Ravenous (21 page)

He tilted his head, looking at her intently.

"So, you need me to do something for you," Holly prompted, plowing her fork through the thick fudge of the brownie.

"I do," he said.

With one finger he began making roads through the crumbs on the tabletop. His jacket swung open to reveal a metal shape under his arm. A gun? Holly felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. She hadn't noticed it before. He must have had it in the car. He noticed her looking and shifted to better hide it.

"Expecting something unusual?" Holly asked, her voice tight. Her gaze roamed the cafe. There were three other occupied tables, but they were a little way off.

"Yes. That is what I wished to speak to you about." He looked at the remnants of her brownie as if it were swamp ooze. "Are you done with that yet?"

"No." Holly sipped her coffee. "But you can start talking."

"You recall the conversation we had with Macmillan about questioning a spirit."

"Yes, the one where I heroically volunteered to perform necromancy, and you got a mysterious phone call that prompted you to leave, muttering about bad smells."

"That would be the one." Frowning, he flicked a crumb onto the floor.

"What about it?" The reminder brought back the irritation she had felt the night before.

"Macmillan called this afternoon," he said. "He has a lead on a grave at St. Andrew's. There've been reports of spirit activity. He wants to meet us there in about, oh, an hour."

Holly sat back, the flimsy cafe chair giving a plaintive creak.

"Tonight?" Her voice had the same tone as the chair. She didn't want to do this. She hated necromancy. She hated herself for volunteering.
So much for Ms. I-can-look-after-myself
.

"Yes. Are you still sure you want to do this? You are free to say no."

She wasn't sure how she looked, but Holly felt pale. Still, she nodded yes.

Alessandro noticed her hesitation. "The spell doesn't take much time to prepare, right?"

"Not if we're just raising a ghost rather than a body, but…"

"Ah." He took out his fancy gold lighter and began toying with it, turning it over and over in his hand. It was a classic smoker's fidget. "You need more time to prepare yourself?"

Now Holly's stomach wasn't happy about the brownie, at least not after a chaser of panic. "No, no, I'll be all right."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."

"I'm putting positivity into the universe in hopes that it will manifest."

That earned her a slight smile. "There is one change that might make this easier. Or not. I am not sure." He leaned forward, putting his lips inches from her ear. "My queen believes she can identify the demon. All we need our spirit to do is confirm her suspicions."

Holly went cold, as if her blood had suddenly stopped pumping. "How long has she known this?"

A look of bitter frustration passed over his face. He was obviously biting back something he couldn't say. Holly sipped her coffee, but it suddenly tasted off, as if the conversation had tainted it.

"What's going on, Alessandro?"

He looked cautiously around the cafe. "The information just came to light."

"Do I really need to raise the dead just to check her answers?"

"There's more. We need the spirit's assistance in finding a lost article. It's my understanding that magical artifacts can be traced through the ether?"

"Yeah, it's all part of being stuck between worlds."

Holly noticed that the patrons at one table were leaving, scraping chairs over the floor and chatting at top volume. She looked at the clock over the door. It was nearly ten. The place would be closing up soon.

"So, what is it we're after?" Holly asked. "Ruby shoes? A spray can of Demon-B-Gone?"

"I can't tell you."

"That's ridiculous. I can't work like this."

Faster than her eye could follow, his hand was on hers, his long hair swinging from the sudden motion. His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him. "Listen to me. There was a theft. Many books and objects were taken, but we seek one book in particular. It holds the secrets to weaken a demon's powers so that it can be banished. We have to find that book."

Mollified, Holly hitched her chair forward. "Okay."

His eyes shifted sideways. "You must say nothing of this. This is not information we can share with anyone, not even the detective."

"So you're finally trusting me with one of your secrets. Hurray. I need more. Was this book stolen from a sorcerer? A vampire? What's the history of this theft?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Just remember that not all secrets are safe to know. Your job is to raise the dead. Let me question the spirit."

"Because you know the specifics, and I don't." She glared at him, waiting for a response. "Such as, let me see, what book this is, or who lost it, and why this one in particular was stolen."

"Precisely."

"Keeping me in the dark like this doesn't help. Do you realize how it makes me feel?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Understand this: I'm keeping your skin whole. In time we may not be the only ones looking for these items. Not all vampires play well with others, and the less you know the safer we all can sleep."

Holly looked away, furious. She could understand his point, but she liked hers better. "We're supposed to be partners."

"You get the car keys when we're beating up on a possessed house. Right now I get to drive."

She made no reply, trying to calm down enough to find a new argument.
This is absurd. How am I supposed to

convince a ghost to help us find a book when I don't even know the title?

"Trust me, Holly; I know what I'm talking about."

"Can I?" She shrugged, letting her annoyance show. This was the crux of the matter. "I can't trust somebody who won't trust me."

Alessandro's expression turned cold. "Don't try blackmail."

Riding a bubble of frustration, Holly nearly lunged across the table. "You keep hiding things from me. It hurts."

Alessandro put his hand on her cheek. The touch was nearly human-warm. He had fed that night. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you everything you want. There are secrets here that aren't mine to tell. I can't betray them. Honor is one of the few things I have left."

There was no arguing with his expression. In fact, she wanted to wipe that look off his face before it broke her heart.

Holly pushed his hand away and flopped back in her chair. "Fine. If it gets us a step closer to a demon-free existence, let's just go do the deed. Where's Mac?"

With a stormy look Alessandro stood, jacket fringe swinging. "He said he'd meet us there."

"You boys come up with all the fun activities, don't you?"

They took his T-Bird, the rumble of the big engine in competition with the guitars ululating from six overpowered speakers. Apparently they were through with casual conversation. Holly was quiet, wrapped in a sulk like a cozy blanket.

The guitars died midshriek as he killed the engine. St. Andrew's spread out before them, draped in a mantilla of sea fog. Holly got out and buttoned her coat against the clammy wind.

"I can't see a damned thing," she complained.

"Then stay close to me." Alessandro pulled out the gun, the holster making a whispery rasp of metal on leather.

The sound made Holly's skin crawl, but then her eyes adjusted enough to see the gun properly. It was one like Mac had, made for silver bullets. He fitted a suppressor onto it.

Cold sweat slithered down her back like an inquisitive snake. "What are you afraid of?"

He turned, his features lost in the darkness. "Not much. But I am cautious."

Walking around the long nose of the car, she put herself on his left side, away from the gun. He gripped her hand.

"Follow me," he said, and he led Holly between the graves.

Short iron fences enclosed many of the plots, just the right height to trip over. Holly strained all her senses, trying to keep from stumbling. Water dripped from leaf to leaf. She could smell the sea, the cold mist salting her lips and turning her cheeks to ice. Above, the clouds thinned and rolled, the moonlight fading in and out, making gossamer trails in the fog.

Alessandro stopped, and she bumped into him. With a brush of his arm he swept her behind one of the small mausoleums that dotted the cemetery. Gun poised, he crouched. She ducked down behind him, bracing herself on the gritty stone of the building.

"What is it?" Holly whispered.

He pointed. To their left shadows moved in and out of the fog. Shifting backward, he put his lips close to her ear. "Ghouls, and not the college crowd."

Her next breath shook. A pack of ghouls was something to fear. Never needing an excuse to snack, they would shred and eat a lone human in a matter of minutes. She blessed Alessandro for bringing the gun.

Twin notes of a foghorn moaned. She put her hand on Alessandro's shoulder, leaning in close. "What do we do?"

He shook his head, the brush of his hair soft against her skin. "We wait and watch. They don't normally come to St. Andrew's. It's too far into the city. If they're sniffing around here, somebody sent them."

"If they're being good little soldiers, then who's the general?"

He held up a hand for silence. The creatures were crossing in front of the mausoleum, drawing close enough that Holly could see their outlines against the moon-whitened fog. She felt the glide of muscle and bone beneath Alessandro's jacket as he took aim. The physical contact was comforting, but she drew back to give him more room to move.

There were half a dozen ghouls moving in a close-packed clump. Each about the size of a twelve-year-old human, they looked gangly and skinny, walking with a boneless, slumped posture. Many had ball caps and baggy pants, but ghouls never wore shoes. Their fingers and toes had long, curving claws that would shred through any canvas or leather in seconds. Holly shuddered, pressing against the rough, mossy rock of the mausoleum, wishing she could dissolve into it.

Then she felt Alessandro tense. Pointing again, he indicated a figure that was pushing forward to assume the lead position in the pack. It was not a ghoul. Holly stared, squinting as if that would somehow make what she saw prettier.

If it could have straightened up, it might have been as tall as a man, but the creature's spine curled over until the head seemed to thrust forward. Barrel-chested, hairless, and nearly naked, it half ran, half waddled in a rolling gait more animal than human.

It stopped, turning to the ghouls. It hissed something at them, gesturing toward the ocean side of the graveyard. The ghouls milled in confusion until it cuffed one on the ear, knocking it to the grass. Then it waved a long, malformed arm again and turned to lead its charges away. As the pale light caught the thing's face, she could see enough of its features to make her stomach roll. It had no nose or mouth, just a slitlike opening full of needle-sharp teeth. Holly cringed back, sweating with petrified revulsion.

A long minute passed before Alessandro spoke. "They're gone."

"What was that thing?" she asked, feeling cold beads of perspiration run down her ribs.

He turned, his eyes flashing gold in the moonlight. "That was a changeling."

"A vampire?" she said, aghast.

He rose to his feet, looking around. "We do not acknowledge them as vampires."

"Where do they come from? How did
that
happen to them?" Holly rose from her crouch, feeling the blood return to her toes.

Alessandro peered around the corner of the mausoleum before answering. "We do not speak of it, so do not repeat what I say."

"Okay." Was this confidence her consolation prize, to make up for all the things he couldn't tell her?

"We do not gratuitously make vampires. We control our numbers. There can be only so many, or…" He shrugged.

"Too many wolves for the number of sheep?"

He shifted his feet as if embarrassed. "Precisely. But it is also a complex process. It can easily go wrong, and if it does, the results are abominations."

"The changelings."

"Yes. Things happen during the Turning. Centuries ago there were blunders. The mistakes were allowed to perpetuate. Those were the changelings." He turned and looked around the corner of the building again. "I think it is safe to go on." He glided out of sight.

Holly crept after him, her tennis shoes quiet in the long grass. She threw her senses open for a moment, testing the immediate area. She could feel Alessandro, a dark, still presence. His vampire mind was closed to her, but palpable. All around the spirits of the dead whispered to themselves, a low level of consciousness punctuated by the occasional restless mind. It was like any other graveyard. She could sense nothing else. Where, then, were the ghouls and their changeling leader? She should have been able to sense them if they were still on the grounds.

Alessandro stopped and whirled, gun rising and braced in both hands. "Holly, get behind me!"

Four changelings emerged from behind the tombstones, two on either side of the path. "Ssssandro!" one of them hissed. It might have been laughing, but its batlike face made it hard to tell.

"Giuseppi," Alessandro replied. "How lovely to see you. It's been so long."

He aimed his gun at the creature's forehead and pulled the trigger. Even with a suppressor, the noise seemed huge in the still, fog-laden night. Holly flinched away, but she still saw the back of the changeling's skull explode all over a stone angel. The silver bullet was pretty much gravy. A shot like that would kill anything, supernatural or not.

There was a microsecond of suspense, the aftershock of violence shushing through the cedar trees. Then ghouls exploded out of the greenery, loping on all fours, gibbering and yipping like monkeys.

Already Holly was behind Alessandro, moving as he moved, backing into the trees. He fired again and again, dropping a host of ghouls and one more changeling.

Holly had no gun. She was her only weapon. With her senses open she felt the space around her, seeking a source of energy to use. The air of the graveyard was thick with ambient force, the magic of death and departing souls—no shortage of raw material. She just had to figure out how to use it.