Garnet Lacey - Tall, Dark And Dead Part 13

I held my breath, waiting for Lilith to surface. I'd been purposefully vague in my request. I didn't want to name another G.o.ddess specifically, since I thought that might give Lilith a target for any jealous rage she might feel.

Miraculously, Lilith didn't stir. I'd been obtuse enough to escape Her notice. Although that probably also meant that the ritual failed on some level, since Lilith would likely be more ticked off to find Herself warded against.

The sun felt warm on my face. I took a drink of the water, then set it aside to drain as a libation into my potted plants later. I fished the coin out of the chalice to keep in my pocket as a talisman. I thanked whatever Bright G.o.ddess had touched this ritual with Her presence, which I felt as the heat of the light on my skin, and then began the unwinding of the magic. I released the quarters. Walking counterclockwise along the painted edge of the pentacle, I opened the circle.

"The circle is open, but-" I started the traditional closing words, and then choked. I hadn't been able to say the words as part of a ritual since that night. Hurriedly, I finished with, "So mote it be." That finished, I went downstairs, locked the door behind me, crawled under the comforter, and slept.

Sebastian's grimoire figured prominently in my dreams.

Numbers and symbols danced around in my head, making a jumble whose meaning lay always just out of reach. At first, in the way of dreams, I was somehow inside the pages, standing beside the words and images. In the next moment, I was outside, looking down at the pages, when a hand touched my shoulder.

I looked around. Though I saw no one, I felt watched. The flutter of black wings against a moonlit sky skittered along my peripheral vision. When I glanced back at the book, the words had become English. Over and over, it read: "I want my f.u.c.king grimoire back, you thieving b.i.t.c.h."

I woke up to the sensation that someone was pounding on my door. Tense, I waited to hear the sound again. "Sebastian?" I called, albeit softly. "Parrish?"

No answer, other than a plaintive mew and a scratch.

"Come in, Barney," I said, standing up to unlatch the door. "I should get up anyway."

Barney wiggled herself inside. She sat upright on the bed and curled her tail over her paws. Once she was certain she had my attention, Barney sneezed.

"I'm sorry, okay?" I said, picking up the ceremonial knife, the athame, from its spot on the shelf altar. I made a slas.h.i.+ng motion at the door, effectively breaking the warding spell. Destruction was infinitely easier than construction.

I'd slept much longer than I'd intended. A glance at the alarm informed me that it was already past seven. Outside, the streetlights flickered on in response to the encroaching darkness. Twilight. Parrish would be mobile.

Changing out of Sebastian's clothes, I rooted around in my closet until I came up with something casual and s.e.xy. After a quick trip to the shower, I slipped into a black lace-up-the-front teddy and pulled on my most faded, threadbare blue jeans. From the pocket of the sweats I removed the Mercury dime and slipped it into the watch pocket of the jeans.

Checking the look in the mirror, I decided I looked pretty good in a s.l.u.tty sort of way, especially with wet hair and mascara-smudged eyes and the very faint bruise on my shoulder. Sebastian would approve, I was certain, and probably Parrish as well.

Speaking of my new roommate, I found Parrish in the kitchen, reading Sebastian's grimoire.

Oh, c.r.a.p.

I felt so stupid that I'd left it out in the open like that. This was not good.

Could Parrish possibly know how important the grimoire was? I told myself there was no reason to believe he could read ancient German any better than I. Maybe if I could act casual, Parrish would never suspect anything. How likely was that?

Parrish had made himself a cup of tea. I saw it steaming by his elbow. While I watched, he touched the rim of the cup to his lips but didn't drink-an affectation left over from a lifetime of consuming food and liquids. Parrish's eyes scanned the page slowly. I suddenly realized hecould read it.

"Hey," I said. "You read German?"

He was so startled he nearly spilled his drink. "How long have you been spying on me?"

I laughed. He was a fine one to talk, sitting there perusing Sebastian's secrets. Of course, I had stolen them. My righteous indignation evaporated with a shrug. "Not long." I pulled up a chair to sit beside him.

"So, you can read it?"

"Not really," he said. He closed the book, sending the scent of dust and mold into the air. "Seeing the book made me nostalgic. It was new when I was young."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Next you're going to say they don't make books like that anymore."

"They don't." The teacup went to his lips again, and I watched as he breathed in the orange blossom scent of Lady Gray. "Where did you get it?"

Leaning an elbow on the table, I batted my eyelashes innocently. "I stole it."

A smile twitched across his lips, as if a million snarky replies occurred to him, and he couldn't decide which one to use. "Ah," he said. "I see."

"Okay, fine," I said, as if he'd refuted my claim, which, in a way, he had. I mean, his tone fairly dripped with I-so-don't-think-you-have-it-in-you derision. "Lilith stole it."

"Lilith?"

Right. I hadn't gotten around to telling Parrish about Lilith and that night. Still, I found myself more frustrated by my apparent credibility gap. "You'd have no problem believing I can cut the throats of Vatican agents in cold blood, but you have a hard time picturing me taking someone's book?"

Parrish raised a finger as though to count off his first point. "Not cold blood. Pa.s.sion." Then, he flashed me the European "two," thumb and forefinger. "This is clearly a rare book, Garnet. I can only think that the university's special collection would have such an item, and I'm trying to imagine you pulling a caper that would involve scaling walls in the middle of the night." He broke into a smile. "Though I can easily see you in a skintight cat suit. You'd make a lovely burglar."

"Thanks." I got up to pour myself my own cup of tea. Parrish had, in the parlance of his people, left the kettle on. The gas flame glowed low and blue under the blue-and-black-speckled teakettle. Steam escaped through the spout. I pulled a mug from the cast-iron tree under the cabinets. The cup was a nondescript yellow, exactly like the one Parrish had. I'd bought them from the discount bin at the big department store on the edge of town on highway whatever. My favorite mug, a blue and brown glazed, hand-thrown pottery one made for me by my friend Frank out in Oregon, had been left with so many other important things in Minneapolis. "So," he prompted when I didn't offer anything else. "Did you use a grappling hook? Are you holding the book for ransom?"

I laughed. "It's not from the library. It's-" I stopped myself. Was he fis.h.i.+ng? Leaning against the kitchen counter, I fiddled with the box of tea bags as I tried to gauge Parrish's expression. He'd folded his hands on top of Sebastian's grimoire, and he gazed at me with a bemused expression as though still trying to imagine me in full thief mode.

The overhead lamp radiated harsh light on Parrish's pale white skin and cast a fluorescent halo around his auburn curls. I was struck by how unhealthy he looked compared to Sebastian, which was silly, considering that they were both equally dead. You don't get any sicker than dead.

"What?" Parrish prompted. "It's what?"

Turning my back to him for a moment, I poured water into my cup. Could I trust him? I wanted to. After all, he was the guy I called when I needed to bury bodies. He was good at keeping secrets. Plus, I desperately needed to ask an expert about Sebastian's vampirism, such as it was.

Pulling a spoon from the drawer, I stirred some honey into my tea and made a decision. "Have you ever met a vampire who could walk around in the daylight?" I asked, returning to the chair I'd pulled up beside him.

He snorted a laugh. "How could I?"

"Well,he can walk around at night. Anyway, have you everheard of one?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course. Vampires love urban legends as much as the next fellow," Parrish said, sniffing the contents of his cup again. "Since my conception, rumors have circulated about a mad scientist and a mystical formula. It's the Holy Grail for vampires. Why? Have you found it?" He looked down at the grimoire lying underneath his hand. His face became serious. "Good G.o.d, Garnet. You're not saying this is it?"

I hadn't really intended to say anything of the kind, but Parrish was always smarter than I gave him credit for. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe."

"Is he the one who bit you?" Parrish asked.

I started to protest, but then I realized my choice in clothing had left Sebastian's love bite exposed. I hadn't really thought about covering it up because it hadn't bruised as much as I expected, plus the puncture wounds were magically nearly faded. Now I felt a blush creep up my neck. "I..." I had no idea what to say.

Parrish gave me a long, appraising look. "Impressive," he said finally. "The rest of us have been chasing after a ghost for centuries, and you find him in Madison, Wisconsin. You haven't even lived here that long."

"Are you jealous?"

"No," he said a little too quickly, and, moreover, the twitch of his jaw told me otherwise. Then Parrish affected a more casual air. "You know, if word of this were to get out, every vampire on the planet would be after you." "Well, they'll have to stand in line," I grumbled into my mug, thinking of the FBI and Vatican agents. I started to take a swallow of my drink, then stopped. "Would that include you?"

We both stared down at the grimoire. One of Parrish's hands still rested casually on its tooled leather cover. "No," he said. "Because I already have it."

A disturbingly good point.

"It belongs to Sebastian, Parrish. I should give it back. He..." I wanted to explain that Sebastian needed it, but I hesitated. I didn't think Sebastian would want another vampire to know about his weakness.

"For someone who had no problem dispatching a half dozen Vatican agents single-handedly, you're distressingly ethical," Parrish said, his fingers tracing the gilt border.

"It's one of my charms," I said. I held out my hand. "The book, Parrish. Give it back."

"Do you know what this is worth on the open market? There are vampires who would pay millions of pounds-or euros or whatever the h.e.l.l-for the chance to walk around in daylight again. I could become a very rich man." Parrish glanced at me. "Or we could."

Nice to be included. I shook my head. "It was never my idea to take it. I just want to give it back."

Parrish nodded slowly. "Then let me borrow it. I'll take it to Kinko's. We can sell the copy."

"Uh..." Okay, so there was nothing inherently wrong with the idea of letting Parrish walk off with the grimoire for a couple of hours, but I just didn't think that if I did, I'd ever see him or the book again, and Sebastian needed the spell in that to survive.

Parrish, for his part, looked completely unthreatened. He made no sudden move to run off with the grimoire, but neither did he remove his hand. Leaning back in his chair slightly, as though to get a better look at me, Parrish clearly waited patiently for my next move.

What would it be? My little five-foot-something self had no chance of overpowering him physically. Not unless I called on Lilith, which was kind of an endgame, especially since I got the impression from the cold calmness in Parrish s eyes that he would fight me for the grimoire. I could feel Lilith rising to the challenge, but I held Her back with the thought and the power of the recently woven spell.

"Yeah... okay," I said, as though finis.h.i.+ng my earlier thought.

"Youwant me to take the grimoire?" Parrish's eyes were as wide as saucers.

Did I? Well, I sure as h.e.l.l didn't want to fight him for it, not if it meant that Lilith would rise up and kill him. He said he'd bring it back. He was a thief, but he loved the idea of being an honorable one. Not more than a couple of hours ago, he begged me to consider him a gentleman. I played that card now.

"You said you wanted me to believe you were a good guy; well, here's your chance to prove it."

Besides, I told myself. If he didn't come back, I'd let Lilith find him. She was my ace in the hole. "I'm trusting you with this, Daniel."

No one ever called him by his first name. I never knew why, but I'd always followed what appeared to be protocol in the matter. Maybe he didn't like it, maybe he thought it was too Biblical, but he smiledwarmly at me now. "I shall not fail you, lady," he said.

I might actually see him-and Sebastian's grimoire- again. "Thank you."

After Parrish left, I puttered with my herbs in the tower room. The s.p.a.ce was no more than ten feet in diameter, and was mostly windows. The room faced south, so the plants loved it. Culinary herbs crowded together in a big clay pot in the center of the room: oregano, thyme, rosemary, basil, and cilantro. Rubbing my fingers on the rosemary leaves, I sniffed its distinctive, sharp, piney scent. In separate pots, I also cultivated a few weeds, some of which I transplanted from roadside ditches: Queen Anne's lace, chicory, cowslips, and catchfly.

Ivy and philodendron vines twined around the circular ceiling and had begun to follow the star-shaped string trellis that I'd rigged up. By next spring, it would be a completed pentacle of living plants.

Barney rubbed against my leg. I crouched down to pet her, which is how I managed to avoid the bullet that cracked through the window with a loud smack.

Fifth House

KEYWORDS:.

Luck, Arrogance, Creativity

The bullet punched through the plaster of the opposite wall. Barney and I stared in horror at the dust blooming from the hole in the archway.

"Was that a bullet? That was a bullet! Someone f.u.c.king shot at us," I said to Barney. A dime-sized circle of warmth near the right side of my hip reminded me of the protective talisman tucked into my pocket. Staring at the puckered spot on my window that looked like an inverted nipple with a hole in the center, I thanked the G.o.ddess for inspiring Barney to need a cuddle just then.

Barney, for her part, hissed and scrambled out of the room.

Fighting the desire to look out the window to see where the shot came from, I flattened myself on the floor and told myself to stay there. My hammering heart wanted me to flee. Meanwhile, my brain was conflicted on the subject. Mostly, lying still seemed like a good idea, but then there was the door. I doubted Parrish had locked it, since I'd neglected to give him a key. What was to stop the shooter from coming upstairs and doing me in, execution style, while I quivered helplessly on the floor?

I compromised. Crab-crawling into the kitchen, I made my way toward the front door. I froze when I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairway. My first instinct was to hide behind the couch. The couch was one of those ma.s.sive rummage-sale foldout beds that had nearly killed my friends and me dragging it up the stairs. Despite being plaid and sagging in the middle, it had enough steel in it that it might actually qualify as armor. The second creak on the steps decided things for me. I scuttled behind the couch and cowered. When I saw Barney's furry, gray tail sticking out from under the dust ruffle, I felt I'd made a good choice.

The sounds stopped. I held my breath. Beside me, Barney's tail flicked once in irritated antic.i.p.ation.

A loud rap on the door made me nearly choke on my own heart.

What kind of freakishly polite son of a b.i.t.c.h knocks before coming in to kill you? Had they knocked before killing my coven? Had someone let them in?

The second knock took me by surprise.

Okay, once seemed like maybe it could be part of some a.s.sa.s.sin's handbook, i.e., step one, see if the mark is stupid enough to let you in, but to knock again? What, was the killer really expecting an invitation?

Another knock.

"She stood me up," Sebastian muttered on the other side of the door. "Christ."

I started to stand up but stopped myself just in time. I had no idea if Sebastian needed to be invited in-Parrish hadn't-but this was no time to mess around with details. "Come in, Sebastian," I shouted as loudly as I could. "Stay low and lock the door behind you. They've got a gun. They're shooting at me."

"Garnet?"

"Get in here!" The last thing I wanted was for the Vatican agent to come running in while Sebastian hesitated at the door. "Now, G.o.dd.a.m.n it."

I heard the door open, close, and the click of the lock. Then came the sound of cloth rubbing against something, which I realized must have been Sebastian's coat sliding down the door as he sat himself down on the floor. "Well," he said. "This is different."

"Did you see anyone outside?" I poked my head out from behind the couch to look at him.

Sebastian sat in a half lotus with his back on my door, just as I'd expected. He'd dressed up for our date: black jeans, white s.h.i.+rt, black tie, and a s.e.xy-as-h.e.l.l leather trench coat. His hair was neatly tied back in a thick ponytail, which showed off the strong line of his neck.

"Like a sniper?" he asked.

"Yes, like a sniper," I said, crawling the rest of the way out. The kitchen was at the back of the house, opposite the large living room/dining room s.p.a.ce. So, when I thought about it, it wasn't likely that Sebastian would have pa.s.sed through the sniper's line of fire at all.Well, duh, Garnet. Or he'd have been shot, too . Still, I kept talking. My mind was still trying to process this whole thing. "Or anyone out of the ordinary."

Sebastian grimaced. "This is Madison, Garnet. There were plenty of strange people on the street."

I started to ask if he'd seen anyone suspicious-looking, but then I remembered how forgettable the real estate agent had been. Great Mother, that image was going to make me paranoid. Now everyone, eventhe ubiquitous tie-dyed hippie on a bicycle, could be a Vatican killer.