by J. C. Staudt
Jerry leans in. “That guy. You ever find him? The Disciples are getting antsy.”
Those three sentences are enough to answer none of my questions and raise a million others. There are a few different directions I could take my answer. If I’m going to sell this whole Arden Savage thing, I’ve got to make it convincing. I’ve got to go all-in on the sales pitch. Fake it ‘til you make it, as Ersatz would advise. I lean in and whisper. “Yeah. I found him. Haven’t made the grab yet, though.”
Jerry’s silvered eyebrows collapse inward. “Why not?”
“Have a little faith in me, will you? I’m not just going to go in hot on a whim. These things take time. You have to wait for the right moment.”
“The right moment has come and gone. Krydos is adamant about having the prince in time for the revel.”
“The prince…”
“We are talking about the same guy, aren’t we?”
“You tell me.”
He tosses me a look; not quite suspicious, but wary. “Prince Cadigan. Prince Cade Cadigan, son of King Glendon Cadigan of Tolmyr.”
Whoa. Back the truck up. That’s too many words around my dad’s name. I sit for a moment in stunned silence, unsure I’ve heard him correctly. If this isn’t the most mind-blowing thing I’ve heard in my whole life, you might as well tell me my dad’s an alien. My every inclination is to shake Jerry by his starched white collar and demand to know what in the living crap he’s talking about. I maintain my composure and give him an easy smile while my insides scream. “Yep. That’s the Cade Cadigan I was talking about, too.”
“Good to know we’re on the same page. What’s up with you, Arden? You’re not acting like yourself today.”
“I’m fine. Just busy, that’s all.”
“I hear you on that one,” he says with a chuckle. “That reminds me. There’s something else we need to talk about. The probate hearing tomorrow. What are Lorne and Carmine planning? Are they going to give in and take the deal, or are they going to contest the will?”
I’m conflicted. Was Arden Savage on his stepfather’s side? Or was he pretending to be all buddy-buddy with Jerry so he could spy on him for his siblings? My split-second decision is to assume the former, despite not knowing why Arden was working for Jerry in the first place. Or why Jerry is in league with these Disciples he mentioned. “We went over a few possible strategies based on certain outcomes,” I tell him. “Didn’t really nail anything down.”
“I need specifics. We talked about this.”
Well, shit, I think. Arden really was on Jerry’s side. “I don’t have specifics for you. Lorne’s keeping things close to the vest. All he told me was they need me there tomorrow.”
Jerry glares at me. When he speaks, his whisper is quiet but harsh. “I’m going to let this slide for now. The important thing is finding Cade Cadigan. You just make sure you get him, and you do it soon. There’ll be no more lotus for you if you screw this up.”
No more lotus? What does that mean? “I’ve got this. Trust me.”
“I do trust you. That’s why I put you on this job.”
“Once I have him… what then?”
“You must be losing your mind, Arden. We’ve been over this. You call me the second you’ve got him, any hour of the day. I’ll arrange the swap. I want to be there when you bring him to the keep.”
Jerry’s bodyguard comes over. “Sir?”
“What is it?”
The bodyguard leans over and whispers something in Jerry’s ear.
“I’ve got to go. Be in touch.” Jerry slides out of the booth, buttons his suit jacket and smooths it down. He gives me a curt nod before leaving me alone at the table.
When I slide into the passenger seat of Felita Skaargil’s car a few minutes later, I’m shaking.
“You alright?” she asks as she pulls out and heads toward her apartment. “How’d it go? Did you get any answers?”
“More questions than answers.”
“We just heard a news report on the radio,” she says. “They’re claiming the cave-in at the orphanage was a result of a structural fault due to the building’s age.”
“Poppycock,” Ersatz opines from the back seat.
“Of the twenty-seven orphans at the facility,” Felita continues, “eighteen are in the hospital—six in critical condition and twelve with serious injuries. The other nine sustained only minor bumps and bruises.”
“None died?”
“Sounds that way. Thanks to Ersatz, I’m sure.”
I turn to face him. “What did you do?”
He grins. “Magic.”
“Must’ve been yet another one of the incredibly useful spells you’ve never taught me.”
“There are several,” he admits.
“Apparently there are also several facts you forgot to mention.”
“Such as?”
“That’s where I was hoping you could fill me in, old buddy, old pal.”
“Certainly,” he says, sounding less than certain.
“What do you know about Prince Cade Cadigan, son of King Glendon Cadigan of Tolmyr?”
Ersatz opens his mouth, closes it again.
“Who is he?” I demand.
A moment’s hesitation. “He’s… you.”
“He’s me. I’m a prince. You’re telling me I’m a goddamned prince and my father was a king on the otherside.”
He winces.
“You knew. You’ve known it all these years.”
He glances at Felita. “Perhaps we might discuss this later.”
“No. Not later. We’re discussing it now, because after fifteen fucking years I think I’ve waited long enough.”
“It’s true. Your father was the King of Tolmyr. I’d heard of him on the otherside, but I never met him until we crossed over together.”
“And at no point since we’ve known each other did you think this was maybe an important detail I might’ve wanted to know?”
“It was never a matter of wanting. I swore a vow to your father that I would keep your lineage a secret until it was absolutely necessary that you know.”
“So when Arden Savage showed up on my doorstep to drag me away for what I thought was no reason at all—that didn’t strike you as a good time to come clean?”
“Until it became clear that his task was tied to your father’s station, I could not in good conscience divulge such vital knowledge.”
“You know what happened to him, then. You know where my father is.”
“Do you think I would’ve let you spend all this time searching for him if I knew where he’d gone?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure what to believe now.”
“Believe your father’s chiefest fear was that his enemies might use the other grimoires against him—or against you. I’ve trained you to use your grimoire while staying hidden from the others because it was his wish. I’ve never failed to act according to your father’s wishes. I spent years as his emissary in this world, traveling far and wide to further his causes as an ambassador. I only returned to New Detroit to act as your protector after his disappearance. My secrecy alone should tell you how much I loved and respected him. No, I haven’t been completely honest with you. But you must believe me when I say the things you don’t know are for your own protection.”
“So there’s more.”
He hesitates. “Nothing I am at liberty to tell you now.”
“How is this protecting me? There are people out looking for me and I’ve been in the dark about it this whole time. If I’d known to expect someone like Arden Savage, I could’ve been prepared.”
He levels his gaze. “Cade. I’ve been preparing you for this since you were a child.”
I shut my eyes and lean against the headrest. For a long time no one speaks. Felita has been observing all this in silence, and she makes no move to jumpstart the conversation again.
“It all makes sense now. The way you’ve always dissuaded me from making new friends. From going out. From act
ually having a life besides housekeeping and magic. It was the perfect arrangement for you, wasn’t it? I went to work, I came home, I practiced my spells. No one ever noticed me besides Quim and the Whittakers and the people I interacted with as part of my job. No one ever notices the housekeeper.”
Ersatz clears his throat, swallows. “I orchestrated a certain lifestyle for you and did everything I could to see it maintained. You were as close to hiding in plain sight as a person in this city can get. That’s all changed now.”
“Yeah, no shit it’s changed. You knew this day would come, right? That’s what you said when you saw Arden’s body lying in our living room.”
“I knew it would come,” he admits. “Yet I also knew you would be ready for it when it did.”
“I’m not ready, Ersatz. I’m not a prince. I’m a wizard who cleans houses. I’m being hunted for a part of my past I want nothing to do with.”
“In the eyes of those who would bring you harm, your princehood is your defining characteristic. Your father had enemies. Every king does; even the good ones. Especially the good ones. And your father was a good king.”
“So what? Who cares what happened on the otherside? This is Earth. No one here gives the flyingest of fucks who anyone used to be.”
“Clearly that isn’t true, or your enemies would be far fewer in number.”
I massage my temples. “This is unreal. Absolutely unreal. My life is a complete fabrication.”
“All is not lost. Things are in pieces now, yes, but it will get better. We’re going to approach this from a measured, logical perspective. We’re going to fix what’s broken, one step at a time, until all has been set right again.”
I’m shaking my head as he speaks. “We’re too far gone for that now. I can’t go back to the life I had before. It’s not like I’ve got much to go back to anyway. No job. Disaster of an apartment. Spellbook torn to shreds. I’m a slave to half-fiends and a summoner of evil spirits. I’ve broken so many laws I can’t keep track anymore. Murder. Attempted murder. Breaking and entering. Destruction of property. Grand larceny. Every time I try to fix something, I make it worse. So no, we’re not going to go back and start fixing things. We’re going to go forward.”
“How, exactly?”
“You know how. Someone’s after me, and there’s only one way I’m going to find them before they find me.”
Chapter 21
“Do it.”
Ersatz looks at the spellvault belt, with its thick silver buckle and raw leather strap, lying on Felita Skaargil’s dining room table. The Book of Mysteries lies open beside it, padded from beneath by a thick towel and a pair of cloth placemats. Though Ersatz tidied up the remains of his lubrication spell, the hardwood floor still bears a sheen in the early evening light. My backpack and what’s left of its contents are drying on a bath towel in the corner against the wall of picture windows. Among them is the package of syringes and the vial of demon blood.
“Do it, Ersatz,” I repeat. “Enchant it. No more illusions. I need a transformation spell this time. One that’s going to last.”
“Patience,” he says. “Enchantments take time.”
“Then you’d better get started.”
He gives me a look that says he’d slap me if his arms were longer.
“Take your time.”
“While he’s taking his time,” says Felita, “how about we don’t take our time deciding how to get this dead body out of my living room. Any ideas?”
“Feed it to your pack when the full moon hits,” I suggest.
“I’m not keeping it here for three more days.”
“Feed it to something that wants to eat it now.”
“I don’t know anything that big.”
“We could have him cremated.”
“Do you know anyone who works in a crematorium?”
“I know a fireball spell.”
“Not on my living room rug, you don’t.”
“Burning the body won’t incinerate the bones,” Ersatz points out. “We must look for a burial place.”
“God, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. What are these words I’m saying? Evidence. Cover-ups. Death. It’s like a murder mystery, except—plot twist—I was the bad guy all along.”
“Stop beating yourself up over it,” Felita says. “It was an accident. Do you know how many people I’ve killed on purpose? Plus it sounds like Arden Savage was kind of a douche anyway.”
“I don’t want to sit around and harp on it forever. I just feel bad, you know?”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t? Mistake like that. We need to do something about this dead human, though.”
“I think I need to call Quim. He knows people. Through the computer, and stuff. He’s always telling me about trading favors with businesses around town. He’ll be pissed at me when I tell him what I did, but his connections are worth the trouble.” I step off to the side and dial Quim’s number, dreading the explanation I’m going to have to give him.
“Hey, Cade,” Quim says when he picks up.
“QuimTak. Listen, man. You know that saying that goes, ‘A friend will help you move, but a best friend will help you move a body?’”
“Dammit, Cade. What did you do?”
Off to a predictable start. “Never mind what I did. Let’s focus on what I need you to do, which is to start pondering that little axiom in a literal sense. Take it to heart. Recite it to yourself. Over and over, preferably. Make it a statement to live by. A mantra, if you will.”
“Cut the bullshit. What happened?”
“So the thing is, I want to tell you, but you’re going to get mad.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“No. No, no. Don’t. Please. Stay. I’ll tell you.”
“Listening.”
I take a breath. “So remember how you told me not to go to Durlan’s on Saturday night?”
“Actually hanging up now. Bye.”
Click.
I glance from Felita to Ersatz, then back again. “He’ll be fine. He just needs a few minutes.”
“You promised,” he says when I call back. “You frigging promised, Cade.”
“I know, man. I know. Just calm down. Give me a chance to explain myself.”
“What could you possibly say to explain why you’re a complete idiot?”
“You’re right. There’s no explanation. Just hear me out.” I tell Quim everything, starting with Durlan’s and ending with the mind-blowing revelations imparted to me by my surrogate stepfather Jerry. Everything, that is, except that I stole the demon blood.
“You’re such an idiot,” Quim repeats.
“Does that mean you’ll help?”
A pause. “In the same way I wouldn’t let a toddler play with an electrical socket.”
“Oh, thank god. Thank you, man. You won’t regret this.”
“Pretty sure I will. But let me make a few calls.” He hangs up.
“He’s going to help,” I nearly shout.
“Quiet,” Ersatz snaps. “I need concentration. I’m about to begin casting.”
I collapse onto the couch in relief. A minute passes while Ersatz studies the grimoire intently without speaking a word. I’m about to ask what he’s waiting for when Quim calls back.
“Hello?”
“Come over.”
“On my way.”
Felita drives me to Quim’s apartment while Ersatz stays behind to enchant the spellvault belt.
“You look like absolute shit,” Quim says when he opens the door.
“Thanks,” I say, and head for the fridge.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
“Oh, sorry. This is Felita Skaargil. Felita, this is Quim, my best friend.”
When they shake hands, Quim looks like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. I swear I can see little pink hearts popping like balloons over his head. He tries to give her a charming smile, but he comes off looking like a serial killer.
“You’re the shifter?” she asks.
/>
“Yeah,” Quim says, breathless.
“I hate you people.”
Quim deflates. His human likeness fades into his true milk-skinned form, whitewashed eyes rimmed in black. “Changeling,” he blurts. “I’m a… changeling.”
“Same diff.” Felita appraises the apartment, wiping a line of dust from Quim’s end table and rubbing her fingers together.
“What’ve you got for me, QuimTak?” I ask, taking the first frosty sip of my beer.
“The guy who owns Montague Funeral Home owes me a favor. A while back I wrote him a bunch of fake Yelp reviews and posted them from different IP addresses.”
“Sounds like an upstanding businessman.”
“Upstanding businessmen don’t agree to dispose of unregistered bodies. Show up between noon and two o’clock tomorrow. Make sure the body is well-hidden and doesn’t look like a dead body. Pull around back and Mr. Montague will advise you on how to proceed.”
“Two o’clock? That’s cutting it close to the probate hearing.”
“Get there at noon then. That two-hour window is the only one he gave me.”
“I guess I’ll make it work.”
“You’re damn right you will,” says Felita. “I’m not keeping that body in my apartment another day.”
“Cade stuck you with the bill, huh?” Quim asks, propping himself against the wall in his best cool-guy lean.
Felita glances over as if just noticing him. “Don’t talk to me.”
Quim pushes himself off his lean. “Okay.”
“What bill?” I ask.
“The one Mr. Montague is going to charge you for his services.”
“I thought he owed you a favor.”
Quim rubs the back of his neck. “Agreeing to take the body was the favor. He’s not going to do it for free. This is like a step down from hiring a hitman.”
“I wouldn’t go that far—” I stop when I see Quim’s expression. “Alright, alright. What’s his price?”
“Ten grand in cash.”
I almost spew my beer across the linoleum. “Ten thousand dollars? That sounds more like a root canal than a favor. I don’t have that kind of money. I don’t have any money. Does that include cremation?”