Garnet Lacey - Tall, Dark And Dead Part 24

He shrugged. "You know what they say: find the ghoul, find the vampire."

I hadnot heard that. Frankly, I hadn't known that there were quite so many pat little sayings about vampires. "Where'd you hear that? Vampire-hunting school?"

"Only stupid people with death wisheshunt vampires. I merely locate them."

"So, you're a vampire detector?"

Matyas smiled-a sincere, you-actually-amused-me grin-placed a hand on his chest, and said, "It's my special gift."

That, and being surprisingly charming for a guy I mostly couldn't stand, I thought.

"Let me know if you change your mind about my offer, Garnet," Matyas said. "I could make the Order forget about you."

"And all I'd have to do is sell Sebastian out? Gee, what a deal," I said.

Matyas pursed his lips and turned toward the door. "You're going to discover how misplaced your loyalty is, Garnet. I only hope for your sake it's sooner rather than later."

I didn't have a good response to that since "Oh, yeah?" seemed kind of weak and overused. Instead, I watched him leave with my mouth hanging open, which was equally cliche and idiotic.

G.o.ddess, I hated that guy. I rubbed at my sore knuckles, thinking how much more satisfying it would have been to have bruised them on his jaw instead of on boxes of books.

William wandered toward the front of the store, feather duster in hand. "Thought I'd do the window display," he said. "Oh, and Matt or whatever his name was? He's a jerk."

I laughed. "Yeah, I figured that out."

With a serious nod, William began using the tips of the feathers to tease cobwebs from the corners of the window shelf. I returned to the receipts in earnest.

After I finished, I called a window repair place and made an appointment for them to fix the storeroom window I/Lilith broke. I returned a few calls from various sales reps and placed an order or two. Having unearthed the number of Eugene's hotel in Finland, I stared at it for a long time before deciding that was a job for another day.

William, meanwhile, had dusted, polished, reorganized, reshelved, scrubbed, swept, and mopped everything in sight. "I'm a nervous cleaner," he said, when I caught him standing on a step stool, hand-vacuuming the velvet runners that decorated the top of the Witchcraft book section. "Last night was freaky. I'm still processing." Thinking while engaging in busywork, an interesting trait. "Is your Mars in Virgo? Maybe Mercury in the sixth house?"

William stepped off the stool with a smile. "That's the Garnet I know and love," he said. "I've missed you."

I nodded, though it occurred to me that the old Garnet he knew was, in a lot of ways, just a persona adopted since coming to Madison. "So," I asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah. My worldview s.h.i.+fts all the time, remember?" His smile was a little thin, however.

I put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "Are you really going to hire a vampire tonight?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, why not? I'd like to see what all the fuss is about."

When I saw Parrish next, I'd have to tell him to be gentle with William.

"Don't look at me like that," William said. "I can take care of myself."

I didn't want to argue, so I changed the subject. My knuckles had been aching, so I asked, "Do you think I'm a violent person?"

The question had been on my mind since my conversation with Rosa this morning. I enjoyed the feeling of Lilith's power moving through me, and I'd been thinking that maybe there'd been a reason She picked me that night I called Her down.

"In what way?"

"Generally speaking. Do I seem p.r.o.ne to anger?"

William rubbed his chin with the tip of the DustBuster. "You've never been an unreasonable or irritable boss, but I've always gotten the sense that it was better not to p.i.s.s you off. You seem like the sort who could do serious damage, you know?"

I nodded. The real issue was: was that Lilith or me he sensed?

William wasn't finished, however. Without prompting, he added, "Cold, though. Not hot. You seem like the sort to be calculating and methodical when seeking revenge."

Now that struck me as interesting. By Her nature, Lilith was an instrument for crimes of pa.s.sion, not long-drawn-out grudges.

"Thanks, I guess. That answers my question. Buy us a couple of mochas from next door?" I asked, pulling some cash from my pocket.

"Sure," he said, taking the money. "But I really want to finish this last shelf first."

I went back to my own busywork and thought about William's a.s.sessment of my character. Possibly some part of William could see behind the perky Goth disguise to the woman who'd wrapped six bodies in landscaping tarp and dumped them into a cemetery's lake. Lilith hadn't done any ofthat . I'd done it.Well, with Parrish's help. He'd done some heavy lifting and donated some supplies. But other than a few tears of frustration, I'd handled it all pretty calmly. I made the key decisions. At the basic level, the whole thing had been down to me.

I rubbed my knuckles absently. The swelling had receded, and an ugly, blue-black bruise had started to form along the ridge of bone. My hand ached every time I moved a finger. No more punching boxes for me. Not that hitting people was any softer. I knew that from experience, too.

Maybe Ishould repent.

My battered body would probably appreciate a life without the blackouts and the bruises afterwards. It would be all right not to have to bury any more bodies, honestly.

Fine for me, maybe, but I couldn't give up Sebastian, despite Matyas's warning that my loyalty was misplaced. The Order wouldn't have any mercy for Sebastian. They couldn't leave without a parting shot, quite literally, last night, so I had a hard time imagining they'd allow Sebastian to renounce his evil ways and return him to the fold without any more serious consequences.

I hoped he was okay, stuffed into the trunk like he was. Checking the clock on the wall, I sighed. It was only three in the afternoon. Mother of All, the day crawled when you were anxious for nightfall.

William stuck a mocha next to my elbow. The chocolatey steam tickled my nose, and wrapping my hands around the cup, I brought it to my face to breathe it in deeply. I could almost feel the caffeine scent activating some dead brain cells.

"You look tired," William said. "It's pretty quiet around here. I could mind the store, if you want to go home and catch a few z's."

Just the suggestion of a nap made my eyelids feel heavy. "I'd like that, but it's hardly fair. You were up just as late as I was."

"True," he said, adjusting his gla.s.ses with the tip of his finger. "I'm just being gentlemanly."

"That's what I thought," I said, but I yawned despite myself.

"Aw, go home," he said. "I won't tell the boss. Promise."

I didn't go home, however, because I half expected the Vatican agents to be lying in ambush for me there. Instead, I made my way up State Street to the hotel parking ramp.

It was one of those amazing, perfect spring days. The sun sparkled on every surface-reflected on shop windows, warming the concrete sidewalks, catching on the edges of buildings. The sky was robin's-egg blue, without a cloud in sight. Other than the occasional diesel fume from a pa.s.sing bus, the air smelled crisp and clean. I thought long and hard about taking a detour to the nearby bookstore, Room of One's Own, buying a paperback or two, and finding a warm spot to sit with my mocha, spending the afternoon soaking in the sun and reading.

Instead, I wandered through the hotel, playing at losing a trail, a la James Bond, and finally made my way into the low-ceilinged, musty, dark, underground lot, and crawling into the backseat of Sebastian'scar. The smell of exhaust clung to the back of my throat, and the fluorescent lights snapped and hissed just outside the window. I set my cup down carefully on the floorboards and closed my eyes. I meant to just rest for a moment. Take a short nap.

I was not made for a twenty-four-hour economy, I thought as I drifted to sleep.

Sebastian woke me up with a gentle shake. Drool stained the upholstery under my cheek, and I had that hot, achy, I-slept-too-long-in-a-cramped-position feeling tingling just under my skin.

"Mumph," I said. Sitting up slowly, I reached for the cold cup of mocha. I took a cautious sip and found it tolerable. One thing I enjoyed about sweet coffee drinks was that they didn't taste all that bad hours later.

Sebastian sat in the s.p.a.ce my head had previously occupied. He ducked behind the seat and gestured for me to do the same. "Someone's coming," he whispered.

"You woke me up for this? Wouldn't we have been safer sleeping?"

"Shhhh."

I heard footsteps then. Clomping jackboots of Vatican agents, I thought, though I didn't at first know why I made that connection. Then it hit me. There were no other noises. No happy how-was-your-day-dear cell phone conversations, no fumbling for keys, or the beeping of a nearby car coming to life. In fact, there were no nearby cars at all. Whoever was coming this way was coming for us.

The scuffling of boot heels stopped. I glanced over at Sebastian, who stared past me at the window over my head.

"I want you to stay in the car," he said in a low voice.

A sweet, chivalrous gesture that was completely misplaced. I put my hand over his. "Don't risk hurting yourself again," I said, giving his fingers a squeeze. "When I step out there, I want you to play dead. Go down and stay down, got it?"

"No, Garnet," he said, and I expected some s.e.xist comment about a manful desire to protect me, but instead he finished with, "I need the blood."

"Oh," I said, letting go of his hand. "Okay. You first."

Sebastian threw open the car door and crouched low. He leapt, pantherlike, onto the roof. Or, at least, I a.s.sumed that was where he went, since I couldn't see him through the window when I lifted my head to peer out. Instead, I saw Matyas standing in the center of the aisle he'd been walking down, arms crossed in front of his chest, glaring at the car roof disapprovingly. He was alone. I peered into the shadows, but I saw no hint of backup in the form of uzi-toting monks.

"Very dramatic, Papa," I heard Matyas's voice drawl sarcastically. "Ooh, will you be turning into a bat next?" I was stepping out of the car when Sebastian pounced.

It was a flying leap, skimming over my head. I ducked, but I must have messed up Sebastian's trajectory, because he collided less than gracefully into Matyas, sending both of them sprawling.

Belatedly, I felt the sting of his toes on the top of my head.

Sebastian didn't lose the advantage, however. Matyas. .h.i.t the concrete pad with a thunk so loud that I winced in sympathy. Sebastian knelt on top of him. He wrenched Matyas s head to the side, exposing his throat. I'd been coming up beside them but stopped, immobilized by shock, as Sebastian lowered himself toward Matyas s pulsing jugular.

He stopped before taking a bite, however. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you." Sebastian's voice seemed surprisingly loud in the empty parking lot.

"I came to offer peace," Matyas rasped.

Sebastian chuckled low in his throat, his lips brus.h.i.+ng skin. "Eternal peace? I can offer that as well, child."

I didn't realize I'd been inching backward until my shoulders pressed against the slightly slimy wall.

"I'm sincere, Father. Ask her," Matyas said, looking at me, his eyes wild with fear. "I negotiated with her earlier."

Sebastian turned to glare at me. "Negotiated?"

Yeah, that was my thought, but the look in Sebastian's eyes made me consider my words carefully.

"Matyas came into the shop around noon. He wanted me to tell him where you were."

"And here you are," Matyas said. "Garnet led me right to you."

Sebastian must have tightened his grip, because Matyas groaned. "You're making a p.i.s.s-poor case for your life, boy."

"My life?" Matyas s voice chose that moment to break.

Sebastian stared at him. I couldn't see what pa.s.sed between them, but Matyas's eyes frantically scanned his father's impa.s.sive face. Matyas wiggled as though he wanted to reach out to Sebastian.

"You're hurt," Matyas said. "What's happened, Papa?"

Sebastian broke his dark stare and let go of Matyas's exposed throat. "It's the formula," he said. "It's weakening."

Matyas's hands grasped at his father's. "All the more reason to go to them. The Church can help you."

Sebastian seemed to be considering it. His shoulders relaxed, and he sat back a little.

"They can help us all," Matyas continued. "You. Me. And I'm bringing them Mother. Once the exorcism is performed-" The glare Sebastian shot Matyas stopped further discussion. "You're an extremely foolish boy."

"Why?" Even from across the parking lot, I could hear the desperation in Matyas s voice. "Because I want us to be a family?"

"Your mother is dead."

"Yes, and together we could finally bury her," Matyas said.

In a strange way, I understood. Matyas hadn't lied when he said he'd come in peace. He wanted to make things right between himself and Sebastian. He hoped that if the Order could free his mother's trapped soul, then they could put the hurt her undeath caused behind them. It was kind of n.o.ble in its own way.

But the Order had nearly killed Sebastian last night. They weren't interested in making happy families.

They wanted the grimoire.

"I'd like that," Sebastian said quietly, the dark fire gone from his eyes. "But we don't know that it would work."

"It will. It must."

Sebastian shook his head slightly. "It doesn't matter, Matyas. We can't give them what they want."

"Why not? Your formula isn't working."

Sebastian laughed. "Only after a thousand years."

"But it didn't work on Mother."

"I never gave the formula to your mother. I tried to turn her with a bite," Sebastian said, pulling himself off Matyas to sit beside him. If the situation hadn't been so serious, I would have laughed to see them lounging there so casually in the middle of the traffic lane of the parking garage.

Something must have clicked for Matyas, because he sat up straight. "It could work? They could turn themselves into vampires?"

So we'd been right. That was what the Order intended to do with Sebastian's formula.

Matyas had sold the Vatican a bill of goods-or, at least, he'd meant to. He'd been banking on the fact that the formula wouldn't work. He was less of a jerk than I thought.