Tango nodded grimly. “She could take them with her on planes or anywhere else and no one would be the wiser. Like some kind of magical bounty hunter. But why Riley?” She brushed her fingers over his photo. “Bounty hunters don’t snatch people for no reason. Somebody wanted Riley. This photo was taken just outside San Francisco International.” She brought out the other album and turned to the final picture of Atlanta and Cheryl. The two pictures had been taken twenty-five minutes apart. “Atlanta couldn’t have gotten the bracelet on Riley by herself. He would have fought back.”
“Then she had help, unless she’s a lot more than she seems. Someone to alter the record of ticket sales, too.” Miranda glanced at Tango. “Why the bedroom, then?” “I don’t know.” Tango tapped her chin with the butt of the flashlight. “Cover maybe? Somewhere for ‘Cheryl’ to stay.” She frowned. “This kind of magic wouldn’t be cheap. Except for knowing that whoever is behind this had the clout and contacts to hire a really good bounty hunter, we’re still no closer to finding out where Riley is now.” Tango closed the photo album and set it aside. “I wonder what happened to the other people Atlanta kidnapped.”
Miranda was silent. She knew what the Sabbat did to the humans that they kidnapped. They became a feast for the vampires. The idea was suddenly unsettling to her.
In the silence, she heard the sound of laughter — a man and a woman — and a dull click as the lock on the apartment door opened.
CHAPTER NINE
Laura kept watch in vain In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never again caught the goblin cry
Tango fumbled with the switch on the flashlight, flicking it off just before the front door opened and the lights in the apartment came on. Nothing she had found in the master bedroom would seem to indicate that Atlanta Hunter was in any kind of relationship. Tango didn’t know who the man was. She didn’t care. She wanted Atlanta now as badly as someone had wanted Riley a few days ago. Creeping over to the door of the bedroom, Miranda just behind her, Tango peered around the corner and down toward the living room.
She could just see Atlanta and the man who was with her. He seemed to be about the same age as the woman, with short hair that was just starting to turn gray at the temples. Atlanta looked just as she had on the airplane, cool and arrogant. The man had his arms around her and was kissing her throat fiercely. Atlanta’s head was thrown back. “Get rid of the man,” Tango whispered to Miranda. “But be careful of Atlanta. She might be dangerous. I’ll take care of her. On my signal....” She raised her hand, waiting until the man and the woman were once again kissing face to face.
Her hand came down.
Miranda slipped past her, sliding down the hallway as smoothly and silently as a steel ball on an oiled track. Shadows slid with her, shrouding her movements. Tango felt like an elephant in her wake. Though she moved stealthily as well, she could only envy the vampire’s predatory grace. They were practically on top of Atlanta and the man before Atlanta happened to glance up. With a muffled yelp of surprise, she tried to push the man away.
Then Miranda had her hand on his shoulder and was tearing him around. His face, wrenched away from Atlanta’s, looked into Miranda’s with shock... until he met her gaze. His eyes glazed over almost instantly. Miranda propelled him toward the door. “Get out,” she said. “You never came in here. Atlanta said goodbye to you at the door.” The man went with her meekly.
Atlanta’s eyes narrowed as she glanced from Tango to Miranda. Tango reached for her, trying to grab her arms and twist them behind her. Atlanta was just a fraction of a second faster, though. She leaped for the door. One hand dipped into her purse, coming up with a hand-sized black cylinder. Miranda turned to look at her, startled.
Tango tackled the blond woman, wrapping her arms around Atlanta’s legs and bringing her crashing to the floor. The black cylinder went skittering across the floor. Pepper spray. “Shut the door!” Tango hissed at Miranda. The vampire shoved the man out into the hall, pointing him toward the elevator, then quickly swung the door shut and threw the lock. There was a chain on the door, and she fastened that as well. Tango dragged her way up Atlanta’s struggling body, one outstretched arm clamped over the other woman’s mouth. Atlanta twisted like an animal, but remained astonishingly calm, fighting intelligently. She heaved at Tango, trying to dislodge her, but couldn’t. Tango got a gtip on Atlanta’s shoulders and slammed her back against the floor, stunning her momentarily. “Where’s Riley?” she demanded. She clenched her hand and brought her knife into existence, holding the blade where Atlanta could see it very clearly. “I’m going to take my hand away now. Don’t scream. Just answer my questions.”
She lifted her hand enough to let Atlanta speak, but kept it close enough to slap back down quickly. The blond woman looked at her defiantly. “Who are you?” “Where’s Riley?”
“What are you talking about?” Atlanta didn’t seem at all frightened or intimidated. She glared at Tango and then at Miranda. “I don’t know either of you. If you want money, take my purse.”
“We don’t want money. We’re looking for someone. A red-haired man named Riley. What do you know about him?”
Atlanta looked back up at her. “Nothing. Am I supposed to?”
Tango hesitated. There were changelings who could tell instantly when someone was lying, and a few others who could make any lie told in their presence come out of the speaker’s mouth as a belch or a living toad. Unfortunately, all Tango had to go on was experience and instinct. And all of her experience and instincts told her that Atlanta was telling the truth. She really didn’t recognize Tango and she didn’t know who Riley was. “I was on the airplane from San Francisco. I sat next to your daughter, Cheryl. You were in the seat behind her.”
“My daughter,” Atlanta said woodenly, “died sixteen years ago.” She studied Tango’s face, then nodded slowly. “I recognize you now. You were on the flight. I don’t remember who was beside you.”
“There was a little girl there. She came on board with you. About eight years old. Blond.” Tango clenched her jaw. Atlanta had to be lying — and if she was, she was very good at it. Unless there was more magic involved here. Tango worked a kenning and examined the woman under her. Nothing. No Glamour. No hint of human magick. “Cheryl showed me her charm bracelet,” Tango added, searching for a response.
She got one. Atlanta was silent for a moment, then she rolled her head to one side, looking away. “Get out!” she spat, emotion in her voice for the first time. “Get out! I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but it isn’t funny.”
Tango ground her teeth in frustration. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t have been wrong, could she? Atlanta was the woman from the plane. The photograph albums showed her and her supposedly dead daughter — and Riley. She had the foul charm bracelet! Tango’s hand itched to slap Atlanta across the face. She was very tempted to give in to her anger. She pushed it back.
Miranda put a hand on her shoulder. “Wait. Let me try.” She crouched down and reached out with both hands, turning Atlanta’s head back to look at her. She stared into the blond woman’s eyes. “Answer our questions.”
Atlanta wrenched her head away. “Go to hell,” she spat miserably. Miranda frowned up at Tango. She reached for Atlanta’s head again, seizing it almost roughly when Atlanta tried to shake her off a second time, and applying enough strength that the woman was forced to turn or else have her neck injured. Miranda’s dark eyes gazed deep into Atlanta’s. The blond woman went pale, her lips pressing together. Miranda forced her will upon her. Atlanta’s eyes went wide. The muscles of her body went limp. With a sense of triumph, Tango started to slide off her.
“Don’t,” hissed Miranda.
Tango resumed her hold on the unresisting Atlanta. “Why?”
“Something’s wrong. I can’t get a grip on her mind.” Miranda’s eyes went narrow. “I’ve felt this with Tolly sometimes. I told you he’s crazy? It’s almost impossible to keep a firm hold on a crazy mi
nd. She...”
Abruptly, Atlanta’s chest heaved under Tango as the blond woman took a deep breath and then blinked. Miranda growled, her fangs bared in surprised annoyance. Atlanta stared at her. “What were you doing to me?” she asked in an awestruck voice. “What are you?”
Miranda ignored her and glanced at Tango. “She’s as crazy as Tolly,” she said bluntly. “I can’t touch her.”
Tango looked down at Atlanta. The woman was losing her composure now, her mouth open and her eyes wide as she stared at Miranda. Maybe... maybe Atlanta was telling the truth. Maybe she didn’t know anything about Riley, or the magic in the charm bracelet. Tango licked her lips as she thought. Maybe, if she really was insane, somebody or something was using her madness. “Atlanta,” she asked gently, “why do you still have a bedroom for Cheryl? Why do you still buy her clothes?” Atlanta’s mouth closed with an audible snap. Her face and her whole body started to shake. She looked up at Tango for a fraction of a second, then squeezed her eyes shut. “You went into Cheryl’s room,” she said accusingly, as though the act were one of deep sacrilege.
“You don’t think Cheryl is really dead, do you, . Atlanta?” Atlanta shook her head, starting to sob. Tango nodded to herself, then said quietly, “Get the photo albums, Miranda.”
“Why?”
“Because I think we’ve been going about this the wrong way. Someone is manipulating her.” She looked down at Atlanta with pity. The woman’s icy control had been a mask hiding her sad delusions. “We’re not going to be able to force her to tell us anything, but we might be able to make her remember.”
Miranda nodded and rose to fetch the photo albums. Atlanta sniffled and opened eyes that were already turning red. “Can I have a tissue?” she asked softly, wretchedly. “Please? In my purse?” Tango reached for the bag.
The leather writhed under her touch, as though the purse were alive. She snatched her hand away with a yelp. It only took her a second to recognize that the movement was just some kind of illusion, but it was a second of distraction.
Atlanta jerked her arm up and brought it around in a hard shove, sending the Kithain rocking backward. The same move brought her sliding out from under the smaller woman. “Miranda!” Tango barked sharply, grabbing at Atlanta’s legs. The blond woman kicked her in the jaw as she tried to scramble away, but Tango had her again. Atlanta twisted around, one arm coming back in a weak, desperate attempt at a blow. Tango reached to block it.
It wasn’t a blow. Atlanta had the canister of pepper spray in her hand. A stream of the fiery irritant splashed against Tango’s arm, then twitched to the side and hit her face and eyes.
The pain was excruciating, like choking on red-hot barbed wire. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. Instinct brought her hands up to scrub at her face, but her other muscles were convulsing uncontrollably. Atlanta kicked free of her. “Miranda!” Tango tried to yell again, but there was no air in her lungs. She tried to force herself beyond the pain, making her chest work and sucking oxygen down her tortured throat. It seemed almost impossible.
She felt, rather than heard, the vampire sweep past her, but the sound of bodies slamming against the door was unmistakable. Atlanta cried out; Miranda was hissing with seething rage. There was a struggle and then a loud, wet snap. Atlanta’s cries became muffled shrieks of pain. “Try anything else,” snarled Miranda savagely, “and I’ll break the other one.” Cloth tore and then Atlanta’s cries became even more muffled. Someone — clearly Atlanta —• fell heavily to the floor, probably pushed, squealing in pain at the impact. Hands helped Tango to her feet. Miranda. “Are you all right?”
“Stupid,” Tango gasped. Or tried to. The effort sent her into a spasm of gagging. She was fortunate Atlanta hadn’t had a gun. Tears ran down her burning cheeks as her eyes tried to flush away the vile spray. Every breath was a struggle. Miranda had to hold her upright. The vampire’s grip on her shifted suddenly and she was lifted up into the air. Miranda was carrying her somewhere. After a moment, she sat her down on the floor, propping her against something. Tango heard the loud hum of a fan, then water running. The kitchen. Miranda gently pulled her head backward.
“Easy,” she said. “I’ve got water. I’m going to flush your eyes.” A gentle trickle of coolness ran onto Tango’s upturned face. She tried to force her eyes wide to let the water run over them, but the swollen lids would hardly obey her. The water helped though, reducing the pain and making thinking a bit easier. She pushed Miranda away a little bit, and concentrated, summoning up a spark of Glamour. It was like putting cool ointment on bums. Tango let the Glamour spread through her, then fumbled for a chain she wore around her neck. Inside a tiny crystal vial, worn like a pendant on the necklace, was a little sprig of heather. She popped the vial free of its setting and tilted the heather into the palm of her hand. The instant the sprig was in contact with her skin, she worked a healing cantrip. The touch of the Glamour turned fiery hot for a moment, burning away the effects of the pepper spray. She still felt weak, sore and nauseated, but the worst was past.
“Air,” she croaked, and then, “Atlanta.”
“Which?” asked Miranda. “Don’t worry. Atlanta’s not going anywhere.”
“No. Fumes from the pepper spray. Check her.” Pepper spray wasn’t meant to be used indoors. The fumes might not bother Miranda’s undead body, but Atlanta.... She opened her eyes for a moment, but the light felt too bright and she closed them again.
Miranda disappeared, but a moment later, Tango heard her curse and heave Atlanta up. The blond woman was retching and gasping. A window slid open, letting fresh night air into the apartment. Tango heard Miranda’s tread, heavy under Atlanta’s weight, pass the kitchen. “I’ll be right back,” Miranda called. “I’m taking her to the bedroom. The spray will be less strong there.” Tango drew another deep, painful breath and pushed herself to her feet. She didn’t want to wait for Miranda’s help. Her foot kicked a glass, the one Miranda had used to bathe her eyes, away across the floor. Eyes still closed, Tango felt for the sink, dropped her vial and the heather on the countertop, then groped around looking for any kind of soap. Her hand closed on a bottle of dishwashing liquid. Turning on the water, she poured soap in her hands and blindly washed the remains of the pepper spray from her face and arms.
“Tango?” Miranda came back into the kitchen. “What happened?”
“She was lying.” Tango awkwardly slipped the heather back into the vial and returned the vial to her necklace. One hand on the counter for support, she stumbled angrily toward the door from the kitchen into the hallway. “She might be crazy, but she still knows what she’s doing. She lied about Riley. She waited until I went soft, then made her move.”
Atlanta was curled up in a choking ball on the floor of Cheryl’s bedroom. There was a draft coming from the window in here as well. Tango put her hands under Atlanta’s arms and dragged her to her feet, shoving her toward the window and fresh air. Atlanta shrieked in pain and fell against the windowsill. “Careful,” Miranda warned Tango. “I broke her kneecap.”
Tango froze in the middle of her rage. “You broke her knee?”
“It could have been worse,” the vampire said defensively. “I thought you would want her alive.” “Thank you for that.” She saw a smudge of movement as Miranda turned away and felt bad. At least the vampire seemed ashamed of herself. It really could have been worse. She could have lost control completely, i’m sorry, Miranda. I mean it. Thank you.” Miranda shrugged and replied awkwardly, “I want to help you.” .
Tango looked at the other woman for a moment, then murmured again, “Thank you. Now let’s see what we can find out before someone comes to see if something’s wrong.” She pulled Atlanta away from the window, easing her to the floor and crouching beside her. “What do you know about Riley, Atlanta?”
“Go to hell!” the blond woman wheezed. She struggled out of Tango’s grip to sit up on her own.
“I don’t care about what else you’ve done. I just...” Atl
anta spat at her, or at least toward her. Her mouth still trembling from the effects of the pepper spray, all she managed to do was spray saliva into the air. Most of it landed on herself. Tango heard Miranda growl. The vampire reached between the two other women and grasped Atlanta’s uninjured knee lightly. Atlanta choked suddenly.
Miranda nodded. Atlanta knew what could happen if she didn’t cooperate. “Where did you get the charm bracelet, Atlanta?” The blond woman didn’t answer and Miranda tightened her grasp slightly. Not enough, Tango knew, to harm Atlanta again, but certainly enough to frighten her into submission.
“I made a deal with a man from Pentex!” she gasped. Tango almost jerked away. Miranda looked at her
questioningly. Tango shook her head — the vampire probably hadn’t heard of the malevolent corporation, and it would take longer than they had to explain it. She knew only a little bit about it herself. Enough to know that it dabbled in dark spirit magic, magic that might have created the enchantment she could feel on the charm bracelet. “Why?” she asked Atlanta softly.
“So I could have Cheryl back for a little while. Just for a little while.” She started to shake again, but this time her emotion was real, not feigned. She looked down at the floor, rubbing her hand across the powder blue of the rug. “But they always took her away from me and I would have to find her again. At least they told me where to find her.”
“Atlanta.” Tango tried to make her voice soothing. She had been at least partly right. Someone was using Atlanta. But if Pentex had Riley.... “Do you know why Pentex had you kidnap the people they did?”
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