Even Vampires Get the Blues (20 page)

“I told you she wouldn't give up,” Clare said to Finn. He started to protest that he never doubted me, but I held up a hand to stop him.

“I don't trust that demon who spoke to Paen,” I said thoughtfully. “Not Caspar, the other one.”

He half turned toward me. “Is there any particular
reason why, or do you just have a general distrust of demons?”

“The latter.” I pushed Clare's hip off the desk and replaced the phone where I wanted it. “It's too pat, too convenient. It smacks too much of trying to divide and conquer.”

Everyone looked at me.

“Don't you see?” I asked, waving my hands around in a vague gesture intended to convey coherence. “The demon wants to confuse us, throw us off the track by sending us on a wild-goose chase. And who does it want us to chase? Our other client. No, it just seems too coincidental.”

“She has a point,” Clare said. Finn nodded. Paen frowned.

I took a deep breath. “Since I can't seem to locate either object we were hired to find—nor hang on to a simple bird statue—I've decided that I'm going to engage the services of someone who can.”

“Who is that?” Clare asked, blinking. “Brother Jacob?”

I shook my head.

“Another Diviner?” Finn asked.

I shook my head again, avoiding looking at the silent man whose presence behind me registered on every molecule in my body. “No. I'm going to have to bring in some big help. I'm going to consult a seer.”

I thought for a moment that Clare was going to choke. “You're . . . you're . . . no, you can't! Finn, tell her she can't! Seers are bad!”

“They're not bad, they're just a bit . . . pricey. And Finn has nothing to do with the matter, so don't try to drag him into it,” I said. “We were hired to do a job,
Clare, and we're going to do it by one means or another.”

“But . . . a seer, Sam? That's even worse than a Guardian or a theurgist!” Clare, distraught, ran for her flower vase.

“I accepted the job. I don't have a choice in the matter.”

“Paen?” Clare turned to him. “Don't you have something to say about Sam's plan to use a seer?”

“No,” he answered, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. His eyes, normally so bright, were dulled like tarnished silver plate. “But only because the idea is so ridiculous it doesn't merit an answer.”

“Ridiculous!” I gasped, sitting up straight.

“That's what I said. Anyone who deludes themselves into believing that they can consult a seer without paying an unthinkable price deserves the label of ridiculous.” My gasp changed into an outraged huff. “You are not going to turn this over to a seer,” he added, walking around the client's chair in front of my desk where his coat and hat lay. “I want to find this statue more than anyone, but not at the cost of others' lives. You're hungry and exhausted. You need food. I believe we can spare an hour to feed you and Clare while we discuss the next step.”

“Correction—you can talk about it all you like over dinner, dessert, and the swivel hips of a troop of dancing girls. I, however, have work to do, and I intend to do it before the night ages any more.”

“Sam!” Clare looked scandalized.

I sighed. She was right. Just because Paen had all but ripped my heart out and stomped it into nothing but a
smear on the ground didn't mean I had to be rude. He was a client. A professional, rather than personal, demeanor was clearly called for. Henceforth, I would be the personification of investigative professionalism.

“My apologies, gentlemen. I didn't mean to sound so brusque. I'm sure you'll all have a lovely dinner, but I'm afraid I'm going to be a bit busy.”

Sam, why are you doing this?

I glanced at Paen. “If you have something to say to me, please say it out loud. The mental broadcasting station has been closed due to FCC conflicts.”

“You're not going to use a seer. I forbid it.”

I gathered up my coat and purse. “You're my client, Paen, not my father.” I was unable to keep from sliding him a hurt look. “Or my lover anymore, for that matter. Therefore, I'll do as I please. I'll see you all later. Enjoy dinner.”

Paen blocked the way to the door. “Very well, since you insist on playing this game—if you will not respect my wishes with regards to the seer, I will fire you.”

“Really?” I stopped directly in front of him, my body demanding I keep walking until it was pressed up against all those lovely hard lines of his. “You're willing to give up your mother's soul over this?”

He hesitated for a moment. “I don't believe that a seer is the solution. If I had, I would have consulted one myself. Seers are not always what they seem, and seldom give the help you need.”

“Yes, well, the bottom line is that I said I'd find that statue in the amount of time you have left, and I intend to do just that. Now please step out of the way and allow me to do my job.”

His jaw tightened. “I'm removing you from the case.”

“Too late. I've accepted the retainer. I'm going to find the statue,” I said, trying to step around him. He grabbed for my arm. I backed up until I was out of reach.

“Sam, you can't do this,” Clare said, closing in on me from the other side. Her face was puckered with worry, the remains of a flower clutched in her hand.

“I can't? Watch me,” I said calmly, determination seeping from all the gaping holes Paen had left in my soul.

“There's no way out of here,” Finn said, moving so he stood next to Paen. “We're not going to let you endanger yourself with a seer, Sam. Come to dinner and we'll talk about it.”

I smiled, just smiled at Clare and Finn. Paen I couldn't look at without wanting to scream, sob, and rip all his clothes off in order to have my wicked way with him. Instead of any of those, I reached out and found the opening to the beyond, slipping through it before anyone realized what I was doing.

I heard an echo of my name, but it was distant and tinny, as if spoken from a long way away. I had to pass through Paen to get to the door, an act that almost brought me to tears with the pain of rejection. For one brief moment, time held its breath as my soul merged with his. Like the other times we'd merged, it was so right, so perfect I didn't want to leave. For a moment, I allowed my love to shine bright. Paen reeled in surprise. With a cry of anguish that ripped from my throat, I tore myself away from him and left the office, waiting until I
was at the edge of the founded area to slip back to reality.

Paen tried a few times to mind-speak to me, but I barely had the strength to walk away from him—there was no way I could argue my feelings with him. After our last merging, he'd be well aware of the depths of my emotions, and I knew he wasn't happy about them. In a move of sheerest self-preservation, I put up a mental
DO NOT DISTURB
sign, and blocked his mind from mine.

It took a good half hour of solid persuasion to get the name and phone number of an area seer from Jake, but after I told him I would rather sacrifice my own soul than lose Paen's mother's, he caved and gave it to me.

“Just remember that a seer's services come at an exorbitantly high price,” he advised as he wrote out a name and phone number. “She'll ask you for something very precious indeed. I hope you're prepared to lose something that matters to you.”

“I'm immortal now,” I said, pocketing the slip of paper. “I can afford to lose a few years of my life.”

“Just because the seer that Brother Bartholomew used demanded seven years of his life does not guarantee that's what this seer will ask of you,” he warned, concern filling his eyes.

I gave his hand a squeeze and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for everything, Jake—both the name and the worry. But you can relax. I'm not suicidal, nor overly stupid. I'll only barter something that I can do without.”

He shook his head as I left. “That's not how it works, Sam. Just remember that whatever the price
she asks, it's bound to be too high. Try to get it down to something that won't deprive you too much.”

I thanked him again and walked to the corner where there was a pay phone. Three minutes later I was running to a taxi stand, having managed to get an appointment with Kelsey Franklin, local seer.

The ride out to Rosslyn Chapel, where the seer arranged to meet me, wasn't overly long, but it seemed to take a couple of lifetimes. I was nervous, unhappy about having shut out Paen, but determination to see the job through (not to mention a wee touch of pride) kept me from bolting as I paid off the taxi, and looked through the gloom at the old stone building in front of it. Scaffolding along one side indicated that some restoration work was going on. Heeding the seer's instructions, I walked around to the side, where she told me a door would be left unlocked.

I glanced at the sky as I stepped into the building, wishing for approximately the five hundred and seventeenth time that my personal magnetism didn't stop watches. I guessed it to be after seven, which left me roughly five hours until deep night. I'd have time to meet the seer, engage in negotiations, and hopefully run out to pick up the statue from wherever it was being held. If the demon who talked to Paen was right after all, and Owen Race had it . . . well, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

“Hello?” My voice was hushed and somewhat hoarse. I stepped into a side aisle of the chapel, goose bumps prickling on my arms as my footsteps echoed eerily on the uncarpeted stone floor. “Anyone here? Mrs. Franklin?”

My voice echoed as well, sending little shivers down my back as I moved toward the main aisle. The chapel was built of a beautiful cream stone, twin rows of tall, intricately carved pillars flanking the dark wooden pews that filled the center part of the chapel. Candelabras with electric candles stood at each pillar, lighting the chapel with a warm golden glow that extended upward, to the high gothic arched ceiling, also elaborately carved with faces, figures, and ornaments. No light shone in through the stained glass windows, but I could see that they would be beautiful in sunlight. I paused for a moment, focusing my thoughts, and allowed the essence of the building to tell me its story.

“Whoa,” I said softly, closing myself off from it. “You've got a lot of history.”

“It was built in the mid-fifteenth century,” a voice said from behind me. I spun around to see a woman slightly older than me, with long, waist-length braids of red that bobbed gently as she walked toward me, pulling off her raincoat before setting it and her purse on the nearest pew. “Founded by Sir William St. Clair, the last St. Clair prince of Orkney. You are Samantha Cosse?”

“Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you.” I offered my hand, relieved to find that the seer was made of flesh and blood, not some cold creature of the dark powers. Although I'd never met one before, I'd heard stories of
how powerful they were . . . and how that power could be turned against the person seeking their help.

“We are alone, so you needn't fear we'll be interrupted,” she said, waving me into a pew.

“Er . . . you're sure no one will come in?”

“I'm on the board of the Trust that owns the chapel. It is closed at this time of night, so no one will disturb us,” Kelsey said, taking a seat and folding her hands on her lap. She was rather brusque and businesslike, but didn't give off any vibes that set my warning system off, so I sat next to her. “You said you wished to patronize my services. What price are you willing to pay for them?”

I bit my lip. “I suppose money is out?”

She nodded. “My time is valuable. I expect to be paid well for it.” She eyed me for a second. “You are part elf. In a normal situation, I would ask you for a score of years.”

“A score?” I tried to keep from looking too surprised. “A Diviner who recommended you to me said he only had to give you seven years for your services. Has inflation struck or something?”

She didn't crack a smile, just looked at me with a vaguely impatient expression. “My fee is dependent upon the individual who seeks assistance. As one with elf blood, your life span is greater than a mortal's, thus you would be asked for more in payment. But as you are also a Beloved . . .” Her voice trailed off as she scrutinized me.

I was suddenly very uncomfortable, feeling no little bit like a butterfly that had been pinned and was being examined with a magnifying glass. Self-preservation in the form of a distraction from the
unnerving examination had me asking, “How do you know I'm a Beloved?”

She gave me a dismissive look. “You seek an object of great importance.”

“Yes, I do,” I said, thinking of Paen's statue. Although I wanted to find Mr. Race's manuscript as well, the statue took precedence in my mind since failure would mean an unspeakable tragedy for Paen's mother.

“The price for my services will be your soul.”

“
What?
” I shrieked, leaping up from the pew. “You want my soul?”
Soul, soul, soul,
echoed my voice on the high gothic ceiling. “You have got to be kidding! No one gets my soul, OK? No one!”

“You would sacrifice another for yourself?” she asked, raising one finely shaped eyebrow.

“I will
not
give up my soul,” I said firmly, refusing to be drawn into a conversation about whether or not I'd sacrifice myself for Paen's mother. I'd already done it for him, and look where that had gotten me. “There must be something else I have that you want. Something of value.”

“I do not make a habit of bartering,” she said stiffly, but considered me for a few minutes. “However, in this case, I find you do have another valuable asset, one which I will accept in place of your soul.”

“What would that be?” I asked, wary.

“Your immortality.”

I almost laughed with relief. I never wanted to be immortal—giving that up would be no trouble now that Paen had made his feelings for me—or lack thereof—quite clear. “It's a deal.”

Her lips pursed slightly. “You do not mind becoming mortal again?”

“No, I don't mind. I'm not really a Beloved. Well, I am, but I've kind of been fired from the job. So immortality is not needed or desired. I lived my whole life as a mortal—I don't mind being there again.”

She looked like she wanted to ask something, but all she did was pull a pendant from under her blouse and hold it out toward me. A large amber teardrop gleamed in the light, glowing beautiful shades of reddish gold. “Swear to the terms, please. You must consent in order for the bargain to be struck.”

I placed my hand on the pendant and swore to give up my immortality in return for the seer's help. A little buzz of electricity went up my arm at the oath, but that was all. There was no big thunderclap, no sound of trumpets from heaven, nothing.

“Is it done?” I asked, rubbing at the faint mark the amber had left on my palm.

“Yes. You sound disappointed. Do you regret the bargain already?”

I looked her in her cold blue eyes. “No. It's just a bit anticlimactic, you know? I don't quite know what I expected would happen, but I guess I felt there should be a little something to mark the event.”

She was all business, not even giving me a friendly look or slight smile. “What do you wish to know?”

“Oh . . . um . . . what I want to know is who has the black monkey statue known as the Jilin God.”

Her fingers stroked the amber amulet as her eyes lost their focus. Part of the reason seers were so respected (not to mention feared) was the fact that many of them tapped into dark powers to achieve
their visions. Some had working arrangements with lesser demons; others used conduits like an amulet or reliquary that harnessed a dark power. I gathered by the way Kelsey touched her pendant that the amber stone in it acted as a conduit. “The statue you seek was last in the possession of the being known as Pilar.”

“Pilar? Are you sure?”

She gave me a look that was answer enough.

“How bizarre. I had a feeling he wasn't mortal, but he has Paen's statue, too? Hmm. Where is Pilar?”

“He is at present nine miles distant, south-southeast.”

Hmm. Nine miles meant he must still be in the greater Edinburgh area. But how did Pilar get both my bird statue and Paen's statue? And why would he want both? One was a valuable antiquity, the other a cheap Taiwanese knockoff. I shook my head, confused. “You said the statue was last in the possession of Pilar. Does that mean he no longer has it?”

“That is correct. It is no longer in his possession, although he was the last person to possess it.”

“Which means no one else has it now,” I said softly, thinking hard. “I bet he's hidden it away somewhere safe. When I saw the Jilin God, it was entombed, held in darkness, away from all light. Is it still?”

“Yes, it is.”

“How can Pilar have hidden it somewhere if it's in a tomb?” I asked.

“The statue is not in what you know as a tomb per se—it is protected while it sleeps through the centuries, kept from sight so as to remain undisturbed.”

“Oh.” I thought about that. It fit what I saw when scrying—I just interpreted that protected, confined state to be a tomb. But if it wasn't in some sort of a big tomb, then what was it in? “What sort of object is protecting the statue?”

Her eyes snapped back to focus as she dropped the pendant. “You have asked five questions, and received five answers. If you wish more, you will have to pay me again.”

“Wait a minute! You never said I only had five questions to ask!”

“And you never asked,” she replied, gathering her raincoat and bag. “Do you wish to consult me again?”

I gritted my teeth against the expletive that wanted to burst out. There was no sense in being rude, even though I do think she could have warned me there was a limit to the number of questions I could ask. “No, thank you. I believe I have enough to go on.”

“You have my number should you wish to contact me again to answer other questions”—she eyed me like I was a piece of dead fish at the fishmongers—“mortal.”

I swore to myself all the way back to town, in between trying to figure out why Pilar wanted both Paen's statue and the bird one. Maybe he was a statue freak?

The lights, music, and chatter from Mila's sex shop spilled out onto the street as I approached my office, relieved to see the lights off upstairs. I had half expected Paen and the others to be lurking around the office waiting for me to return, but I guessed they'd
done the sane thing and wrote me off to go have dinner.

So why did that thought depress me?

“I'm hungry, that's all,” I said as I unlocked the door to the office and used the light from the hallway to find my desk. I flipped on the desk light. “I hope they're all having a fabulous time without me. Although it might have been nice if someone cared a tiny fraction enough to wonder if I'm all right.”

“How about if someone cared enough to turn you over his knee and spank you as you deserve?”