House of Cards n-2

by C. E. Murphy

  He flinched, the memory still raw and unacceptable. Ausra had been insane, driven mad at birth when her dying mother’s memories had cascaded into an unformed mind, but reason had had very little to do with Alban’s choice that night. He had moved instinctively and placed Margrit’s life above Ausra’s, even knowing there was a slim chance the latter was his own daughter. Time and examination of her memories had told him she was not; she had been a daywalker, Hajnal’s near-impossible child by a human captor. Hajnal’s daughter, Alban’s last link to his one-time life mate, and he had taken her life.

  His fist tightened against the concrete, knuckles bearing down as though to leave an impression there. Not quite his last link; memories passed from one gargoyle to another upon a death, so nothing was ever completely lost to them. The mental link they all shared made intimacy easy and deception difficult; it was why he’d stood apart as thoroughly as he could. Hajnal’s memories had passed through Ausra, shattering her infant mind and leaving her with a bewildering, meaningless array of information that she had never found a way to cope with. Alban had received them on Ausra’s death, and through painstaking meditation had sorted madness from truth, trying to fully understand the sequence of events that had led Ausra to her demise at his hands.

  He blanched again, a tiny physical reaction that struck him each time he faced that truth. Emotion ran deeper than guilt, ringing closer to bafflement. Ausra’s death was a memory he kept in a box, barely able to look at, much less comprehend how it had come to be. Intellectually, he could follow the steps, but it became a disaster of rage and fear and protective impulses when he struggled to sort out his feelings. For one moment in the conflict the question had been Ausra’s life or his own, and he’d been willing to choose her over himself. It was only when Margrit’s life was endangered that he’d acted against what he believed to be his every impulse. Even that he thought he might in time come to terms with.

  What made the memory unbearable was the fear that he would make the same choice again.

  "You think too loud, Korund."

  Alban opened his eyes, not allowing himself the luxury of another flinch. Biali stood a few feet away in his blunt human form, taking no notice of the rooftop wind that cut through his T-shirt. Never handsome, his scarred features were contorted with anger so deep it seemed to come from the bone. He held himself so still Alban could see muscle trembling with the effort, and that was unnatural for a gargoyle. "How long have you been there, Biali?"

  "Long enough."

  Dread and relief released themselves as a wave of exhaustion. Bad enough to be caught with a criminal’s secret, but for a gargoyle-for him-it might be worse still to go undiscovered. "Where’s Margrit?"

  A smirk came into Biali’s whole being, changing his stance and the cant of his head. "Thought she’d be a screamer, but no, silent as sunrise."

  Fury flashed through Alban, searing weariness away. He didn’t realize he’d moved until he was already stretched through the air in a lion’s leap better suited to his natural form. Biali laughed and stepped aside, letting Alban hit the rooftop in a roll that made his pale suit filthy and brought him to his feet yards away from the stumpy gargoyle. "There’s the man I used to know. Willing to fight when something mattered. Pity you didn’t fight for her, Korund. She might not have flown in my arms tonight." His smirk contorted into a sneer and he jerked his chin toward the perch Alban had abandoned. "Go back to playing watchdog, ‘Stoneheart.’ It suits you better than meddling with the world."

  CHAPTER 14

  "He’s expecting you this morning." The security guard gave Margrit a brief smile and nodded toward the elevators.

  "Yeah." She returned the smile tiredly as she passed by. "I bet he is." After Biali left her on her rooftop, she’d turned down Cameron and Cole’s invitation to go out, opting for sleep instead. Emotional exhaustion had left her without memorable dreams, though she’d awakened once with the sensation of flying. The alarm clock had been incomprehensible and unwelcome, only making sense after several minutes of progressively noisier beeping. It still seemed very early as she took the elevator up to Daisani’s offices.

  The front room-Vanessa’s massive office-was abandoned, but the oversize double doors leading into Daisani’s were ajar. Certain he would’ve heard the elevator chime and her heels against the hardwood floor, Margrit rapped twice before stepping inside.

  Daisani, a finger lifted in warning, turned from overlooking the city, then tapped his earpiece with the same finger. Margrit nodded and helped herself to one of the couches at the far end of his office, too worn-out to stand on ceremony. A crystal jug and glasses sat on the coffee table, suggesting Daisani had indeed anticipated her early-morning arrival. Margrit leaned forward, eyes half-closed as she poured herself a glass of water. After a moment Daisani said his goodbyes and lifted his voice. "Forgive me, Margrit. I didn’t expect you quite this early. Working on tomorrow’s business already, I’m afraid. If you’d like to be very rich by next weekend, I’d consider buying up some stock in the-"

  "Mr. Daisani," Margrit said, half in despair. "I’m a lawyer. Just stop right there."

  "You and your mother," Daisani said cheerfully as he came to sit across from her. "How is Rebecca, by the way?"

  "She’s going to be very surprised to hear I’m working for you." The necessity of being alert enough to banter finally warmed Margrit’s blood, pushing off some of her weariness. "Maybe even more surprised than I was, although I’m not sure that’s possible."

  "Was that not the purpose of your visit yesterday?" Daisani poured himself a glass of water, his smile as sparkling as the crystal. "Did I not do as you asked?"

  "It was, and you did, but-"

  "Wonderful. The corporation is hosting a gala tomorrow night in the ballroom downstairs. A thank-you to our good friend Mr. Kaaiai, for the generosity he’s showing the city in funding security and restoration of the subway speakeasy." Nothing obvious changed in Daisani’s smile or delivery, but hairs rose on Margrit’s arms as an undercurrent of alarm swept through her. "I’d like you to attend," he asked. "It can be your coming-out party, as it were. Your first public appearance as the new face of Daisani Incorporated."

  "My-as the-what?" She blinked in astonishment. "Mr. Daisani-"

  "Not that there’s anything wrong with the old face," Daisani said modestly. "But you’re fresh, young, beautiful-"

  "And you have a burning desire to have your company represented by a sellout? Mr. Daisani, I-"

  "Eliseo," he said, as magnanimous as he’d been modest. "We’re going to be very close, after all."

  Margrit tried not to grind her teeth. "Eliseo. I can’t come work for you under these circumstances. For one thing, I’d be a laughingstock, and that’s the nicest word I can think of for it. Opportunistic bitch is closer, and even that’s being kind. I’ve got a career at Legal Aid, and I need to be there for my friends and coworkers. Quitting now would be ugly."

  "Don’t be silly. A murder occurred in your offices. No one would blame you for walking away. Besides, it was your idea."

  "I didn’t know Russell had been murdered when I made that proposition!"

  "You’re a lawyer, Miss Knight. You should know the folly of making a bargain without having all the information in hand."

  She sat back, feeling the color drain from her face. "That’s a low blow."

  "Yes." He spoke without the slightest hint of repentance. "Yes, it is, but the circumstances aren’t extenuating. You came here to make a cold-blooded deal to save your own skin, my dear, and nothing has altered that situation."

  "So you get everything you want for free, and I can’t back out? You said you weren’t behind killing Janx’s men."

  "I don’t think you fully understand." Daisani got up with the inhuman smoothness Margrit was becoming accustomed to. "It’s true I haven’t put hits out on Janx’s people, but I’ve taken on Malik’s safety as my full responsibility regardless, and I’ve done so at your behest. If anyone, human or otherwise
, should be so foolish as to assassinate him, I will use the full force of my resources to eliminate that person or persons. In more time than you can imagine, I have never offered such protection to one of my rival’s people. If I withdraw it now, Janx will see it as an act of cowardice, and strike against me, or he will see it as an act of mockery, and will strike against me. Either way, Margrit Knight, it will begin a war."

  "I thought the Old Races didn’t fight wars among themselves." Alban had told her that, historically, they hadn’t, their numbers always too small to risk all-out battle.

  "The Old Races don’t make this sort of alliance, either. You seem to have more of an ability to rock our foundations than even I anticipated."

  "So why’d you say yes?" Margrit shook her head. "If agreeing to my terms shifts the status quo that much, why play along? I can’t be that important. Other humans know about you. There’s Chelsea Huo. There’s…" She fell silent, uncertain of who else might share their secrets.

  Daisani shot her a look of complex amusement. "Chelsea. Yes. Chelsea’s tongue is too sharp for my tastes, Margrit. I have no desire to be under its lash day in and day out, even if I could draw her away from her books."

  "I guess that tells me how to get out of this."

  He chuckled. "It wouldn’t be that simple. Vanessa had her edges, as well. You by yourself aren’t important, perhaps, but you’ve upset a balance that Janx and I have held between us for centuries. You’ve involved Alban in the world again, and anyone capable of drawing him from the granite shell he’s been wrapped in is worth noting. I would prefer having him in my grasp, truth be told, but he would make a terrible personal assistant. I’d have to shift all my meetings to nighttime, and despite my people’s reputation, I rather enjoy a stroll in the sunlight."

  "Why does he matter? You and Janx are both obsessed with him." Margrit stilled the impulse to put her water glass aside and get up to pace, suddenly afraid that movement would turn Daisani’s predatory eye on her, as if she were a rabbit beneath a circling eagle.

  He smiled. "I’d suggest asking him, but he wouldn’t tell you. Which, in its cryptic way, answers the question. The details aren’t important, Margrit. What is whether or not you intend to keep your word."

  "My word." She laughed sharply. "I didn’t give you my word. I barely even touched on my plan before you dropped a bombshell on me. I sure as hell didn’t come here this morning to tell you I was taking the job."

  "No? Did you come to tell me you weren’t?"

  Embarrassment and guilt seized her, making her drop her gaze. Daisani chuckled again and returned to his seat. "One never enjoys being caught posturing, does one?"

  "I’m not posturing." Her throat constricted further, turning the words to a whispered protest. "I made- dammit." She looked up, jaw set with frustrated resolution. "When I came here yesterday to make that bargain it was in good faith. Yes, it was in good faith because I’m in between a rock and a hard place, and couldn’t see another way out, but I’m doing the best I can. And you’re right. Russell’s death doesn’t change the mess I’m in with the Old Races." She got to her feet after all and paced toward the windows. "But I feel like I have different obligations to my real life now."

  "Your real life." She could hear the curiosity in the vampire’s modulated tones. "What is this, then? A figment of your truly remarkable imagination?"

  Margrit turned back, arms folded under her breasts. "This is the life I can’t talk about to anyone. It’s the world I got myself involved in without really appreciating how hard it would be to protect someone who wasn’t human from humans. Everything I do with any of you happens behind this huge facade. I could almost justify taking a job with you before Russell died. Now…Jesus, I don’t know. On the one hand, you’ve got a good point about someone being murdered in the office, and me wanting to get out of there. On the other, anyone who knows me is going to have a hard time believing I decided to run away instead of investigating and trying to make sense of what happened. They won’t believe I’m willing to abandon Legal Aid, my principles, my work, my life, after my mentor’s death. I’m not sure I’d believe it."

  "Then investigate." Daisani spread his hands at her astonished double take. "If it’s an image of consistency that’s distressing you, Margrit, then by all means, investigate. Help your fellow lawyers put themselves back together and mourn Mr. Lomax properly. Discover the truth. But don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll earn Lomax’s job as your reward. You’re far too young and pretty. If you were fifteen years older and your beauty had matured as well as your mother’s has, you might seize that brass ring, but not now."

  The insult sent heat rising in her cheeks. "You think I only want to find out what happened to further my career?"

  "Of course not. I’m sure you’re genuinely determined to see Lomax’s murderer be found and brought to justice. And if you remained in public service, that dedication might pay off, a decade or two down the road. But you did come here to make a bargain, Miss Knight, and I’ve accepted it. I would think a week or two of transition time would be appropriate even if Russell hadn’t died, so I’m willing to take that as writ now. Pursue that case to your satisfaction. But attend Saturday’s party, and do so as a member of my corporation."

  Margrit stared at the dapper vampire a few seconds, then rolled her jaw and nodded as she recognized a window of opportunity. "All right. Okay, you win. My turn. You’ve got an appointment tonight."

  Daisani’s eyebrows rose. "And who has arranged this?"

  "Your new personal assistant. Kaimana Kaaiai would like to meet with you at the Rockefeller Center at eight o’clock. I said you’d be there." Perspiration made her hands clammy, but Margrit kept her gaze steady.

  "Did you. And what does Kaaiai wish to discuss with me?"

  "I don’t really know. Something important about all of you." Margrit circled a finger in the air, indicating the Old Races. "You’re not going to make a liar of me, are you?"

  Daisani pursed his mouth, watching her warily. "I suppose not, Miss Knight, but I’ll expect you to come with me. This is just the sort of social engagement Vanessa used to attend with me. It puts a polite veneer on things."

  Margrit nodded stiffly. "I’ll meet you there."

  Daisani chuckled. "That wasn’t intended as a negotiation."

  "I’m a lawyer, Mr. Daisani. Everything’s a negotiation." She took a deep breath and drew herself up. "My boss was just murdered. I told my housemates I was thinking about coming to work for you. My life has been totally disrupted. I need to go home after work and be normal for a little while. I’m neck deep in your world, but I’ve also still got to live in mine. To live in it, not just drift through every once in a while. I’m having a hard enough time balancing all of this. Don’t take the life I used to have away from me. Isolated animals get sick and die of broken hearts."

  "Falling ill is not an issue that should concern you any longer, Margrit."

  "I’m betting even a vampire’s blood doesn’t keep hearts from breaking. I need my friends. I need my life. Maybe Vanessa learned to do without those things, but I’m not her."

  "No," Daisani said after a moment. "No, you certainly are not. Very well, Miss Knight. You may return to your family." Mocking came into his eyes and he produced a flourish, an elegant bend and dip of his hands so elaborate Margrit half expected a prize to be pulled from his sleeve. Instead he held his thumb and forefinger a delicate fraction of an inch apart and extended his hand. "Take this rose, and return to me before the last petal falls. If you do not-"

  Margrit reached out and plucked the intangible rose from his fingertips, so sure and swift it felt as though there was no make-believe in the gesture at all. "Then when I do return the castle will have fallen and the Beast will have perished. Thank you for my freedom, my lord." She ducked her head over the illusory flower and inhaled.

  The scent of roses lingered in the back of her throat as she left the building.

  Work was quiet chaos. Margrit moved fro
m one task to another with mindless efficiency, accomplishing more than usual in order to prevent herself from thinking about the yellow police tape cordoning off Russell’s office. An entire section of the department was closed down to make room for police work. Tony, back on duty, gave her a grim nod when she came in, as if promising to come talk to her when he could.

  Her coworkers-those who were there; a noticeable number were out-seemed to be caught in the same web of necessity Margrit was, silently focusing on work for extended periods. Caseloads were shifted around, no one objecting when they might have normally. The quiet was interrupted in waves, sudden bursts of conversation that faded away into new flurries of activity. Once someone laughed, then cut it off in a gasp of guilt. Margrit got up after that, abandoning paperwork to hurry downstairs and out to the street, where city sounds drowned out the uncomfortable pall of the office.

  A woeful Sam leaned against the building, studying the sky. Margrit went over to lean next to him. "Couldn’t take it anymore, either, huh?"

  "This wasn’t how the first week of work was supposed to go. I couldn’t take watching people make a break for the door when they couldn’t take it anymore. I’m right there at the front. Everybody had to go by me and nobody’s looking at anybody today."

  Margrit nodded. "I didn’t make it to the office yesterday. Was it bad?"

  "Yeah." Sam knuckled his fingers over his mouth. "A lot of people went home. Pretty much anybody who didn’t have a court case to argue or something major to prepare for. Cops were all over the place, interviewing everybody. How’d your case go?"

  "I lost. I just hope he doesn’t get an appeal based on my incompetence."

  "I’m sure he won’t." Sam gave her a wan smile, then tilted his head at the street. "I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Want to join me?"

  "No, thanks. I just needed a minute outside. I’m going to head back in."

  "Okay." He pushed off from the wall and disappeared into sidewalk traffic. Margrit took a deep breath, straightened away from the wall and turned, to nearly collide with Tony.