Random Acts of Sorcery (18 page)

Cassie woke up to the sound of male laughter, and it took her a moment to place where she was. Slowly, memories of the previous night came back, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if it had all been a nightmare or not. She heard Mike laugh raucously, and frowned.

What are they so happy about?

She had slept in her T-shirt and even her bra, so getting dressed was as simple as pulling her jeans back on. She walked down the upper hall of the Buckleys’ penthouse, until she reached the balcony overlooking the living room.

Mike, Jay, Ethan, Dwight, and Khalil were all playing cards together on a large coffee table. She could hear the sound of a pan sizzling from the kitchen, and the low hum of other conversations in the background. Ethan, Jay and Dwight were sitting on the couch, while Mike and Khalil played from the floor.

Khalil was shuffling through his cards. “Okay, so I take my Manticore and—”

“No, no no!” Ethan interjected. “You have to pull your magic before you can attack, remember?”

“Oh…right. Okay, so I’m pulling three purple and two gray. I’m sending my Manticore to attack Dwight for 15—”

“Dude, I’m dead. I’ve been dead,” Dwight said taking a swig of coffee out of a huge mug.

Khalil looked crestfallen. “How many turns have you been dead for?”

“Two.”

“Why did nobody tell me?”

“You have to pay attention in Sorcery,” said Ethan. He sounded like he was scolding Khalil, who sighed and threw his cards down on the table.

“Ah man, and I was massing Manticores just so I could take out Dwight’s ugly bog creatures. I’ve got nothing to defend against Ethan’s ghoul army now.”

“Or my ghoul army,” said Mike in a smug tone.

Khalil’s jaw dropped. “Since when?”

During the conversation, Cassie had come down the stairs. “Who’s winning?” she asked.

“Me,” said Mike and Ethan in unison.

“I don’t find this game to be a very enjoyable pastime,” Khalil noted.

Cassie followed the smells of food to the kitchen, where Sam was busy in front of the stove. “Cassie, it’s amazing!” called Miri from the dining room table. “Sam made me scrambled eggs and there were hardly any shell pieces in them at all.”

“There were no shells, don’t listen to her. Want anything?” he asked her.

“Two scrambled eggs and some toast, whenever you get around to it.” She opened a cabinet, only to find a king’s ransom in juice boxes. “Where does Eugene keep the mugs?”

Sam gestured to the cabinet next to him, and Cassie took out a plain white mug. As she poured herself coffee, she looked around the rest of apartment. Dmitri and Liam were sitting on a window seat, not far from where the boys were playing cards, talking quietly. Billingsly was at the dining room table with Miri, flipping through a large book in front of him. She couldn’t see Eugene, but she imagined he was probably in his office. Aeka and Nyesha weren’t around; the former was probably asleep, the latter reading in her room.

She looked at the clock; it was already noon.

This is so strange. Last night we w
ere attacked by crazy cultists and it was all horror and blood, and now it’s like we’re having big sleepover or something.
It wasn’t that she minded seeing everyone relaxing—in fact, she was glad the guys were playing cards to keep Ethan’s mind off of his latest trauma—but it was incongruous.

She nearly jumped when she turned and saw Mr. Golding on the kitchen counter. He was eating from a plate of eggs and hash browns, but stopped when her eyes found him. She guessed he was embarrassed to be seen eating like a ravenous rodent.

She looked from him to Sam and bit her lip. Part of her wanted to yell at Sam to turn Mr. Golding human already, but she knew it wasn’t wise. That super-barrier Sam had made yesterday had been magically expensive, plus he’d made another less impressive, but still substantial barrier around the penthouse. He’d also sent the bats to patrol around places that still needed protection all over the city, like Cassie’s house and the hospital where Jay’s mother was currently recovering. It seemed like he was always too magically strained lately for her to feel right insisting that he give Mr. Golding his full attention.

We still don’t know why he got changed again in the first place. Did it have something to do with the attack last night? How does that make sense?

She sat down behind Dwight on the couch, cradling her coffee mug. Mike and Ethan both had stormy looks on their faces. “Who won?” she asked.

“I did!” said Jay, beaming with joy.
“Last man standing!”

“Ethan and Mike both killed each other off in one turn with massive undead armies while Jay just defended the whole game,” said Khalil, yawning. When he opened his eyes again, she noticed that they were bloodshot. “Maybe I should try sleeping now. I haven’t slept at all yet.”

“A bunch of the beds are available now,” said Cassie. “Just go upstairs.”

Khalil yawned again and nodded. “If I have any bad dreams now, it’ll just be about Manticores and stupid bog people.”

As Khalil left the living room, he passed Eugene coming in from the other direction. “There are fresh toothbrushes in the guest bathroom, Mr. Latif,”

“Whatever,” muttered Khalil as he started up the
stairs. Cassie was pretty sure he was just going to collapse face-down on the nearest bed without doing anything about his teeth.

Ethan was shuffling his cards with a quickness of hand that was a little disturbing in a boy his age. “Wanna play again?”

“Uh, that took two hours,” said Dwight.

“Yeah, but now we have four people instead of five so it’ll be quicker!” Ethan replied, but his smile faded when he realized no one else looked like they wanted to play again so fast. “Okay, fine, no big deal,” he said unconvincingly.

Mike got up off the floor and fell back into a nearby easy chair. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about last night.”

Dwight made eye contact with Mike, indicated Ethan with his chin and shook his head no, but it wasn’t subtle enough for the boy to miss. “You can talk about stuff with me here, it’s not like I don’t know what’s going on,” said Ethan quietly. Eugene sat next to Ethan on the couch, looking at Mike expectantly.

“Here’s the thing; it’s not like the information they had was all that hard to get…for demons, or vampires.” Mike began. “Half the court is spying on the other half, so all our names and addresses and stuff are out there for the right price. But how did humans get a hold of that information? They were humans, right?”

“As far as we could tell, every single one of them was human,” Eugene answered.

Mike leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Do you think some demon is using humans to do his dirty work? Like, find some sad crazy people, turn them into a cult, and then send them after his enemies? Maybe he thinks that no one will figure it out because no one expects humans to be a threat.”

“I was thinking something along the same lines,” responded Eugene, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets. “But the ritualistic manner of the attempted murders makes me wonder. They would have been more successful,
and perhaps gotten some of you, if they hadn’t insisted on reciting those prayers before they killed,” he said. “Would a demon really send out an attack force to kill his enemies with such an inefficient game plan?”

“Maybe that’s the point, though,” Mike countered. “Because they see
m like real religious fanatics—including the incredibly stupid part—maybe the demon figures no one will ever trace it back to him.”

Dwight looked unimpressed. “You’re playing the ‘maybe they’re doing this just to make us think they’re not doing this,’ game, you just think yourself in circles with that.”

They all turned as Sam entered from the kitchen. “Your eggs are getting cold, Cassie.”

“You didn’t tell me they were ready.”

“I did, you just weren’t listening.”

She groaned, reached past Dwight to put her coffee cup on the table,
then ran to the kitchen to get the plate Sam had made for her. She didn’t want to eat in the living room and risk getting Eugene’s carpet dirty, so she leaned on the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room and ate standing up. When she could hear them again, Jay was speaking.

“—and maybe this is just me being dumb, but what if they are just crazy religious people?” he said. “Like, maybe we’re overthinking it, trying to figure out why someone would use them, when they’re not being used; they’re just crazy.”

“But then how would they know about us?” Mike countered. “Sure, they might know about The Daily Grind, lots of people online are talking about how weird stuff happens there. But the club where Dwight was playing? Miri and Nyesha’s apartment? My house?” he said, a little unsteady by the time he got to the last part. He’d actually been the luckiest last night, since Miri had found the deranged cultist that was headed for Mike long before the man had entered the house, but it was still frightening to think about.

“I mean, who the hell knows about me? I’m not special, I don’t have any magic,” he continued. “The only people who know about me are the people at court who keep detailed records of everyone’s familiars and human servants.”

“The timing is weird, also,” added Sam. “I don’t know what my odds are, but a lot of demons must be hoping that I’ll disappear for good after this weekend. Why go through all the trouble of killing me if the court might essentially do it for them?”

Cassie had been wondering that herself. “Maybe they think the court is going to rule in your favor?” she said. She honestly did wonder what the
consensus of opinion was among the other demons as to Sam’s chances of acquittal.

“Even so, why not wait a few more days and be sure?” Sam replied.

“Maybe you weren’t the target,” Mike added. His mind seemed to be relishing the puzzle. “I mean, why waste manpower killing the puny humans in the entourage if they wanted to get to you? Maybe that suicide bomber was a Hail Mary, and they never really expected it to work.”

“We need to speak to the surviving terrorists,” said Eugene. “I was going to suggest it anyway, but may as well do it now.”

Sam seemed to think about that, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window as he did so. A few bats flew by; normally, they wouldn’t still be awake by now. “Hmm, I wonder. Are they still in police lock-up? Or have they been moved to the county jail already?”

“You’re forgetting something,” Miri called, strolling into the room.

“And that is?”

She put her hands on her hips. “We beat them all up really bad. They can’t be in jail if they’re still in the hospital, right?”

Liam paused on the sidewalk before entering the hospital, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face. He had been able to daywalk again for almost a week now, but he still wasn’t used to just how good the sunlight felt on his skin.

“Are we going to go in?” asked Dmitri from behind him. “Or are you getting a tan?”

Liam picked up the pace. “You’re heartless.”

The other vampire grinned. “Not at all. I am simply aware that the sun will still be here when we return.”

“I hope so,” said Liam, then he walked through a set of automatic doors to Silver Cross Hospital.

They had entered through the lobby, so there wasn’t any medical machinery in sight, but Liam still felt mildly uncomfortable. He didn’t like hospitals; his last memories of his human life were of dying of influenza in a hospital, and he didn’t like being reminded of it. He knew Dmitri felt much the same, but still, they had a job to do.

Liam walked up to the hospitality desk, where a man with glasses and thinning hair was busy doing something on a computer. He leaned in close, so that no one else could hear.

“Get me the charts on the terrorists that were brought into the ER last night.”

It was no good; the man was looking at the computer, and wasn’t paying enough attention to Liam to get pulled into the command.
“Pfft, yeah, sure. Where are you from, anyway, the news?” He made the mistake of looking up, then Liam had him.

“Get me the charts on the terrorists that were brought in to the ER last night. Be quick about it,” Liam said.

The man shot up out of his chair and went running to do as he was bid. A clerk sitting a few seats down from him watched him go with a raised eyebrow, but then returned to a conversation she was having with a patient. Between himself and Dmitri, they could hypnotize anyone else who took notice of what they were doing, but such steps were rarely necessary; people saw what they expected to see. The woman probably assumed that her colleague was making a sudden trip to the bathroom.

“Your technique needs work,” Dmitri chided as they waited in the lobby. “If you do it properly, you can get them even if you can’t see their eyes.”

Liam shrugged. In truth, he was embarrassed that he was still a little clumsy when it came to hypnosis, even after all this time, but he wasn’t going to give his old friend the satisfaction of admitting to that. “I’m still better at it than our master.” Dmitri had to laugh at that. Liam chuckled softly as well.

It was strange. Their current master was capable of feats of magic the likes of which they had never seen before, yet seemed to have no ability to command anyone who wasn’t his familiar. To Liam, a demon
who couldn’t make others do his bidding with ease was like a dolphin that couldn’t swim, so he was continually baffled by it.

Still, there was something rather comforting about a master who actually didn’t have total control over you. Quentin had been insufferable with that, commanding them to do things for him that they would have done anyway, had he just asked. The more he thought about it, the more Liam appreciated his current situation; as usual, Eugene had known what he was doing.

After about ten minutes, the man returned holding a bunch of manila folders. He handed them to Liam.

“Thank you. Now return to your desk and have no memory of me, or retrieving these charts.” The man walked away.

As Liam began rifling through the folders, Dmitri blocked the sight of him with his body so no one would see that he was holding patients’ charts. “Well, we can’t talk to the one with the wrecked throat. There’s also one in intensive care with a hole in his skull.”

“That was the Princess,” said Dmitri. That was his nickname for Aeka.

“There’s one upstairs who just has a sprained ankle and a mild concussion,” Liam continued. “That’s probably the one I took down at the club. He’s our best bet.”

“Or it could be the one I handled at the boy’s house,” said Dmitri, as the two of them made their way to the elevators. “I was careful.”

“I’ve seen you be careful,” Liam said without much emotion. Dmitri looked mock-offended.

“I swear! I was gentle with him!” he cried, his Russian accent making a rare appearance. They had both mostly lost their original accents in the intervening decades, but Dmitri was inclined to let his slip out when he was tired or emotional.

“Well, let’s just see who was the real gentleman,” said Liam, as the elevator doors closed in front of him.

Unfortunately, when they got to the hospital room marked on the chart, Liam didn’t recognize the man in the bed. He was ready for Dmitri to start gloating, but apparently, Dmitri didn’t recognize him either.

“Ah, it’s the one Miri got,” Dmitri said, disappointed.

The man’s eyes widened when he saw them, but Dmitri was on top of him with his hand covering his mouth before he could make a sound. Fortunately, the other patient in the room was sound asleep. “Don’t scream. It would not help you, but it would be annoying. Do not annoy us, and we will not hurt you any further.” He slowly took his hand off the man’s mouth.

The man spat. “Walking corpses,” he gasped. “All those who serve the Dark will burn in eternal blue fire.”

“Maybe someday,” said Liam,
then switched into his hypnosis voice. “Why did you come to this city?”

“To rid the world of Demonspawn scum,” the man spat.

Liam and Dmitri exchanged glances; this was going to be a chore. “But why did you come here specifically? There are other demons, other entourages you could have targeted.”

The response was slower this time. “She gave us the information.
Said that if we killed the most evil of the demons and his servants, we would be showered in the light of the Lord.”

“Who is ‘she’?” asked Dmitri.

“The Seraph,” he said.

“Who is this Seraph?”

“I don’t know,” said the man, and then he cackled. “She’s too smart for you, didn’t tell us anything you could use against her. She’ll burn you all in the end.”

Liam sighed; he had been afraid of this. If the mastermind of the attack had been smart enough to leave her minions ignorant, their options were limited; no amount of compulsion could make someone reveal information they didn’t have.

“You are a human. How did you learn of demons and vampires?” Dmitri said, redirecting. Even under hypnosis, the man seemed unsettled by the question.

“The vampires, they used us. They said they would make us one of
‘em, never did. Just drank and drank and drank and drank.” His eyes were unfocused, and seemed to be looking off in two different directions.

Liam and Dmitri exchanged another somber glance. This was awful. One of Eugene’s cardinal rules regarding blood donors was to never, ever grant their request to turn them, unless they both had suitable temperament and an incurable, terminal disease. Those who asked for it when they were healthy were mentally ill, but that didn’t stop many vampires from stringing their fragile pets along, always promising to turn them after the next feeding and never delivering.

It was the kind of thing that infuriated Eugene, the kind of practice that brought shame upon their entire race. Not all vampires were evil, but the actions of so many were so heinous that the distinction was often rendered irrelevant.

“The vampires you served abandoned you?”

“Yes.”

Liam considered his next question carefully.

“What did you do, when the vampires abandoned you?”

“I thought I was unworthy,” said the man. His voice was erratic, going up and down in volume in unpredictable places. The patient in the next bed started to stir, but Dmitri walked over to the other bed and put him back to sleep as the man continued. “I thought I didn’t deserve the gift of eternal life. I was cursed, unclean.”

“Then the Seraph came, and I learned that I had been in thrall to the Dark. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault,” he repeated. “She showed me that it was not I that was unworthy, but that the Dark lies. That I would never be safe until the Dark was destroyed.”

“Where did the Seraph come from?” Liam asked.

No answer. He didn’t know.

“How did she find you?”

“She didn’t find me; it was I who found salvation,” the deranged man said with reverence.

“But where did she find you, physically?”

No answer.

“Where were you when she found you?”

“In the Dark. So deep in the dark I could not see,” he wheezed.

“Who was the real target of the attacks? The
demon, or his servants?” tried Dmitri.

“All will die. All who serve the Dark must die.”

Liam let out a frustrated breath. “This is no good. He’s too far gone.”

“Wait one moment,” said Dmitri, holding up a finger. He addressed the bed-ridden terrorist.

“You do not know who this Seraph is; tell us who you
think
she is.”

At that, the man’s face broke out into a smile. With his broken teeth and unfocused eyes, the effect of the smile was somewhat distorted, but still; he seemed enraptured, so full of love.

“An angel.”