i 13e44e81ff362920 (21 page)

Braxton was the necromancer who had attacked me in the park.

14

I waited for Braxton and Deonara to leave before saying anything. I didn’t want to cause some sort of cultural incident by accusing a Fifth Solium, or whatever he was, of attempted murder. After Lucian left to escort them out of the building, I turned to Selena, and the fake smile vanished from my face.

“It was Braxton.”

She was in the middle of refilling her coffee. “What was Braxton?”

“He was the one who attacked me in the park.”

She paused with her fingers on the stir stick. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“On what basis?”

“His eyes.”

Selena sipped her coffee. “His eyes. Care to explain?” “I recognize them. I didn’t at first, because he was wearing glasses. But now I’m completely certain.”

“Anything else?”

“The skin on his right hand is slightly pink. It’s from the burn that he sustained when Modred destroyed the Vorpal gauntlet.”

“I thought you said his face was cut as well.”

“Yeah. It was. But necromancers heal fast, and if we don’t act soon, even that tiny burn is going to disappear. Then we’ll have nothing.”

“We already have nothing. There’s no such thing as an eye database. You can’t finger him for attempted murder without any concrete evidence.”

“And what about the fingerprint?”

“What about it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on. You know it’s his. Somehow, he’s managed to seal his own record. But if we could gain access to that file, I know that his name and photo would pop up in a second.”

“You may know that, but there’s no way to prove it.”

“Prove what?” Lucian came striding down the hallway.

Selena looked at me. “Do you want to share your theory?”

“Not especially.”

“Come on, Tess. Share.” He grinned.

“You first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell you. But don’t freak out.” Selena chuckled into her coffee cup.

“When have I ever freaked out?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Just tell me. We’re sharing information, remember?”

“Okay.” I swallowed. “I think Braxton was the one who attacked us in the park. I recognize him.

But I can’t prove it.”

He frowned. “Braxton’s a bureaucrat. Even if he wanted to attack you, he’d never do it himself.

He’d send someone.”

“I know it was him. There’s a recently healed burn on his hand.”

“That could be from anything.”

“There’s also a small cut beneath his right eye. It’s from the mask shattering.”

Lucian shook his head. “That’s not enough to launch an investigation.”

“No. That’s why we need to find out who the fingerprint belongs to.”

“If Deonara couldn’t access the file, I can’t think of anyone else who’d be able to. It’s locked up tight.”

“I think Braxton stole Ordeño’s access code. That’s how he was able to encrypt the information.

Now he’s the only one who can get to it.”

“Lord Nightingale could, but Deonara’s right—he’s too busy to deal with something like this. He doesn’t trust the CORE as it is.”

“Maybe you can convince him.”

“I don’t have that kind of power.”

“Oh, yeah? A few minutes ago, I didn’t even know you were a politician. Maybe you’ve got another ace up your sleeve.”

Selena sighed. “I’ll be in my office. If you think of anything that might impel a search warrant, just let me know.”

She walked away. Lucian and I stood in silence for a while, not looking at each other. Finally, he moved to touch me, but I flinched.

“No.”

“You’re suddenly concerned with propriety?”

I glared at him. “You’ve been AWOL for most of this investigation. When you do show up, you can barely look me in the eye. I’m not going to pretend that everything’s okay here.”

He exhaled. “When is everything ever okay? We take what we can get, right? The least we can do is try to help each other.”

“That’s the problem. You’re not helping. You’re hindering.”

“I’m hindering? How am I hindering?”

“You’re keeping things from me. From Selena and me.”

“Who is it? You, or you and Selena?”

“Don’t be cute.”

“I don’t know how not to be.” He smirked.

“Follow me outside, at least. I don’t want to have this conversation in the hallway.”

We went through the fire exit that led to the parking lot. This concrete space had witnessed several nervous breakdowns on my part. It was also the first place where Lucian revealed his power to me.

I remembered watching the necroid materia shimmering between his fingertips, revolving like a deadly red flower.

“Okay. We’re outside now. Explain to me—”

“Why do you have a Picasso painting in your office?” He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard the question.”

“Because I like Picasso?”

“Nice try. The painting’s a reinterpretation of Las Meninas.”

“Yes. I believe it is.” He frowned. “When were you in my office? You never go in that room.”

“That’s not important.”

“I think it is. Have you been to my apartment recently?” Shit.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“A few nights ago.”

“That’s news to me. What were you doing there?”

“I was looking for you. I let myself in with the key.”

“And then you decided to explore my office?”

“I wasn’t exploring anything. The painting’s hanging on the wall. I saw it, and I was curious. Why do you have it?”

“I told you.”

“¡No seas denso!”

He smiled. “Hey, that was pretty good.”

“I’m serious. You know that Luiz Ordeño had a reproduction of Las Meninas, and you have an abstract version of the same painting. It’s not a coincidence.”

“It sounds like one to me.”

“Those paintings have power. They’re a key to something.”

“To art appreciation?”

“Lucian, come on.”

He raised his hands. “I don’t know what to tell you, Tess. A painting’s a painting. Luiz and I have the same taste. I’m a fan of Velázquez, too. So what?”

“What do the paintings do?”

“They sit on the wall.”

“Is there necroid materia in them? Are they catalysts?”

“Catalysts for what?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I don’t understand what I’m doing.”

“You’re fucking lying to me. And you know it.”

“All I know is that you’re suspicious of some paintings for no reason. I’m sure you have some nice prints at home. Do they do anything?”

I shook my head. “Do you even believe me? About Braxton? Or do you think that I’m crazy?”

“A little of both, to be honest. Braxton’s a prick, but he’s not a murderer. Even if he stole a Vorpal gauntlet and came after you, it doesn’t make sense that he’d confront you later. Why risk it?”

“Because he knows that we can’t do anything. The print is locked behind a firewall, or shadow wall, or whatever it’s called.”

“Shadow sector.”

“Whatever. He knows that we’re humped. And if he shows up at the lab, it only gives him more credibility. He gets to waltz right into our territory like he owns the place, and nobody raises an eyebrow, because he’s got his fancy necromancer passport. The only one who doesn’t trust him is Tess the lunatic.”

“Your story does sound a bit lunatic.”

“No. I’m the lunatic, not the story.”

“‘Lunatic’ is both an adjective and a noun. So your story can be lunatic, and so can you. Everybody wins grammatically.”

I glared at him. “Is that it? You’re just going to crack some jokes and then disappear to the hidden city again?

That’s our song and dance now?”

“I never thought of it in Vaudeville terms. But maybe.”

“Fuck off and answer the question.”

He sighed. “I have loyalties to my community, Tess. I can’t play double agent. I’m cooperating with the CORE, but I also have to do what’s in the best interest of my people. And some lines can’t be crossed.”

“Then why are you even letting us investigate Ordeño’s murder? Why not just freeze us out entirely?”

“Because you have access to resources that we don’t, just like we have access to information that you don’t.”

“But it’s only going one way. We’re giving you our resources, but you haven’t given us a scrap of real information. At least not yet.”

“Maybe you haven’t asked the right questions.”

“Really? You’re going to play that game?”

“I’m not playing at anything.”

“You’re always playing at something.”

“Yeah? You think you know me that well?”

He raised an eyebrow. I wanted to do a lot of things to him, right now, in the parking lot. Most of them were illegal. I let out a breath.

“Tell me honestly. What’s up with the painting?”

“Nothing’s up. It’s a painting. There’s nothing more I can tell you about it, Tess. Look it up on Wikipedia if you’re curious about Picasso.”

That was what his mouth said. But his hands said something very different. They danced through a series of rapid-fire signs. Normally, I wouldn’t have caught them all, but I’d been practicing with Miles lately.

His fingers said: Ask Modred.

I looked him in the eyes. “Guess that’s your final answer.”

“It’s all I can say on the subject.”

If somebody was watching us, I wanted to give them something interesting to look at. I leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Call me if you think of anything else,” I said.

“I will.” He smiled. “¡Suerte!”

“Yeah. You, too.” I turned to walk away.

“No pare buscando, tormentita.”

That was what he’d started calling me a while ago. His little storm. Maybe it meant that a real storm was coming. The rest was more literal.

Don’t stop searching.

Hah.

I never did. That was my problem.

“I don’t know about this,” Patrick said. It was about the fifth time he’d said it in as many minutes.

“It’ll be fine.”

We stood outside the vampire safe house on Granville Street, which was below a shop that sold skater clothes. You could blink and miss it. But if I looked closely, I was able to make out the small character in vampiric script that had been painted above the door, announcing that this was a daegred.

“Some of them really don’t like humans.”

“Well, I really don’t like them. So it all evens out.”

“Just try not to piss anyone off too much. And if someone insults you, don’t stab them. Just ignore them.”

“Right. It’ll be like high school all over again.”

We walked down a narrow flight of stairs, which ended in a reinforced steel door. Patrick knocked twice. A few seconds later, the door opened, and a young vampire wearing dirty jeans and a ripped T-shirt opened the door.

“Magnate. Welcome back.”

“Thanks, Trev.”

Trev ushered us into what sort of resembled a vampire community center. There were couches along the walls, with demons of various ages and persuasions lounging on them. Some slept; some read; some watched TV. Two young vamps were making out in a corner. Definitely like high school, except everyone here was undead.

I recognized Cyrus playing a vintage arcade game, which someone must have “liberated” from the business above. He saw me and waved.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to Modred.”

“He’s in the kitchen. I’ll go get him for you.”

Cyrus vanished through a doorway. I stood next to Patrick awkwardly for a few moments. One old vampire was glaring at me. He muttered something under his breath. Probably in Anglo-Saxon. I smiled at him.

I heard a familiar voice coming from the kitchen. “She’s here?”

The door opened, and Modred emerged. I had to say, he looked pretty good in a pair of pressed khakis and a nicely fitted T-shirt. But I only glanced at him for a second. The girl standing next to him occupied my immediate attention.

“Mia?”

She smiled nervously. “Hey, Tess. What’s up?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Don’t freak out. I just came to look around, you know? See what the place is like. After Patrick told me about it, I was curious.”

I turned to him. “And you knew about this.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “Sorry. But she had lots of questions. And I didn’t have even half of the answers. It seemed easiest to just bring her here.”

“Right. Because that’s a safe plan.”

“She’s in no danger,” Modred said. “Mia has the magnate’s beneficence. Nobody will quarrel with her while she’s here.”

I gave Patrick a long look. “What exactly is your ‘beneficence’? Is that some kind of euphemism?”

He had the decency to blush. “It just means that she’s under my protection. Like she has a little piece of my aura that others can sense. Modred taught me how to do it. He wanted to make sure that she’d be safe.”

“I’ve got pepper spray, too,” Mia added. “You know, in case the aura thing decides to crap out at the wrong moment.”

I sighed. “Fine. I guess I can’t control your every move.”

“Please. You can barely keep up with my homework.” I decided to ignore that jab. Instead, I turned to Modred.

“Look. Is there someplace private we can talk?”

“Of course. But the magnate should be present.”

“That’s fine.”

“What about me?” Mia gave me a slightly petulant look. “Must I remain ignorant yet again? You know that only causes problems down the road.”

“I’m willing to risk that,” I said. “Stay with Cyrus. We’ll be back in a few minutes, and then we’re all going home.”

“But we’re playing bingo later.”

“Home. No bingo.”

Mia rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch. “You suck.”

“I know. And I’m comfortable with that designation.”

We followed Modred through the kitchen, then up a flight of stairs, until we came to a room full of disused equipment: old chairs, broken shelves, an empty fridge, and what looked like a ping-pong table that was missing three of its legs.

“Take a seat if you can find one,” Modred said.

“It’s fine. I’ll stand.”

I automatically checked the room for escape routes. It was a habit of working with vampires. Just the one door, and Modred was blocking it. Maybe not on purpose, but you never knew. If he decided to go medieval on me, I probably didn’t stand a chance, even if Patrick intervened. He was young and strong, but Modred was old and cunning. That usually won out.