Spellcasters (86 page)

“I can’t believe it,” Benicio said. “They wouldn’t have gotten away with that here, but in Ohio …” He shook his head. “We need more offices in the Midwest. I’ve said it before.”

Lucas stopped, mug halfway to his lips. “The Nasts were looking into a Cincinnati office, weren’t they?”

Benicio nodded. “They still are, I believe, but they delayed their plans. They ran into a problem with the area that needed to be cleared up first.”

I turned to Lucas. Our eyes met.

“When did they—” Lucas began.

The intercom buzzed on. “Sorry for the interruption, sir, but there’s a red-haired woman here and she demands to speak to you. She says—”

“That’s fine,” Lucas cut in. “She’s with us. Let her in.”

I glanced back at the still-closed door between the rear cabins. “Guess she stepped out before we woke up.”

The main door opened and I caught a glimpse of Benicio’s stand-in bodyguard, Morris. Then a woman barreled past, nearly knocking the big man flying. It was indeed a red-haired woman, but not Cassandra.

J
aime stumbled past the guard, head bowed, shoulders hunched. As she staggered forward, my first thought was that she’d been drinking. Then I noticed her shoes—one sneaker, one pump with a two-inch heel, both pulled on over bare feet, the sneaker still untied, as if she’d grabbed the first two shoes she could find, yanked them on and ran. Her blouse was misbuttoned and stained with splotches of brown and dark red, and her hair hung in a snarled mess, a clip clinging to one side. She pushed back her hair, revealing a face streaked with makeup and tears.

“Oh, God,” I said, rushing forward. “What happened?”

She turned. Four blood-red gouges raked her face from eye to jaw. I gasped.

“I’ll call a medic,” Lucas said as I guided Jaime to a chair.

“N—no,” she said. “Don’t, please. I—I’m okay.”

She collapsed into the chair, bent her head down almost to her thighs, and gulped air, body shaking. After a moment, she convulsed in one final shudder, then lifted her head and brushed her hair from her eyes. She looked around, a slow, cautious gaze, shoulders tensed, as if expecting something to leap out at her.

“I’ll call the medic,” Benicio said, rising slowly.

“No!” she snapped. Then she saw who she was snapping at. Her eyes went wide and she dropped her face into her hands with a hiccupping laugh. “Oh, yeah, a fucking breakdown in front of Benicio Cortez. My day is now complete.” She tilted her head to the ceiling. “Thank you very much!”

I dropped into the seat beside Jaime and took her hands. She squeezed mine so hard her nails drew blood. I murmured a calming spell. Jaime inhaled a long, shuddering breath, exhaled and relaxed her grip. After one last cautious look around, she sank back into the seat with a relieved sigh.

“Gone,” she said. “I thought that might be the problem. Must have thought you two had abandoned us for good.”

Lucas explained to Benicio what was going on.

“A ghost who can displace objects but can’t contact a necromancer?” Benicio said, frowning. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Join the club,” Jaime muttered. “The poltergeisting was bad enough, but now this—” She pointed at her cheek. “Last time I had a spook reach out and touch me was twenty years ago, when I accidentally disturbed something very old, and very powerful. And, believe me, that one could talk back—in several languages. This one—” She shook her head. “Well, I don’t know what this one’s problem is, but it’s not acting like any spook I’ve ever met.”

“We think it might not be a ghost at all,” I said to Benicio. Then I looked at Lucas. “I think it’s time to consider exorcism.”

He nodded. “Past time, by the look of things. We should—”

“No exorcism,” Jaime said.

“Yes, I realize they’re unpleasant,” Lucas said. “Yet it can’t be any worse than what you’re enduring now. This has gone far enough—”

“No, it hasn’t,” she said firmly. “It hasn’t gone far enough. Not yet. Whatever this thing is, it has a message it’s eager—painfully eager—to deliver to you guys. It’s a rough ride, but I’m prepared to tough it out if it’ll help solve this case.”

“What if it’s not trying to help us?” I said. “Look at the way it’s acting. That’s not normal behavior for a helpful spirit.”

“But it has helped, right? It gave us the vampire clue and led us to Cass—” She stopped, eyes going wide. “Oh, my God. Paige is right. It
is
evil.”

“I heard that.”

I twisted to see Cassandra in the open doorway between the cabins. She stifled a yawn.

I smiled. “Got some sleep?”

“A nap.”

“Good.”

She started forward, then blinked, seeing Benicio. She slanted a look my way, and I knew she wanted a proper introduction this time.

I gestured toward Cassandra. “Benicio, this is—”

“Cassandra DuCharme,” Benicio said, standing and extending a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Cassandra’s brows arched.

Benicio smiled as he released her hand. “When Lucas first raised the possibility that we were dealing with a vampire, I suspected it might have been you I met at Tyler Boyd’s apartment. The Cabal keeps very good
records on all supernaturals of influence, so I only needed to check our dossiers for your photograph to be sure.”

“One advantage to vampire mug shots,” I said. “They’re never out-of-date.”

“I assume you’re here to represent the vampires’ interests in this matter?” Benicio said.

“Yes,” Cassandra said. “Something which, I fear—” She stopped and her gaze swept across the other side of the cabin, her frown growing as she saw no one there. She gave her head a sharp shake. “Which I fear may become—”

She wheeled, one hand shooting up, palm out, as if to ward something off. She scowled at the empty space behind her.

“Huh,” Jaime said. “Good to see I’m not the only skittish one this morning.”

Cassandra’s gaze shot to Jaime, getting a look at her for the first time. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Same thing I think is happening to you,” Jaime said. “Without the clawing, bitch-slapping, hair-pulling, and all that fun psychic wounding stuff.”

“Jaime’s spirit is back,” I explained. “It’s probably here now. Is that what you’re sensing?”

Cassandra cast another look around. “I’m not sure. What—”

Jaime flew forward, nearly onto Lucas’s lap. He lunged to grab her, but before he could, she jerked back into her seat so hard she ricocheted off it and would have toppled to the floor if both Lucas and I hadn’t caught her.

“What?” she shouted at the ceiling. “We aren’t moving fast enough for you? Impatient bitch.”

“It’s a woman?” Benicio asked.

Jaime flourished a hand at the claw marks down her face. “Either that or a demon with talons. Fights like a woman, I’ll tell you that much.” She fingered her scalp and winced for effect, then looked at me. “You don’t see any bald spots, do you?”

I lifted up in my seat for a better look, then shook my head. “Nothing a good brushing won’t fix.”

“Thank God. Last thing I need is—”

Jaime’s head whipped back so fast her vertebra crackled. Lucas, Benicio, and I all jumped from our chairs, and even Cassandra stepped forward. Twin indentations appeared on the side of Jaime’s neck. Before anyone had time to react, the dents punctured through the skin and blood spurted.

Cassandra shouldered me aside. Jaime yelped, her hand going to her neck as she backed away from Cassandra. Blood gushed over her fingers. Lucas reached to grab Cassandra’s arm, lips parting to cast a spell. Then he saw that I wasn’t trying to stop Cassandra.

“It’s okay,” I said to Jaime. “Let her—”

Jaime’s bloodied hands shot out to push Cassandra away.

“She can—” I began, but Jaime’s scream cut me short.

Cassandra reached for Jaime, but Jaime kicked her back. Arterial blood continued to spurt from Jaime’s neck. As Lucas dove to grab her, I cast a binding spell, but it failed. Benicio was on the phone, calling for help. By the time a medic arrived, it would be too late, but there was no time to tell him this. I cast the binding spell and, again, in my panic, fumbled it. Lucas grabbed Jaime’s arm, but it was slick with blood and she yanked free easily. She was fighting blindly now, kicking and hitting at anything that came close.

“Jaime!” I shouted. “Let Cassandra—”

Lucas tackled Jaime. She fought, but he pinned her down. Cassandra bent over Jaime. Blood sprayed Cassandra’s face as she lowered her mouth to the wounds. Jaime screamed and bucked, throwing Cassandra off, but when she jerked upright, the wounds had closed, leaving the tiny punctures invisible from where I stood.

Jaime scrambled to her feet, then hesitated. Her fingers went to the side of her neck.

“Vampire saliva stops the bleeding,” I said.

“Oh,” Jaime said, face reddening.

She swayed. Lucas caught her before she fell and guided her over to the chair, which I reclined before she sat down. When she tried to sit upright, I gently restrained her.

“Lie down. You lost a lot of blood. Lucas, could you—”

He stepped through the cabin door bearing a large glass and a carton of juice.

“Perfect,” I said. “Thanks.”

As I helped Jaime drink some of the juice, Benicio asked whether we thought a blood transfusion should be arranged. Cassandra said it wasn’t necessary, that the amount of blood Jaime lost would replace itself without intervention. She’d know, I guess, so we took her word for it. When Jaime finished the juice she lay down and closed her eyes.

“They aren’t supposed to do that,” she mumbled.

“Do what?” I asked.

She yawned. “Kill the messenger.”

Another half-yawn, then Jaime’s face went slack. I put my fingers to her neck. Her pulse was steady. I pulled the blanket up over her and turned to the others.

“She’s right,” I said, keeping my voice low. “No matter how upset the ghost might be, it makes no sense to try to kill Jaime. She’s the only one it has any hope of communicating with.”

“Unless it knew she wouldn’t die,” Lucas said. “If so, then one could construe it as a message of sorts, telling us that it not only knows
of
Cassandra, but recognizes her by sight and knows that a vampire can stop blood flow.”

“It’s a vampire,” Cassandra said.

“Not necessarily,” I said. “It knew that you could stop the bleeding—any supernatural who’s studied vamps knows that. As for the bite marks, they were probably intentionally vampirelike, to drive home its point about you.”

“They weren’t
vampirelike
. They were vampire.”

“But—”

“I know the bite of a vampire, Paige. I also know that there is one in this room besides me. I’ve been around long enough that I can recognize my own kind faster than you can recognize a sorcerer.”

“If our ghost is—or was—a vampire, that would explain why it can’t make contact with Jaime,” Lucas said. “It’s trying to do the impossible.”

I gave a slow nod. “Meaning that necromancers never hear from dead vampires, not because they don’t exist, but because wherever they exist, they’re beyond contact. So now we probably know one thing about our ghost. That’s a start.”

“Two things,” Jaime murmured, her eyes still closed. “It’s a vamp and it’s a she.”

Cassandra, Lucas, and I exchanged a look.

“Natasha,” I whispered. “She’s not missing. She’s dead.”

“W
hen Edward attacked Dana, he said he was doing it for someone,” I said. “Someone she heard as ‘Nasha.’ ” I looked at Benicio. “Something stopped the Nasts from putting an office in Cincinnati. A problem that needed to be cleared up first. Would a local pair of serial-killing vampire immortality questers count?”

He gave a slow nod. “A Cabal always investigates the local supernaturals before building a new office. If they have minor concerns, they usually persuade the offenders to relocate. But in a case such as this, on this scale, particularly one that involves vampires … the solution would be a permanent one.”

“Kill them.”

“Let me make some phone calls,” Benicio said. “Before we jump to any conclusions.”

“So now you think the Nasts will tell you the truth?”

“No, but with this much detail to prompt their memories, I know people who will.”

A half-hour later Benicio confirmed our suspicions. The Nast Cabal had learned of Edward and Natasha’s murderous hobby, and decided they wouldn’t make good neighbors. According to Benicio’s sources, the original plan had been to kill both, but the vampires had outwitted several assassins and fled the country. Unwilling to accept failure so easily, the Cabal sent out one last hit man, who’d managed to behead Natasha. The Nasts then made a mistake. They decided not to spend any more money chasing Edward around the globe. By killing his mate, they’d taught him a lesson he’d not soon forget. And he hadn’t.

“They killed Natasha, and he wants revenge,” I said. “Understandable … when it comes to attacking the Nasts. But what do the other Cabals have to do with it?”

Lucas looked at his father. “A vampire asked for a private meeting with you in July. The Nasts executed Natasha at the end of August. Presumably, if several assassination attempts had been made, the Nasts had been chasing the pair for at least a month. I would say that the timing of that request wasn’t coincidental.”

“Edward wanted to speak to the Cortez CEO?” I said. “But why?”

“Presumably to request sanctuary,” Lucas said. “That’s not uncommon. If you are pursued by one Cabal, the best place to go for help is to another Cabal. If the Boyds and St. Clouds were being honest with us, I suspect they’d admit to similar requests.”

“In other words, he went to each of the Cabals for help, and they each turned him down, wouldn’t even find out what he wanted. And that pissed him off enough to start killing their kids? This doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” Cassandra said, her first words since we’d begun. “It wouldn’t. Not to you.”