” Wiggins said through the illusion.
“There’s...there’s….no one by that name here, milord,” Heinrich said, his voice weak and watery.
“Bring me the lady of the house or I will suck you dry and I will use your smallest vein so your agony lasts a long, long time.”