Claimed By Shadow

Page 24

"I don't see how that'll help," I protested, not liking the idea of walking into a bunch of war mages any more than dealing with the vamps. In fact, it was probably even less smart—at least the Senate didn't want me dead. Probably.
"Some friends of mine are on duty tonight," Mac explained. "I think I can get you past them.”
"I have some supplies to arrange," Pritkin added, throwing on his coat. I didn't envy him that, considering that it had to be over ninety degrees outside, but I guess he didn't have much of a choice. The police would probably object to his walking around looking like an extra from Platoon, and going about unarmed right now would be even less healthy than heat stroke. "I suggest you stay here, out of sight," he said, avoiding my eyes. "Rest if you can. You may not get another chance for some time. And have Mac rework your ward," he added as he headed for the door. "You'll need it.”
He hurried out the door like all the hounds of Hell were after him. Mac looked at me and shrugged. "It's your call, but I'd advise you to consider it, love. Faerie is a scary place, even when it isn't on the brink of war. Right now, I can't think of a soul who'd want to go near the place.”
"I'll think about it," I promised. I might have questioned him more, but my attention was distracted by Billy floating through the wall. He was making faces at me, so I figured he had news. "I'm tired," I told Mac. It wasn't a lie—sharing a room with the Graeae isn't exactly restful—but I mainly wanted some privacy.
"Got a cot in back," Mac said. "I cleared my appointment list for today after John showed up, so I won't need to go back there. Get some sleep, Cassie.”
He meant well, so I managed not to roll my eyes at him. Yeah, sure. There were only about a hundred reasons why I'd have trouble sleeping.
Billy followed me to the back and I flopped down on the cot after shifting aside notebooks full of sketches, stacks of grimoires and old potato chip bags. "What's up?”
Billy took off his almost transparent hat and fanned himself. "I need a draw," he said without preamble.
"Well, hello to you, too.”
"Hey, I have had a day, okay?”
"And I haven't? What happened at Dante's? Is everything all right?”
"Sure, if by all right you mean that the Circle has closed the place while they search it for a certain rogue sybil and the illegal aliens who helped her elude them.”
"They're searching? But that's vampire property!" The reason I'd sent Casanova the remaining contents of the duffle was the longstanding treaty between the mages and the vamps. It contained strict prohibitions against any of one group entering the property of another without permission. "Are they crazy?”
"Don't know. Some of them sure act like it. Anyway, Casanova was pitching a royal fit when I left, and he'd sent a couple of reps to MAGIC to complain. But these are weird times, Cass. Tony owns the place and he's a known ally of Rasputin, the guy the Circle and the Senate declared war on a week ago. I don't know what the rules are in wartime, and I don't think Casanova does, either. Right now, he's playin' it safe. To keep from looking like he helped you, he pretended that you appeared and started wrecking the place because you're pissed at Tony. The mages jumped on the excuse to say that they'd make sure you weren't still in the casino, and started searching.”
"Great. So now I'm some kind of lunatic who goes around starting fights.”
"No, now you're some lunatic who goes around killin' people.”
"What?”
"Yep. A couple of mages came right out and called you a murderer. I didn't get details, but I'm guessing they were talking about the two mages who ended up dead.”
I felt sick. "Tell me the Graeae didn't—”
"They didn't. They tore up the place, but it looks like the mages were killed by Miranda's group. Some of the more powerful gargoyles stayed behind to buy the others time to get away, and the mages started slaughterin' 'em. Then the rest went ballistic and voilà. Two dead mages.”
"But the gargoyles were acting in self-defense!”
“They might get away with claimin' that, 'cept they ain't supposed to be here in the first place. Casanova got the rest of Miranda's people out and hid them somewhere, and now he's blamin' Tony for bringing in unlicensed workers behind his back. He's doing a pretty good job of covering his ass, but he's leaving yours hangin' in the wind.”
I fell back on the cot, feeling numb. None of this was happening. It had to be some kind of nightmare I'd blundered into and would wake up from any minute now. "If the Circle knows the gargoyles killed their men, why are they blaming me?”
"I don't know." Billy looked puzzled. "I saw the bodies and they have claw and teeth marks all over 'em. I guess it gives the Circle an excuse to brand you a dangerous lunatic.”
"Shit.”
"Yeah, that about sums it up. So like I said, I'm whacked. I hate to be a pain—”
"Since when?”
"Very funny, Cass. I spend half the day gettin' top-quality info for you and—”
I was too tired to go through our usual routine. "Fine. You can have a draw, but then you go back to Dante's. I need you to give Casanova a message.”
"He may not be able to hear me," Billy protested. "Some demons can't, at least not in a human body.”
"Then you'll have to get creative." Given Casanova's reaction to Billy's presence earlier, I was betting he could hear him just fine. But even if not, I wasn't going to let Billy weasel out of this. Casanova had to get the traps I'd sent him somewhere secure. Otherwise, with mages crawling all over the place, they were sure to find them and I doubted he could lie his way out of that one. Even if he did, it would only be by blaming it on me, and thereby giving the Circle yet another nail to put in my coffin. Not to mention a hell of a weapon, depending on just what was inside those boxes. I sighed. It looked like I should have kept them after all.
Billy left after taking what I considered to be an inordinately large draw, and I settled in for a much-needed nap. What I got instead was the disorientation that precedes a time shift. I tried to call out, to warn Mac that I was about to take a trip, but darkness reached out and grabbed me.
Chapter 7
My knees made the acquaintance of another hard floor, this one marble, and my head hit something with an audible crack. A green blur wavered in front of my face, and I slowly blinked it into focus. It turned out to be a porphyry vase taller than I was, complete with leering Gorgon-head handles. For a moment, I just sprawled beneath it, staring up at their ugly faces while my head and knees vied for the title of most abused anatomical region. But the marble was cold against my bare legs, and I didn't think lying around in the open was too smart. I pulled myself into a seated position using the vase's pedestal for leverage, and got my first clear look around.
I was in an alcove alongside a large, round room. The dark green marble floor was incised with gold lines that formed themselves into a starburst pattern directly under an immense chandelier. Three others just like it lit up a sweeping staircase, their crystals showering pinpricks of light onto the crowd below.
People passed me in a dappled river of candlelight, satin and flowing shadows. Men in swallowtail coats escorted ladies dripping with jewels. Subtle brocades vied for attention with flashy silks. Fans fluttered and hems danced in a kaleidoscope of color and movement that did nothing to help my throbbing head.
Most of the fashions looked like the ones I'd seen at the theatre, but there were a few more exotically dressed guests including an African chief wearing enough gold to buy a small country and a guy in a toga. It looked like a costume party, but I knew better. I pulled my legs up and wedged myself as far as possible into the dark alcove. It wasn't much of a hiding place, though, considering the nature of most of the room's occupants. For a moment, I just looked around in stunned awe. I'd never seen that many vampires in one place in my life.
Then I noticed an even stranger sight. A diaphanous form, transparent enough to be almost invisible, glided along one wall. It blended so well into the shadows cast by the chandelier's long tapers that for a moment I doubted my instincts. Then it passed in front of a painting so dark with age that the subject was unrecognizable, and I saw it more clearly—an amorphous column of pastel iridescence. At first I thought it was a ghost, but the only discernable features on the protrusion I assumed to be a head were two huge, silver eyes. Whatever this thing was, it had never been human.
I was so intrigued that, for an instant, I almost forgot my predicament. There was a huge amount about the Pythia gig I didn't understand, but I knew spirits. I'd met old ones who'd been around for centuries, new ones who, in a few cases, hadn't even known they were dead, friendly ones, scary ones, and some things that weren't ghosts at all. But this didn't fit into any of those categories. I realized with shock that I didn't know what it was.
It drifted along with the crowd in the direction of a ballroom directly across from the stairs. I couldn't see much of the interior, which was lit for vampire eyes rather than mine, and received only an impression of laughing, candlelight-gilded faces and rich fabrics. But the thick, cloying scent of mingled perfume and blood that spilled out of its doors convinced me that I didn't want to get any closer.
A young man, probably in his late teens, paused a few yards in front of me. He looked strangely out of place in the formally dressed crowd, wearing only a pair of plum-colored trousers in a silky fabric that hung low on his hips. His chest and feet were bare and his long hair was loose around his shoulders. It had a slight ripple to it as it cascaded down his back, like dark silk against his pale skin.
I really wanted to move, to get out of a place where my heartbeat had to be audible to the entire room, but he was in the way. And the last thing I needed was to answer questions about my right to be here when I didn't even know where here was. Then one of the guests approached, a vampire with pale blond hair wearing what looked like a military uniform—red with gold braid and highly polished black boots. He stopped directly in front of the young man, his eyes sweeping over him in obvious appreciation.