The Undead Pool (21 page)

“Ah, we need an lightproof bag from the I.S.,” I said as I looked at the two guys trying to wake Cormel up. “Cormel needs protective custody. I don't care if Felix is acting sane, he isn't.”

Head bobbing, Edden crossed his arms over his chest. “You got a few minutes to give a statement?” Edden asked, and my eyes narrowed.

“You got a few minutes to answer your phone?” I shot back, and he ducked his head, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

“Sorry.”

It was the best I was going to get, and I pushed off from the couch, leaning on David as we limped to the elevator. Nina and Ivy were in it, and Ivy held it for me when she saw us coming. “Thanks for getting here when you did,” I said to David and Edden. “I think we can safely say the Free Vampires are trying to rid Cincinnati of the undead, and they don't care how many people they hurt doing it.”

Edden winced, looking at David. “That's what he said, but seriously?” he said, still not believing it when David nodded. “They're nothing more than a cult. A not-well-funded one at that. Where are they getting the magic to control the waves?”

Elves?
whispered through me, and I banished the thought. Trent would know, wouldn't he? He was their unofficial leader, their Sa'han. “I don't know, but it's not the demons,” I said as the doors slid closed and the lift jiggled into motion. “Al said the waves are being collected before they can leave the area. I think Cincinnati is a test case. One of the vampires upstairs said they came here to get Felix, probably because he hasn't fallen asleep like the rest. If you give him enough rope, they might come find him again, but I want protection for Ivy and Nina.”

“We'll be fine,” Ivy protested as she held Nina upright, gaze falling when I looked at her. The memory of my pack members taking my punishment was too new.

“I'll see to it,” Edden said as the lift lurched to a halt and opened. Mustache bunching, he held the door so we could all limp out. The huge clock in the small room off the kitchen stared at me. Only fifteen minutes had passed. It felt like more.

“We need to find them like now,” I said, everything hurting. “If we can't stop them from pulling wild magic out of my line, the undead will be dead by week's end. They're starving to death, Edden.”

Edden sighed and held the door from the kitchen to the old dining room open. The come-and-go of radios and the chatter of FIB officers became louder, and the air fresher. “Happy Independence Day,” Edden said softly.

Below us was blood, and violence. Before us, the blood-strewn room was now empty of people and looking like a macabre painting. Felix had been more vampiric than any other vampire I'd ever seen. Happy Independence Day indeed. “Someone has a sense of humor,” I said, shuffling from the kitchen, and Edden grunted his agreement.

But it wasn't funny. If the master vampires were not around to control the living, then who was going to do it?

And were the elves behind it?
Somebody was funding them. HAPA was down and disorganized. Same for the men-who-don't-belong. Witches wouldn't jeopardize their own magic like this. Demons would love the mischief, but wouldn't use wild magic to do it. Elves . . . maybe.

Lunch with Trent tonight was suddenly sounding a lot more interesting.

Twelve

R
achel? Hot dog or ribs?”

I cracked an eye, gut clenching at the thought of ribs slathered in sticky red: no ribs—not after wading through Piscary's blood-drenched upstairs this morning, not after spending fifteen minutes scrubbing it out from under my fingernails, not after the innocence of Trent's and Quen's girls putting a ballerina Band-Aid on my skinned elbow.

“Hot dog.” Trent's eyebrows rose, but he dutifully passed the request to Jonathan before ambling back to the long teak table under the canopy where the two men from the elven religious sect sat deep in discussion about how Free Vampires might harness wild magic. I had yet to bring up the possibility that the elves were behind it.
Diplomacy, you are my middle name.

“Ray! No! Mine!” Lucy shrilled, and I smiled as I settled myself deeper into the cushy lounge chair at the extravagantly landscaped pool. My eyes were shut, and I drank in the world through my ears: the hiss of the grill burning away the sugar sweetness, Ellasbeth's admonishment that Ray share the toys, Trent's musical, muted response, the sound of water tinkling in the kiddie pool. Family had never sounded so good.

But my smile faded at Bancroft's grating southern drawl, his words indistinct but the emotion clear. The faint chill in the air from the setting sun seemed to cascade over me, and I shivered. Bancroft was
the
official of Trent's religion, dressed the part in a long purple robe I wouldn't expect in Ohio, no-nonsense shiny dress shoes poking out from underneath. I'd talked to him briefly before he grabbed his assistant, Landon, and retreated to a quiet room. He was back now, and I'd come to the conclusion that as polite as he was, he really didn't like me. I knew it wasn't anything I'd said or done. It was
what
I was, and it bothered me I hadn't had the chance to show him how nasty I could be before he wrote me off.

Smirking, I settled deeper into the cushions as Jonathan dabbed sauce on the ribs and they flamed up. It was blissful here, but the trip out had been a nightmare of roadblocks and checkpoints. A terrified world was watching Cincinnati now that the misfires were on the decline and the vampire violence rising, most people demanding a lockdown until it could be determined who was causing the undead to slumber. I'd be going home by ley line if they cordoned off Cincinnati and the Hollows. It was becoming a distinct possibility. I'd seen too many ambulances today, heard too many sirens, witnessed too much grief. My mind drifted as I began to fall asleep, twitching at the flash of memory of the blood-smeared bodies at the tavern.
Felix is awake because his age-born disease makes him always hunger. Why is that significant?

The sound of beating wings fluttered, and the dream of purple blinking eyes lifted through me. They were taking Ivy from me, and the purple eyes became vampire black and angry.

“Don't wake her.” Ellasbeth's voice slid between my dream of silvery wings, and the wheels with eyes faltered.

From right over me, Quen's voice said, “Her hot dog is done.”

“Aunt Rachel is napping. Shhhh,” Lucy said brightly, and the last of the wings beat at the eyes, smothering them until they were gone.

I pulled myself awake, smiling at Quen as I sat up. He had two plates of food, and I thought it funny that they were paper. It was almost as odd as seeing him in casual jeans and a polo shirt. “I'm not asleep. I was listening to everything.”

Knowing it for the lie it was, Quen handed me a plate. I took it, needing to sit up even more. I couldn't help but wonder if Ellasbeth had been being nice or if she simply hadn't wanted me taking part in dinner. Ribs, hot dogs, macaroni salad, baked beans, and chips. Who knew? Maybe they were practicing for the Fourth.

“Lucy,” I said, seeing her sitting on Trent's lap as he continued to discuss some small point of religious belief with Bancroft under the canopied table. “Did you know that you can hear everything better when your eyes are closed?”

Ellasbeth eyed me from the inflatable pool set beside the fenced-off pool. She looked fittingly perfect in her swimsuit and light pullover with her feet in the water, Ray between them as the little girl watched the water run off her hands as she lifted them, then reached for more.

Lucy, though, settled onto Trent's lap with a little bounce. Sitting with a new stiffness, she closed her eyes, the picture of stillness for all of three seconds before opening her eyes and sliding down her father's legs. Wearing a wicked grin, she jumped into the pool. Water hit Ray, and the little girl started crying as Lucy splashed harder. Wailing, Ray clutched at Ellasbeth, and the woman lifted her up, admonishing Lucy to settle down as the dark-haired little girl pouted and glared, clutching Ellasbeth for security. I ate a chip, thinking Lucy had better stop tormenting her sister or she was going to find worms in her hair before her second birthday.

Then I looked up, surprised to see Quen still standing over me. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked, and I glanced at my plate. I wasn't used to being waited on, and not by someone who could flatten me with magic or martial arts.

“No thanks. I've got my iced tea.”

“Mind if I sit down?” he added, his attention on the chair beside my lounger, and I put my feet on the patio and sat all the way up.

“Sure. Go ahead.” I eyed my dog with all the trimmings, then Jonathan. Maybe I'd just stick with the salad.

Quen gracefully sat, the love in his eyes for Ray obvious as he watched Ellasbeth dry her off and help her into a robe. Lucy had taken over the pool, and Ray made her determined way to Trent with a rubber duck in her grip. It was an odd sort of family but it
was
a family, and I was grudgingly impressed with how Ellasbeth had endeared the girls to her. I hated to admit it, but she seemed to know what she was doing.

Landon came out with two more bottles of wine. Our eyes met, and I looked away, uneasy. Bancroft's assistant seemed to focus on the very things Bancroft didn't like about me, making me nervous in his analyzing. Landon was blond, as most elves were. His ears were docked, but he had an earring, giving him a decidedly devilish mien. Dressed like Bancroft, he had the added distinction of a multicolored sash. Jeans and tennis shoes showed under his hem. He was younger, too, his face clean-shaven where Bancroft had a tidy beard and wrinkles. Landon's accent was midwestern newscaster, every word pronounced with a perfect blandness.

Noting my mistrustful scrutiny, Quen forked a bite of meat off his ribs, his eyes never leaving mine.

“So the goats don't have to die to be considered sacrificed?” Trent asked as he pulled Ray up onto his lap and the toddler helped herself to his macaroni salad, eating it one shell at a time.

“No.” Bancroft reached for one of the wine bottles Landon had brought out. “It's permissible to give them to the dewar. The intent of a sacrifice is to deny yourself a wealth or courtesy, and giving it to the church will accomplish that end.”

And put a little jingle in the coffers,
I thought sourly.

Shunning the hot dog on the principle that Jonathan had made it, I focused on the chips.
Church, temple, holy place.
Leave it to the elves to name their church after a flask used to store precious gases. Bunch of hot air.

The snick of a knife leaving a sheath brought my head up, but it was only Bancroft, and I watched him use a ceremonial foot-long frog sticker to open the bottle of wine by running it down the bottle's length and snapping off the top.
Show-off.

“Thank God,” Ellasbeth said, busy toweling Lucy's hair, the little girl staring at Trent's salad. “I couldn't stomach the idea of Trent slitting some poor goat's throat.”

Probably with the same sword Bancroft was tucking back in his robes,
I thought. Trent, though, was grimacing. I wondered if it was at the thought of killing an animal with his bare hands, or the question of it really being a sacrifice if someone other than the Goddess benefited from it. Recalling Jenks telling me about how Trent had slit the throat of an attacker, I guessed it was the latter.

The ice was long gone from my tea, and I wondered if I went to get more if I could trash my hot dog with no one the wiser. I went to stand, dropping back at Quen's quiet clearing of his throat.

“I wanted to thank you for giving Trent the space he needs to focus on his duty,” he said, his melodious voice reminding me of earth and shadow.

Focus on his duty? Was that elf-speak for ignoring that Trent was making the biggest mistake of his life? Leaning back, I stabbed a couple of macaroni. “You're the one who asked me to watch him.”

“Thank you for that, too.”

He was nervous. It wasn't obvious, but it made me wonder if he knew about Trent's and my “date.” Probably. Trent didn't keep much from him. I concentrated on my salad, stifling a shiver as the memory of that kiss we'd shared blossomed. Newt's warning echoed in me, and I ate another chip. What did it matter anyway?

“So, he and Ellasbeth getting along better?” I asked, smiling when Lucy finally broke from Ellasbeth. Running to Trent, she begged to be picked up. Last time the girls were here, he could have managed them both, but now they were too big.

“Yes, but it's mostly her efforts to change. She's not an unkind woman.”

I looked at Ellasbeth rising up in her skimpy bathing suit and cover-up that didn't live up to its name. She was smart, sexy, and everything a man would like, and I suppressed an unexpected flash of jealousy. “She's peeved at being asked to do something she doesn't want to do. I get that.” The salad tasted flat, and I set my fork down.
How far should duty rule a person?
I asked myself as Ellasbeth went to the table and took both Lucy's and Trent's discarded plates. They worked well together, and knowing Trent, duty was everything.

My eyes met Jonathan's. The nasty man had turned the grill off and was setting everything on a tray to take inside. He smiled evilly at me, and I smiled evilly back. As proper looking in his white-and-blue-striped cooking apron as he was, there was no way I was eating that hot dog now. Too bad, because it looked perfect with chili, mustard, relish, and even a sprinkling of parmesan.

Sighing, I set my plate aside, and as Ellasbeth gracefully took her seat at the large, canopied table, Trent beckoned me over. “Here we go,” I whispered, both eager and dreading Bancroft's pronouncement.

“Let me help you with that,” Quen said as he took my plate, and I reluctantly passed it to him. I'd get rid of the hot dog somehow.

“Thanks.” Feeling awkward, I crossed the patio as I tried to decide where to sit. There was an empty place beside Trent, but that was out of the question with Ellasbeth smiling thinly at me. The chair beside Bancroft was not a good option. Neither was the chair beside Landon.

“Here, Ms. Morgan,” Landon said as he stood to pour out the wine, and my choice was made for me.

“Rachel, please,” I said as I sat down and pushed my empty wineglass away to make room for my iced tea. “We're being so informal today.”

At least some of us were,
I thought, glancing at Ellasbeth in her swimsuit. Trent was business casual, as was Quen. I didn't know what Bancroft and Landon were, but they seemed professional. And I, of course, was trying to impress everyone with how businesslike I could be with my black slacks and white top. Boring, boring, boring.

Quen silently slid my plate with my untouched hot dog before me, and I winced.

“Are you perhaps vegetarian?” Landon asked as he set the bottle down. “And no wine?”

My eyes flicked over the table, embarrassed that I'd telegraphed so much. “Just not hungry. And the sulfites in the wine give me a headache.”

“A demon with a sulfur intolerance?” Bancroft said in disbelief, his dramatic drawl temporarily stilling Lucy's babbling.

Trent reached across the table to take my plate and hand it to Quen to remove from the table. “Rachel is not your usual demon,” Trent said with a smile, and I felt a wash of gratitude. His eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly in question, and I glanced at Jonathan. Frowning, Trent held Ray closer as he watched Jonathan take his apron off. Ellasbeth's jaw was clenched at our silent communication, and she forced a smile when I noticed.

“What a shame!” Landon pushed back with his glass of red wine and eyed me over it. “To not be able to fully enjoy the fruits of the earth. You must make up for it in other ways.”

His words were innocent enough, but the way he said it made me feel as if I were naked.

Bancroft harrumphed as he settled himself. It was nearing dusk, and the outside lights flicked on. “I appreciate your unique insight into recent events, Morgan,” the man said as he took his cylindrical hat off and set it aside.

“I showed you mine. I'd appreciate if you'd show me yours,” I said, and Landon snorted into his wine.

Bancroft ran his hand over his sparse hair to smooth it. “I beg your pardon?”

I leaned forward, wanting to hurry this up so I might get home before they closed Cincy. “The wave is wild magic. Do you really think vampires have the skill to pull it from my line and then catch it so it doesn't circle the globe? Just what are they doing with it, anyway?” Bancroft's expression went closed, and I drummed my fingers. It was going to be like that, eh?

“Wild magic is always leaking from the lines,” Landon offered.

“Not like this it isn't,” I said, offended they would try to snow me like that.

Stretching, Trent snagged the pitcher of iced tea. “I've found Rachel to be circumspect. She knows the value of information and works best when she has it. All of it.”

“She is a
demon,
” Bancroft said, staring at me. I refused to look away, even when Trent refilled my glass and the ice tinkled to the top.