by Cat Adams
Maybe it was calling on the Tree, or maybe the realization that the plague wasn’t just a memory of the past, but she was gratified to see the beginnings of respect in her mother’s eyes for a brief moment before she walked away.
She half-expected her mother to follow and continue the argument, but she didn’t. Part of her was sorry, but part glad, because there just wasn’t time. Thankfully, the day was warm enough that most of the ice had melted on the windshield, so that all she had to do was brush the towering pile of snow off the hood and roof. As she settled behind the wheel and started the engine, she began to think of the thousand things she needed to do before tomorrow night. If things went well, she could talk with her mother another time.
And if things go bad, I won’t have to worry about anything at all.
Next stop needed to be home, both to feed Mr. Whiskers and try to scrub some of the dye from her fingers before going to the Palace. She tried to call Candy on the way, but the cell phone had sat in the cold trunk too long. The battery was dead.
She parked in her usual spot and started up the sidewalk when her feet started to slow and a buzzing filled her head. There were footprints in the snow, leading right up to her door. And not just one pair of prints, but several—coming and going from various directions, as though there’d been a party. But I thought Alexy sealed the gate and Tal put a guard spell on it. Of course, why use a gate when Sela still has a key? Stupid, stupid! Why didn’t I change the locks?
Or, could it be Tal? Could they have found the other side of the gate and come to the house?
Either way, she decided it would be prudent to cautiously look in the windows before simply walking in the house, into a trap. She stepped off the walk and sank into the fresh snow to her knee, hoping she wouldn’t have to do any fancy maneuvering, since that wasn’t likely to happen.
The living room was dim, with only the table lamp on … just like she left it. Mr. Whiskers was curled up on his favorite noon perch, a fluffy yellow towel on the horsehair love seat. It was a couch for show, rather than comfort, but Whiskers loved that couch. Mila was sure it was because it was where Lily used to sit and pet him.
“Heya, Mila!” She jumped a foot and nearly fell on her tail in the snow. She turned her head sharply and saw her neighbor, Jeff Hopkins, headed her way—his arms laden with all manner of boxes, bags, and small wooden crates. “Forget your key?”
She shook her head, a small measure of relief filling her. Jeff was a former cop and now worked as a bouncer at a local pool hall. He was the perfect person to walk in the door with her. He might not know magic, but he was an awesome fighter. He’d taught most of her defense classes, which was how they’d met. “No. I was just channeling you, I guess. Saw all the footprints in the snow, and I knew I didn’t make them. So I figured I’d look around before sticking in my key.”
He smiled and nodded. “Good girl. But you don’t have to worry about the prints. I made most of them. I guess you didn’t make it home last night, so I’ve been collecting these for you and keeping them in my house.” He motioned toward the odd assortment of containers in his hands. “You planning an art show or something?”
“Huh?”
He motioned with his head toward the door as a gust of wind nearly took the top box off the stack. “Let’s talk inside before I drop something.”
As she stuck her key in the lock and opened the door, he explained. “Whole bunch of people started coming by your place yesterday. When you weren’t home, they knocked over here. Mostly old Russian ladies—from their accents. They said they were all delivering these boxes so you’d watch over them and keep them safe. I’d presumed you knew what they were.”
She shook her head and took off her coat. It was chilly in the room, colder than it should be with the furnace going. Or had she turned it off yesterday morning, because it was supposed to warm up? She couldn’t remember. But it wasn’t so cold that anything would have frozen, so she wasn’t too worried.
Jeff held out his arms, as though waiting for help in taking the packages from him. “Bryan loaded me up when we saw your car. I can’t get them down without dropping something. They’re pretty fragile.”
Fragile? She took the top two boxes and the bag that was hanging on his wrist, giving him the second hand he needed to balance the rest and put them down on the coffee table. She opened the top box after placing her burdens, and the paperwork from the library, carefully on the love seat. They were close enough to Mr. Whiskers to make him lean over and take a sniff. Whatever they smelled like didn’t agree with him, though, because he stood up and stretched in a tall arch before leaping lightly to the floor with an indignant expression.
“They’re absolutely gorgeous. I had the hardest time convincing Bryan not to just forget to mention them to you.”
She opened the first box and felt her breathing still. It was a pysanka! An absolutely beautiful egg with alchemist motifs—rakes and stags and grains, in the exact colors she’d been using down below. She could even match the blue on her fingers to the blue on the egg. “Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say, and couldn’t figure out why they were here. “No, I don’t have a clue why people would deliver these to me.”
Unless … if Vegre really was doing what Dareen suggested and “collecting” Parask to dye eggs for him—Word might have gotten around to other artists to dump all their stock. But how did they find me?
“There’s about a dozen and a half of them. If you decide to get rid of any of them after the show, let us know. I know Bryan will buy at least three of the blue ones. They match the drapes.”
Show. Well, it’s as good an excuse as any. “Oh! the show. I remember now. Geez, can’t believe I forgot. It’s something the firm’s planning. I don’t know much about it, but I’ll check to see if the artists are willing to sell after it’s over.”
As she continued to open boxes, she realized the symbols were exactly the same as the ones she’d seen in the Tree. What if some of these were duszats? Maybe there would be time to fix all the Trees, before Vegre could make his move. “This is great, Jeff. Thanks a bunch for keeping them safe for me. And hey, if any more people show up while I’m out, could you grab those, too? Just make sure that nobody but me picks them up. These are real works of art and someone might pretend to be my assistant or something if they happen to see one. It’s just me, unless I tell you otherwise, ’kay?”
Jeff nodded firmly and then his face tightened. “No problem. Frankly, we’ve been sort of wondering about that guy who’s been spending time with Sela lately. He trips my radar.”
It was the first she’d heard that Sela had been spending enough time with anyone for the neighbors to notice. But if it was Vegre, she knew what he meant. “Tall, thin guy with bad teeth?”
Jeff nodded. “That’s the guy. A few times he’s showed up in a really nice suit and either caps or dentures. But you can’t hide that look, Mila. He’s been hunted at some point. He’s too wary. Keep an eye on him, huh? I wouldn’t be in the house alone with the guy.”
She opened another box, with a royal-blue and red mage guild egg nestled inside. “Seen him in … the past day or so, by chance?”
“No, and we’ve been watching. We were sort of surprised when neither you nor Sela came home last night, so we took shifts keeping an eye on the place.” That was really sweet of them, and it made her smile. Who said there weren’t any good neighbors anymore? “No visitors at all have made it inside. Either Bryan or I would always come meet people at the door or as they were leaving, and there aren’t any tracks to the back door or any windows. Unless someone showed up while we were asleep, I think it’s okay. But if you’d like me to check before I go, I’d be happy to.”
She did, so he did, which made her feel a lot more comfortable about staying in the house. It was hard to look around her house and suddenly not feel safe, but who’d have thought that someone could step inside without using a door or a window?
Once Jeff was gone, she sat down at the c
omputer to start searching the Internet for anything she could think of that might make Vegre blow up Denver. Then she read through the photocopies. Neither was much help. The whole city was a saltwater sea for most of the prehistoric era and, in fact, they’d discovered large coal beds when they’d built the airport. The nearest potential volcanic activity was either in Fort Collins, nearly an hour north, or Golden, which was at least twenty miles west.
She scrubbed her face and did her makeup while she read the documents she’d printed from her Internet search. Nothing was any help—even looking at the history of the hotel. It had just been a cheap tract that nobody wanted during the silver rush years, an odd shaped parcel that wouldn’t fit a traditional square building.
“So why, then? Why spend the time or energy to blow up a hotel?” She didn’t have an answer and it was making her start to doubt herself. Maybe the others were right. Buckingham Palace might be the place after all. But I know it. I can just feel it in my bones.
But Tal was half a world away by now, and there wasn’t any guarantee she’d ever see him again. If he and the others were right and it was England, they’d simply go back to their lives after they caught Vegre. If not, then Denver would be a smoking crater with her as a part of it. Either way—
She felt her jaw start to tremble and shook her head to fight off the emotion. No. I won’t cry. He’ll come back or he won’t. It was one night … probably just, like he said, a romp.
Pfft! You’re lying and you know it, came the Candy voice in her brain. You know damn well you’re hating this, and would go straight back to Vril if you thought they were still there.
The phone rang at the same moment as the doorbell, bringing Mila’s head out of the clouds—the dark gray ones that screamed a storm was coming. She bolted down the stairs from the small office that had once been Lillian’s sewing room.
She clicked the on button while she peered through the peephole of the solid wood door. “Hello?”
Candy was waving on her front stoop with a broad smile, so she opened the door as a voice spoke in her ear. “Mila? This is Jean-Paul from the Palace.”
She motioned Candy inside just as a frown overtook her and she walked back into the living room. “Hi, Jean-Paul. What’s up?” She knew her voice sounded suspicious, but there was no helping it. She was. “I don’t remember you ever calling me at home before.”
Candy’s face brightened at the male name and pursed her lips with a small ooo-ing noise. Mila shook her head and rolled her eyes. Not in a million years. “I’m pleased not to have any bad news for you, Mila. I was simply following up on the strawberries, as we agreed, and your receptionist mentioned you planned to visit the hotel this afternoon for a last-minute inspection. Unfortunately, I already have a meeting scheduled out of the hotel. In fact, I’m already late. But I’ll make my assistant, Denise, available for your walk-through. I think you’ll find we’ve taken care of everything.”
He really did sound apologetic, rather than nervous. But having an assistant available might actually work to her benefit. She might not know where Mila could and couldn’t go. It would make it perfect for searching for clues. “That’s great, Jean-Paul. Will she have access to the whole hotel? We have some pretty famous people coming, so I’d like to tell the partners I looked at security and safety arrangements, too. You know how picky they can be.” And she’d made sure over the course of their negotiations to remind him of their pickiness, even when it was actually her attention to detail he was satisfying.
“Of course. I’ll let her know that you’ll have the run of the place—except for guest rooms which are still occupied, of course.”
That grabbed her attention. Was Vegre already there? “Oh, of course. Have any of our guests checked in yet? It might be nice if I personally welcomed them—maybe with a fruit basket or champagne?” Making it a question would let him know that the hotel was being expected to provide the gift, and then add it to the bill.
She heard clicking in the background, probably him checking arrivals on the computer. “Mr. Pierce arrived last night, but he’s out right now … and, let’s see … Mr. Popolous and his entourage just checked in. I don’t believe they’re in their room yet, though. Would you like me to send up room service, or wait until you arrive?”
Okay! Mr. Pierce was there. So, she was right. Unless you’re wrong, and it’s not the same guy. But no, she wouldn’t consider that possibility right now. “Perfect. No, wait until I arrive. I was going to come in casual clothes, but I think now I’ll change. Let Denise know I’ll be there in … say, an hour?” She glanced at her watch. Two o’clock, so three by the time she got there and she should be out of there by five. She could report back with a voice mail to one of the partners and hopefully, she’d have some idea of how to ambush Vegre before the party. It’s all she could think to do. Maybe knock him out or tie him up in a bathtub or some such. Or maybe she could sneak into his room and see if he had any duszats she could steal or destroy. Frankly, there wasn’t much else she could do if nobody from the O.P.A. planned to show up.
“That will be fine. I’ll see everything is ready. Have a pleasant day, and thank you for patronizing the Palace.” He hung up without waiting for a reply, which meant he was either annoyed she was going to do the walk-through, or he really was late for his meeting.
Candy had already made herself comfortable in one of the recliners that Mila had bought with the leftover money from the roof loan. Mr. Whiskers was perched delicately on her lap, happily shedding fine gray fur all over her dark pants and rumbling noisily in approval of the chin scratching he was getting.
Her friend raised one carefully plucked eyebrow and waved a hand to the opposite chair for Mila to sit. “I’ll presume that wasn’t a social call, so I won’t bother to grill you. I’m much more interested in where you were all night. You mom must have called a half-dozen times. When I finally got worried enough to actually get in my car and drive through a blinding snowstorm, your car wasn’t here, you weren’t here, but there were footprints all over the place. So spill. Where are the magicians, where is my niece, and why aren’t you at work for the second day in a row?”
She did sit down, mostly because she was too stunned to stand any longer. God, where to start? The last time she’d talked to Candy was when she left work yesterday and they hadn’t really talked. “Um … wow. Where to start? It’s been … wild.” She shook her head and stood up again. If she was going to explain it all, it might as well be while she was getting ready. “Follow along. I’ll try to bring you up to date.”
As they quickly climbed the stairs, she decided it would be a good idea to explain how she was going to explain things. “It’ll be easier to tell you whole threads at a time. If I try to do it in order of what happened when, we’ll be here all day. First, I don’t know how Suzanne is, except that Viktor told me they’d been moved somewhere safe.”
Candy’s face took on a frantic look. “Did they cure her? Where’s she been this whole time? Carole has been insane and has been taking it out on me.”
Mila waved her hands in front of her to wave off the questions fluttering around her head. “No, no, no. No questions, or we’ll never get through this. The short answer is I don’t know. Third-party information, remember?”
Candy took a deep breath and closed the toilet lid before sitting down as Mila plugged in the blow dryer and tied back her hair so she could wash her face. “Okay, I get it. I’ll have to wait to talk to Tim. Where’s the magician guy?”
She always did suck at names. “Tal. His name is Talos Onan and he’s—” She couldn’t decide how to end the statement. He’s awesome? He’s a total jerk? He’s great in bed? “Actually, I don’t know how he is right now.”
Candy’s brows rose a fraction and she tilted her head. “That was an odd tone. I’d say you had a lover’s quarrel and were on the outs, but that would imply things I can’t quite believe about you.”
She had a few seconds respite while she scrubbed and then dried h
er face. “Let’s talk about what’s happening with Sela, instead. That’s a lot more important, and why I’m going over to the Palace.”
“Look at me, Mila.” It was a casual request but she found herself trying to school her features as though she’d just broken her mother’s favorite vase. It was only seconds that she was under her friend’s scrutiny when Candy’s jaw dropped and her hands fell off her lap. “Oh … my … God! You did! You slept with him. I cannot believe this. My best friend final/y got lucky. Let the bells ring and the choirs sing!”
She blushed such a dark red there was no way she’d be able to put on foundation and get it even, so she grabbed a brush and flipped her hair over her head. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s what I think, all right.” She snapped her fingers so loud Mila jumped. “Girl, I can spot a woman who’s gotten some a mile away, and you got some. Is that where you were last night—at his place?”
That started the conversation about their adventure at Viktor’s, and in Vril and why she was back. Candy didn’t ask a single other question while Mila primped and preened to go to the hotel, and followed her like an obedient dog while they moved from room to room—finding her best St. Laurent suit, ironing it, digging the matching shoes out of the back of the closet, and then blow drying her hair with a fat round brush to get out some of the weird kinks from sleeping on it wrong. She took a sip of the soda Candy had brought her while she ironed, now at the front door. Mila was very nearly hoarse. “So, that’s where we’re at. Now you know why I need to inspect the hotel, and now I’ve got to go.”
“Actually, we need to go and you need to take those along. I’ll drive.” She pointed at the boxes of eggs and then started to pick up the nearest bag.