The Eldritch Conspiracy

13

I woke to the light patter of rain against glass, the smells of breakfast, and the sounds of familiar voices. I lay in a pool of muted light in a rainbow of colors filtered through stained glass. It took me a few seconds to get my bearings. Emma’s guest room, formerly the choir loft. To my right was the door to the stairs that led down to the bathroom and the old foyer. To my right were the floor-to-ceiling drapes that covered the half wall that looked down into the living room. A glance at the clock told me it was ten in the morning. I’d slept longer, and more deeply, than I had in weeks. Just like the night I’d slept at Bruno’s, I hadn’t had any nightmares, so I actually felt rested. It was a nice change. Some of those dreams…

I shuddered.

It felt good to actually get real rest. On the downside, sleeping in meant that it had been a lot of hours since my last meal. I was hungry, and the smell of coffee, bacon, and hash browns wasn’t helping one bit. My stomach growled and my vision started to shift to vampire focus, even though it was morning, not night. Crap.

I wanted to go downstairs and find out what was going on. But I didn’t dare, not like this. I’d gone too long between meals before and wound up having bloodlust. Most of my nightmares lately have been dreams of waking up after too little nutrition and too much exertion and stress, and slaughtering the people I’d been hired to protect. The worst part was, carving those paths of destruction had felt good.

Thing is, there’s no Ensure in the jungle. No baby food in the cramped cellar of an old church or a drug-smuggler’s tunnel. Sometimes I had to eat what I could find that could be squished into a paste and mixed with polluted water from improperly dug wells. I felt hungry almost all the time I was on the job. My nightmares too often felt like they were one tiny step away from my reality.

I recognized the ache in my stomach and the twitching of my muscles. Then I realized that the bands of light decorating my vision weren’t just from the stained glass. I was seeing things as a predator. Crap.

I rose without really meaning to. Gliding with unnatural grace to the half wall, I pulled the curtain back a fraction and peeked out.

I know I was careful. The curtain barely twitched. But Kevin’s voice rang out from downstairs only seconds later. He sounded more cheerful than he had the night before, almost actually welcoming. “Morning, Celia. ’Bout time you got up. Breakfast is at the foot of the stairs, along with a change of clothes. You need to hustle. We’ve almost got everything set up.”

“Thankth.” God, that lisp! And my voice was about an octave lower than normal. Kevin’s head shot up at the sound, his eyes narrowing and seeming to glow. A fellow predator who knew what I was feeling.

“Eat. Now,” he ordered, then called to someone I couldn’t see. “Guys, we’re delaying the video conference. Celia has to feed.”

Feed. He’d used the word I refused to use. I fought through the rising fog of bloodlust. Food. I needed food. There were humans downstairs, filled to the brim with blood. I could hear their heartbeats, smell their sweat—patterns that hinted how each of them would taste. Glimpse the bands of color that spoke of their emotions: warmth, fear, worry. But I knew I’d have to get past the wolf to get to any of them. The wolf was a threat. I began trying to figure out how to get rid of him.

Kevin gave a low growl, blocking the stairway. He knew. The wolf could sense what I wanted.

I fought my inner bat for control and won, but it wasn’t easy. “I need … food.” The words sounded sort of strangled, my struggle reflected in my voice.

“There’s a tray at the bottom of the stairs.” Emma stepped into view and patiently repeated what her brother had already said. “Kevin didn’t think it was a good idea for anyone to bring it up.”

Kevin was so freaking right.

He pushed Emma back. “Get away, Em. She’s right on the edge.” He looked up at me with an expression that mixed anger and respect. “I’ll be barricading the door.”

I forced myself away from the half wall as he closed the door and locked it audibly—making it very clear that I would have to go through him to get to anyone in the room beyond. I flowed down the staircase to a tray that couldn’t possibly hold anything that would compare to what my body really wanted … needed at that moment.

I guzzled the diet shake on the tray first, hoping it would take the edge off. It did, but not enough. My hands were still shaking hard enough that it was all I could do to get the lid off a jar of strained-beef baby food. I couldn’t seem to get the spoon into the jar. In the next instant I wrapped my lips around the opening and poured it into my mouth, sucking at the goopy contents and swallowing as fast as I could. I stabbed and slashed at the glass, feeling my fangs slide uselessly against the sides of the jar. Only then could I make my fingers work right. The shakes finally stopped after the second serving of baby food. By the time I finished the third—peaches—I was actually able to think clearly.

I sat down on the bottom step, breathing hard, as if I’d been running. What the hell was wrong with me?

Slowly my brain started to focus. Had Kevin said video conference? I’d asked him to set one up, but hadn’t really thought he would. He’d been so damned uncooperative last night.

I knocked gently at the door. I couldn’t smell him anymore, but I bet the wolf in him could smell me. Hopefully he’d realize that it was safe—that I was safe, now. He opened the door a crack and peered in at me, estimating the threat, while I squinted past him at the living room. My plain human vision showed me that he’d set up video equipment in the center of the main room. All right then.

“I’m going to hit the bathroom and change so I look presentable for the camera.”

He nodded, pleased that I didn’t press to go to the others right away. Vampires are tricky, so my backing down hopefully helped him realize I was probably back to normal. At least I thought I was.

Bruno had brought the bag sitting at the bottom of the stairs. I could tell by what he’d packed—all things he could pick up at my office, including a change of clothes. He’d even brought my spare makeup kit, which I kept in my desk. Best of all, he’d brought weapons—not mine, he couldn’t have gotten into the safe, but a sweet little Glock with an ankle holster. And people wonder why I love him.

Twenty minutes later, after a shower and makeup, I was fit to step in front of a camera. The front room was already buzzing, but I easily spotted Bruno, who looked like he’d been through the wringer. There were dark circles under his eyes, he had beard stubble, and his eyes had darkened to almost black, the way they do when he’s really, seriously angry. He smiled when he saw me, which softened the harsh lines of his face a little. But only a little, and only for a minute. He was wearing black jeans and a black Bayview college sweatshirt that had the sleeves chopped short and had a vertical slit cut in the neckline.

“Morning, sunshine.” Bruno tried to shake off his weariness for my benefit. He came over to give me a hug and a quick kiss. “Mnn. You taste like peaches.” He licked his lips.

“Baby food,” I admitted, giving him a quick squeeze. “Better than snacking on you guys. What’s up?” I asked. He shook his head. Apparently he didn’t want to talk about it, at least not in front of the others. Okay, we’ll go with a safe topic. “What have I missed?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t get the chance as Dom Rizzoli tapped me on the shoulder. He’s the only FBI agent I know well enough to be friendly with. Short, dark, and as Italian as pasta, he was wearing his “fedley” suit: nice, dark gray suit coat and pants, white shirt, blue tie, and black shoes with a high gloss.

“We’re on.”

I didn’t want to leave Bruno’s side, but there was no arguing with Rizzoli when he used that tone. Besides, he was most likely in the thick of things, and I needed to know what was going on. So I gave my sweetie another hug and walked over to the video setup. Kevin pointed to a masking-tape X on the floor and I stood on it.

“Good morning, Princess.” On the monitor in front of me, Hiwahiwa bowed at the waist. “It is good to see you well. Princess Adriana will be joining us in a moment.”

I dipped my head and shoulders slightly in return. “And good morning to you.”

“Hello, Celia.” King Dahlmar’s voice. The video screen in front of me now split into four sections. Hiwahiwa was in the upper left, Dahlmar in the lower right. I spotted Creede standing next to him. I hadn’t expected him to be there, but should have. After all, John Creede has saved the king’s tail more than once. It would make sense for the king to call on him for such a special occasion as his wedding.

John’s a handsome man, with a strong jaw and good cheekbones. His eyes are the color of honey, his hair a warm light brown with golden highlights. He keeps it cut short, or it would fall in unmanageable and unmanly curls. His nose is sharp, not quite a beak, though there is something like a bird of prey about him.

“Your Majesty. You look well.”

He made a small scoffing sound that most kings wouldn’t be seen making. “My future wife was nearly killed. Her mother is in the hospital. My country is turmoil and terrorists are plotting. Hardly well, I’m afraid.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, so I didn’t respond. Creede gave me a brief nod. His expression was odd. Part teeth-gritted anger; part sad, puppy-eye regret. He looked good, but like he’d already been through a long day. As usual, both he and the king were wearing splendid suits.

I wasn’t thrilled at my own image, in the fourth segment of the screen. I didn’t look great. Nobody had mentioned it yet, but only because they were all too polite. If it’s true that television adds twenty pounds, I was in real trouble. I’ve been dropping weight for a while because of my nearly all-liquid diet and it was really starting to show. I’d gone from fashionable to gaunt in the last six weeks. But at least I was dressed in my own clothes, which mostly fit. For a moment I imagined what I’d look like in Emma’s duds—we are so not the same size or body type—and my stomach turned over.

Before I could say anything, my image disappeared, replaced by Queen Lopaka’s. That made sense.

She was propped up in the hospital bed. Standing on either side of her, out of the way of the medical equipment, was a pair of her personal guards, looking grim and determined. I understood the grim. I hope the full complement of four were in the room, two out of sight of the video camera. In the background, I caught a glimpse of the aquarium. A pair of angel fish floated next to a seahorse in the blue-tinted salt water, while a starfish crawled up the side wall.

“Greetings, niece, Dahlmar, Mage Creede.” I noticed that she didn’t address Rusland’s ruler as “King.” Well, they were about to become family. First-name terms for her future son-in-law seemed reasonable.

At least I’d finally learned enough protocol to know that when the siren queen addressed me as family, I was supposed to do the same. “Good morning, Aunt Lopaka, I’m glad to see you up and about.” I was. She didn’t look good, but she was alive and upright. And if she was online, she was out of ICU. Chances were good she’d recover fully given a bit of time.

“Thanks to you in great part. Without your warning I’d be dead. As it is, I believe I may actually wind up with scars to rival yours.”

Hiwahiwa’s image was replaced with that of the queen’s daughter. As always, Adriana was a vision of auburn-haired beauty. Today she was wearing a raw-silk suit in forest green, a cream-colored blouse, and emerald jewelry. She made me feel like a toad. She looked directly into the camera and for some reason I was sure it was my image she was staring at. After a moment, her eyes went distant and I knew she was having a vision.

I’d been with Adriana once before in a vision. She seemed to work best when helped through the images. I wasn’t sure anyone else had noticed her going out of focus, so I held up one hand to keep the others from speaking, leaned forward slightly, and said, “What do you see?”

“You have … fangs, and scars.” Her voice was gentle and floaty.

“I do. Is that important?” Most of the worst scars were covered, but the tank top I wore under my blazer had a scoop neck that didn’t completely conceal the claw marks where a demon had gone after my heart.

I motioned to Bruno for a paper and pen and waved at Hiwahiwa to come closer to the camera. I wrote down a message on the pad Bruno handed me and held it up for Hiwahiwa to see. Put a cool, wet cloth against the back of her neck.

It had worked before to help Adriana out of a vision. Because, realistically, we didn’t have all day for her to get lost in her head. Hiwahiwa leapt to obey. She pulled the scarf from around her waist, quickly wet it with some water from a pitcher, then carefully placed the damp scarf against the neck of her princess.

Adriana laughed abruptly, coming back to herself in a rush. “Oh! I’m such a fool.” She was talking to herself, so I didn’t answer.

“Adriana?” Lopaka’s voice was both sharp and concerned. The queen warring with the mother.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” Adriana turned slightly, addressing the image of her mother, I suppose. “I just realized it hasn’t been Celia in my visions. So many visions since I met her, but not her. It’s someone who looks like her, but without the scars or fangs.” She was having a hard time containing her happiness, which was a little weird considering the circumstances of the meeting, but probably made perfect sense to her in terms of the vision.

She turned to Hiwahiwa and touched her shoulder. “The cloth helped.”

The secretary looked startled that Adriana had touched her. She bowed her head and was modest. “It was Princess Celia’s idea, Highness. I was only the instrument of her instruction.”

Adriana looked at the camera and smiled. “My thanks once again, cousin.” I just nodded. She could have thanked Hiwahiwa, too. But it wouldn’t do any good to step into that mess. I’d learned long ago that Adriana considered her staff mere tools, whereas I thought of them as closer to friends. Of course, Adriana had touched her, which is something I’d never seen her do. Maybe I was rubbing off on her or maybe she was preparing for her new role as queen. Today’s royalty have to be more hands-on than in the past. Princess Diana changed a lot of things.

“I see.” Lopaka obviously didn’t, but she wasn’t about to let a little thing like a vision derail this meeting. She spoke briskly, in a tone that made it clear she wasn’t interested in anyone’s reaction to what she was saying. “Celia, I know you are going to object, but as your queen and your aunt, I insist that you have a security detail, at least until after the wedding.”

“No.” My voice wasn’t angry or insulted. It was just firm.

She tried reason again, maybe understanding she had no real way to make demands of me. “You have been specifically targeted by terrorists because you are a member of our family. They may also have seen, as our prophets have, that you are instrumental in keeping Adriana alive and seeing her safely wed. So, object if you must, but I’m going to insist that you have at least one agent with you at all times.”

I opened my mouth but was preempted.

“I agree,” Dahlmar said firmly. “The wedding must go forward as scheduled. We cannot show any sign of weakness. But Celia’s life is too important to be risked needlessly. She should be guarded as well as the rest of our families.”

Adriana was nodding wordlessly.

Maybe reason would work in reverse, too. “What you’re asking simply isn’t possible, Aunt. I appreciate the sentiment. I do. But the roles of protector and protectee are very fixed. Adriana saw me as part of her wedding party in the role of a protector. I’m happy to take that role because it’s what I’m trained to do. But I cannot be watched and guided and followed at the same time, just as you could not be both queen and waitstaff at the same dinner. If I’m guarding Adriana, I cannot allow anyone else—including another guard—to be close to her. The risk might be from the guard—intentional or not. Can you see my concern?”

Lopaka entered my mind, and her voice was the angry sound of chimes caught in a hurricane. Celia, don’t be dense. This is another situation like the one at the shop. The eyes of the entire world are on us. It is necessary that you be publicly acknowledged as the valued member of the royal family you are. You must have the same kind of protection as any other member of the royal family. I will advise my head of security to assign someone you approve of to work with you and to help you select a team who will facilitate your work in protecting my daughter. I must insist on this.

I didn’t like that but there had to be a solution that would satisfy everyone. Give me a moment to think.

She turned so smoothly to address her daughter that I doubted anyone knew she and I had spoken privately. “Adriana, I know you did not want to leave my side in the hospital, but I appreciate you making that sacrifice. Queen Chiyoko…” She let the sentence go unfinished. Probably best. I’d met Queen Chiyoko, another of the siren royals, from the Pacific Rim siren clan. From what I’d seen, there wasn’t any nice way to finish a sentence about her. Maybe she was a terrific ruler. I didn’t know. I did know she was arrogant, ambitious, and wanted to see me dead.

“She and some of the other queens are already here and have requested the large conference room for later today.” Adriana’s eyes flashed dangerously. Chiyoko was definitely a tough customer, but I wouldn’t want to cross Adriana with that look on her face. “Don’t worry about a thing, Mother. I will take care of it. Concentrate on getting well. You will have your throne to come back to.”

Apparently Lopaka had seen the same steel in her daughter that I had. She smiled, proud and pleased. “I don’t doubt it. You will be a fine queen, daughter.”

There was a flicker of warmth in the green eyes. Adriana spoke again, with a heavy sigh. “I don’t worry about my safety for the moment, but I won’t be able to leave Serenity for the duration of this impromptu queens’ council. Celia, I must ask for your help. Someone must be responsible for obtaining the bridesmaids’ dresses. And someone must guard Natasha and Olga as well.”

I hated it, but she was right. If someone was whittling down the wedding party to disrupt the event, the bridesmaids were certain targets. But while Adriana was confident about her safety, I didn’t know that I agreed. A lot of people live on Serenity, not to mention the many visitors arriving for the wedding. No doubt the queen’s guard and security force was going to be pressed to the limit, running background checks on every guest and citizen. I certainly couldn’t be at two places at once. Serenity. Who was on Seren—? Okay. I had a thought about a scenario I could accept. Lopaka must have been listening in to my thoughts because she lifted delicate blonde eyebrows just as I once again raised a hand to catch everyone’s eyes. “Sorry to interrupt, but how about this—I’ve worked with Helen Baker of the Siren Guard. I trust her skill, and her loyalty is without question. If she’s available, I’d be willing to work with her as a partner in protecting Adriana and the Rusland bridesmaids. Partners protect each other, which meets your desires, and I can trust her to guard Adriana while on Serenity, meeting my goals. Would that be satisfactory?”

Lopaka nodded. “That would be satisfactory. Her skill is renowned and I would trust her with my life … or that of my daughter. I will make her available.”

Adriana mirrored her mother’s dip of the head. “Baker is acceptable.”

It didn’t appear that Dahlmar had met her, even though he was once on the island when she was working with me. He deferred the issue about the protection of his future bride to Creede by looking up at him with a questioning expression. Creede said, “I’ve met her. She’s qualified. Quick, a good shot, smart. No objection from me.”

My cousin actually breathed a little visible sigh, as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Then it’s settled. Celia, as for the dresses, at this point I honestly don’t care what they look like or how much they cost. Just get the bridesmaids into a shop and find something suitable. Your taste in clothing seems to be similar to my own.”

Wait. She wanted me to shop for the bridesmaids’ dresses? With Olga and Natasha? I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. I wasn’t going to say anything because anything I said would come out bitchy. I might think all kinds of things, and the telepaths might hear them, but my lips would be sealed.

Creede raised a single eyebrow, and I swear I saw the hint of a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. Surely he couldn’t read my mind from such a long distance? Surely not.

Could he?

Another smile twitched at his lips. But when he spoke his voice was utterly bland and businesslike as he changed topics. “The authorities have spent the last several hours going over the magical signatures of the evidence. Both Mr. DeLuca’s signature and mine were on some of the artifacts that had been shattered and worked into the bullets. So the authorities were very interested in what the two of us have been up to. I was detained and have been answering questions. As, I believe, has Mr. DeLuca. Fortunately for each of us, it was obvious that the items had been created some time ago.”

Oh, crap. That explained why Bruno looked like hell. Frankly, I was a little surprised he’d gotten out as quickly as he did. It had to have been ugly. I was surprised neither of them was still in custody or being questioned. I looked from one to the other. They might have been friends if not for me. As it was, they respected each other as men, mages, and rivals.

Creede continued, “There was a more recent signature I didn’t recognize. Bruno, had you seen it before?”

I stepped back so that Bruno could stand on the X. “It was vaguely familiar.” He ran his hand through his hair in an unconscious gesture of frustration. “I know I’ve seen it somewhere, but I can’t pin down where. I’d thought it might be from when we worked with so many people on the rift. But if you don’t recognize it, that can’t be it.”

That got me thinking: Where had Bruno spent time with a bunch of magic users without Creede?

The answer was obvious, at least to me. “The college.” Emma echoed me an instant later as Kevin nodded. Clearly I hadn’t been the only one to figure it out.

Rizzoli looked from me to Bruno, to Creede, to Kevin and Emma. “All right, people. Somebody spill it. What college? What are we talking about?”

I didn’t answer, just turned to Bruno. Rizzoli was quick. He’d catch on in a second without a blow-by-blow. “It’s got to be. Who there has enough juice—”

Bruno’s expression was thoughtful. I could tell he was going through everyone on staff in his mind. He turned to Emma. “Em? Who’s tested the highest in the GAs?”

“Jan.” She turned to Rizzoli. “No question. Jan Mortensen is one of the graduate assistants at the university. He’s a powerful mage and the most secretive person I know. He always works magic by himself, and he always cleans up even the tiniest trace of his workings once he’s done. I’ve never met a mage as careful as him.”

“I’ve never worked with him,” Bruno admitted. He sounded surprised, like it should have occurred to him that it was unusual, but it hadn’t before.

“No,” Em said. “And that’s weird all by itself. Because Sloan’s been having you work with everybody. You do amazing artifact work, better than even our tenured professors of magic.” Wow. I do believe he actually blushed at the compliment. Admittedly, Emma is pretty stingy with praise.

She continued, musing almost to herself as she spoke. “But Jan’s never even seemed interested in spending any time with you and keeps avoiding me when I try to schedule it. But there’s a good chance something he worked on is in Dr. Sloan’s office somewhere. Sloan was his advisor last year.”

“We will need to question this Jan.” Dahlmar spoke softly, but his voice sent chills up my spine. I’d had a chance to see some of Dahlmar’s retainers in action. And while they’d never done anything untoward, I got the distinct impression they would, just as soon as the setting was a little more private.

“No, Your Majesty.” Rizzoli stepped onto the X as Bruno vacated it. His voice was as hard as granite, and about as warm. “We will need to question him. The attack was on American soil. We will be happy to cooperate and share information, but we are the lead investigators and are in charge.” He stepped off of the X, and in what was probably the most carefully planned “accident” of his career, stumbled and wound up stepping on the red button on the power strip, bringing the video conference to an abrupt end.

Just as well. Because while the king hadn’t had a chance to say anything, his expression said more clearly than words that he’d do what he damned well pleased. Lopaka’s face had looked much the same.

It seemed a lot of powerful people really wanted to talk to Jan. We’d just have to see who got there fastest.