In Absentia: A Demon's Apprentice Anthology
Author: Ben S Reeder
Date: 2018-01-14 22:12:32+00:00
Description: Chance Fortunato may be away at boarding school, but the bad guys haven't gone anywhere, and they certainly haven't changed their ways. It falls to Chance's friends to pick up the slack. In Mage Enough, Lucas is confronted with the consequences of helping Chance during an earlier adventure and must delve into the vampire subculture of New Essex in order to find a missing priest. As he uncovers another, greater threat, he also discovers that he's capable of far more than he ever thought possible. In Freedom, Shade learns that there is much more to the world behind the Veil than she ever suspect
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

IN

ABSENTIA

A DEMON’S APPRENTICE

ANTHOLOGY

In Absentia: An Anthology

Copyright © 2017 Ben Reeder

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons or entities is strictly coincidental.

Cover art by Angela Gulick Design.

Other books by Ben Reeder:

The Demon’s Apprentice series:

The Demon’s Apprentice

Page of Swords

Vision Quest

Charm School

The Zompoc Survivor series:

Zompoc Survivor: Exodus

Zompoc Survivor: Inferno

Zompoc Survivor: Odyssey

The Verge Walker series:

The Long Walk

Dedication:

Mikayela, Bella, Emmett, Wyatt & Bennett:

Dream big dreams, do epic things, go forth and be a force of awesome.

Acknowledgements:

As always, thank you Mom and Randi. You’ve both been behind me from day one. Without your unwavering support and love (and let’s not forget endless saint like patience) none of  this would ever have happened.

The Springfield Writers Society: Kristi, Sam and Airik: Your persistence has been a huge help. Keep the dream alive.

My beta readers, Valerie Terrell and Silver Voletto. I know I asked a lot of you in a very short time.

My Patreon backers, Zak Schreifels, Gwyn Stuckless, Jacob Stein and Aimee Hebert. Thank you for your support and your faith in my work.

To all my readers: Thanks for your continued support. I hope to see more of you in person at conventions!

Mage Enough

When your best friend is a wizard, you pick up a few things. A little knowledge, a few memories you could live without, some neat gadgets, some interesting friends…and the occasional pointy toothed asshole who shows up and threatens your family.

“Maybe I heard you wrong,” I said as I looked around my grandfather’s bookstore. It was frighteningly quiet and deserted. “Did you just-”

“You heard me correctly, Lucas Kale,” the cadaverous looking monster on the other side of the counter said. “You and I must settle a matter between us, or I will be forced to kill your grandfather. Please understand that I would take no pleasure in the act, but I can no longer allow your breach of etiquette to go unanswered.”

“Breach of etiquette?” I sputtered. “What in the hell are you talking about. I’ve never met you before today, much less…” I stopped when he pulled a tablet from his jacket and laid it down on the counter. The image on the screen showed a familiar looking black Mercedes McLaren sliding across a dance floor. The top was down, part of the windshield had been sheared off and there I was in the driver’s seat, hands knotted on the steering wheel, eyes shut tight as glass and chairs flew past me. “…crashed a car into your club.” He swiped his clawed fingertip across the screen, and another image slid into place. In this one, Chance was on my right, his TK wand extended. I was posed like a skinny version of Rambo, but the bright green watergun in my hands sort of killed the macho. In front of me, three vampires were reeling back with their heads on fire.

“Impressive marksmanship,” the walking corpse said, almost like he meant it.

“Um, thanks?” I said, wishing I could shrink down behind the counter. I wasn’t sure who tall, stark and fangy was, but he was showing me images of me killing vampires like I was late to a Van Helsing family reunion after claiming I’d breached some kind of etiquette. The shit was getting deeper by the pixel here, and I wasn’t sure what kind of arrangement he was after.

“You’re welcome. Now, that we have established that a breach of etiquette has occurred, we can discuss reparations.”

“Okay, so, yeah, that happened. But that was more like property damage and arson than bad manners. And speaking of manners, who the hell are you? If you’re gonna come in here and threaten my family, it’d be nice to know your name so I can make a good comeback threat.”

That made him back up a little. “I am…unaccustomed to anonymity. I am Lord Thraxus. As to the death and destruction, that was no more than I expected when I gave Fortunato leave to act against Etienne. You, however, were given no such dispensation.”

I did a double take at that. “So, you’re not pissed at me because I blew up your shit, you’re pissed because I did it without permission?”

The dead guy actually smiled at that, which was easily the creepiest thing he’d done. “My emotions do not enter into this equation. As I stated previously, my hand is being forced here. Your presence at Inferno was unwanted, and unlike the Nazarite, you lack the power to defy me openly. Certain factions outside of my court have taken this as a sign of weakness on my part. Thus I find myself faced with two options if I wish to avoid certain conflicts. Kill you or your family, or demand reparation from you. I find Fortunato more convenient as an ally, and your efforts were useful to me. Thus, our present conversation.”

“So, you want me to do something for you,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Indeed,” Thraxus said. “A gesture of contrition which will satisfy my court.”

“Just so you know, I don’t kiss ass well,” I said.

The smile disappeared, leaving his face a blank slate. “You’re a very brave boy, Lucas. But when the lives of others are on the line, you will suffer any indignity to save them. Even to the point of literally placing your lips against my buttocks in public. But I don’t want to humiliate you. I want you to do something for me that I believe we will both find beneficial. In a few minutes, a police officer is going to arrive. Assist him as best you can, but when he comes to the wrong conclusion, do not correct him. I believe you know what to do next.”

“You want me to go all amateur detective and solve the case for him,” I said.

“That would be the most beneficial outcome. And it is the one you would seek by your nature. Only now, when you ‘solve the case,’ you will report to me, before my court, as a gesture of your contrition.”

“Which you’ll accept,” I added with as firm a tone as I could manage.

“Graciously, thus sparing your life.” The smile resurfaced, and I shuddered a little. “To be clear, we have an understanding, yes?”

“Yes, we have an understanding,” I said. And then he just wasn’t there. I was pretty sure I was going to hate it when he did that.

“Did we have customers?” my grandfather asked from behind me.

“Not exactly,” I said. “More like a salesman.”

“Was war der Verkauf er?” he asked, reverting to his native German. What was he selling? my brain automatically translated.

“Life insurance.”

“Ah. Better that you sent him away,” he said. As he turned to go back into the office, I heard him mutter, “Vultures.”

I kept one eye on the door, hoping Thraxus was wrong, that the cop would never walk into the store. Mitternacht’s Books wasn’t a very easy name to spell. A cop relying on GPS to find us might never get the name right. But, seven minutes later, and yes I counted, an honest cop walked in.

I could tell by the shiny places on the elbows of his suit jacket and the way it didn’t fit him quite right. Watching Chance get fitted for his school uniform had shown me how an expensive suit jacket would fit, and this one fell way short of that. His slacks were kind of frayed at the hems, and he wore scuffed leather shoes. Crooked cops tended to dress better. They also didn’t have worry lines around their eyes or look around every room they walked into like they were trying to see if someone was going to shoot at them. Hanging out with Chance and Detective Collins, I’d seen plenty of both kinds of cops, and this guy seemed to be as honest as they came.

“Hi, I’m Detective William Danner, New Essex Police,” he said, flashing his badge and ID. “I’m looking for Lucas Kale.”

“That’s me,” I said, trying to sound like I was surprised. “What’s this about?”

“You’re not in trouble, son,” Danner said. “I’m just looking for a friend of yours, kid named Chance Fortunato. You seen him around?”

“Not for a few weeks,” I said. “He’s up in Boston. Is he in trouble?”

“Nah, I just wanted to ask him about some folks.” For a moment, Danner’s eyes went distant, then he focused back on me as he pulled a card from his pocket. “If you see him or talk to him, can you have him call me?”

“I talk to him all the time,” I said. “Maybe I could tell him who you’re asking about?”

“Yeah,” Danner said slowly. His eyes went distant again before he spoke. “Looking for a priest, Father Jacob. He was abducted by a bunch calling themselves the Disciples of the Fallen, or at least, that’s what they said.” He reached into one of the pockets on the side of his jacket and took out a handful of photos. The first one was of a balding, middle aged man with a round, smiling face in a priest’s collar. He pulled another photo out of the stack. “We think they’re led by this guy, Karl Tobin.” My blood froze in my veins when he laid the picture down. I knew this guy. I’d seen him twice, once on my phone’s screen when he was threatening Wanda, and then when we rescued her and she’d done some kind of faith supernova thing the minute we entered the room. The picture I was looking at showed the long term effects of Wanda’s display of devotion. His face was still thin, chin still sharp enough to poke holes and his cheekbones were high and pronounced. But his right eye was milky and the eyelid drooped. Chance and I even had a nickname for him: Darth Fedora.

“I’ll ask Chance about him,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

“I appreciate it,” Danner said. “Have him call me as soon as possible.” He turned and headed for the door without another word. Whether he had come to the wrong conclusion or not, I couldn’t tell, but I figured why risk it? What I could tell was that his mind had been messed with. The slowing down, the vacant looks while he was talking, all pointed to the kind of soft resistance some people would show when someone tried to mess with their heads. I had seen it last spring when we stopped a girl with a mind control amulet, and over the summer, when we helped Lucinda undo the love spells she’d cast.

So, I had a mind controlled cop feeding me info on a missing priest, and the most powerful vampire in New Essex threatening to kill my grandfather if I didn’t find him. As an added plus, the guy who the cops thought had the priest was the same guy who had abducted and tortured one of my two closest friends. All while the one guy who should have been able to help me handle all of this was six states away at a new school. Who do you go to for help when things get that weird? Fortunately, I knew the answer to that one. A wizard.

“Lucas, I’m a little busy right now,” Dr. Corwyn said as I walked into his study. He nodded toward his guest, and Detective Collins raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey, Kale,” Collins said. “What’s up?”

“Officially, nothing much,” I said. “Unofficially, Dr. C, no, you’re not too busy to help me out. Thraxus just threatened to kill my grandfather if I don’t find some missing priest for a New Essex cop.” I dropped into the other chair across from Dr. Corwyn’s desk and set my backpack down beside it. Dr. Corwyn gave me a sideways look, then gestured for me to keep going. Boy, did I.

“Damn it, I knew Danner would screw this up,” Collins said once I finished. “He was only supposed to talk to Chance. I never would’ve told him about Chance if I thought he was gonna bug you or Wanda about one of his cases.”

“He was trying to get in touch with Chance, but I think Thraxus did a number on his brain,” I said. “He was displaying soft resistance cues.”

“Soft resistance,” Dr. Corwyn said slowly. “That’s from one of Chance’s lessons. Have you been eavesdropping on us, Lucas?”

“No, your lessons are kinda hard to miss, sir,” I said. “In case you missed me being in your AP Science classes, I have a high IQ and a damn good memory. Half the time, I get what you’re trying to teach Chance before he does. I just can’t do magick.”

Dr. Corwyn shook his head and smiled. “Sidney was placed at Kennedy High School to be a magnet for students with even the slightest bit of magickal talent, and you were in Sidney’s class before I took over. I don’t think any of that is random. Wanda is already doing her year and a day with her mother’s coven, and we know she’s Goddess touched. Odds are good you can do magick.”

“That’s great and all, but it still doesn’t help me find Darth Fedora.”

“It might,” Dr. Corwyn said. “There is a group of vampires working in New Essex, but the Council is being denied permission to interfere. In fact, I’ve been under surveillance for the past few days to make sure I don’t get any ideas. But if Thraxus invited you to get involved, we may have an inside track.”

“Invited isn’t the word I’d use,” I said. “Any idea of what these outside vamps want?”

“No idea, but I get the impression that some of the local brood are more than happy to let them do it. The resistance Thraxus is facing in his own court might be what’s behind that. I’ll run interference with the Council and get you any info I can.”

“In the meantime,” Collins said, “I can ask around the local fang-bangers and see what I can turn up.”

“They won’t tell you anything,” Dr. Corwyn said. “But Lucas, on the other hand…” He turned to me with a slight grin. “I know there are vamp groupies at Kennedy. With a little work, you could probably get in good with them.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Guess it’s time to update my look.”

The vampire lifestylers had dubbed them the Black Swans, a trio of Goth girls who were dating guys in the vamp scene. Even among my Goth friends, these three were like royalty. They invariably wore black dresses, and plenty of black makeup. Eyeliner, lipstick, nail polish, they had it covered. And they made it look good. Before this particular Wednesday, I’d never been able to work up the courage to so much as talk to them. But today…today there was more on the line than my dignity. Today there was no small talk.

“Ladies,” I said as I sat down at their table before first bell. One of them, Lyressa, arched one slender black brow at me as their conversation stopped.

“Good morning,” Dahlia, the shortest one said. “What brings you to our parlor?”

“I need a makeover.” Seeing all three of them break into predatory smiles was almost enough to make me cut and run. Almost. “And an invite into the Red Parlor,” I finished, committing myself. It had taken me all night to dig that name out of social groups online, but I’d managed to find it by following up on references in selfies and tags.

“What’s in it for us?” Rose, the third Swan asked.

“Access,” I said.

“To what?”

“Have you ever heard of a place called the Bazaar?” Now I could see teeth in their smile. The Bazaar was one of the few places where the Veiled and the cowan worlds mixed, however covertly. The real trick was in finding it, so offering up the location was the Holy Grail to bleeding edge groupies like the Swans.

“You’re going to look better than Brad Pitt ever did,” Dahlia promised as she scribbled something on a sheet of paper and tore a section off. She handed it to me with a wink. “Go to this address at nine tonight. And don’t tell anyone else where you’re going.” I nodded and got up.

“We don’t use our real names,” Rose said. “What name will you be using?”

“Midnight,” I said, using the English translation of my grandfather’s name. I headed for my locker, phase one complete. Wanda was waiting for me at my locker with a frown on her face. She wore a black schoolgirl dress and a red button down silk shirt with a black tie and black lace gloves. Red stockings and her knee high black boots completed the look.

“Where were you this morning?” she asked as she twirled one of her pig-tails. This semester, she’d dyed the right side of her hair red, and the left side black.

“Going undercover,” I said softly. “And I need your help.”

“Sure,” she said. “You know I’ll do anything I can.”

“I need you to act like you’re mad at me.”

The frown hadn’t completely left her face, and now it came back hard. “Lucas, I don’t know if I can sell that. Why are you going undercover?”

“I wish I could tell you, but I’m afraid it might make things worse. I just need you to act like I’m all moody and harsh with you. Like…the day after my parents’ funeral. I need to sell the whole broody, angsty, wanna-be a vampire act.” Saying those words left a harsh feeling in my chest, and I could see that she remembered as clearly as I did what an asshole I was that day. Her eyes went misty, and she nodded before she turned and walked away. After that, being moody and broody for the rest of the day was easy.

The address Rose gave me turned out to be an abandoned funeral home in the old Joplin district. The outer windows had been boarded up, and her directions led to a delivery entrance at the rear. Of course, in a funeral home, this delivery entrance was the one where dead people showed up. The first thing that struck me was that this was no amateur operation. I was met at the door by a man in his thirties who looked like he had done his accessorizing through Smith and Wesson. He carried a boxy submachine gun, and had a pistol holstered under his arm. His right hand stayed on the grip of the sub gun while he looked me over in my black great coat, black t-shirt and black jeans, and for extra toughness, black hiking boots.

“Invitation only, dumbass,” the man said.

“I’m here by invitation,” I said. “Rose asked me to meet her here at nine. The name is…Midnight.” Maybe it was the pretentious name, or maybe it was the dramatic pause that made him laugh.

“Whatever,” he said and turned to a man standing behind him. “Ask Rose if she knows some guy named Midnight.” The other man left for a couple of minutes, then came back.

“Yeah, she knows Midnight guy,” he said, snickering. They stepped aside and gestured for me to come in. The second man led me to a tiled room with several steel tables set in rows. The Swans were at the far end, standing next to one of the tables.

“Not a bad start,” Lyressa said as she eyed my ensemble. “We definitely have to keep the coat. The t-shirt has to go. And the jeans. In fact, let’s just keep the coat and start from the ground up.”

After half a dozen outfits, I wound up in a pair of stiff ankle boots that pinched my toes, a pair of nut-hugging black slacks, a white button down shirt, a vest with some kind of shiny brocade pattern on it and a black jacket with narrow lapels. They topped it all off with a dark red cravat before they had me stretch out on one of the metal slabs. Then came the makeup. Guyliner and a white base, with what they called a hint of wine color to make my lips stand out. When I finally got to stand up and look at myself, I looked terrible. With my hair slicked back and the makeup on, I looked like a walking cadaver, which I guess was the point. What I didn’t look like, however, was me. No one would mistake Midnight for Lucas Kale. That part worked for me.

“Now you look right,” Rose said with a black-lipped smile. “Come on, join us.” She took my hand and led me out through a side door to what used to be the viewing room. A casket laid in the customary spot, the top half open to reveal a pale girl lying in repose. She looked pretty convincing…until she took a breath. The slight rise of her chest took the chill out of the scene for me, and I fought hard not to smile. No one else in the room seemed to be smiling, and at the moment, the last thing I wanted to do was stand out..

The pews had been removed and replaced with clusters of padded chairs, couches and love seats with low tables set near them. Pretty people lounged as casually as they dared, doing their best to look bored. Most of the guys were dressed in Victorian style suits and smoking jackets, but a few had shed the outer jackets and were in vests and shirtsleeves. The girls ranged from full gowns to Lolita style dresses to sheer lingerie. I kept my face blank as I noticed the difference in the fashions, then I looked at the folks who were actually standing and working. By the door, two big guys in domino masks wore mesh shirts that hid absolutely nothing from the waist up, and tight satin shorts that only covered a little bit more. Muscle rippled under the mesh, and the dim light still shimmered against skin that I would have bet was oiled down before they came out.

Masked women in French maid outfits walked among the groups of loungers, showing a lot of leg and a lot of bosom as they served drinks. Something struck me as odd about them, and after watching a couple of them, it finally hit me. All of them were the same height in heels.  All of them wore the same hairstyle in the same color. Almost nothing distinguished one from another. Add in the masks, and they were as close to completely anonymous as you could get.

Rose led me to a clutch of chairs and let go of my hand, then found her place with the other two Swans. I turned and took the open seat closest to me, ending up by a thin guy in a striped black suit with curly hair and the suggestion of a mustache and goatee.

“Good evening,” I said softly.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Have we been introduced?”

“No,” I said. “I am Midnight.” I offered a hand, and he looked at it, then to me. “And you are?”

“Afflicted with ennui,” he said as he laid his white gloved hand in mine and gave it a perfunctory shake. “My name is Jerome. I’m with Lyressa’s brood.”

“Ah,” I said with a nod. He leaned back and held one hand out as he gave one of the girls in a maid outfit a heavy-lidded look. She put a wine glass in his outstretched hand, then bent forward and offered me one. At least, I thought it was the wine glass she was offering me. There was an awful lot on display behind it. I took the glass, trying to imitate Jerome’s relaxed posture. From where I was, I could see most of the room, and the name of the game seemed to be to hold a pretty pose for as long as possible and look as afflicted with ennui as you could while listening to the low, slightly dissonant sounding music and sipping wine while talking to the people around you about deep things, like the meaning of existence or the futility of life in general. It was a subtle dance of equal parts grace and desolation.

I sat for half an hour, and got the impression that the night was just getting started. After a few rounds of wine were served, and yeah, it was real wine, the serving girls brought out hookahs. A low haze of aromatic smoke started to fill the room. The girl in the coffin “awakened” in a romantic little ceremony that involved what I assumed was a symbolic drinking her master’s blood from a wine glass, and a new girl took her place.

After about an hour, I finally saw Darth Fedora and his crew enter the room. I knew him before I saw his face. It was the walk that gave him away. Everyone else walked with grace, there was no doubting that, with their heads up, in a smooth pace that didn’t move their hips. Not this guy. He carried himself with his shoulders forward and his head down slightly, so that he was almost looking through his eyebrows to see straight ahead. He walked like a hunter. What he didn’t know was that he wasn’t the only predator hunting tonight. I leaned forward and put one elbow on my knee as I watched him stalk the room. He moved from table to table, his eyes devouring the girls and assessing the guys.

“What are you looking for?” I asked softly as he went to another group. So far he’d gone through half the club, and he still seemed to be looking.

“A remedy for the tedium that is life, perhaps,” Jerome said. I turned my head to look at him.

“Tedium is the least of this guy’s problems,” I told him.

“Oh, it’s personal,” Jerome said with more enthusiasm than I’d seen him show all night. “How intriguing.”

Two tables later, Darth Fedora stood up a little straighter, and I could see a predatory smile spread across his features. A couple sat across from him, the guy looking as pleased as he could without smiling, the girl’s face pretty much frozen into a neutral expression. But by the way her hand wrinkled the sleeve of his coat, she had a death grip on his arm. She’d seen Fedora for what he was, and it was anyone’s guess which side of fight or flight she might choose when it came down to it.

Fedora chatted up the guy almost exclusively, getting an invite to join them after a few moments. He sat down, and the girl leaned into her paramour’s side, her gaze roving the room every few moments before returning to the predator sitting across from them. I had to admire her poise. After a few minutes of talking, Fedora stood up, and the guy followed suit. The girl came to her feet more slowly, and she said something to her date. He shook his head and put his arm around her waist to usher her along after Fedora.

“Ah, the game is afoot,” Jerome said as I came to my feet.

“And so am I,” I said. “See you later, Jerome.” Following my quarry was easy in the half-light and smoke of the club, and before long, I was out in the cooler air. Fedora was ushering his prey into back seat of a minivan. I headed for my car as casually as I could, not daring to look at the van for fear of giving myself away.

I fished the keys for my new car out of the pocket of my great coat as I pulled the cravat free. Well, “new” is a relative term. Plymouth hasn’t made the Barracuda since 1974, and mine was two years older than that. The cravat got thrown into the back seat as I slid behind the wheel of the crimson beast, and I turned the key. The ‘Cuda rumbled to life as the van pulled out of the parking lot and turned right.

Just as I was about to put it in gear, the passenger door opened, and a red-faced Jerome bounced into the passenger seat. “Dude, what the hell?”

“You are the antidote to the banality that is my existence,” he panted.

“Could you stop with the sesquipedalian verbiage?” I snapped as the van pulled out of the parking lot and turned right. “Things are about to get unpleasant and dangerous. The last thing I need is some thrill seeker throwing around two dollar words in the middle of a fire fight, getting his sensibilities trampled and his silk boxers twisted up.”

“Oh, I’m not wearing boxers,” Jerome said with a smile. The van was in the protected left turn lane at the next intersection, its blinker on.

“Good!” I growled. “It’s one less thing you’ll need to clean later!” I slammed the ‘Cuda into gear and hit the gas. “And buckle your damn seatbelt!” We bounced into the street a few feet ahead of a delivery truck, and I left a little rubber behind as I accelerated and aimed for the turn lane. The arrow turned yellow while we were still about fifty yards away, and I only skidded a little bit as we took the turn. The van was about a quarter mile ahead of us, and I slid behind another car to break line of sight.

“So, how personal is this vendetta?” Jerome asked. “Is he a jealous ex? Or did he steal someone from you?”

I turned my head to look at him with a frown so deep it felt like my eyebrows wanted to do double duty as a moustache. “Unpleasant. Dan-ger-ous,” I said slowly. “What part of that says this is about an ex?”

“Obviously, you’ve never had a jealous ex,” Jerome purred.

“Dude, we’re dealing with vampires and kidnapping,” I said with every ounce of heterosexuality I could muster. “Not failed relationships.”

“Ooooh,” he said in one disturbing syllable. The silence after that was welcome. Awkward as hell, but welcome. We followed the van deeper into the industrial part of the old Joplin district, until it pulled into the lot of an abandoned meat packing plant. That was the thing about the Joplin district. More than half of it was empty, abandoned in favor of greater New Essex after the seventies when the businesses followed the money north. Criminals went north to steal, and south to hide.

I pushed the knob in to kill the Barracuda’s headlights as we cruised to a stop behind a dumpster. Across the road from us, the van stopped and opened its doors. Fedora and the innocent bystanders got out, and the van pulled away. It was time to get my hands a little dirty.

I killed the engine and got out to remove the great coat, jacket and vest. The air was cool enough that I put the coat back on while I kicked the ankle boots off, then I reached into the back seat and grabbed the beat up black duffel bag I’d stashed there. Over the past year, it had slowly filled with all manner of useful toys. A hand stunner, a pair of brass knuckles with raised silver crosses over the knuckles. A bright green water gun filled with holy water. The pair of ironwood shock batons Chance had bought from Arianh-Rod in the Hive. And the innocuous seeming little things: the thick chunk of chalk, the can of spray-paint, a roll of duct tape and the double ended permanent marker. The strap slid over my shoulder and I slipped my feet into my sneakers and laced them up.

Finally, I pulled out the gun. No, not the gunpowder kind. The paintball kind. The kind that fired pellets filled with chloroform, holy water and silver nitrate, and alchemical explosive and cryo formulas in the hopper that ran along the top of the barrel. I loaded up the knockout rounds, then grabbed the hoppers for the vampire and explodey rounds and stuck them in my coat pockets. Chance and Dr. Corwyn had cool tactical holsters for theirs, but I had to settle for tucking mine through my belt.

Once I was armed up, I pulled the fancy silk handkerchief from the pocket of the jacket and wiped my face with it. If things went sideways, the last thing I wanted to have to explain was guyliner and lipstick.

“You look like a raccoon,” Jerome sighed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle and a packet of baby wipes. “Put this on your face, then wipe it off.” He poured a little into my hand.

“What is it?”

“Olive oil,” he said. “It breaks down the make up and makes it come off easier.” I dabbed some on my fingers then used both hands to swab some around my eyes. “Now, wipe.” The first baby wipe came away smeared with black, and the second only had a few smudges on it.

“Did I get all of it?” I asked.

“Yes,” Jerome said. “And do the world a favor. Go with the natural look.”

“Believe me, I intend to. Look, Jerome, I’m serious, shit’s about to get seriously bad for your health around here. You need to be a whole lot of somewhere the hell else as fast as you can. At the very least, stay with the car.”

“You’ve done this kind of thing before?” he asked.

“A few times, yeah. Usually with someone a little better at it than I am.”

“Wouldn’t I be safer if I stayed right behind you, then?”

“No, I’d have a hard enough time sneaking up on the two guards out there on my own. There’s no way I can sneak up on them if you’re on my ass.”

“You’re right. You’re going to need a distraction.” Before I could protest or so much as say anything, he was on his feet and around the edge of the dumpster, leaving me to scramble to the other side to see if I was going to have to save his ass, or take advantage of what he was doing. And damn if it wasn’t working. The guy at the gate was zeroed in on Jerome, and he’d even started walking toward him.

I darted through the deeper shadows on the left side of the road and ended up to one side and a little bit behind the guard as he moved toward Jerome. Once I was outside of his peripheral vision, I broke into a quiet jog, the rubber soles of my sneakers silent on the pavement.

“I’m trying to get to Forty-Fifth Street, though,” Jerome was saying as I got within a few feet of them.

“You need to get your ass lost before I put a-” The guard was saying when I put the taser to his neck and activated it. The rest came out as a grunt, and he fell into Jerome’s waiting arms. I stuck the taser into my pocket and flipped the coat back so I could reach the paintball gun. It wasn’t exactly a fast draw, but I got it out while I covered the short distance between the downed guard and the bus stop between me and the one on the door, dropping to a crouch to stabilize the gun on the back of the bench..

The paintball gun gave what sounded like a cough as I pulled the trigger, just loud enough to get the guard’s attention. The round hit him just as I pulled the trigger a second time, and he was really out by the time he hit the ground. Jerome grunted as he dragged the first guard to the bench.

“God, this man stinks,” he muttered as he let the guy go. “Why couldn’t I get someone who gave a damn about hygiene?”

“They’re thugs,” I said as I headed across the asphalt toward the second guard. “Hygiene isn’t a job requirement.” The guy on the loading dock was carrying a short pump shotgun with a sling that doubled as a bandoleer for his shells. I pulled it off of his shoulder, careful not to touch where the knockout rounds had hit him, and slid it over mine.

“Isn’t that a little bit of overkill?” Jerome asked, his voice barely above a whisper..

“Not yet.”

“I don’t feel very comfortable around guns, though.”

“This is my run,” I whispered. “You invited yourself along. If you don’t like it, you can leave any time.” He shook his head quickly and set his mouth in a tight line. “Okay then. Stay behind me and out of sight. If I tell you to do something you do it, no matter how stupid it sounds. You got it?” He nodded so fast I thought he was going to strain something. I grabbed the keys off the guard’s belt and went to the door. The fifth key unlocked it smoothly, and I slipped inside.

The interior of the plant was mostly concrete floor, with square, tile covered columns along the back of the room, and concrete versions everywhere else. Glass transom windows covered the upper part of the walls along the back of the building, with thick iron mesh bolted in front of them. The windows themselves were bright, lit from inside. Wooden double doors with glass insets were set in the middle of the back wall. A lone guard stood outside them, his grip on his gun looking pretty relaxed. From behind him, I could hear voices and laughter. Then came the smack of flesh against flesh, and I heard someone squeal in pain. More laughter followed that. Beside me, Jerome’s face went hard, and I figured he suddenly got a lot less squeamish about guns.

The guard turned to look through the windows in the door, and I scurried to the nearest column. Even with the distance I’d covered, he was still too close to the edge of the paintball gun’s range for my comfort. So I waited. The smell of death came heavy in my nostrils as I tried to slow my breathing down, both old blood and new mixing with every breath. More slaps and laughter emerged from behind the door, and the guard gave me another moment of distraction to take advantage of. This time, I covered most of the distance between us, and by the time I leaned around the side of the cool, gray column, I was within twenty feet of my target. Both paintballs hit him high in the chest, and he staggered back a couple of steps before he caught himself against the wall. He looked around for a moment, then his eyes closed and he slid to the ground. So far, so good.

Jerome followed me to the pool of light outside the doors, and I stopped him a few steps back. We could see everything from here without being seen, and more importantly, we could hear everything clearly. Darth Fedora was standing over the older, balding man I’d seen in Detective Danner’s photo. The preist was kneeling in front of an arcane circle drawn in red, with a thin book open on a milk crate beside him. Behind him, the couple from the Red Parlor were tied against the wall with their hands over their heads. Both of them had some bruises starting to color around their eyes. Things were going to get serious from here, so I changed out the knockout rounds with the burst rounds.

“You already have me, Karl,” Father Jacob said, his voice thickly accented with some Eastern European influences. “You don’t need more sacrifices.” Karl turned and went to backhand the priest, but his arm stayed in place. He strained and ended up sliding back a couple of inches before he gave up.

“Shut up, old man,” Fedora said. “You have no idea what I need.” As they talked, I pulled the chalk out of my pocket and made a hasty circle on the floor, then pulled a lancet from the duffel bag and palmed it, then slipped one of the brass knuckles over my fingers.

“On the occult, I am an expert,” Jacob said. “I know what the spell requires. And that you have.”

“But tell me, old man, what happens if I give him too much blood?” Fedora asked.

“An even worse monster he becomes,” the priest said. “One you do not control.”

“Exactly,” Fedora cackled. “You think I’m trying to bring back my old Master so I can serve him again? He got his ass handed to him by a bunch of kids and a pack of werewolves! He doesn’t deserve my loyalty.” Other voices joined in, and I remembered what I was doing. A quick look around the room revealed six more wannabe vamps and a wire cage room festooned with crosses. Five vampires huddled inside it, none of them looking too happy with unlife at the moment. All of them had lost control over their features, and any semblance of humanity was gone. Normally, that would have made them look scary as hell, but just then, the best they were able to do was look miserable.

“While you,” the priest said after a moment, “you deserve better than him.”

“Of course I do!” Fedora spat.

“Tell me, Karl, what makes you worthy of that? Is it your own loyalty? Your dedication, helping your Master when he is at his worst? Against those who defeated him, did you fare any better? Where did you do better than your Master?”

Fedora looked down at Father Jacob and seemed to be at a loss for a moment. “I survived, old man,” he finally said. “And I found a more worthy Master to serve.”

“And now? Is this who you are, that you turn on him when he is weak? Please, my son, for your own sake, I implore you. Do not do this. Turn from this new Master, before something terrible happens.”

I took that as my cue.

I stepped forward and kicked the doors open. When the unexpected happens, there are basically two kinds of people. Folks who are like Han Solo, who don’t hesitate to start blasting away when they see a freaking Sith Lord across the room from them, and everyone else, who just stands there wide eyed and slack-jawed for a minute. I was counting on everyone in the room falling into the second category, and I wasn’t disappointed.

“Too late,” I said as I raised the paintball gun and shot the first guy in the chest. The round exploded and sent him flying back against the wall, and I pivoted and put the second round into the chest of the guy beside him before his buddy finished sliding to the floor. To my right, one of the guys drew a gun, so I shot at him, but he moved and the round ended up blowing a chunk out of the wall.

Now that another gun was in play, I took a couple of steps forward and punched Darth Fedora across the jaw. He spun and dropped in place, and then I was next to Father Jacob. Much to my surprise, so was Jerome.

“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned, and I’m not about to stop,” I said as I took a moment to turn and take aim at the guy with the pistol, but he’d ducked behind a column. His arm snaked around the corner and he started firing wildly. I aimed at the column and pulled the trigger. The explosion took part of his arm with it and sent the gun flying across the room with his hand still attached to it.

The other two were nowhere to be seen, and for a moment, the room was quiet. I fished my knife out of my pocket with my left hand and handed it to Jerome. “Get them loose, and stay close to Father Jacob here. They can’t get near him.”

“That’s great, but how are we going to get out of here?” Jerome asked as he went to work on Father Jacob’s bonds.

“You’re not,” a voice called from the far side of the room. “Your buddy only has, what, five or six shots left in the gun of his. And he still can’t kill us.” True enough, the first two I’d hit were starting to stir. Their chests were red and blistered where I’d hit them, but that was starting to fade to pink, healthy flesh.

“You’re running out of time,” the one whose hand I’d blown off taunted as he went to a red plastic ice chest near the wire cage. He kicked the top open and reached in with his good hand, coming out with a blood-filled glass vial with a cork in the top. He worked the top out with his thumb, then poured half of the vial over the stump of his arm, downing the rest in a gulp. He shuddered as he dropped the vial, and I could see bone start to grow from the wounded arm. It might take hours, but I was betting that by morning, his arm would be completely healed.

“Oh, God,” Jerome said. “How is he doing that?”

“The blood is from the vampires in the cage,” Father Jacob said as he grabbed the book and got to his feet. “The blood of several donors is mixed together to keep them from being controlled by any one of them.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” I said. Jerome had freed the girl and Father Jacob was helping untie the guy. But the way out was far from open. The two uninjured vamp groupies had stepped between us and the door.

“You didn’t think this through, did you?” the one on my right said. He stood at least six and a half feet tall, and most of that wide. Square jawed, handsome and blonde, he reminded me of Brad Duncan in all the wrong ways. Until my sophomore year, Brad had taken special delight in making my life Hell. Being turned into a werewolf in eighth grade hadn’t helped things any, but having his ass beat down and his alpha killed by my best friend had done wonders for my life. But now, I was seeing Brad from a year ago, with no bad ass warlock to curb-stomp him for me. Still, pseudo-Brad was facing me now. Part of me looked forward to the thought of going toe to toe with him.

The guy beside him just giggled and drew a jagged knife with a spiked handguard that went all the way down the handle. He ran his thumb down the blade until it drew blood, then licked the knife clean.

“Dude. You are trying way too hard,” I said as I pointed the paintball gun to my left and pulled the trigger. The ice chest exploded in a shower of plastic shards and crimson ice. Again, no one did anything for a second, but this time, the pause was a lot shorter. All six of the conscious guys ran for the mess I’d made of their vampire secret sauce. The couple ran for the door the second it was clear. I reached for Darth Fedora, and found that Father Jacob had the same idea. Together, we dragged him out of the room, and stopped right outside the door.

“We can’t…” he began, then trailed off as I turned and headed back.

“I won’t,” I said.

“You can’t do this by yourself,” he said.

“Watch me.” I stepped back into the room. The big guy and the little psycho knife guy saw me first and came at me at a run. I put two shots into the air and hit the psycho with one of them. The other made a bigger mess of the ice chest and knocked the other four groupies flying. I sent the last three rounds in the hopper at pseudo-Brad, and hit him with all three.

It barely slowed him down. But it did slow him down. By the time he’d staggered across the remaining distance between us, I’d pulled out the shock wands.

All my life, I’ve lived in fear of the telegraphed punch that big guys seem to love to wind up and throw. They put their fist back over their shoulder and wave it around as they come toward you, watching your face the whole time. After being on the receiving end of a few of those punches, and watching them do the same thing to my friends, I’d figured out what that was all about. When a big guy goes to hit you, he knows you can’t stop the punch. He’s not trying to surprise you. He’s trying to intimidate you by letting you see it coming. He wants you to anticipate how bad it’s going to hurt. Most of all, he wants to see the fear on your face as he flaunts that strength over you. But a year of hanging out with Chance taught me how to handle that.

Hit first, hit fast, and hit hard. I threw the best punch I ever had, leaning my weight into it, turning my hips and my shoulders and swinging with every ounce of strength in my left arm. It connected with his jaw, but it felt like I’d just punched a building. If it hadn’t been for the brass knuckles on my left hand, I would have broken a few bones. As it was, my arm went numb, and I almost dropped the baton in that hand.

Pseudo-Brad stopped with his head turned to one side, then straightened and turned to face me. One meaty hand went up to rub at his jaw, and I saw a trickle of blood start on his lip. Yeah, there’s not a lot of strength in my left arm. Either one really. That had not gone like I’d planned. Sure, I’d stopped his punch, but aside from that, all I’d done was inconvenience him a little.

In the next split second, I found out who I really was. My right hand snapped forward and I hit his right leg with the shock baton, then followed it up with a shot to the left leg. My right arm shot up across his body and laid the baton against the inside of his left arm, then I did the same thing with my left hand to the opposite side. Small flashes of violet light erupted from the batons with each hit, and he staggered back under the onslaught of magickally enhanced impact trauma. I twisted my body to the right and brought both batons up over my right shoulder, then stepped forward and left to swing the lengths of enchanted ironwood into his chest with my full body weight, swinging for a point a foot behind his body. He went flying in a burst of violet light, then slid into the puddle of red water from the ice chest. I stood up straight and took a step back.

When things went off the rails, I was like Han fucking Solo. I could live with that.

But beating up pseudo-Brad wasn’t what I was here to do. I tucked the shock batons into the duffel bag, then grabbed the shotgun. As dangerous as vampires were on the loose, Darth Fedora and his crew had found a way to make them ten times as bad in captivity. I put the bead on the end of the shotgun’s barrel on the cross. The gun bucked and boomed in my hands, and the white symbol exploded in a shower of splinters. The wannabes looked at me in disbelief, and I took a moment to adjust my aim. Double-aught buckshot tore through the lock on the cage door, but it still held. I fired again, and the door swung slowly open. Disbelief turned to horror as the vampires surged toward the door.

I took a step back as the first four fell on the wanna-be vamps and started to take back what had been stolen from them. Over the screams, I could hear Father Jacob praying. As powerful as his faith was, I wasn’t going to take any chances, and pulled him back into the circle I’d drawn. The lancet pricked at my little finger, and the circle I’d drawn went active.

“You’ve got to do something,” Jerome cried as the last vampire walked out of the cage.

“I just did,” I said. One of the vampires turned toward us, then grimaced and pulled away. The last one out of the cage walked toward his kindred, his face sad, and slowly pulled them off their victims. When he had separated the last one from his twitching meal, he turned to us.

“I regret that you had to see that,” he said. His voice was rough, but there was still an edge of culture to it. “We strive to be more than the hunger that consumes us. But sometimes…”

“Sometimes, you are pushed beyond your limits,” Jerome said. “And you still hold on to what makes you beautiful.” He took a step forward and pulled the sleeve back from his wrist.

“You would do well not to come any closer,” the last vampire said as he took a step back.

“Jerome, I think you’d better listen to him,” I said.

He turned to face me and shook his head, his eyes bright. “No, I trust him. Aside from the good father here, I think he’s shown the most humanity of anyone in this room.” Another vampire started toward him, but got slapped aside by Jerome’s new crush. I shook my head and touched the circle to break it, letting Jerome move closer to the civilized vamp. He offered his wrist again, and this time, wasn’t refused. The vampire gently took his hand and pulled it to his mouth. Jerome winced at the first bite, then gasped and closed his eyes, his head thrown back and his mouth open. Then his eyes squeezed shut tightly and he let out a little cry. The vampire pulled his mouth away from Jerome’s wrist and took a deep, shuddering breath, his face intent. Slowly, his features shifted, becoming smooth and pale, his black eyes softening to a liquid blue. After a few moments, he stood straight, and even I had to admit he was kind of pretty. I lowered the shotgun.

“I dare not take any more,” he said to Jerome. “Yours is a beautiful soul. Thank you. Please, tell me your name.”

“Jerome.”

“I am Xander.” He pulled Jerome’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“And they lived happily ever after,” I said as I turned away.

“You sound a little disappointed,” Father Jacob said. “Rejection, I wouldn’t think, would bother you so much.” I knelt and pulled Fedora up by one arm until I could get him over my shoulder. Jacob helped me get him in place, then pulled me to my feet.

“Not so much feeling rejected as…rebuked,” I told him as we walked toward the door.

“That you feel that way is good,” Jacob said. “But remember always this, my son. You bear different burdens than he does.” Fedora was getting heavy, so I didn’t say anything else until I got to the car and had him open the trunk. Once Darth Fedora was inside and duct taped securely, I closed the trunk and turned to him.

“With all due respect, sir,” I said slowly, “But how do you know that Jerome and I bear different burdens?”

The priest smiled and put one hand on my shoulder. “My son, on the occult, I know a great deal. The unknown, the mystical; these things I’m familiar with. But monsters? Vampires? These I am not familiar with. These past few days, I have been as frightened as I’ve ever been. My life I thought was over tonight. And then…then through the door you came; knowing what needed doing and doing it with a smile and a jest. So I think ‘Here is a young man who fights the monsters.’ I look at your friend, and I don’t think that.” He turned and looked back at the building we had just left, then back to me. “What your friend does not understand is that sometimes…the monsters wear a human face.” He turned away and went to the passenger door of the ‘Cuda. I pulled my phone out to turn the it back on, and found a text waiting for me from Dr. Corwin, asking to meet me at the store. If I hurried, I could make it.

An hour later, the strange book was hidden under the back seat of the Barracuda, Father Jacob was safely back at his church, Darth Fedora was still secure in my trunk with a double dose of knockout rounds and I had picked Chance’s brain on how to face a vampire in his own court and maybe…maybe live to tell about it. I also had a set of emails scheduled to go out and a thumb drive in an envelope on the counter with Detective Danner’s name written on it. I got back in the Barracuda and headed north, out of town.

A familiar well rounded figure was waiting for me when I pulled up to the gates of the estate that Thraxus called home. Chastity leaned over in her ever so tight silver dress and let her ample charms press against the door of the Barracuda.

“Good evening,” she purred. “My Master is expecting you.”

“Hello, Chastity,” I said. “You look good, as always.”

“Thank you,” she said, and her smile reached the blank place in her eyes. “Care to give a girl a ride?”

“To the house, certainly,” I said, mindful that word choice was important where Thraxus or anyone who worked for him was concerned.

Her smile faltered, and she leaned closer. “Don’t you like me anymore?” she asked. One hand touched my shoulder, and my body wanted me to tell her how much I still did like her, at least in certain ways. “The last time I saw you, the most coherent thing I heard from you was ‘boobs.’”

“Don’t take it personally, Chastity,” I said. “You still make my pulse race, and I’d love to give you the kind of ride you’re looking for. But it’s been a rough few months. Today’s been kind of a bitch, too.” She straightened up and walked around the front of the car to get in the passenger door. And I enjoyed watching her do it. Her smile was back when she slid into the seat beside me and wrapped her arm around mine, which put certain parts of her full figure pressed against my arm. Even through the sleeve of the greatcoat, that felt nice. The drive up to the house was way too short all of the sudden.

She slid out and waited for me when we made it to the front door. Before I could say anything, she kissed me, a quick, soft touch of her lips against mine, then they were gone.

“Should I ask?” I said.

“Because I do like you.” I met her eyes for a moment, searching for some hint, something to help me get a handle on the moment.

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” I stammered, and she laughed for a second, then turned serious.

“You’re in serious danger right now,” she said. “And you’re the only person who’s ever treated me like I was something special. Like I was…pretty. Worth something for more than just...these,” she concluded gesturing toward her ample bosom.

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, there is that. Look, Chastity, if I do walk out of here tonight, would you, uh…I mean, if you…um…”

“Monica,” she said. “My real name is Monica. And yes. I’d love to.” The way she said it implied that what she wanted wasn’t important. And just like that, I was determined that I was going to walk out of here.

“Monica,” I said. “After I walk out of here tonight, I want to get to know you better.” I turned and headed for the door. It was time to play the game. Monica fell in step beside me.

The door opened when I was a few steps away, and a stocky vampire in a black suit barred the way. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“My name is Lucas Kale,” I said. “I have come to offer Lord Thraxus my apologies and to make amends for offending him.” I pulled the greatcoat aside to reveal the paintball gun at my side. “Shall I disarm?” I watched the thoughts play out on the guy’s face. If I was someone like Chance, I would have offered a tremendous insult if I offered to disarm and they actually took me up on it, since even naked, he was still ‘armed’ with his magick. It would look like I didn’t take Thraxus seriously, which I could then deflect on his staff. But as a cowan, a normal person, as far as they knew, I might as well be saying I wanted their boss dead, because I had no other way to threaten him or defend myself, and they had almost no way to tell if I was being sincere or not. Also, by asking instead of just disarming, I was effectively putting the decision in his servant’s hands, and taking myself out of harm’s way. If I understood the complex game that Chance had described to me right.

The butler smiled after a moment and shook his head. He led me into the house. From Chance’s descriptions, I’d expected it to be crowded and loud, but it was more like a school night in Mayberry. No one lounged in the foyer, and there was no casual inspection as I followed my guide up the curved marble steps to the second floor. The gold-edged doors opened as we got close, and I was treated to my first sight of Thraxus’s blue-skinned, black robed, pet demon. Its red eyes focused on me, and I could feel the wrongness of it as I got closer. Its lips turned up in something like a smile, only with way too many teeth.

“Ha!” it barked. “The supplicant, Master.” It stood aside, and gestured for me to enter the room. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was crowded. Soft music was playing, and groups of people lounged in small, informal groups. Young women in skimpy maids’ uniforms and stripper heels pranced around, showing off a lot of skin and amazing balance. As we got closer to the slightly raised section at the far side of the room, one of the maids tottered up and leaned forward to offer me a tray with several thin glasses on it. I looked from what was on offer and display to her face, only to find myself looking at the top of her head.

“Thank you, but I can’t,” I said.

“Is my hospitality beneath you, little mortal?” Thraxus said with a smile like a chainsaw. He wasn’t even bothering to look human.

“I’m not a guest,” I said. “I’m here on business. Besides, I’ve already offended your hospitality once. I’d like to make amends for that before I impose on you again.”

Thraxus held his hand up and straightened his index finger out, revealing three inches of thick, pointed talon. “And so you stand before me, armed and stinking of holy water. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

“My offense isn’t intentional,” I said. “And it is minor. I offered to disarm, but your staff know I’m no threat to you. Only the weak mistake cruelty for strength, while the strong find the price of mercy small. In my favor, I didn’t come here empty handed. When I said I wanted to make amends, I meant it.”

“And what would you offer me to spare your life?”

“I have someone you might be interested in talking to in the trunk of my car. Also, by dawn, the police will be reporting the return of a certain missing priest, and they won’t be sniffing around any more of your assets looking for him. I offer you these things as proof of the sincerity of my apology. There is more, but, I thought you might want to discuss that in private.”

“More?” Thraxus said, looking surprised. “By all means, let us continue this on the patio, where we might have some privacy.” He stood and made his way toward the tall, French doors that led outside. Cool wind touched my cheeks as we went outside, and I found myself looking at New Essex from a distance.

“Am I going to like what you’re about to tell me?” Thraxus said without turning around.

“You’re going to like hearing it first,” I said. “I rescued five of your brood tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I enjoy hearing that?”

“Because I had to rescue five of your brood at all. Either a bunch of blood junkies figured out how to capture five vampires, or they had help from someone with some serious power. Secondly, they had access to a spell that they thought would reanimate a slain vampire. The plan was to offer it too much blood and send it on a rampage. The priest that they’d kidnapped seemed to think it would work, too. And Darth Fedora down there said he’d found a more powerful Master.”

“Darth Fedora?” Thraxus asked, and so help me, he seemed to be fighting down a smile. I wondered if smiling cut the inside of his mouth or something.

“One of Etienne’s groupies. Karl Tobin is his real name.”

“I see,” he said, and turned to face me. “I remember him. Who else knows about this?”

“Well, that depends,” I said. “If I don’t make it home, a lot of people are going to know. If I do walk out of here, just you and I will know.”

Thraxus paused, then his face broke into a closed-mouthed smile. “You planned ahead. I’m impressed. But you also put me in the uncomfortable position of owing you something of a debt. Do you wish to collect on it now, or shall I owe you a favor?”

“There is something you could do to make things even,” I said. “Make Mitternacht Books off limits for your people.”

Thraxus went deathly still for a moment, then he closed his eyes, lifted his chin and sniffed loudly. “Is that ambition I smell?” he asked with a fang-flashing smile. “I like it! Oh, you have vision. But I’m not going to trade the lives of a few of my brood for a piece of my territory, no matter how small it is. Not without getting something long term out of the bargain.”

“Like?” I asked, suddenly a little worried.

“You want a safe haven for you and yours. Extend that shelter to my people as well.”

I looked at him like a fish for a moment. “We’re just a book store,” I finally sputtered. “How are we supposed to protect your people from Weres or other things?”

“Negotiate,” he said with a little too much fang showing. “You’re a resourceful young man. I’m sure you’ll find a solution. But this is mutually beneficial. So I still owe you.”

“Okay,” I said. “I want to trade my favor for Chastity’s freedom.”

“Is that all?” he asked, his voice smooth.

“I thought so, but now...there’s something I’m missing.”

“It’s insulting that you ask for so little.” He shook his head and turned away.

“Freedom isn’t something I take lightly,” I said.

“Oh, it all sounds so very noble from your side, but it gives the impression that you don’t value my favor as highly as you should. Can’t have that. I’d have to make an example of her to show you the error of your ways.”

“What do you mean? You wouldn’t-” I started, and he turned back to me.

“Kill her? It would be a mercy, really. However…”

“You want me to trade my favor for her life.”

“No, I want you to trade your favor for something more valuable than one woman’s freedom. Such a boon isn’t given lightly. Push, boy, aim high. Ask for money, cars anything with a price tag. Just a moment ago, you were trying to con me out of territory, now you’re reduced to buying a bit of pussy.”

“I’m not… it isn’t like that.”

“Isn’t it?” he said with a closed mouthed smile. “I can smell the lust coming off of you when you look at her. But Chastity… I don’t smell the same response from her. Don’t waste this opportunity.”

“Some things aren’t about price tags. And you’re fighting very hard to keep her. That makes me think she might be worth enough to you not to kill her.”

“See how smart you are?” Thraxus said with a smooth gesture of his right hand. “But, you ask yourself, what if he’s bluffing?” The left hand came up, palm up. “Then you have to ask yourself, what if he isn’t? No, that isn’t the real question, is it? No, for you, Lucas Kale, the question is whether you are willing to gamble with a girl’s life against the slim chance I won’t kill her just to prove a point.” He moved his hands up and down like he was weighing something and waggled his non-existent eyebrows at me.

“You want me to push, fine, I’ll push,” I said. “My favor for her freedom and her life. She leaves with me, and you don’t try to kill her or take her back. You don’t hire anyone to kill her or take her back, you don’t even suggest that someone else do it for you.”

“If you insist on wasting your favor, then you shall have my word that for one year, I will take no action against her for leaving.” He sighed and shook his head, adding an eyeroll for added difficulty.

“Ten years,” I countered. “Firm.”

For a moment, Thraxus went very still, and I saw his jaw clench. “Very well,” he said with a thin smile a moment later. “Now you’re free to go through the whole sordid process. Lust, disappointment, shame, recriminations, regret. Frankly, you’re welcome to it.”

“I can live with that.” I turned and walked toward the door. His voice caught me up before I could open it.

“I almost believe you,” he said. “But doesn’t it worry you that I might be bluffing?”

I stopped with my hand on the handle, then turned to face him. “If you’re bluffing,” I said slowly, “I’m not the one who should worry.”

The door closed behind me, and I was facing the rest of Thraxus’s court.  I brought my chin up and started walking, certain of one thing. I might never be powerful enough to be considered a full-fledged wizard, or for that matter even an apprentice. But I’d not only handled a group of rogue vampire groupies, I’d faced the most powerful vampire in the city and walked away. So, yeah, I wasn’t much of a wizard, but when it comes down to it, I am mage enough.

Freedom

Freedom is watching the sun set in Dubai while your parents sleep half a world away. Of course, it was almost three-thirty in the morning back in Missouri, so I had an hour or so to kill before I had to be back home. The down side to freedom was the man who stank of lust, vodka and Turkish cigarettes coming up behind me on the observation deck of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. Sometimes, the enhanced senses that come with being a werewolf are a mixed blessing. To be fair, I might have brought the attention on myself. On purpose. I had put on that little black skirt that hugged my hips just a little tighter than it had to, and I was bent a little at the waist to lean against the railing. That could have given him a nice view of my butt. And one thing I knew about men with money was that they all thought young girls just couldn’t resist them. Especially blondes.

My reflection in the glass showed me ruler straight blonde bangs and a stylish swept back ‘do that made me look like a West Coast girl. I took my focus off my reflection and returned it to the spectacular view as the man approached and tried to keep my cool. Still, my shoulders twitched and my belly seemed to drop to my feet as I waited for him to walk up on me from behind. Massive, tattooed hands fell on the railing I was leaning against, and I took a quick breath, then let it out with a nervous giggle that was only half an act. My gaze went back to his hands, to the diamonds and gold that weighed down each finger. A thick, gold watch band holding a Rolex around his wrist. Jeweled cufflinks and tie tack. The man was, for all intents and purposes, dripping money and oozing menace. His tattoos marked him as bratva, Russian mafia. I hadn’t come to Dubai looking to score an easy mark, but I wasn’t going to pass one up if it threw itself at my feet.

“I startled you,” the man said, his l’s and r’s coming from the back of his throat in a Slavic accent. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said as I flashed him a shy smile. “I was just off in my own little world.”

“I understand. The view, it is…breathtaking, no?”

“It’s like nowhere else on Earth,” I said.

“On a clear day like today, and when the tides are out, like they are now, you can see the shores of Iran from here. There, it’s the line at the edge of the water.” He pointed at a brighter section on the horizon and I smiled.

“Why do the tides have anything to do with it?” I asked.

“At the tide, the ocean level literally rises up, and blocks the shore. But I have to say, the view outside is not nearly as lovely as the view indoors.” He favored me with a smile that displayed several thousand dollars’ worth of gold-plated dentistry, and I turned around to look at the interior of the observation lounge, like I didn’t get the clumsy compliment.

“Oh? I didn’t see any artwork or anything,” I said. What I did see was the pair of large, muscular men flanking the elevator.

“And you are modest as well,” he laughed.

“Oh,” I said, not having to fake a blush. “You meant…thank you.”

“So, what brings a young girl like you to the Burj Khalifa? Are you an actress or a model?”

“I want to be,” I lied. “I’m on my way home from a trip to India. My flight leaves in a couple of hours.”

“Then let me buy you dinner, and you can go home to say that you dined at the highest restaurant in the world.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Of course! I am so sorry. I am Dmitry Kerinchov.” He offered me one meaty hand and I put my right hand out.

“Lisa Jamison,” I said. He took my hand and bowed his head over it, not quite kissing the back of my fingers.

“It is nice to have a name to give such a beautiful face. Now that we are acquainted, perhaps I could buy you dinner. I have a reserved private dining room in the restaurant downstairs, with the best view of Dubai you will ever see.”

Creeper! I thought as I giggled. “Are you sure I can make it to the airport on time?”

“I will drive you there myself,” he said, and I could hear the slight tremor in his heartbeat that told me he was lying. At least the dishonesty was mutual. I let him lead me to the elevator.

The moment we got on, several things happened at once. First, Dmitri grabbed me and pushed me to the back of the elevator. His lips pressed against my neck, and I squirmed. There was only one man on the planet I let at my neck. When his hand came up to grope me, I pushed him away. His right hand came around and slapped against my left cheek hard enough to stun a normal girl.

“Glupaya malen'kaya suka!” he hissed as I rolled with the blow. One of the bodyguards pulled a small spray bottle from his coat and spritzed the little black bulb of the security camera and the other drew a stun gun from his belt. Well, wasn’t this going to be fun? I brought my knee up into Dmitry’s crotch as he came back at me, and he doubled over pretty much like any man would. That brought Thing One and Thing Two forward to help. Thing One on my left reached for my arms while Thing Two on my right triggered the Taser and thrust it forward. I grabbed the Taser and shoved it into Thing One’s arm. As he went rigid, I punched Thing Two, then punched Thing One for good measure. Both of them slumped down along the wall, and I leaned down to grab Dmitry by the collar.

“You like slapping girls around?” I said, my heart racing. “You like raping girls? Well, this bitch slaps back!” I hit him with an open hand, and his head whipped to the side, then lolled back as he went limp in my grip. I checked his pulse to be sure, but I hadn’t heard any bones break, so I was pretty sure he’d be okay.  But he’d never forget being slapped unconscious by me. As I was checking him over, I felt a couple of thick chains under his shirt. After I hit the button for a couple of floor below us, I hit the stop button then pulled the wig off and stuffed it into my bag. Next, I pulled a longer black skirt out of my bag and slipped it on over the shorter one, then slipped a baggy green t-shirt with a unicorn on the front over my blouse. With my look complete, I squatted back down and took Dmitry’s rings, necklaces and watch, then ran my hands inside his jacket to snag his wallet and cell phone. All I wanted was the cash, so I left the wallet on the ground next to him. Once I finished rolling Dmitry, I looked at Thing One and Two, considering whether to roll them or not. They were assholes, sure, but they were doing a job. I settled for grabbing their cell phones and the sleek little pistols from their holsters and tossing them in my bag before I released the stop button.

A completely different looking woman stepped off the elevator than the one who had gotten on it. I took stock of the floor I was on. Business names in Arabic and English greeted me, and the plaque on the wall said I was on the one hundred twenty eighth floor. I remembered having to change elevators at one-twenty-five, so I headed for the stairs and went down the three floors to the sky lobby, dumping the phones and pistols in the trash along the way.

Half an hour later, Dmitry’s cash was paying for a cab, and I walked to the door of an unmarked beige building. Inside the air conditioned front office, a woman in a blue hajib looked up at me as I closed the door.

“Ego sum Illuminatos,” I said. I am one of the Enlightened.

“Et tu iter tenebricosum.,” she replied as she hit the button to open the door behind her. You travel a dark road. I smiled and went through the door. A dry rasp sounded as I passed the desk, and I looked to see her serpentine lower body slithering in a circle as she adjusted her posture.  A pair of sword handles stuck out from beneath the desk as well, a naga’s preferred weapon for dealing with uninvited guests. Beyond it was the tunnel down to the Dubai Transit Station, nestled in the Cave of Scheherazade. Like the Underground in New Essex, Scheherazade was a nexus for trade as much as travel, only it was far more colorful and far less human. Most of the brightly colored awnings I saw were manned by Dwarves or minor djinn. A few humans stood out by their rarity, and one slender Elf, manning a booth full of crystals. But the center of the Cave was the transit platform.

In New Essex, the transit rings were run by Dwarves. Here, a single blue skinned jinni ran the gate. Hairless, with a pair of stubby horns and black Van Dyke beard, its heavily muscled arms looked more than capable of ripping body parts off of me.

“One to transit to New Essex Underground,” I said as I dug some trade silver out.

“Busy place, New Essex,” the jinni said. “I only have two slots per day. Next one’s in about eight hours.”

“Damn it! I need to get there in an hour. Is there anything I can do to make it there? Maybe transfer to a different place or something?”

Its blank yellow eyes narrowed, and it bared pointed teeth in a predatory smile. “You could charter a private transit,” he said. His head inclined toward a smaller alcove near the cave wall.

“How much?”

“More than you’ve got,” he laughed.

I pursed my lips and gave him my sternest look as I reached into my bag and pulled out Dmitry’s jewelry. “Are you sure?” His eyes lit up as bright as the diamonds in my hand.

“I think we can work something out.” He plucked two of the biggest rings from my hand, then led me toward the steps leading up to the alcove. He waved his hand as we approached the opening, and a smaller set of rings slid upright from the floor. I stepped onto the platform, and he put his hand to the rings to set them spinning. The second vertical set swung out and moments later, a third ring flipped down to rotate horizontally, so that they covered all three axes. The jinni set the rings and the world turned blue for a moment. Between one moment and the next, I was compressed and stretched out to near infinite dimensions, then flung through a pinhole in the cosmos. In the next moment, I was elsewhere, and my body knew it.

I wasn’t sure how long I was blind, but it seemed like days. Then again, trying to heave your guts up while your diaphragm spasms makes everything seem like it takes longer. When I was able to take a breath again, my vision started to clear, and I found myself laying on a chaise lounge with a low table at my elbow. Peppermints, sliced fruit and petit fours were artfully arranged on a plate next a pitcher of water with an empty glass and a tumbler of something fizzy and amber.

“Where the hell am I?” I muttered as I reached for the pitcher and poured some water.

“You’re in the Priority Lounge in the New Essex Transit Annex,” a cultured voice said. “Welcome to New Essex, Miss…?” I turned to see a little man in an embroidered, belted, black tunic and matching pants. He would have come to my waist, and he sported a brown moustache that drooped down to his chin and followed his jaw back to his sideburns, where it became part of his hair. But it was his nose that dominated his face. Large, broad and long, there was no missing it. He looked down it at me to great effect, making me feel like I was being judged and found lacking.

“Shade,” I said, using my pack name. “Alpha of the Diamond Lake Pack.”

“Welcome Miss Shade,” he said, his nose and his attitude coming down a ways. “I am Felix Diamond, concierge for the Priority Transit Lounge. I take it this is your first trip via Priority Transit?”

“Yes,” I said after I took as polite a sip of the water as I could without gulping it.

“My compliments on your speedy recovery. I believe you’ll find subsequent trips far less taxing. Although, between the two of us, I’ve seen much worse reactions, even in seasoned travelers.”

“People do this twice?” I asked.

“Oh, of course,” Felix said with a broad smile. “The first time is always difficult, because of the smaller dimensional aperture. After that, it gets much less strenuous, and the convenience far outweighs any minor side effects. I highly recommend the ice nectar tonic; a very effective restorative. And I believe you’ll find the petit fours quite savory. They’re a salẻ from the gnomish hearths in Bourgogne. Quite delicious.”

“What time is it?” I asked before I took a sip of the tonic and plucked one of the petit fours from the tray.

Felix pulled a pocket watch out and consulted it. “Local time is…four-oh-eight in the morning. You were only inconvenienced for a minute or so.”

The petit four was divine, which, to my tongue, was saying something. I grabbed another one and stood. The world stayed pretty steady. “I have to go, Mister Diamond. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re welcome any time, Miss Shade,” he said. I gave him a quick nod and hustled out of the lounge and to the elevator that would take me to the parking lot where I’d left my bike.

At four AM, the streets of New Essex were still busy, but the traffic was light. I wove in and out of the few cars on the roads, my Ninja growling as I took turns. It only took me fifteen minutes to get to the parking garage where my Mustang was parked. I tossed my travel bag into the trunk and grabbed my purse, then slid behind the wheel.

Rule One of travel in the Veiled world had always been to break the chain of connection between your normal life and your Veiled life. In an internet world, it meant traveling in disguise. You never knew when someone would post a picture of you online where your parents might see it. Rule Two: leave cell phones and anything GPS traceable behind. Having to explain why the GPS on my cell phone showed me in Dubai less than an hour ago would have been awkward, and my parents had an app for that. So now, as I checked my day phone, I saw that I had a missed call and a text from Lucas at about two AM. Normally, if Lucas or Wanda called me at two in the morning, they did it on my dark phone, the one my parents didn’t know about. I opened the text.

> Lucas:  Need to talk to you tomorrow. It’s important. I hope you can Shine a Light on something for me.

I tossed the phone back into my purse, wondering if he was talking about the Veiled side of our lives. If he was, why did he send the message to my day phone instead of the dark phone? I’d know soon enough.

My wolf had a bad habit of wanting to turn everything into a hunt. I felt the urge to sneak up on Lucas as I pulled into the parking lot of Kennedy High School the next morning, and recognized it as her playful way of honing skills. Plus, after bagging and tagging a Russian Mafia member and two bodyguards only a few hours before, she was still ready to play. So I indulged her a little and took a roundabout path toward Lucas and Wanda as they waited under their usual tree, avoiding his sight lines as I approached. As I got closer, I ducked a little to blend in with a crowd of people passing close by, and saw him look down at his cell phone, then smile. He looked left and right before he started typing out a reply. I’d seen that look before. Hell, most days, I was doing the same thing.

“Who is she?” I asked as I sidled up behind him. To their credit, neither of them flinched. They’d developed nerves of steel over the past year that I’d known them, and especially in the last few months. Fighting vampires and killing demons are pretty much the ultimate in ‘I’ve seen some shit.’

“The reason I didn’t blow up your dark phone last night,” Lucas said under his breath. I was the only person who could possibly have heard him, and he knew it. It was a trick he was even better at using than Chance was. Aloud he said “Do you remember Chastity, the girl who kept trying to give Chance a ‘ride’ back when we were dealing with the guy who ran Inferno?” he asked.

“Chas-titties?” I asked, letting a little more snark than usual creep into my voice. “Tits out to here, brain the size of a walnut?” It got a laugh out of Wanda, but Lucas just frowned.

“Try plaything to a vampire with an appetite for younger toys,” he growled. “Sound familiar?”

My shoulders tightened and I felt my head start to drop into a submissive posture at that. He’d hit close to a lot of old wounds, and I fought the urge to snap at him.

“What about her?” I asked.

“Her owner cut her loose last night, and I had to trade in a favor to keep him from ripping her throat out on the spot. She needs a new identity. Hell, she needs a new life.”

“She needs to make funeral arrangements,” I shot back, still feeling the sting of his reminder.

“I took responsibility for her. No one else is willing to see anything good about her, but she’s not as dumb as you think she is. She sure as hell noticed that I was the only person who didn’t look down my nose at her and act like I’d never been anyone’s bitch before.” My eyes went wide and he clamped his mouth shut for a second.  My heart raced as I fought to keep my fist away from his face, my desire to hit him tempered by surprise at hearing him snap back at me.

“This is the part where you say you’re sorry,” I hissed.

“For what?” Lucas said. “Pointing out that you and Chance both, of anyone who ever met her, should be the first people to be jumping to her defense, instead of punching down at her because you keep seeing who you used to be?” I looked away, trying to deny what he was saying. There was a world of difference between Chastity and me. There had to be. She was willing, I had never been.

“She made her bed on her own.”

“Told you that, did she?” Lucas asked. His tone was too confident to assume I was right. “You have a lot more in common than you think, Alexis. And right now…she needs your help.” The bell rang, and people around us started gathering their books and bags to go to class. Lucas turned and walked away from me, his face set. I turned to Wanda.

“Why is he being such a dick?” I asked her.

“Because,” Wanda said, her voice soft and uncertain. She paused and tried again. “Because he has the room to talk. I hate to say it but…he’s right. We did treat her like hell.” She hurried off after him, leaving me to stew in my own anger.

The anger only lasted through second period, then the doubt started creeping in. By third period, I was about to break. Between classes, I sent him a text.

ME >>  Meet me at the Lodge tonight. I’ll get her taken care of.

Thank you. I’m sorry about this morning. << LUCAS

>> You were right. Asshole.

That night, I parked the Mustang in a different parking garage and tossed my purse into the trunk, then rode my Ninja out to Camp Crystal Pines. Victor texted me a few minutes after I arrived, and I heard him pull up in his beat-up Impala a couple of minutes after that. He let himself in without knocking and strutted over to the table.

“So, what’s the deal this time?” he asked.

“I need a fake ID for a girl.”

“You do, or someone else does?”

“I need it for someone else.”

“How good does it need to be?”

“That good,” I said, laying another of Dmitry’s rings on the table. He scooped it up, his eyes never straying from the diamonds set in it. I slid the Rolex across the table toward him “And that fast.”

“Is that a…is this a Rolex?” he asked, flipping it over.

“Yes.”

“And is that Russian on the back?”

“Better that you not know.” I glanced toward the window as I heard the crunch of tires on loose rock and the distinct rumble of Lucas’s Barracuda.

Victor nodded. “Yeah, probably. All I need is a picture of the girl.”

“We can get that for you in a couple of minutes.”

Lucas didn’t even bother knocking. On the one hand, he was one of the few people who didn’t need to. On the other, he used to be one of the few people who still did. His right hand swept the great coat aside, and I could see the slight change in the way his hips moved that told me he was armed, even though I didn’t smell gun oil or gunpowder. Then the acrid scent of alchemical reagents and wax hit my nose. He was carrying a paintball gun, which made him even more of a threat in the world we both moved in. He zeroed in on Vic, then looked to me before he relaxed a little and took another step to let Chastity in behind him.

Even in a baggy t-shirt and sweats, there was no hiding the curves on her. She’d added a pink streak to her blonde hair, and let it grow out even further. And there were her eyes, already large and doe-like without makeup. Blonde haired, blue eyed, with boobs as big as her head, and she was all over Lucas. Just then, I think every boy at Kennedy High School would have killed to be in his shoes. None of them could have held a candle to him, though. Sure he was still a little skinny, but he’d let his hair grow out until it almost brushed his collar, and the narrow glasses he wore gave him a more mature look. His face had lost a lot of its softer edges over the past few months, bringing out the strength of his jaw line and chin. Most importantly, though, he’d become more focused. I could see it in his posture and in his eyes. He’d gone from being gawky and brave to being genuinely dangerous.

I glanced over at Victor, whose eyes hadn’t moved from Chastity’s tits from the moment they’d bounced into view. I rolled my eyes, and nodded to Lucas and Chastity. “Your client.” Given where Vic’s attention was, I was tempted to make it plural.

“Yeah, hi. I’m Victor,” he introduced himself, pulling out his phone. He pointed to a bare patch of wall. “If you could stand over there, I just need a few pictures to use for your ID card.” I shook my head. Names were strictly off the table with Vic if he didn’t know someone. That he’d broken that rule told me how distracted he was.

“I’m Chas…”she paused and looked to Lucas, who shook his head and winked at her. For a fraction of a second, she paused, and I could see the uncertain girl behind the mask. Then she smiled and pulled her shoulders back slightly, with an added head tilt as she put on the mask, oozing sexuality like a protective second skin. “I’m Chastity,” she breathed, strutting over to hold one delicate hand out to him. He took it and went to do the usual bullshit make-nice stuff. But the second she touched Vic’s hand, his heartbeat went up. I looked just in time to see her thumb running down the side of his finger while she blinked a couple of times. By now, Vic was putty in her hands...well, mostly putty. Some parts of him were a little firmer. With him practically drooling over her, Chastity went to stand where he pointed, then gave him a vacant looking smile. Vic pulled up an app on his phone that blued out the background and took a couple of pictures of her from the shoulders up, then snapped a couple of normal shots that were mostly from the shoulders down.

“That should do it,” Vic said. “And if you ever need anything else, Shade knows how to get in touch with me.”

“Thank you, Victor,” she said, adding a dazzling smile to up the sincerity. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. And, I hate to ask this, Victor, and I wouldn’t if it wasn’t really, really important, but…is there any way you could do this super quick? I’m kind of in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Vic said.

“Bad trouble.”

“How bad?” he asked. Normally I would have expected him to bolt at the first sign of complications, but I couldn’t smell any of the fear Vic usually gave off.

“Life or death bad,” she answered, giving him a frightened little pout.

“I’ll have it for you by the end of the night.” The tone of his voice made me do a slow double take. So help me, Vic sounded brave.

“Careful,” I said as I took him by the elbow and guided him toward the door. “You might start to grow some principles or something.”

“Nah, there’s no money in honesty,” Vic said. “Besides, you know I don’t like playing it safe.” He gave Chastity a crooked smile then ducked out the door. When his car started, I turned back to Lucas and Chastity.

“Damn girl,” I said. “If I’d known you were that good, I could have saved myself a Rolex.” The smile that surfaced from under the mask made me feel like I’d just praised an eager to please puppy, and any minute now she’d sprout a wagging little tail.

“Thank you,” she said. “If you want, I could try to get it back for you.”

“Did you already pay him?” Lucas asked.

“Kind of. I traded him some jewelry that I picked up in Dubai last night.”

“You were in Dubai last night?” Chastity and Lucas asked at the same time but in completely different tones. Awe from Chastity and curiosity from Lucas.

“Yeah, I used the transit rings in the Underground. Now, do you need a place to stay, Chastity?”

“Yeah, I need pretty much everything. But…my name is Monica.”

“I’m Alexis. But my friends call me Shade in private. So, you need everything?”

“Yeah,” she said as she ducked her head. “Lord Thraxus chose my wardrobe for me, or he let Furcas do it. It was mostly gowns and…lingerie. I left most of it behind.”

“Shade, you didn’t have to pay for her ID,” Lucas interjected. “I can pay you back if you want.”

“I didn’t have to,” I said. “But I realized you were right, Lucas. So this is my way of both saying I’m sorry to you, Monica, and to make up for the way I treated you.” The next thing I knew, Monica had her arms around me and was squeezing me tight. Even in the middle of a bear hug, I was struck by how soft she was all over. The scent of roses and salt hit my nose first, then the herbal scent of her shampoo. Finally, her personal scent hit me, a faint musk with vanilla undertones. It was like everything about her was there to be pleasing. When she stepped back, her eyes were damp and her cheeks were glistening.

“I’m sorry to be so emotional,” she sniffled. “It’s just…no one ever did anything for me before. Especially not something huge like this.”

“Look, this is just a fake ID,” I said. Lucas was shaking his head, trying to put on an ‘Aw shucks’ act, but evidently Monica stopped him.

“I know what you did,” she said. “You traded your favor to keep me alive. Furcas made sure I knew Thraxus traded me cheap.” Her voice was bitter, and she turned away, a gesture I saw a lot of myself in. “But a favor from Thraxus…that’s a big deal. I’m just not sure I’m worth it.” The shock on Lucas’s face told me everything I needed to know. I reached out and took her chin in my hand and turned her face toward mine.

“You’re worth it to him,” I said, nodding toward Lucas. “If Lucas sees someone worth trading that kind of favor for, then maybe he’s on to something.” She turned to search his face, and I grabbed her chin and turned her back to me. “No, don’t look there. Look in here,” I tapped her forehead. “That’s where you’re going to see what he sees.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she pulled away again.

“Up until about a year ago, sister,” I said with a laugh. “I was you.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Someone said no for all the right reasons.”

She did a double take. “What? I don’t get it.”

I held up a hand as a scent reached my nose that made my hackles stand up “I don’t have time to explain it. We have company.”

“What kind?” Lucas said.

“The not quite dead variety.”

“Ghouls?” Monica asked. “That’s what they call the blood drinkers. Because they feed off the blood of the dead. They also call them Renfields.”

“Smells like it, but…” I took a deep breath in through my noise. The smell of grave mold made me want to sneeze, but I didn’t catch the distinctive pepper smell I got from Thraxus and his court, or the corrupted, rotting undertone I had picked up while we’d been dealing with Etienne’s brood. Instead, I picked up several scents layered on top of each other. “I don’t recognize any of the scents.”

“Scents?” Lucas asked. He pulled the paintball pistol from his belt and moved toward the center of the room.

“Yeah. Three or four at least.”

“Are they from…?” she almost asked, going pale.

“Thraxus doesn’t seem like a guy who does anything half-assed,” Lucas said. “He would have sent something tougher than a Renfield.”

Before I could respond, two of them burst through the windows on separate walls, both coming straight for me. I reached up and caught them by the throat. Their momentum brought their feet swinging forward, and I flexed my shoulders to bring the backs of their heads down onto the concrete floor. Two more came flying toward us, but Lucas nailed them in mid-air, sending them flying back out into the dark with explosive rounds to the chest. I had to hand it to him, he’d chosen a good spot. Now anyone coming in through either window was coming right down his line of fire.

“Come on out, Midnight,” someone called from the darkness outside. “You know what we want.”

Lucas rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m never gonna live that stupid name down,” he muttered. “No, I really don’t,” he called out. The smell of grave mold got stronger, and I heard the scuff of shoe leather on the floor. I turned and started to move toward Monica a split second too late, and saw the ghoul grab her from behind. Two more leapt in through the windows, and Lucas and I were too busy taking care of them to help her. I punched into the middle of the chest of the one that flew toward me, and Lucas hit his high in the chest with an explosive round. The one I hit was dead before it bounced off the edge of the window, and Lucas’s spun in the air before he hit the ground on his back. Lucas walked up on his, planted his foot on the guy’s chest and pointed the paintball gun at his face. His expression didn’t change when he pulled the trigger. Both of us turned toward the ghoul that had Monica. He’d backed her up near the massive stone fireplace and was peering over her shoulder at us. His hand was at her throat as he pulled her back at a painful angle. As her spine arched, her right arm came out to keep her balance. She whimpered and Lucas brought the paintball gun up.

“We both know you don’t have the balls to pull that trigger,” the ghoul laughed. “Besides, if you hit me, you’ll kill the girl, too.”

“If you hurt her,” Lucas said in a voice that chilled my soul, “you’ll be a long time wishing you were dead.”

“We want the book, not the girl,” the ghoul said. “But we’ll settle for her until you give it to us.” He was so distracted with making his demand that he missed it when Monica’s arm stopped moving. But I didn’t, and neither did Lucas. Her hand closed on the heavy iron poker and she swung it over her right shoulder. I heard the snap of bone breaking, and the ghoul let her go, his right hand unresponsive. He went to punch her with his left hand, but only got air as she spun away from him and got a two handed grip on the poker, then started to beat him with it. She got in three good hits before Lucas nailed him with an explosive round. It was enough to hurt him, but not enough to end him. I took a moment to listen, but I didn’t hear anyone moving outside. That would change as they healed up, but for now, we had a few seconds, maybe even a whole minute to retreat.

“Come on,” I ordered. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here.” We bolted for the door.

“Where are we going?” Lucas asked as we headed for our rides.

“I’ll tell you on the way,” I said as I put my helmet on and activated the Bluetooth. “Just head for the city.” I heard his Barracuda rumble to life as my bike turned over. We took the main road out, and sure enough, there were several cars at the main gate to the campground. My fingers flexed in my riding gloves as I rode by, toying with the idea of disabling their vehicles. But I didn’t want any of them sticking around, and I could already hear some of the ghouls running up the road behind us. Lucas hit the gas as soon as his tires hit asphalt, and I revved the Ninja to keep up with him. I looked back over my shoulder, but didn’t see any headlights for more than a mile. That would change, I was sure, but we had a good lead for now.

“Call Lucas,” I said. A few seconds later, a ringtone sounded in my ear, then Lucas’s voice.

“Midnight’s Fugitive Transport Service,” he said as we passed an eighteen wheeler. “Are we out of range of any super-duper hearing?”

“For the moment, yes. First things first. We’re heading for the Hive. I think I know who can help us keep Ch- um, Monica safe until this gets settled.”

“Are we talking about the Red Lady?” Lucas asked.

“The one and only. Now, next problem. They’re after some book, and they think you have it. Are they right?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure, but if it’s the one with the rite they were trying to cast earlier tonight, I know where it is.”

“And that answers my next question.”

“Hopefully with a ‘No we can’t let them have it’ answer.”

“Add an expletive to the beginning and you’re right,” I told him.

“They’re bad people, so I can clearly not give the book to them, but I’m not strong enough to keep it safe, so I can clearly not keep the book with me.”

“Truly, you have a dizzying intellect,” I quoted back to him. “So, there’s really only one thing we can do: Give it to someone more powerful.”

“The Doctor?”

“The Doctor.”

“He’s gonna be pissed,” Lucas said after a moment.

“Nothing new,” I said. Headlights showed up in my rear view mirror. “Okay, our friends are back. They’re focusing on you.”

“So I’m the bait, got it. Try not to take too long, okay?”

“You’re a dangerous man, Lucas Kale. I won’t be long at all.” I hit the button to disconnect the call and took the next off ramp, hoping our new friends ignored me to concentrate on Lucas. Once off the freeway, I twisted the throttle and felt the bike surge forward underneath me. It was hard not to rip the helmet off so I could feel the wind on my face, but the more practical, human part of me remembered that I needed to be able to call Lucas later. As the bike accelerated along the frontage road, I leaned forward over the handlebars and looked to my left. Three cars had pulled up to Lucas’s Barracuda and were trying to box him in. Lucas, of course, was not about to let that happen.

The trunk of the car in front of him went up in flames, then the entire rear blew apart, forcing him to slow down and swerve to avoid catching fire himself. As the two remaining vehicles rejoined the pursuit, I saw the sign for the on-ramp I needed. I had half a mile to go before I was back in the chase. The ‘Cuda roared and surged forward, and one of the two chase cars managed to keep up with him. The other pulled up behind him and stayed just behind his right bumper. Lucas hit the gas, but both cars stayed even with him. They weren’t a match for my Ninja, though.

I twisted the throttle and got ahead of them, then took the ramp. Once on the freeway again, I slowed down and let them pass, then throttled up again and came up behind the chase car. They didn’t see me until it was almost too late. The rear drivers side window came down as I pulled up beside them, and a guy popped out of the window with a little box of a submachine gun. I snatched it out of his hands before he could fire and bashed him in the face with it. He slumped against the door, and I tucked the little gun into my jacket for later. I needed that hand for the throttle again. I came up beside the car again and gained a couple of feet on the driver's side door before I let go of the throttle, pulled the clutch and smashed the glass. Then I grabbed the driver’s hair and smashed his face into the steering wheel a couple of times. With the car no longer under anyone’s control, I had to hit the brakes hard and swerve around it. That left the other car that had been trying to force Lucas into the concrete median.

Lucas also braked hard, then came around to the passenger side. He held back and I took that as my cue. I got in front of him and pointed the gun at the tire, then pulled the trigger. The stubby little gun burped and sparks flew from the front fender. I adjusted my aim a little and pulled the trigger again, and this time, I was rewarded with the sound of a tire blowing. Lucas blew the back tire clean off the car. Show off. I tossed the sub gun into a dumpster once we got off the freeway, and we took the scenic route to the main entrance of the Hive.

The Hive is like Wal-Mart: it’s always open for business, and the real oddballs shop after midnight. I shifted my eyes slightly so I could see the Spirit Realm, and found the iron gate behind the illusion of a brick wall. Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem finding it, but Monica seemed confused for a moment, until we temporarily broke the illusion by passing through it. She clung to Lucas’s arm as soon as she saw the throng of beings that waited for us inside. We wove our way through the bustling crowd, sharing space with as many species of magickal being as I’d ever seen. Skin in every color of the rainbow was being flashed by customers and vendors alike, especially by the ones who peddled their own bodies.

I led them down the main drag, a wide spot in the mix of ruined buildings and reconstructed shops that the inhabitants called Easy Street among themselves. A fight broke out across the way, and half the crowd flocked to it, while the other half put a little distance between themselves and the conflict. I gave it a little distance myself, since we had business we needed to see to in a hurry.

With my eye on the other scuffle, I missed the hand that reached out and grabbed my breast and pulled me into an awkward embrace from behind. Something poked at my bottom, and I could feel soft silk against the back of my arms. A heavy musk hit my nose, along with a mossy scent. My muscles froze in place, just like they always did when a man grabbed me. I fought the reflex, but my body refused to listen for a moment.

“Just relax and do as I want, and you will be well paid, little girl,” I heard from over my right shoulder. The words were muffled, like through a mask, and the speaker had an aristocratic sound to his voice. “The worst that you will suffer is that you shall walk with a well-used woman’s gait, and that no human man will ever satisfy you.”

“Let me go now, and you’ll be able to walk away,” I said. Anger overrode my old responses, and my body was mine again. My arms were tense with the need to just hurl this asshole over my shoulder, but if he wore a mask, he probably had bodyguards. And if he was what I thought he was, those bodyguards carried weapons that would hurt me.

“I have two warriors who would debate that point with Elven steel,” Mr. Gropey hissed. Over the noise of the crowd, I heard a familiar sound, a paintball round striking something behind me. The sound repeated, and I heard two somethings hit the ground. “You, on the other hand, have no protector, do you?” His other hand cupped my ass cheek, and I was about done being diplomatic.

“I have one more than you do,” I said. He shifted behind me, and I grabbed the hand on my breast. A twist and a spin bent him over, and I drove my fist into his shoulder. The joint dislocated neatly, and he fell to his knees, screaming in pain. Keeping my promise, I drove my foot down across the back of his calf, and felt one of the bones break. His screams became sobbing gasps, and he passed out. A third figure in silk robes and a mask ran forward, a slim dagger out, but he carried it in a tight fist, almost like he was going to beat something with it instead of stab.

“My lord!” he cried. “Get away from him! You will die for this affront, human. We will kill everyone you care about before we make you beg for your own death!” I ignored him long enough to pull his master’s belt free, then stood up to face the little fop.

“I am no little human girl, Elf,” I hissed as I took a step toward him and let my eyes go wolf. He backed away, and I could see his eyes go wide behind the opening in his mask. The forms and protocols Sinbad had taught me flitted through my head, and I adopted a more formal cadence. “I am Shade, Alpha of the Diamond Lake pack. I call wizards and demons alike friend. So I’m going to warn you to answer my next question with the utmost care, because your entire line will live or die by your answer. What did you just say to me?” As I spoke, Lucas came up and put his paintball gun to the fop’s head, and I could hear him swallow. The street reeked of his sudden fear.

“Nothing of importance?” the fop said.

“That’s what I thought. Oh, and your lord’s apology is accepted,” I said as I held up the belt. He nodded and put the dagger away.

“I see why you and Chance work so well together,” Lucas said when I handed him the belt.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Because you both have this way of going from zero to nuclear,” he said, opening the larger pouch. “But you’re really polite about it, and you try to warn people. And then the screaming starts.”

In spite of myself, I laughed. “You’re getting there, too, you know,” I said. “So, what did our pointy-eared little pervert have in his pockets?”

“Bunch of gems, a stack of trade bars in both silver and gold, some bearer notes for Bjernings, a few potion bottles for various aphrodisiacs, some for stamina and a few for amnesia. Quite the little date rape kit he had going on here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he was quite the ladies man,” I said. “Anything else?”

“A dagger and a scroll tube.”

“Monica,” I said as I pulled us off of Easy Street and handed her the dagger. “Take this.”

“It’s dangerous to go alone,” Lucas quoted.

“Even though he’s being facetious, Lucas is right,” I said as Monica took the sheathed dagger and drew it.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered as she examined the gently curved blade. “I’ve heard about Elven steel, but I’ve never seen it. Is everything they say about it true?”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” I said. “But it’s enchanted to hurt… or kill… most things. Even me.” Monica’s eyes went wide, and she slid the dagger back into its sheath. “Let’s go. The Elves are far from the worst thing we’re likely to run into in here.”

“Chance never seems to have much trouble here,” Lucas said.

“He’s a guy,” I said as we got moving again. “And he’s got a reputation.” We threaded our way through the crowd, making toward the Warrens, a group of side streets favored by prostitutes and brothels. I could see the two red lamps that bracketed the entrance, and started hustling toward them. We were only a few rods away when a slender, pale white being stepped out in front of us. His eyes were black and his ears were reptilian.

“How much for the girl?” he asked, raising one clawed finger to point at Monica.

“She’s not for sale,” Lucas said with more than a little menace to his voice.

The pale man laughed. “Everything is for sale. It’s just a matter of price.”

Monica wrapped her arm around Lucas’s and bowed her head toward the pale man. “I’m sorry for the confusion, but my master means he isn’t allowed to sell me,” she said, batting her eyes and shaking her head. “I was a gift to him from Lord Thraxus, payment for...services rendered. If he sold me the very next night, it might be seen as… disrespectful.” I fought down a smile as a sharp scent flooded the air, and the pale man’s hand came down. His smile faltered, then returned at full strength before he spoke again.

“If you ever tire of her, I’ll give you five thousand for her. Gold and gems upfront.” Without waiting for a reply, he slipped back into the crowd, and I turned back to Monica with a newfound respect.

“You never cease to amaze,” I said. Monica shrugged and smiled.

“Technically, it was all true,” she said to me. She turned to Lucas, her eyes soft and mirroring her smile. “And if I have to belong to someone, I’d rather belong to you than anyone.”

“You don’t have to belong to someone,” Lucas said.

“Yeah, but I kinda like it,” she said. Lucas looked at her, then blushed as she whispered, “And I’ll make sure you like it, too.” I turned away and headed for the red lanterns marking the entrance to the Warrens. Once inside, things got quieter. A few ladies and even a couple of the men offered to make our night, but none of the offers were more than half-hearted. I’d been here more than a few times, and I’d seen that most people who made this far were looking for something or someone specific. Not unlike us.

I wound through the maze of broken buildings and streets until I came to a familiar two story place that was mostly intact. A couple of red-skinned Cambions lounged in the windows of the lower floor, and a stocky Hob held up the doorjamb, his own skin a slightly darker shade of red. He raised his chin at me in greeting, then looked to Lucas and Monica.

“Hey, Shade,” he rumbled. “Finally come to get a little red meat?”

“If I wanted a little red meat, you’d be the first Hob I’d talk to,” I said.

“Harsh, girl,” he chuckled. “Harsh. If you’re looking for the lady of the house, she’s with a client.”

“We’ll wait.”

“You know, you didn’t have to bring your own extras if you wanted a threesome,” he said as we walked past him. I showed him my middle finger as I led the others up the stairs. “Any time!” he laughed behind me. I led them up to a room that was almost intact, with only a few visible repairs. Heavy tapestries covered three of the four walls, with only the outer wall left bare. Heavy shutters closed off the two windows, and movie posters were taped to the fading wallpaper and exposed drywall between them. A comfortable, worn leather couch was along the wall next to the door, with a thick pillow resting atop two folded blankets at one end. Two chairs sat in front of the big, antique wooden desk that took up most of the center of the room, with a red leather chair parked behind it like a throne.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” I said. “She might be a while.” I took one of the chairs and stretched my legs out in front of it. Lucas and Monica took the couch, and murmured softly to each other while I clasped my hands over my stomach and leaned back, determined to tune them out and maybe even doze a little.

I wasn’t sure how long it was before Synreah glided into the room in a rustle of satin and smelling of lust and sweat. Her hair tumbled down to the middle of her back in a mess of black curls, and her face was set in a satisfied smile as she tied her black robe off before she sat down in the red chair, her own red skin a brighter shade. Her all-black eyes bored into me as she sighed and laid a riding crop down to one side on the desk top.

“Darling girl, I wish I could say it’s good to see you, but you aren’t due to show your lovely face here for a couple of days. And your friends smell almost as much of stress as they do of lust,” she said.

“Synreah, this is Lucas and Monica.” I said. Synreah leaned forward, her robe parting to reveal her deep cleavage.

“Monica, eh?” she purred, her eyes lingering over the other girl’s figure. “Oh, honey, you look delicious. It isn’t everyday I meet a girl better endowed than I am. And they’re real, aren’t they?”

Monica blushed, but her shoulders went back and she lifted her chin a little. “Yes, they are.”

Synreah’s pointed black tongue slid over her dark lips, and she smiled. “Well, if you ever want to make use of your natural charms, come talk to me. But I doubt you’re here looking for work. What’s wrong?”

“We need a safe place for Monica for a few days,” I said, and launched into a quick recap of how our night had gone already.

“Sounds like you do need a safe place for her,” Synreah said when I finished. “But you’re not going to find it in this town. I do have a place in Shanghai I can let her use, though.”

“Shanghai?” Lucas asked.

“Yes, Shanghai,” Synreah smiled. “Well, it isn’t really mine but the guy who owned it has never complained before, I doubt he’s going to start now.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “We don’t need any extra hassle here.”

“Well, he’s dead, so yeah, I’m pretty damn sure. Leave her with me, and you two do what you need to do. I promise, she’ll be safe.”

“Lucas?” Monica turned big blue eyes on him. “Do I have to?” Her hands clutched at his arm, and I smelled fear and adrenaline come off her in waves.

“It’s only for a couple of days, until we get the book out of play and make sure no one is going to come after you,” he said.

“She needs clothes and basics,” I told Synreah.

“There’s a room at the end of the hallway,” she said with a smile. “I’m pretty sure she can find some shirts and dresses that will fit. There’s also lingerie and a bed if you want to give her a proper send-off,” she smiled at Lucas. He gave her a shake of his head and pulled Monica with him.

“He’s trying to do right by her,” I said.

“Then she’s going to have to go brunette. Judging by her eyebrows, she’s not a natural anyway. I’ll get her taken care of while we’re in Shanghai.”

“Thanks, Syn,” I said.

“Any time, sister,” she laughed as she came around the desk and stood in front of me. “You look stressed. When was the last time you let go?”

“Too long,” I sighed. “Not since Chance went to Boston.”

“Close your eyes, and think happy thoughts,” she said as she reached out and put her hands on my head. Her fingers gently kneaded my scalp, and I felt my shoulders relax a little. After a couple of minutes of scalp massage, she curled her fingers in my hair and pulled gently, slowly working her way through my hair until she was at the back of my skull. Finally, she closed her hand around a thick bunch of hair and gently pulled my head back before letting her fingers slide out of my hair. I wasn’t quite relaxed, but I was a lot closer to it.

“I don’t know why that works so well, but it does,” I said.

“I could say it’s simply pressure points in the scalp,” she said. “But, with you, it’s something deeper. All people need touch, but your wolf needs it and enjoys it more. It’s why your pack is always so physically expressive with each other. You’ve already worked out the need for Chance to be equal to your alpha, but with him not around… you’re just now learning what healthy intimacy without sex is like. You need someone else you trust.”

“And that would be you?”

“Who else?” she smiled and leaned back against her desk. “Either way, I have this. You, go home, pretend to be normal for a few days.”

“I wanted to see Paris next,” I said.

“Paris will always be there,” Synreah said. “Spend a couple of days being normal.”

“Why?”

“Practice, sweetie. Practice. Even if you aren't normal, the world is full of people who expect you to at least look like you are.”

“Point,” I said.

“Point, set and match, I told him,” Douglas Fairing said, leaning forward and gesturing with his glass of ice tea. Across the table from him, Mom laughed as he delivered the punchline to his story, so I gave a courtesy laugh, too. “So, anyway, he writes the check out to the children’s fund for Dad’s hospital right then and there. I could tell he was trying to be a good sport about it, but he was not happy about losing to me. I mean, it had to be embarrassing, a tennis pro losing to a senior in high school, am I right?”

“You’re a Valmont Prep man,” Dad said. “When you set your sights on something, nothing stops you.” Douglas looked my way before he nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. Cooper. A Valmont man always gets what he wants.”

Dad looked to me and gave a nod toward Douglas. “You could do a lot worse than Doug here, sweetie.”

“But you can’t do much better!” Mom added before I could reply. “Dave, why don’t we go get another game in, and let these two get to know each other better. I’m sure we’re cramping their style or something.”She got up and smoothed her tennis skirt out, then grabbed her racket and gestured for Dad to follow, which he did in all his pastel glory.

“So, I understand your parents are still sending you to public school,” Douglas said. “You need to talk them into sending you to Valmont.”

“Why? I happen to like Kennedy, and last I heard, they had the best AP courses in the state.”

“Well, first, it’ll make dating a lot more convenient if you’re at Valmont, and second, it won’t be so awkward having to explain why I’m seeing someone from a public school. Besides, a diploma from Valmont will open doors for you, and I’ll introduce you to my circle of friends. They can do more for you than some bunch of public school losers.”

“I already have a boyfriend,” I said as I clenched and unclenched my fist under the table. “And you don’t know anything about my friends.”

“You’re about to trade up, babe,” he said, as he moved to the seat beside mine and slid it closer to me.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I asked.

He stopped for a moment and looked genuinely confused. “Well, yeah, you get to say yes,” he said, his smile resurfacing. “No girl ever says no to me.”

“I just did,” I told him and stood up.

“Come on, baby,” he trailed after me. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

I stopped and turned to face him. “You have no idea what you’re playing with. So just stop. Please.”

He looked at me, and the grin on his face got bigger. “Hey, I can take care of myself. I’d bet I’m a much better man than the loser you’re dating now.”

I turned back to face him. I doubted he’d ever even seen a vampire, much less fought a coven of them. Or done any of a dozen other things Chance and I had faced together. “You couldn’t even take me on the tennis court,” I said. “Much less anywhere else you have in mind.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asked with a confident grin.

“Sure. In fact, I’ll make you a deal. If you beat me on the court, I’ll go out with you.”

“I’ll try not to beat you too badly. I hope you like Italian.”

“And if I beat you?” I said.

“Not even possible.” Boy, was he in for a shock.

“You’re on. I’ll even go easy on you. Best two out of three.” I went back to the table and grabbed my tennis racket, then spun it around my finger. I chuckled as we walked toward the court, suddenly realizing that I was as free here as I had been in Dubai. There was very little that the normal world could throw at me that I couldn’t handle. Douglas thought he was going to trounce the pretty redhead in a game of tennis, but I was about to turn it into a full contact sport.

As I hefted the tennis ball for the first serve, I understood. Freedom was being able to be anywhere in the world, but being okay no matter where you were standing. Now all I had to do was figure out what I wanted when I won.

Those Who Can

I had figured on getting more sleep once Chance went to the Franklin Academy. But, once again, I was trying not to fall down the stairs to answer the front door at some ungodly hour. After the first few times, checking the clock stopped mattering. My bare feet slapped across the hardwood floor in the kitchen, and I pulled my spare wand out of the pocket of my robe as I flipped on the porch light at the side of the house.

Lucas stared back at me through the glass of the kitchen door, his hair slicked back and his hand inside a navy-blue greatcoat. He smiled as he saw my face, and I unlocked the kitchen door to let him in. As soon as the door opened, he slipped inside, glancing over his shoulder as he hurried past me and made a beeline for the study.

“Good to see you, too, Lucas,” I muttered at his back. “No, no, no explanation needed. Late? Not at all. It can’t be past, what? Three? Oh, earth-shattering emergency? You kids and your apocalyptic hijinks.” I followed him to the study, hoping this one time it was something normal. Relationship troubles, unreasonable demands from adults, the utter unfairness of life in general; just once, I would have loved to have to field some good old fashioned teen angst.

Lucas pulled a slim tome from inside his coat and laid it on my desk. The runes on the front crawled under my gaze, and the symbol underneath them made me queasy. “Boy, am I glad to see you, Dr. C. I know it’s late, but this is important. Like, disaster movie level important.”

“Go on, I already had the rest of this conversation in the kitchen,” I said.

“Okay, so the priest I was looking for the other day? I found him. And I kinda took the book the vampires were using to perform their ritual.”

“And they want it back?”

“Yeah,” Lucas said, looking sheepish.

“And you think I can do a better job of holding on to it than you can.” He nodded. “Well, you were right. At least you always have a good reason for knocking at my door at oh-dark-thirty. Just out of curiosity, what were they trying to do?”

“Bring back a vampire, only they were going to over-power the spell so he would come back all wrong and do mass property damage.”

I shook my head and closed my eyes. “What is it with vampires and trying to destroy the world? First Etienne, now this bunch of idiots. Well, you’ve done your part. I’ll take it from here.”

“Thanks, Dr. C. Hopefully they’ll leave Monica and me alone now.”

“Monica?” I asked. “Who is that?”

Lucas laughed, and so help me, the boy blushed. “You probably remember her as Chastity.”

“Thraxus’s messenger girl? The one who kept trying to hook up with…well, everyone?”

“That would be her,” he said with a smile. “Only she’s not his messenger girl any more. She’s…she’s her own woman now.” Even though he had a serene smile on his face, his energy levels were climbing, especially the root chakra. Which explained the pause. If my more than fifty years on the planet had taught me anything about young men, it was that they had a possessive streak a mile wide when it came to women. But Lucas was much more self-aware than most guys his age. If he was trying to suppress his own urges, then they were pretty strong where this girl was concerned. I only hoped she was as into him as he was into her.

“Hopefully, you and she can get on with your lives, then. Do you need an escort back home? And does she need any security?”

“I’m okay, and Shade has Monica covered for now. But…uh… we may need some help making her,” he held his hands up and moved them in circles, “official?”

“I can help with that,” I told him. “Just get me her info, and I’ll see about getting her into the system.”

“Thanks, Dr. C,” he smiled. “I know this has been a pain in the ass for you but-” He stopped as his phone buzzed. He had it out in a flash, then looked up from the screen with a broad smile. “It’s Monica. I need to take this. Synreah took her to Shanghai.” He was walking to the kitchen with the phone to his ear without even waiting for a reply. While I couldn’t hear the words, his tone was warm, and I could hear the smile in his voice. Of the small group of kids that Chance had brought into my life, Lucas was the last of them to find romance. I went to my desk and pulled out the bottle of Coke from the six pack I kept there. Growing up in West Texas, I’d gotten used to drinking it at room temperature. Tonight, I popped the top on the handle to the drawer and threw a little bit of cold at it before I took the first sip.

“Here’s to young love,” I said as I pulled the book toward me. “May it last.” Maybe later, I’d get a sip of something stronger, but for now, I needed my wits about me. When vampires were involved, you never went at things at less than a hundred percent. The script on the front cover was Muvian, a vampiric alphabet from before Atlantis fell. I had to translate it into Lower Lemurian to make sense of it, but when I did, I wasted no time in reaching for the phone on my desk. And yes, I do still have a landline. There are some places you just can’t reach with a cellphone.

Forty-five minutes later, I was on the lift down to the New Essex Underground, buckling my gun belt around my waist and ignoring the wide-eyed look I was getting from the Dwarf operating the lift. The book was in my backpack, and I had a duffle bag at my side. The lift bounced as it hit the ground, and I was over the waist-high railing, gone before the operator could open the gate. As I ran, I pulled the ankh medallion out of the pocket of my tactical vest and slipped it over my head. Even without the Sentinels’ trademarked blue cloak or the paramiir staff, it was enough to get people to move out of my way, and in less than ten minutes, I was at the Priority Transit booth. A Gnomish woman with gold-streaked brown hair looked up at me from the raised seat. Sapphire blue eyes blinked behind a pair of gem-studded spectacles that perched on a long nose, and she gave me a smile that dimpled her round cheeks.

“Corwin, Trevor J,” I told the Gnome as I held up the ankh necklace. My name, credentials and an image of my face flashed into place four inches from the pendant. The Gnome looked it over, then handed me a narrow piece of parchment.

“They’re waiting for you, sir,” she said, her long, narrow nose quivering. She straightened, letting her tunic pull tight against her well rounded figure as she pulled the glasses off her nose. “Good luck.”

I gave her a quick nod and touched my fingers to my brow as I took a couple of backward steps. “Thank you, ma’am. Here’s hoping I don’t need it.” Her smile broadened enough to show teeth, and I turned to head for the Priority Transit pad. Gnomes might be homebodies, but as much as they generally despised excitement and most forms of hardship, they loved seeing or hearing about adventure. And to actually be close to excitement, without being part of it, of course, was like crack to them.

The little box with the sickness bags was conveniently full, and I grabbed a couple as I presented my ticket. The Gnome at the platform took it and gestured to the eight foot wide circle in front of me.

“Ah, New Hampshire. Local time would be approximately six-twenty-five AM. Less than half an hour before sunrise, if I recall correctly.” His moustache almost vibrated under his thick nose, and he made his way to the platform controls with a spring in his step. I moved to the center of the platform and went to one knee, then nodded toward him. The world went blue.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try the omelet?” Andrew Polter asked with a chilly smile. “Or the eggplant and tomato hash?” He paused long enough to stuff a bite of his omelet into his mouth. Goat cheese, spinach and avocado were not things I wanted to mix with eggs after a rough transit and the prospect of another one going back.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said. “Just the coffee and toast for now,” I said to the waiter.

“The chef here is top notch,” Polter went on. “I’m sure he could rustle you up some grits. Or even biscuits and gravy.”

“Andrew, please,” I said. “I’m not hungry, and the more you talk about food, the more likely I am to ruin even your appetite.”

“We are here formally, Wizard Corwyn. The proper form address is Master,” he shot back, making sure to emphasize his rank. “I guess it’s just as well that your part in all of this is almost done, then.” His blubbery lips smacked together as he leaned back, then took a sip of his latte. I looked away, trying to concentrate on the spectacular sunrise outside the restaurant’s window.

“You’re right about that,” I said. “Because so far, a couple of teenage kids have done more to safeguard humanity over the past few days than you have. Master Polter.”

“I have done all that my position allowed, as you well know. But, as the saying goes, those who can,” he pointed to himself, “Do. Those who can’t, teach.” He swept his hand in my direction.

“Man and Superman. Quoting Shaw, Andrew?” Nick Draeden’s tenor came from behind us. “Satire, I find, is a double-edged wisdom. Too many times, it makes its point by saying the opposite of what is true. And Wizard Corwyn’s role in this little affair is far from done.”

“Nick, the Elder Council was very clear about their expectations,” Polter wagged his finger at Draeden.

“Yes, they are nothing if not precise, are they not?” Draeden smiled as he leaned back in his chair. The waiter returned with a plate and a cup of black coffee. Evidently, they knew what Master Draeden wanted already. He nodded to the waiter and smiled. “Thank you, Jamison. As I recall, they were very specific regarding the Conclave not interfering in what was happening in New Essex. But we’re not in New Essex right now, are we?”

“Corwyn lives there,” Polter started, but Draeden raised a hand to cut him off.

“The book came into his possession through no act of his or of his student. In fact, if I understand correctly, Trevor, it was Thraxus himself who involved the boy.”

“Involve isn’t quite the word I’d use for it. He threatened to kill Lucas’s family if he didn’t find the priest who had this book.”

“Now, I don’t know about you, Andrew,” Draeden said after a sip of his coffee, “but I do not like being told what to do. Especially not in one of our primary centers of power. I remember a time when the Elder Council came to us to explain their actions and ask for clemency if innocents were involved, rather than dictate terms to us and order us to look the other way. When they would ask for our help rather than threaten innocents in order to get them to do their dirty work.”

Polter shifted in his seat and looked down at the table for a moment before he answered. “Well, they didn’t exactly demand we look the other way, it was more of a request.”

“I was there, Andrew,” Draeden said, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth. He put it down and leaned forward. “They told us we were not to interfere with the investigation into Father Jacob’s disappearance, and if we did happen to stumble upon him, we were to take no action, no matter the circumstances. Does that pretty much cover it?”

“They didn’t say it outright, but they pretty much assumed they could send agents to New Essex at will,” I added.

“There was that. Subtext is important. And what was the response of the Sentinels? You just rolled over for them and all but bared your throat.”

“The Sentinels’ purview doesn’t extend outside the activities of the Conclave or the enforcement of our own Laws,” Polter quoted.

Draeden balled his fist up and held it over the table as his expression darkened. When he spoke, his voice was taut and strained. “The Conclave’s charter…the very existence of the wizards… is devoted to the protection of the cowan against all supernatural threats.” His hand came down slowly, and he spread his fingers out against the table cloth. “You committed us to a path of inaction, Andrew…until now. We’ve upheld our part of the agreement to the letter. In exchange, the vampires threatened a cowan family and assaulted the alpha of a local pack.”

“We have no formal relations with any clans in the Midwest,” Polter said.

“I believe it’s time for that to change.”

“The New England clans will take a dim view of that, Master Draeden,” Polter warned.

Draeden took a bite of his omelet before answering. “We’ve steered our course by the opinions and demands of others for long enough. It’s time we return to our true purpose. No more kissing ass. Now, we’ll need to get back to the reason we’re actually here in a moment. But first, Wizard Corwyn, what’s your estimation of young Mr. Kale? Is he mage material?”

“According to Sydney’s evaluation of him,” I said, “he has some natural talent, and he’s a quick learner, but given how late he would be starting his training, and how weak his talent is, he didn’t think he’d ever be more than a hedge mage.”

“Well, then, that seems to settle that,” Polter said, but Draeden held up a hand. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. I felt myself fighting to stay still in my seat as he studied me.

“What do you think, Trevor?”

I sat up a little straighter, and my chest suddenly felt too small for the emotion that welled up within me. “Lucas fights above his weight class and wins on a regular basis. He’s a very smart, very resourceful young man. And while he might never attain the levels of personal power you or Master Polter have achieved… in time and with the right training, I’d hesitate to bet against him. Hell, I wouldn’t bet against him now.”

“Well, then Wizard Corwyn,” Draeden said with a humorless smile, “I’m hereby assigning you to give him said training. Now, as to the book. What was so important about it?”

“It’s the Codex Malekon.”

“The original?” Polter asked. I nodded.

“That explains a great deal,” Draeden said. “The vampires would go to great lengths to get their hands on that book. However, our course is quite clear here. In accordance with the Kyoto Accords, we must return it to the Zhang He Library in San Francisco at once. Also, I want you to help them find whoever took the codex. This happened within the Conclave’s borders, so we’re obligated to help them find the thief. I’m activating your reserve commission as a Sentinel as of now.”

“They’re not going to like that,” I said. “The fact that it was stolen from them is going to be a big enough stain on their honor. Having to accept help from a gaijin, a gwei lo, will only make it worse.”

“Those are the terms the councils agreed on. Like it or not, you’re going to help them find the thief, and they’re going to have to let you. Andrew, put the Kestrel at Trevor’s disposal. I want him in San Francisco by nightfall, and with every possible resource at his disposal.”

“The Kestrel?” Polter sputtered.

“Did I stutter, Master Polter?”

“No,” Polter grumbled. “I’ll have it made ready for takeoff.”

“Good. The transit platform is faster for you anyway, Andrew. Well, then, I believe you have a flight to catch, Trevor. The plane should be ready to take off by the time you reach the airport.”

The Kestrel. For all that the High Council had access to some of the most powerful magicks in the world, they tried to keep one foot in the real world as well. To that end, certain council members had access to a fleet of private jets. As head of the Council, Draeden used the Eagle as a portable headquarters. The leader of the Sentinels used the Kestrel as a portable command post. I had served aboard it back in the eighties as an apprentice, under Master Mordecai Crane, Polter’s predecessor.

As soon as I got out of the cab, I knew that a lot had changed in thirty years. The new plane was bigger than the one I’d served on, and the woman waiting for me at the door was no Sentinel. In fact, I was willing to bet that she wasn’t even a mage.

“Good morning, Dr. Corwyn,” she said. A young man came out of the open hatch and took my bag, then scrambled back aboard. “That is Roland, and I’m Caroline; we’re your flight stewards. Ego sum Illuminatos.” I shook her hand, but didn’t feel the tingle or buzz that skin to skin contact with another practitioner of the mystic arts usually gave.

“Is that so?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.” She gave me a dazzling smile. “I don’t have the Talent, but my family has served the magi for generations. Welcome aboard the Kestrel, sir.”

Once aboard, I s aw ee that other things ha d ve changed as well. There wa i s no apprentice assigned to the plane, unless they were assigned to Polter specifically, and the focus ha d s changed.  Where there was once a balance of comfort and utility, this plane wa i s almost entirely focused on luxury. The first three compartments look ed no different than a normal business jet. Two big, reclining seats face d each other on each bulkhead in the front compartment, with a small table set on the left side of the plane with four seats on either side, and a low credenza on the right side that supported a large TV screen. The carpeting swallowed the sound of my footsteps as I went to the aft cabin and found myself slack jawed. If I wanted to get some sleep, there was a couch back there, and another entertainment center. All luxury, as far as I could tell, and zero function, unless it was hidden under the plush leather upholstery. The guy who had taken my backpack and duffel bag came was coming out of a compartment even further back in the plane.

“Your luggage is in the storage compartment, but there is also a complete wardrobe, if you need something more formal, sir,” he said.

“This is still the Sentinels’ mobile command post, right?” I asked.

“Of course, sir,” the steward said. He pointed to the single executive lounger beside me. A keyboard and wireless mouse were on the table in front of it. “Mobile C-and-C command station is there. Armories are in the aft storage, mid-cabin and in the forward section of the plane where you entered. The galley also has alchemical and herbalism equipment to supplement the potions and compounds already on board. And we just restocked the galley.”

“Illuminatus es tu?” I asked. Are you enlightened?

“Ego ambulado inter mundo,” he answered. I walk between worlds. “My talent is limited to alchemy and herbalism. Still, I help where I can. Bloom as you’re planted, my teacher says. We’ll be ready to take off in ten minutes. Would you like something from the galley during your flight?”

“Breakfast would be nice,” I said.

I woke up when the engines changed pitch. A few seconds later, the plane tilted left and the horizon outside slid toward the top of the window. Below me, San F r ancisco stretched out in all its glory. My watch read one-twenty, but the sun was too low in the sky. I did the math, and figured the local time was nine-twenty A.M. as I brought my seat back upright. We banked again, and I felt the landing gear lock into place. A few minutes later, the plane hit the tarmac and the local info came up on the screen for me. Perfect weather for a blazer and jeans. Once the plane pulled to a stop inside a hangar, I went to the aft compartment and grabbed a charcoal blazer and a white button down shirt in my size and changed. Then it was time to accessorize.

Since I was investigating a crime as a Sentinel, I needed to be armed with more than just a wand and the odd charm. In Missouri, I was licensed to carry concealed and openly, and there were very few problems with doing so. In California, though, the gun laws were almost Byzantine. In the nineties, the Sentinels created a private security firm so the they could be armed while “on duty” in most states. Even though I was legal to carry, I didn’t want to attract the attention of local law enforcement. And that meant ditching my usual weapons. I usually liked the H&K Mark 23 and my LeMat revolver for spelled rounds. But for discretion, I was going with a pair of slightly smaller guns, the Glock 36, a slim version of their .45 caliber model, and the Colt Pocket Percussion Navy model, a small revolver that still packed a punch even before you added in incendiary spells on each of the five .36 caliber ball rounds. Both were good backups to my wand.

With a few other items from the plane’s stores in my pockets, I grabbed my backpack and got off the plane. Two Sentinels were waiting for me by a pair of Dodge Chargers. As I got closer, I recognized the one on the left.

“Sentinel Jimenez,” I said as I got within arm’s reach. She took my extended hand in a firm grip and shook it, giving me a smile. “Good to see you.” Like most Sentinels on the cowan side of the Veil, she wore black cargo pants and a blue polo shirt with her paramiir on her belt. She kept her long, black hair in a regulation braid that reached down somewhere south of her shoulders. Her oval face and light brown skin worked together well, making her one of the more attractive badasses I knew. It worked to her advantage, since most men had a hard time equating a pretty woman with the high-end ass-kicking Marcella Jimenez was capable of dishing out.

“Corwin,” Jimenez said. “This is my new partner, Sentinel Grayson.” I looked at the tall young man beside her. He kept his hair cut short, a no-nonsense cut that kept dark curls a strict half inch high from his scalp. His dark eyes flicked over to me and flicked up and down once before he extended a dark brown hand. His grip was strong, his expression neutral. His face still had some of the softer lines of youth, though his eyes and his body language made him seem older.

“Sir,” he said as he shook my hand.

“Good to meet you, Grayson.” I turned back to Jimenez. “What happened to Tyrell?”

“Lost an arm to a rakshasa we chased down last year. He qualified for regen, but…he was never the same. He retired a few months ago, took a spot at Citadel. He trained Grayson and recommended he partner with me during his probationary period.”

I nodded and looked at Grayson with newfound respect. “That says a lot for both of you. Are you two going to be working with me on this case?”

“Our orders are to stay out of your way. We’re just here to drop off a car. But, if you should need back-up,” she said, leaving the rest unsaid as she handed me a business card and the keys.

“I’m just here to return a book and look into a theft,” I told her as I pocketed the card. “I doubt I’m going to need to draw a gun, much less yell for help.”

“I noticed you were carrying a little bit light,” Marcella said. “Do you need anything while you’re here?”

“Maybe a place to stay. Is the Dolores Heights house still open?”

“Occupied. I’ll book the suite at the Warwick for you for a couple of nights.”

I nearly choked when she dropped the name of one of the more expensive hotels in the city. “When did we get a suite at the Warwick?”

“About five years ago, I think,” Marcella said. “When the Sentinels started handling security for visiting dignitaries. It’s the bulk of what we do any more.”

“Things sure have changed since the nineties,” I said. “With any luck, the only reason you’ll be hearing from me for is if I need back-up handling dinner.”

“That would be a welcome change. I like Indian cuisine, by the way.” She gave me a smile and turned toward the other car. Grayson followed her silently, and a few seconds later, they were pulling out of the hangar.

I got behind the wheel of my Charger and took a minute to familiarize myself with it. Like regular police vehicles, it had a laptop mounted to the dash. Unlike regular police vehicles, it had a black mirror next to the screen of the laptop. The windshield was enchanted so that it could display Mage Sight across the inside of the glass, just like the older Crown Victorias had been. The center console opened to reveal a trio of wands in different woods, as well as three small rods. One was red, for an incendiary spell, one was blue, for cold, and one was yellow, for an electrical based spell. And if I knew the Sentinels, there were two different first aid kits in the car, one normal, one magickal. And if I needed to be heavily armed, the trunk would have weapons enough to take down anything short of a dragon. Well, maybe a small dragon. Sentinels were fond of overkill.

The computer pulled up a map to the library, and half an hour later, I was pulling up to a plain looking little stone edifice not quite in the middle of Chinatown. It stood out for its height, around ten stories tall. Most buildings in the area topped out at three and four stories. The bronze plaque outside the door read “Zhang He Cultural Center, Est. 1952.”

Inside, the red carpet ran across a white marble floor to a white marble desk manned by a young man in a black jacket. He looked up at me and smiled. Behind him hung   a portrait of a man in a blue suit with a long, drooping moustache, looking down at the world with benevolent grace.

“How may I help you, sir?” he said, his tone just a hair shy of friendly.

“Dr. Corwyn, to see the curator,” I said.

“The curator is very busy, sir,” the receptionist said, his tone dropping a few degrees. “He does not see anyone without an appointment. And his schedule, as you might guess, is quite full.”

“I can think of a couple of reasons why he’ll want to see me,” I said. “First: Ego sum illuminatus.”

“Magnus paciscor,” the man said. Big deal.

“Secondly, I’m returning a book,” I started.

“We’re a library,” he countered before I could finish. “That happens a lot here.”

“... that was not checked out.” I tried to keep a straight face as his mouth clamped shut and he pressed a button on his desk. His fingers danced across his keyboard for a moment, paused as he read something, then began moving again.

“Someone will be down in a moment,” he said, somewhat unenthusiastically.

A couple of minutes later, an elevator door opened to my left, and two large Chinese men in black stepped out. Both were armed, and they didn’t try to hide it. Swords rode at their left hips, and they carried Chinese bullpup assault rifles.

“The curator will see you,” the one on the right said. It came out like a command. I joined them in the elevator. The one who ha d s spoken put a key in at the top of the panel, and the tenth floor button lit up. Tinny music played over the speakers, old school orchestral Muzak.

The doors opened onto an open room with glass walls on one side, and slate gray on the walls closest to the elevator. The guard with the keys stepped off with me and led me to a small lounge area toward the front of the penthouse. Comfortable, leather upholstered chairs were set around an oval coffee table, and a dark haired man in a navy blue suit stood at the window.

“I came to this country in nineteen-fifty-one, Wizard Corwin,” the man said without turning. “Even then, I could see the future that would come with Mao’s rise to power. I came here to protect the knowledge of the past, of my homeland, and to preserve a great culture. I left many to die under the leadership of a man more concerned with his own place in history than the lives and well-being of his own people, when I could have destroyed him. For decades, this place has been a sanctuary. And now, you come here, offering to return something taken from my shelves without permission.” The man turned to me, his features smooth, a narrow face with a Mandarin moustache that reached his collarbone, the same man as in the painting downstairs. I recognized him, the Honorable Sheng, the founder of the library, and one of the three Eldest Dragons.

“It brings me no pleasure to deliver such news,” I said, bowing my head. “This crime against you is an affront to the Council and the Sentinels as well, especially since it affected our people. I would offer my assistance in finding the thief.”

“This is my library, wizard. Under the Kyoto Accord, it is not even under Sentinel jurisdiction. I do not need, nor do I want, your interference in my affairs.”

“Indeed it is, Honorable Sheng,” I said, bracing myself for what I had to say next. “And as such, its security falls to you and you alone. Thus, you incur the burden of honor for any damage done with anything stolen from you. I assure you, there is burden enough to share, even for the mightiest of dragons. Let the Sentinels help you.”

“What price would you exact from me for your generous offer?” the curator asked said .

“Along certain lines of inquiry, one need only value the answer itself,” I said. Sheng looked at me for a moment, then his lips moved in the barest hint of a smile.

“Your need for this information is...urgent.”

“In the worst possible way,” I admitted.

“Your desperation...and your candor...is refreshing. Very well. You may have access to my library. Find who did this. You have my permission to do so.” He smiled, and I heard the skin of his cheeks stretch. “That is all you are to do. I will exact my own justice, in my own way and time. Do we have an understanding, Corwin?”

“We do,” I said as I inclined my head. “I will find the one who violated your library, and stole from you.” I laid the book down on the coffee table and tried not to notice how out of place it looked against the art deco style of the room.

“I will give you access to my library,” Sheng said. “You have seventy two hours. After that, your efforts must be pursued outside these premises. Lodging will be provided to you, and meals if you choose to partake of them. Everything else is...negotiable.”

“Thank you, Honorable Sheng,” I said, this time giving him a deep bow. “I’m honored.” Sheng flicked his hand toward the guard, and the man gestured toward the elevator. Evidently, it was time to go.

The ride down was as quiet as the ride up. This time, when the door opened, I found myself facing bookshelves, the smell of ancient tomes tickling my nose. Sheng didn’t believe in dawdling. At least not for those working within his library.

“Time to make the donuts,” I said with a fake smile. My chaperone didn’t skip a beat in his scowl. But, comedy was never my strong suit. Magick, on the other hand? Magick was my jam. I made a beeline toward a pair of tables in the middle of the aisle and set my leather briefcase down on it. The guard kept his distance while I opened it up and pulled out two of my more useful tools: a flashlight and a pair of glasses with extra lenses attached to the sides. Similar to the Charger’s windshield, the lenses were enchanted to show Mage Sight, with each of the extra lenses being attuned to different spectrums.

I slipped the glasses on and uttered “Revelare,” and the library lit up before me. Wards on the walls, ceiling and floor glowed with brilliant clarity, the kind of crystal clear focus I’d only seen with dragons. But someone had gotten in and out of this place with things that didn’t belong to them, and Honorable Sheng had not been aware of it. That gave me a starting point: the book’s location in the stacks.

The external lenses in my spectacles dropped into place smoothly, and I quickly remembered why I didn't like using them often. Mixing the various levels of Sight was a fine art even when I did it by myself. Trying to mix and match lenses to do the same thing was a little harder. Bring the wrong combination of lenses down, and you could end up looking into different dimensions. Not a good way to start an investigation. I reached the shelf where the Codex Malekon should have been missing from, only to find it right where it belonged. A light dusting of powder covered the shelf in front of it, and when I lifted the spectacles, I could see the book itself, but not the powder.

The guard was at my side at a gesture. “There aren’t two of these, are there?” He frowned and shook his head. “And Sheng hasn’t replaced it yet, right?”

“Honorable Sheng knows not to disturb the scene,” he said. I lowered the spectacles again, and looked at the powder. A slight adjustment revealed a glowing fingerprint. More than enough to trace someone. Which begged the question: who had put the powder on the shelf? And had they tracked the thief down? But the bigger question centered on what I was seeing on the shelf in front of me: What in the Nine Hells was I looking at?

“Honorable Sheng is on his way now,” the guard said when I turned to him, forestalling my request. Talk about good help. With that already taken care of, I flipped the lenses back down and kept looking around. There had to be more traces of the thief in here somewhere. And whoever else had been in here before me. My slow scan finally showed another trace of powder, this time on a pair of wooden double doors that glowed with layers of wards. Adjusting the lenses cycled the wards out of my view, and I saw the same thing: a faint dusting of powder surrounding a glowing smudge.

Practically invisible to the naked eye and, apparently resonating with a person’s energy signature, the powder I was seeing under the lens was most likely one thing: Aura Dust. Testing that theory, I put my index finger down on a few of the glowing grains of it, and was rewarded with the prickly texture of powdered crystal and the tingle of something interacting with my aura. Aura Dust was made of crushed quartz crystals and usually malachite, but the texture here felt too smooth for that. When I pulled my finger away, it felt a little cooler, and I tilted my head to one side. Unless I missed my guess, the second component in this compound was jade. It was one of the few minerals that pulled heat and sweat away from the body, and it was among the more receptive stones as far as energy was concerned. Combined with the piezoelectric properties of quartz that allowed it to interact so well with the human aura, it would have made a perfect mix for Aura Dust. The problem was, the Sentinels guarded the exact formula for Aura Dust with a vengeance, since it could be used to link a spell to a person’s aura from a distance, or, more frequently, to track a person. The possibilities for abuse were mind boggling.

“What’s in here?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” my chaperone said. The guard stepped back with a bow, then turned and walked to the door as Sheng approached.

“I am occasionally asked to hold certain documents as a neutral third party,” Sheng said as he stopped beside me. “I keep them separate from my collection.”

“In there,” I said, pointing.

“Indeed.” He smiled. “I am afraid I can not allow you access to that room.”

“Your thief went in there,” I pointed out.

“I will punish him accordingly, once I know what he took. But you must extract that information from the thief. I have given my word to multiple people not to enter that room without a client.”

“Oookay,” I said. “Then there’s this.” I led him to the new copy resting where the Codex Malekon ought not to have been.

“Intriguing,” Sheng said before he pulled the tome out. He turned and laid it next to my briefcase, then snapped his fingers. A servant came forward with the other version. The dragon in human form took the original and laid it beside the one from the shelf. One page at a time, he flipped through them, eventually stopping on a page near the middle.

“Something was placed here,” he said, running his hand across the page. “I can feel an energy that is not mine imprinting against the page, and the indentation in the page. Here.” he pointed to a place in the book, and I put my hand on the page. Sure enough, I could feel a very slight line in the vellum. As one, we turned to look at the sealed door, then back at the book. Sheng frowned, the reached for the substitute book and plucked a tiny strand of thread from the bottom, near the spine.

The result was quick, the replacement book vanishing in a cloud of embers, and Sheng was left holding only the tiny bit of thread. He frowned and I smiled.

“You find something amusing?” he demanded.

“I simply value the answer itself,” I said. “I believe I know the true crime here. The items in the other room. Since they aren't part of your collection, you don’t have the same connection to them as you do the other books, correct? So, you would only feel it if they left the stacks.”

“This is true. So long as they were within the building, I would be able to sense them if they were taken.”

“So, the thief takes a little piece of the Codex and creates a thaumaturgical copy of it. Then they put whatever document they grabbed inside the real thing and leave the library with it.”

“And since the copy feels exactly the same as the real thing, I did not sense either item leaving the library. The book masked the document.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Has anyone else been in the library stacks recently?”

“Several people. We are,   after all, a library, even if most of our books are...not of this world.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded. “Besides we don’t know how long it’s been gone. However, I do know someone else has been here before me, looking into this very same thing. I found traces of tracking magic in a couple of places.”

Sheng closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. “I smell jade and quartz on you,” he said without opening his eyes. When he did, he smiled. “Yakuza blend Aura Dust.”

“Yakuza?” I said.

“Of course. There was a world before the Sentinels were formed, and even in China, we had need of those who enforced the Laws. What you know as the Yakuza has its roots in the secret magickal societies of ancient China. Kotutama, the spirit language of the wu jen was taught to them by the kitsune, who learned it from my people. Who do you think taught your European ancestors to mix malachite and quartz?”

“Your European counterparts?”

“We prefer the term cousins,” Sheng said. “Now, go. Follow the trail the Yakuza laid for you, find what they want you to find.”

“And why…” I muttered as I went to join my chaperone.

One of the first rules of divination was to cast a wide net. And when you’re looking for someone capable of stealing from a dragon, you go global. And when you’re looking for someone who did steal from a dragon, it only made sense that my divination crystal landed on Germany, home of the Drachenjäger, the Dragon Hunters.

Since the thief had to know about the Veiled world, I stuck with the Kestrel for the trip to Germany. After refueling in New York and London, the Kestrel touched down in Bad Salzdetfurth at some unholy hour in the morning. After too little sleep, I watched the sun climb higher into the sky as I rode north on the first train to Hanover. It took a little less than an hour to get to Hanover Hauptbahnhof, and about half an hour in the train station to pick up my rental car from the Sixt rental office.

One of the things I missed about being a Sentinel was the almost unlimited budget they had access to, and while I was doing this investigation for them, I was going to make use of it. I sped out of the rental lot in a BMW X5 instead of a Ford or a VW and headed north toward a town called Celle. The luxury SUV made short, comfortable work of the forty kilometer drive, and from there, I turned onto a small road and headed northeast, into the less populated areas.

The clock on the dash showed that it was nine-fifty AM when I pulled into the long driveway of an estate out in the country. The heavy iron gates were open, and the guard shack was empty. My first thought was that the place was abandoned, but the grounds were too well kept. I drove up the driveway toward the house, and found a man in a black suit waiting for me at the base of the steps. The white gloves and serious expression he wore said “bulter” better than any badge.

“Guten morgen, mein Herr,” he said. “Willkommen im Scharnhorst Manor. Er hat dich erwartet.” The last phrase caught me off guard. ‘He was expecting you.’

“Was he now?” I asked, my hand drifting toward the Glock on my hip.

“Indeed, sir,” the butler said in cultured English. “For some time now. Almost three years. Herr Volkman is taking his morning ride. I’ve taken the liberty of having a horse saddled. May I ask sir, can you sit an English saddle?”

“I suppose so,” I said. “I can ride well enough.”

“If you wish, I can take you ‘round to the stable, or you may wait here for him. If there is to be any...unpleasantness, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from damaging the house.”

“Unpleasantness?” I asked and gestured for him to lead the way.

“You are one of the American Sentinels, yes?” he asked as he started walking to my left. “May I ask your name, sir?”

“Corwyn,” I said.

“Dr. Trevor Corwyn?” he asked with an eyebrow raised. “The Doctor?”

“Is that what they were calling me?” I asked.

“When you were active, yes. You were known to be rather precise and subtle. Today is no exception.”

“I must be slipping,” I said. “You saw me coming.”

“We were expecting someone...else. He will explain when you see him.” We rounded the edge of the house and came to a rail fence. A beautiful roan horse was standing on the other side, its reins tied to the fence rail. I let my guard down while we approached, and felt her presence. With a gesture, my mind formed the matrix of a communing spell, and I could hear and feel the horse’s thoughts, which were more impressions than words; images and smells made up the bulk of her mental vocabulary.

Warm sun, fresh wind, open fields, sweet apples and fresh oats, I projected to her by way of greeting and good wishes.

Laughter, comfort, sunlight, she projected back. I visualized us riding through the fields nearby, giving it a sense of asking permission. She whickered and tossed her head, and I felt her eagerness to be out free, instead of standing still. With a nod, I put a foot in the stirrup and mounted.

“Her name is Ember,” the butler said.

“Thank you, um…” I faltered.

“Castian,” he said. “Herr Volkman will be along the trail to the north.”

Riding with an English saddle was an adjustment. It took me a few moments to get the balance right and realize I had to sit a little more upright than I would with a Western saddle. After a couple of minutes, I got the hang of it, and urged Ember into a trot. Scharnhorst’s grounds were huge, and it took me a while to finally find Volkman.

When I did, he was in a field atop a hill, with a view of the countryside for miles around. He turned in his saddle as I came into the open. Gray hair peeked from beneath a riding cap, and his face was weathered and tanned. A prominent nose over a well trimmed moustache focused the gaze on deep blue eyes. There was no humor or anger in his expression, just a sort of sad resignation.

“I was expecting the Japanese woman,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “The ping on my aura felt the same.”

“You sound disappointed,” I replied.

“She was pretty, and I’ve seen little enough beauty these last three years. I got the impression that she would make it...gentle. After all this time, that would be nice, at least.”

“I used the same trace she did,” I said, riding up beside him. “Or at least I think I did. I’m Dr. Corwyn.”

“Miles Volkman. I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but we both know that would be a lie. So, the Americans sent the good Doctor after me,” Volkman sighed. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting that. I rather thought it would be the Zaubererjager or an Inquisitor looking to appease an angry dragon, if Sheng didn’t just send Yakuza. So, why you? Why not the Left and Right Hand of Death?”

“The codex ended up in my city,” I said, letting a sharp edge creep into my voice. “And it put one of my students in serious danger. To say nothing of the rest of my city. If it hadn’t been for my student, you would have been hearing about the results of your handiwork on the news networks a few days ago.”

“One of your students?” Volkman asked. His face went a few shades whiter as he looked at me. “That should never have been the case. The book was intended to be a contingency for the client, not a weapon.” He dismounted and slapped his horse’s rump, sending it galloping off. “I resigned myself to my fate when the Yakuza woman first visited me three years ago, Corwyn. I will not go peacefully. And I will not let you take me alive.”

“I’m not here to kill you,” I said. “I’m not even here to arrest you. I only want to know who hired you.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to grow accustomed to disappointment, then,” he said with a laugh. “I’d much rather die in combat against you than face his wrath.”

I gave Volkman a cold smile. “That’s too bad. Because I already know it was Etienne who hired you to take the codex.” Volkman gasped, and I saw his hands start to tremble. “But what I don’t know is if he also hired you to steal the other document, and what that document was. Now, Etienne is beyond any retribution. And Honorable Sheng will exact his own justice soon enough. But I need to know what else you stole and who you stole it for, before things get any worse.”

“You don’t understand,” Volkman said with a flick of his right hand. A scarlet circle rose around him, leaving a shimmering curtain the air between us. “It isn’t me he would punish.”

I dismounted and sent Ember to find the other horse, then turned to face Volkman. “I can arrange protection for your loved ones,” I said as I studied his circle. It was strong, and I could see the layers of protective wards laced through it. I reached out with my senses and found the source of its strength, a ribbon of silver that had been buried about an inch deep. And on top of that, he’d powered it from a local fire ley line. With an external power source for his circle, I could beat on it all day and still not bring it down. But that same strength could also be a weakness, if you knew how to exploit it.

“Not from him,” he said. His hands wove in an intricate pattern, and I recognized fire symbols in its makeup. “No one can.” The ley line flared, a sure sign he was drawing power from it, and I brought up a shield. Crimson flames erupted from the circle, only to flare around my barrier, then flicker out a moment later.

“If you’d ever met my apprentice, you’d sing a different tune,” I told him, circling around to the right. Another jet of flame crashed against my shield.

“You’re never going to beat me on your own, Corwyn,” he said. “I may not be a wizard in name, but I have all of the skills. Summon your staff, or you’ll die here.”

My Sight found the tendril connecting his circle to the fire ley line and I reached out for it. “You almost sound like you don’t want to win,” I said, sending a feeler out to test his ley line connection.

“You’re a good man, Corwyn. I don’t want your death on my conscience, but if you walk away, it’s going to raise questions about why you left me alive. He’ll wonder what I told you, and that is more than enough for him to start sending me bits and pieces of people I love. I earned my fate. They shouldn’t have to share it.” He finished by sending another jet of flame at me. This one was more powerful, longer. My shield held, but I was starting to feel the heat around the edges as it shed excess thermal energy. I borrowed a trick from his book and sped the process up, sending all of the heat my barrier was trying to drop back at Volkman in a single burst. It splashed across his barrier with a bright flash, but it barely taxed him.

“Neither should anyone else!” I snapped. “I need to know what you took, so I can keep other innocents from getting sucked into what you did. You’ve already put too many people in harm’s way, even if you didn’t mean to. It isn’t just your loved ones you should be protecting!” He stopped mid-attack at that, and I used the distraction to finish grabbing his ley line connection. My fingers curled and twitched in response to my efforts, my own magick working at the bonds of his spell.

“I have to draw the line somewhere, and it stops close to my door, wizard. I wish I would help you, I really do, but- what? No! Corwyn, no!” His argument turned to a plea when he felt the ley line separate. The crimson barrier around him dimmed, and I pushed against it with my will.

It broke.

“You may be a wizard in all but name, but I am a wizard every day.” I walked toward him, and he fell to his knees, his face a map of despair.

“You can’t let me survive,” he sobbed. “I have a daughter...grandkids. The things he’ll do to them...”

“I have an entire city to protect. I can make sure your family is safe.”

“No, you can’t,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

The world rippled around us, and a deep boom! sent a shockwave through the grass and knocked leaves off the trees. Honorable Sheng stepped into view, and Volkman fell to the ground.

“You do not disappoint, Corwyn,” he said to me. I put my hands together and bowed deeply before I spoke.

“Honorable Sheng, thank you for the kind words,” I said. “But he has not given me the information I need.”

“Leave that...to me.” That left a frown on my face while he turned back to Volkman. “I note you have no security here. Why?”

“I don’t want their deaths on my hands,” Volkman said with a resigned tone. “Same reason I’ve spent the past couple of days out here. This is my sin; I’m the only one who should pay for it.”

“You are an... honorable man, Miles Volkman. It would pain me to rid the world of your fine example. But, you did steal from me, and that means your life is forfeit.”

Volkman slowly got to his feet and turned to face Sheng. “I...understand. All I ask is just a moment. I get to die with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. That deserves a moment of gratitude and appreciation, don’t you think?”

Sheng shook his head. “When I say your life is forfeit, Miles Volkman, I do not mean that it is about to end. I mean that your life is no longer your own to direct. It is now mine. It will be spent doing as I command. Your children and grandchildren are therefore under my protection. So unless you were employed by a very god, you can rest assured, there is no more powerful being walking this Earth.”

“But...why?” Volkman asked.

“There is no justice in your death. Instead, you will work for me, until I deem your debt to me has been paid.”

Volkman stammered for a moment. “Take the deal,” I told him.

“Of...of course!” Volkman sputtered. “I just...this w-w-wasn’t how I expected things to happen.”

“There is but one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You must reveal to me who your other employer was, so I can protect your family, and what you took from me on their behalf.”

Volkman hung his head. “It was someone at Sammael and Berith. I don’t know who. They operated by courier, but I’m pretty sure it was one of the senior partners. No one else could have paid that kind of fee. They hired me to… ‘retrieve’ was the word they used, a contract of employment.”

“Who’s contract?”

“Kyle Vortigern.”

Draeden and Polter stood in the hangar waiting for me when the Kestrel landed in New York. Neither of them were smiling, and I suspected that it was for slightly different reasons. I’d done what I had been sent to do. Polter was probably pissed simply because I was successful. Draeden was more likely upset with what I’d discovered.

I made my way down the steps and took a moment to enjoy the feel of solid ground beneath my feet again before I headed over to the limo they stood next to.

“Mission accomplished,” I said, my tone flat.

“If you can call it that,” Polter said. “You managed to narrow it down to someone at Sammael and Berith. It’s like I said before, those who can, do. Those who can’t-”

“Those who can, think for themselves,” I spat. “Those who can’t, spout platitudes instead.”

“Gentlemen,” Draeden said. “Remember that you are both adults. Now, Trevor, you have taken us further than we were to begin with. The Codex has been returned, the culprit apprehended and justice served. Whatever Sammael and Berith are up to with their employee, it seems that, for the moment, it doesn’t impact us, at least not as far as I can divine. Thraxus will be searching for whatever new master Karl and his fellow ghouls have found. Trevor, keep an eye on that situation whether Thraxus approves or not.”

“Yes, Master Draeden,” I said, adding it to the list of things I had to handle.

“Andrew, please excuse Wizard Corwyn and me. There is something I need to speak to him about...privately. It’s a delicate matter, I’m sure you understand.” Polter smiled like a cat who had been handed a trussed up canary.

“Of course, Master Draeden,” he gushed before he waddled toward the Kestrel.

Once he was out of earshot, Draeden seemed to deflate a little. “Trevor, I’ve asked a great deal of both you and Fortunato these past few months. Frankly, I don’t see that changing anytime soon. In fact, it’s likely to get worse. Between the two of you, you’ve taken over Sydney’s roles as New Essex’s wizard in residence and as the guardian of the Maxilla. And somehow, you’ve both managed to be on the front lines of the magickal cold war that has been brewing.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a blue cloth. “Something tells me that you’re going to need this eventually.”

A silver ankh fell into my hand. My hand tingled at the contact with it. “Wait...is this…?”

“Your paramiir.”

“Polter told me he had it destroyed,” I said.

“I had other plans for it,” Draeden said. “We both know he wanted to disgrace you. His conduct was unbecoming. Your only fault was that you didn’t defer to him sufficiently. So I took possession of it. I always had a feeling that I might want you to have it again some day.”

“Master Draeden, I...,” my throat went tight as I closed my hand around my paramiir.

“Nick,” he said. “Before you get to feeling too grateful to me, Trevor, you should also know something. Your name had begun to come up with regards to testing for Master level. After this, I’d be hard pressed to keep it from happening.”

“Master ordeals can be deadly,” I said. He cocked his head to one side and gave me a smug look.

“You can’t be serious, Trevor,” he said. “You’ve faced far more dangerous things than the Master’s trials.”

“That’s what concerns me,” I said, laughing for a moment. “You might make up special conditions just for me.”

“I won’t let that happen, Trevor,” he chuckled. He pulled an envelope from his suit pocket and pulled the door to the limo open. “Now, go home. I’ll be in touch all too soon.” I slid into the seat and opened the envelope to find a first-class ticket to New Essex. I’d be coming home to a new student, a mystical cold war, and a rogue faction of vampires. At least the flight home would be pleasant.

Dear Reader,

Thanks for coming along on the journey so far. I hope you enjoyed this trip back to New Essex and into the world of the Demon’s Apprentice as much as I did. This actually started as a response to a request from readers to see things from other characters’ points of view. With Chance away in Boston for at least a semester, this seemed like the perfect time to work those perspectives in. And look for the repercussions of these stories in later books in the series.

Next up on the board is Prom Knight, the next official entry in the series, and I hope to get it out very soon, but I know it won’t be soon enough to suit me. I love Chance’s world, and Prom Knight is a story I’ve been wanting to do for a long time, not least because I love the title. I hope you enjoy it as much as I will.

Thank you again for your support as readers, and all the feedback you give me. I value it immensely. So, please, leave a review. Let me know what you liked, what you want to see more of and where the stories could improve. This is how I get better at telling the stories we both love. Come visit me on my new website, www.bensreeder.com.

Stay awesome, and be epic!

Ben Reeder

May, 2017

Verge Walker: The Long Walk

Caleb Archer has been many things in his violent and checkered past. Wandering the American West as a Rigger, one of the hard breed of men who stand in the Verge and work the transmission poles atop the new Aether trains, he has seen many things, both beautiful and terrible.

But what he finds when he wanders into the little town of Hermosa Springs is the most bizarre and deadliest thing he’s ever encountered; a creature with a thirst for blood that is unharmed by any earthly weapon. Suspected at first of being responsible for its first two victims, Caleb must clear his name not only with the law, but also with the people of Hermosa Springs.

Aided by holy men and women of three cultures, Caleb discovers that his own dark past has left him uniquely prepared to fight the supernatural terror that seeks to prey on the people of Hermosa Springs. But his past alone is not enough. To fight the terror that walks the wilds of New Mexico, he must endure a trial blood and pain that will change him forever, if he can survive it.

Windslinger

Elizabeth Shepherd is a dead woman.

Not even her uncanny powers can save her now.

On the run from an eldritch horror and an unfortunate promise, Liz has finally gone too far. Hunted by an otherworldly, shape-stealing dread, she careens across the countryside in a desperate attempt to free herself from a deal gone sour.

For a time, she finds safety with a her old gaming group, hiding out at a role playing convention. However, when mysterious cabals with motives unknown, summoned outsiders, and other creatures of dark magic jump in the mix, Liz doesn't think her situation could get any worse.

She couldn't be more wrong.

Before she knows it, Liz has reneged on yet another promise, one she made to her elusive hedge wizard mentor. He always warned her that using her command over the wind would attract the wrong kind of attention; yet she has few choices. Whether creating compacts with an angelic choir of Watchers, riddle-dueling with one of the wild fae, or standing against a legion of arachnid-wolf nightmares, such things only respect one thing: power.

They certainly don't want to role play with her.

As Liz faces inhuman miscreations that haunt her every turn, she discovers things are far darker than she believed.

It's possible that nothing Liz believes about herself is true.

Grave Beginnings: The Grave Report Book 1

Who says you can only die once?

Vincent Graves:

Free Spirit

Paranormal Investigator

Soul Without A Body

Thirteen...

As far as numbers go, it isn't a great one. Hell, it's not even a good one and Vincent Graves is going to find out just how unlucky of a number it can be.

Because someone, or something, is killing people in the Empire state, and whatever it is, it gives people everything they ever desired and more. And it's the more that's the problem!

Well...it's one of the problems.

Vincent's investigation also seems to have drawn the attention of a relentless FBI agent and then there's the little bit where he has only thirteen hours to solve the case, or he dies.

Talk about your literal deadlines...

...No pressure.

By the end of this case Vincent will come to understand the meaning of an age-old proverb: Be careful what you wish for - because you just might get it!