Pomegranates full and fine (30 page)

Tango’s gut reaction was to slap the mug out of her hand. She took a deep breath, however, forcing her anger away, and accepted the coffee brusquely instead. She glared at the other Kithain. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay away?”

“I’m sorry,” Epp said meekly. Tango blinked and looked at her in surprise. She hardly sounded like the same person. “But if you’d check your answering machine a little more often, you would have gotten my message saying that I was coming over this afternoon.

You have to pay for some more things for Highsummer Night. You didn’t seem particularly fond of Dex last time, so I arranged to borrow a car and leave him to his own business. Now, why don’t you just sit down and eat before your breakfast gets cold, hmtn?” She had pulled out a chair and slipped the omelette expertly onto a plate before the nocker could even blink again.

Tango looked at the boggan suspiciously. “What do you want, Epp?”

“Me?” Epp paused in the middle of taking a plate of crisp bacon out of the oven. “I wanted to try and make amends for getting off on the wrong foot. Two strips or three?” She considered Tango’s tense form, then decided, “Four. Healthy girl like you...”

“Epp, you want something. I can’t believe that you would be making me breakfast — or lunch, or brunch, or whatever this is -— if you didn’t.” She didn’t mention that the thought of poison had crossed her mind; she didn’t think that even Epp held that much of a grudge against her.

Toast popped up and Epp added it to the table as well, along with a little white bowl of butter. “Try this. I make it myself. Butter-making is a lost art.”

“Epp...” Tango threatened quietly.

Epp bit her lip nervously. “Will you at least promise to listen to me?”

“I’ll promise not to throw you out of the apartment right now!” Epp looked forlornly at the meal she had prepared. Tango growled and sat down at the table. “All right.” She picked up a fork and cut into the omelette. Melted cheese and bright peppers burst out. Tango barely noticed. “What do you want? I’m not in a good mood.”

“It’s not what I want. It’s what Duke Michael wants. He’s asked for a report on the state of preparations for Highsummer.”

“So give it to him.”

“I can’t!” Epp wailed. “You don’t understand the etiquette of his court. The Jester is supposed to be organizing the party, so the Jester has to give the report.” Tango snorted. Epp practically collapsed into the chair across the table from her. “Please!” she begged. “You have to do this for me. I’m so close. Highsummer is only two days away!”

Was it really? Had she been in Toronto for five days already? Tango ate some of the omelette idly, almost mechanically. It had been five days. Only five days, in spite of all that had happened. Five days over which Miranda had built up her trust before betraying her. Tango gritted her teeth. Her anger was still too close to the surface. She didn’t want to go to court and face Duke Michael and the rest of the sidhe like this. Or at all. But... Tango looked speculatively at Epp. The boggan was smoothing the surface of her homemade butter with a knife, nervously molding it into a perfect plane, then whipping it up and starting again. Tango had another opportunity to do something that might help find Riley. Not much of an opportunity, but something. She would be an idiot to let it slip past her. “I want you to do something for me in return,” she said.

Epp looked up with desperate gratitude. “I’ll even remove the curse if you want!”

Tango had to laugh. The boggan’s curse was the least of her worries, unless Riley was now outside of Metro Toronto. She hoped he wasn’t. “You must have some kind of contact network, don’t you?” Epp looked blank.

Tango tried rephrasing her words. “A grapevine? A rumor mill?”

“I have a few friends.”

“How much do they see? Beyond the usual neighborhood gossip stuff, that is.” Tango took the butterknife from Epp’s hand and spread some butter on a piece of cooling toast. “I want to find someone.” Epp’s eyes went narrow. “Not Riley?”

Tango sighed. “No, not Riley, so you won’t be going against any of the duke’s orders.” Not directly at least. If Epp’s contacts — and maybe the contacts of any other Kithain she could get the boggan to involve — could locate Jubilee, however, Tango had some more questions to ask her former friend. She bit into her toast savagely. She might even be willing to let herself use some of the old skills she had neglected for so long....

No. She wasn’t going to do that. The toast, suddenly dry, stuck in her throat, and she reached for her coffee to wash it down. She needed to stay calm, particularly if she was going to walk into the duke’s court. It had been bad enough the last time she was there, but with her old anger so near the surface, it was sure to be even more stressful. And this time, she had to stay calm. For Riley’s sake. Eyes on her plate, temper under tight control, she described Jubilee and what she remembered of his habits. Anything that might help locate him. When she was finished, she glanced up at Epp. “Well?” she asked.

Epp seemed upset. “It would take time. I couldn’t do it all today, and the duke wants his report.”

Tango’s face twisted in annoyance. “You don’t have to get results today, just as long as you promise to do it. If you do that, I’ll do your report.”

“And make the payments I need?”

“And make the payments,” Tango sighed. She might find Riley yet. Epp beamed happily.

“I...” she began.

A police car roared past on the street outside, siren blaring, Another followed close behind it. Tango just caught the flashing of the second car’s lights as she glanced up. Her stomach knotted suddenly. What was happening in the city now? “Wait,” she told Epp. “I want you to ask your friends about someone else. A woman. A vampire.”

Epp made an expression of distaste. “Most of my friends wouldn’t know a vampire if one bit them. You’re asking for quite a bit.”

“So are you. Tell your friends that she’s an ordinary woman.”

Epp hesitated, then nodded. “All right. 1 promise.” Tango swilled down the last of her coffee. “I’ll get dressed. We’ll make the payments, then go give the duke his report.” She smiled, mostly to herself. If she could find jubilee, she might be able to find Riley. If she could find Miranda, she might be able to put a stop to the vampires’ murderous spree.

* * *

With the setting of the sun, Miranda opened her eyes. She could feel dried blood on her face — the remains of the red tears she had been crying when the sun had risen and sent her into the oblivion of sleep. She had held the tears back as she ran through the streets of Toronto last night, only letting them flow freely when she had reached the safety of her

hiding place.

Years ago, she had felt like the University of Toronto was the best place in the world. She had been happy there. She had felt safe, coddled in the arms of academia. The Sabbat had snatched her early in the evening from a broad, well-lit path within sight of a fairly busy street and several university residences. The illusion of safety had shattered along with her mortal life. The Sabbat had taken half a dozen of them from the campus that night: her as she walked, Blue as he left the gym, Tolly as he practiced in the faculty of music building, Matt and two others as they reeled back, drunk, from a pub. Matt’s two friends hadn’t survived the Sabbat’s Creation Rites. There was no safety anywhere, she knew now. It was the same lesson that Solomon was teaching Toronto. There was no safety from the shadows.

But there was still something about the university that called out to Miranda. When she had fled from Tango and the pack, she had gone back to the university, to the big research library. All of the lower doors and windows were locked tight at night and connected to an alarm system, of course, but that was nothing to her. Unnatural strength had carried her up the rough surface of the building’s exterior to office windows on the sixth floor. There were no alarms here. She had shattered a window casually and slipped inside. Then she had climbed up into the dark, windowless depths of the book stacks. In an obscure, dusty corner, she had wrapped the shadows around herself, cried tears of blood, and waited for sunrise.

For a moment after she first woke, the still, dark air felt so much like the grave of the Creation Rites that

Miranda instinctively lashed out, trying to dig for the surface and freedom. Those vampires who dug their way out of their own graves were judged fit to become Sabbat. The lack of resistance to her claws brought her all the way back to herself, however. Flustered, she shrank back into the shadows for a moment, looking around to see if anyone had seen her.

There didn’t seem to be anyone nearby. The lights w
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ere still on, however; the library was still open. At least she wouldn’t have to break any windows to get out tonight. She could just walk away. There were bound to be students around somewhere, though, and staff at the checkout desk by the doors. She would have to clean her face before she could leave. Luckily, there was a bathroom only one floor up, and she had to duck back to avoid being seen by students only once.

Miranda scrubbed at her face with cold water and cheap, pink liquid soap that smelled like faded roses and felt like slime. She scrubbed until the only pink that stained the water in the sink came from the soap. Her black clothes were gray with clinging dust. She brushed at herself futilely, then decided that no one would notice. Only she would know where the gray dust had come from. She rode an elevator calmly down to the ground floor, then walked out of the library.

It was another hot night, and early enough that there should have been people on the streets. There was almost no one, however. The people who were out walked quickly, heads up, hands gripping books and bags tightly, nervously alert. Everyone else must have been inside, afraid of the penny murderer. Miranda bit her tongue. Tonight the pack was supposed to kill someone who had stayed indoors, supposedly safe behind a

security system.

It was also the night for the Bandog ritual, she realized, the one at which Solomon would keep his promise to tell her and the rest of the Bandog the true purpose behind the murders. The reason why he was terrifying Toronto.

Miranda wasn’t sure she could face that ritual. She wasn’t sure she could face the Bandog or Solomon. Or the rest of the pack. Or Tango. Definitely not Tango. Her head ached whenever she thought about the changeling. Tango had shocked and disappointed her with the revelations about her dark past, but hadn’t she shocked and disappointed Tango more? Or wouldn’t she have, had Tango found out everything? As it was, Tango only knew that Miranda was one of the murderers she so despised. She didn’t know that Miranda had also betrayed her to Jubilee Arthurs, or that she was intimately connected with the man who had ordered Riley kidnapped. A lot of the ache in her head, Miranda realized, was her own disappointment with herself.

She closed her eyes and wavered on her feet. She should feed. Blood would wash away the doubts, or at least blot them out. An image of the changeling called Sin and the woman he had danced with last night came back to Miranda suddenly. They had looked so enraptured... and Tango had looked so terribly, frighteningly like them when she had talked about enjoying her former life as an assassin. Miranda shuddered, walking down the block and trying to forget the flicker of hungry joy that had crossed the changeling’s face. She should feed.

There was a young woman walking alone in the early evening on a broad, well-lit path within sight of a fairly

busy street and several university residences.

Miranda walked toward her. The vampire’s head was raised, ready to strike, predatory. All she had to do was glance into the woman’s eyes and the woman would follow her willingly, would let her drink willingly. Might even die willingly. It would be good. Miranda was hungry. She had fed only a little last night, a fast, brief drink from the veins of the man at Jubilee Arthurs’ house. She would be able to take her time with the young woman, feeding slowly. She remembered Sin and the dancing woman.

She remembered the assassin’s shadow that had crossed Tango’s face last night, not once, but twice. Outside Club Haze when she had confessed to her past. And outside Riley’s apartment when the changeling had seen the pack’s victims, then turned on Miranda.

Did she look like that now?

The young woman was ten feet from Miranda and they were approaching each other rapidly. It would be simple. She had nothing to fear. Wasn’t she Sabbat, the ultimate predator, the ultimate evil?. Wasn’t she an infernalist, feared even by the Sabbat for what she was willing to do for power?

Miranda readied herself. One glance. They were almost facing each other. She could almost taste the sweet richness of the other woman’s blood. She pushed herself deeper into the warm, red memories of past feedings. Last night, outside Jubilee Arthurs’ house, Miranda had been embarrassed by those memories, afraid of exposing her inhumanity to Tango. Now she wallowed in them, reveling in her inhumanity. It was her strength.

She glanced at the other woman.

Tango had finally seen her inhumanity. She had attacked it.

The other woman froze. Miranda decided not to take her anywhere. She would feed here, on the path where she had herself first encountered the Sabbat.

Tango could not accept her own inhumanity — she had enjoyed killing once, too. Who was she to judge Miranda?

Miranda swept the woman’s hair back from her neck. Smooth skin shone in the lamplight, the woman’s rapid pulse making the shadow under her jaw quiver and wink. Miranda’s fangs descended.

Inhuman. This was the vampire’s nature. To feed from the cattle of humanity.

She bit down into the woman’s neck. Hot blood filled her mouth, filled her body, filled her soul with a hard, greedy pleasure. Miranda gnawed at the woman’s throat, desperate for more. The blood erased all doubts of her nature. The woman in her embrace shuddered. A vampire was inhuman. It existed to feed.

But what had Tango pointed out? The murders that the pack had committed for Solomon were beatings. None of the victims had been bitten. None of the vampires had fed. What nature was there in that? The blood in her mouth tasted suddenly stale.