Greywalker (22 page)

"Ah. Good." Sergeyev sat very upright on the chair, not quite leaning forward, but stiff nonetheless. I wondered if the airline seats had hurt his back.

"I..." I trailed off, thoughts slipping sideways. The day and the night before were catching up to me; my stomach was clenching and my head throbbing again. Something flickered in the corner of my vision. I turned my head a little to find it, and Sergeyev vanished. "Huh?" I grunted and turned my head back toward him.

He was frowning at me. "Something is wrong? You do not feel well."

"It's nothing." I turned to my computer and tapped at the key-hoard a moment, buying time, feeling unsteady.

The thin world of the Grey flooded up in cold steam as I peered sideways at my client. He was there, layered on himself like a multiple exposure, the mist-world rippling around him. I yanked myself away from the flood, and it reduced to a trickle and a transient flicker. After last night, the figurative gum of the Grey must have been pretty thick on me, and I didn't want any more building up. And I wanted my unsettling client out of my office as soon as possible. "I have a further lead, which may be the last link in the chain of ownership."

"Then you know where is my furniture?" he asked. His voice rose with excitement.

"I might."

"Tell me." His voiced pushed on me, resonating in my chest and head. I pushed back against it. I'd been pushed on a lot lately, and I wasn't in the mood for it. I dug in my mental heels and resisted his demand for all I was worth.

"I want to be certain. It could turn out to be just another link and I don't want to get your hopes up for nothing."

He scowled and I shivered. "When will you know?"

I poked my computer, which showed me a picture of rolling static.

"I'll be blunt, Mr. Sergeyev. I can't do anything about your case until Tuesday. The party involved won't be available any earlier. Then I still have to confirm that it is the organ you want and see if the owner is even willing to negotiate on it. They might not be."

He seemed surprised. "They would not?"

"I don't know yet. Let me find out a little more, then we can discuss it. I'll do what I can. Trust me—I'll call you when I have something more to tell you."

"Ah, well. So be it," There was that push again, but I could taste anger and annoyance in it this time. "I expect hearing from you Tuesday evening." He rose to his feet like a piece of spring steel unbending.

I got up, beat him to the door, and opened it for him. He went out with a cold little nod to me. In the dim light of the hallway, he seemed bigger. The darkness swallowed him up as he descended the stairs. The bang on the back of my skull seemed to have rattled something loose in my head and I felt a little stupid. I went back to my chair behind the desk and stared at the computer screen.

The screen prompt asked if I wanted to view recorded video. I clicked on YES. I saw the room on the screen, the desk, myself at the desk, the empty chair on the other side. Maybe the last fifteen minutes had not been saved? I didn't like it. I'd have to call Quinton, but I had a feeling he wouldn't make me feel any better.

My head hurt, but the butterflies in my insides calmed. I wondered if I was just hungry. I trotted out for a bite. It was a little chilly and the evening breeze was kicking up, but I decided to sit outside for a few minutes while I ate, hoping to clear my head a bit. But I just got cold and wolfed my food, which made my stomach ache, and I wished I'd worn the jeans after all, instead of the skirt.

Cameron drifted into my office a few minutes before nine thirty. I noticed he didn't exude the halo and draining Grey effects of Carlos and Alice. Odd.

"How's it going?" I asked as he sat down.

"It's OK. Sarah and I worked out a sleeping arrangement at her house, but it's only temporary. I'm going to have to find something of my own before her boyfriend gets back."

"Any idea when that will be?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. Could be as early as June."

I gave him a faint, false smile. "We'll just have to work fast then. I told you I talked to Alice last night, right?"

"Yeah. How'd it go?"

"Scary. She thinks I should kill Edward, or incite the other vampires of Seattle to do it."

"Umm... you're not really thinking about it, are you?"

"No. But it did give me an idea. Alice mentioned that vampires have a pack mentality and they will attack their leader if they sense he's sick or weak. That's what Alice wants so she can step into the breach once Edward is down." Oh, man... I thought she was my friend! That scheming—"

I interrupted. "Don't get too hot under the collar. A coup is fine for Alice, but for you to get anything out of this, Edward has to stay in charge. We can't trust Alice to do anything for you, but Edward has more to lose. So I'm going to stir up trouble, but not enough that it can't be allayed by the right sort of gesture—like showing that he's capable of being a nice guy by taking you back. Of course, anything else I can dig up which will help push him that direction, I'll take, but I'm not going to be handing it over to Alice."

"Did you stir up any trouble yet?"

"Not trouble, but something. After I talked to you, I met with Carlos. Alice sent me to him, but frankly, he frightens me a lot more than she does."

"Oh, yeah. Even some of the vampires are afraid of him."

"From the story he told me, they ought to be. And Edward, too. Carlos is willing to risk helping us because he hates Edward that much."

"He does?"

"Yes, and Alice hates Edward, too—though it's more an expression of ambition with her. Hate seems to be the point on which everything turns, so that's what I'll push on. But we have to be careful. I cannot risk losing control of the situation to Alice or Carlos, which means you have to disappear for a while."

"I'm not going to get in your way or do something stupid," Cameron objected.

"That's not the problem, Cam. I don't want you to get hurt if any-thing goes wrong, and I don't want you used against me. Once the mud starts to swirl around, Edward is bound to start looking for a person holding a stick. We don't want him to think that's you."

"But what about you? Won't he hurt you, too?"

"It's possible, but that's what you're paying me for."

"Man," he said, shaking his head, "maybe I shouldn't have asked you to do this. Maybe I should drop it."

"We can, if that's what you want... but one of the things Carlos told me makes me think you have no real choice."

Cameron looked at me askance. "What did he tell you?"

"There's a lot more to this vampire thing than just sucking blood. I don't understand it all, but the impression I got was that without the right training and without the right... diet, you'll just sort of waste away and die." I paused a moment, wondering if this was why Cameron didn't glow like the others.

I shook myself back to conversation. "Dropping your efforts to reconcile with Edward, or moving to another city and hoping for a fresh start, would be postponing the inevitable. And if you stay here, Edward will eventually have to deal with you as a threat to the community."

"I'm not a threat! I'm not doing anything to anybody."

"Your existence outside of the control of the community is, inherently, a threat. Think about it. And think about where to hide until it's safe to come out."

"I didn't realize this vampire gig was going to require a security expert." He stood up. "I can find a place. Don't worry about me. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stir mud."

Once Cameron was gone, I swallowed my trepidation and started down into the Square to seek vampires.

The night was thick with spirits trailing Grey wakes or striating the darkness with columns of cloud-light. Friday night was party night whether you were dead or alive. The historic district, with its many one-cover-price clubs and easygoing bars, was a prime location for night creatures on the prowl. I had three names on the list in this area, but in spite of my best charms, only one would talk to me. The first just squirmed around and refused to say anything before telling me to go jump in the Sound. The next one had a tale of pettiness and manipulation that wasn't much, for all his anger. The third threatened to kill me.

I gave up and was heading for my truck when I spotted a flash of red and turned my head.

Alice lounged under a streetlight and gave me her siren's smile before sliding back into the dark. As she moved, I recognized her shape in the shadow. Just like the night after I'd met Quinton—the same shape and shadow, sliding into the fog-filled alley that had led me into the Grey. She'd been teasing me, the previous night. She'd said she knew who I was. Why had she been watching me for so long?

I worried it in my brain, but was too exhausted from pushing back against the Grey all night to get an answer. I shook it off for now and headed home. I felt better as the distance increased between me and Pioneer Square.

It was almost one in the morning when I parked in a space under my building. I was tired, distracted by thoughts of Alice, and not paying attention. If I had been, I might have spotted the son of a bitch when he first stepped out of the shadows by the laundry room door.

Clouds and mist played around the edges of vision and I was too tired to push it back. A solid shape reached for me under the silver mist-world and I coiled back, skipping behind the nearest car. "What in hell's little half acre do you want?" I demanded, trying to shake off the obscuring haze of Grey.

He was clean-cut, bulked buff, and dressed neatly—hardly the usual mugger. "Just you. You won't stay dead long enough."

He sprang forward, snake-quick for a guy with such bulky muscles. I turned to the side and backed up, giving him a kick in the seat as he brushed past. My high heels wobbled.

He turned, whipping out an arm to grab me. I hopped backward and slid onto the truck hood, putting distance between us.

He looked annoyed. Reached into his jacket pocket. "I'm not going to hurt you. A lot." He drew out a knife.

Bigger, faster, and stronger than me. And holding a knife like he knew it well. I didn't like those odds. I dropped onto the other side of the Rover. He started around the rear. He passed into the blind spot and I dug under the back of my jacket.

He cleared the end of the truck. I pointed the business end of the gun at his face. "Back off." I squeezed. The HK's cocking lever made a click that cracked the cold air like a hammer on thin ice.

He gaffed a chuckle that went right through me. "You're not going to shoot me." He lunged, tucking down.

I lowered aim, squeezed the trigger, twisted away.

The bullet gouged a chunk out of his shoulder. I stepped down hard and felt my heel break off as my ears shut down from the roar of the gun.

He staggered, but kept his feet and came after me, grimacing evil glee as he swung the blade.

I lurched sideways, stumbled, fell flat on my back. My skirt ripped, fouling the blade in a cloud of fabric. I tilted the pistol. Squeezed. Felt it buck, heard the underwater roar of the shot in my already ringing ears.

He swayed back, but didn't fall. Black blood dripped down the front of his jacket. He glared at me and bared a mouthful of shark's teeth.

I swallowed hard. "Oh..."

"Hey! What's going on down there? Was that a gunshot?" The voice sounded distant and tinny to me.

The uncanny man stared up toward Rick and his dog, emerging on the upper landing. He shot a look back at me and the gun, then whirled and bolted into the darkness outside.

I slumped against the Rover, letting out a gust of breath. I was thoroughly shaken, and too watery to stand up.

"Yes, Rick!" I yelled back, feeling woozy.

"Harper?" A moment later, they popped out of the foyer door, the dog in the lead and Rick dragged behind. "Harper, are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Rick," I said, shoving the dog back. My head was throbbing and sounds were muffled by a high-pitched whine in my ears.

"What happened?"

"Huh? Just a mugger. And I want to get upstairs and go to bed."

"We should call the cops."

"What? Why? He's gone." I doubted they had a mug book of the undead, and though I didn't know what he was, normal lie was not.

"You don't want me to call the cops? You're sure?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I'll deal with it." I hoped.

Rick preceded me upstairs. The dog wagged like a puppy all the way, grinning a pit-bull grin of satisfaction with the commotion. He, at least, was having a great time.

I woke up in the morning sore and tired. My pumps and skirt were trashed and I had a long, deep scratch on my thigh, but my ears had stopped ringing.

While I waited for the coffee to dribble through the filter in the coffeemaker, I paged Quinton and left my office number. Then I poured the coffee into a travel mug, packed up and headed out.

I walked into my office to the sound of the ringing phone. It was Quinton.

"Hi," I said. "Something was wrong with the office alarm yester-day. Can you come by and take a look?"

"What kind of problem did you have?" he asked.

I described the alarm's nonfunction during Sergeyev's visit. I had to eliminate the plausible first, before I could go leaping to the impossible.

"That's strange. I'll be up in about half an hour. OK?"

"Great," I said and hung up.

I checked my messages and discovered one from Mara Danziger.

"Hmm, Harper, the problem with magic is getting worse. I'd be grateful for your help. Give me a ring."

Curious, I called her back.

"Hello."

"Hi, Mara, it's Harper."

"Harper, I'm worried. The blockage is worsening. To be shocking honest, Ben's no help with this, nor Albert. I simply must be finding the source. And all divinations keep coming back to you." "Still?" "Yes. Have you any idea why this is happening? Could it be Cameron?"

"I don't think so. But I've been mixing with vampires and there've been a few weird things hanging around."

"I told you they would—"

A knock on the door came a moment ahead of Quinton's face peeking around the doorframe. I waved him in and leaned back in my chair. "Mara, I have to deal with something here, but I have to go out to the Madison Forrest House later and look at a piece of furniture. There's something a little strange about the situation surrounding this thing." I paused, thinking, then sat forward. "Would you be willing to come with me to Madison Forrest? We could discuss this other situation then, too."

"Well... I suppose so. I'll have Ben look after the baby for a bit. Then, what say I pick you up?"

"That'll be fine, Mara. Come by in about an hour. OK?"

"All right. Be seeing you, then."

Quinton had already begun poking around with his Multimeter. As soon as I was off the phone, he asked me to move and ran a check of the computer program. He looked at the video capture that should have shown Sergeyev, but didn't.

"I'm not sure why this guy didn't show up, but there's nothing wrong with this system and the diagnostic says there never was," he said, frowning at the computer screen. "You sure he was here?"

"Oh, yeah."

"It's a head scratcher, but the system's working fine now."

"OK."

"Keep an eye on it, and let me know if it does this again. You might try it on that client of yours, because I'm not really sure what effect some people have on electronics."

I wondered how he knew about Sergeyev. Had I mentioned him? "I'm not following you. Which client?"

"The one with the Camaro. The vampire."

"Excuse me?" I choked.

"Don't expect me to believe that you didn't know," Quinton said.

"Took me a while to be sure, but you've been in much closer contact with the guy."

"Why would you think Cameron was a vampire?"

"Lots of little signs. The weird eyes, the dirt in the trunk, the weird habits. The fangs. I've seen plenty of them around here. I steer clear of those guys. Even if they like you, you can't really trust them. 'Course, you can't trust most people. But drinking blood and turning on your fellow man is a bit worse than the usual sort of trust-breaker."

I blinked at him. He finished speaking and looked at me in silence a moment. Then he asked, "You do a lot of work for vampires?"

I shook my head. "This is my first."

"Thought so. Be careful. They're a tricky bunch. Magic kind of gives me the willies. It's cool to watch, but it's... disorienting to think about. I prefer electronics, physics, stuff I can grab on to and get a good look at myself." He played with the probes of the meter and gave me a nervous glance. "Watch your step around this stuff, all right? I can fix a lot of things, but curses and that stuff I'm not so good with."

I smiled a little. "I'll be careful."

"Good. And if you need anything, call me. I'll be around."

"Thanks, Quinton. I'll do that. I have to get going, though. I have an appointment."

"That's OK. But hey, don't get killed. You still owe me for the car," he added with a forced grin. He packed up his things and took off.

I locked up and walked down to meet Mara.

We drove east toward Lake Washington and found the MadisonForrestHouseMuseum. We pulled into a graveled lot nearby. Mara sat for a moment behind the wheel and looked at the house with a puzzled expression.

We got out of the car in silence and walked. I had no idea who Madison Forrest had been or why his house had become a historic building and museum, but it was an impressive pile. The foundation and ground floor were built of fitted stone. The second floor and the high, pointing gables were all native cedar. Lots of glass windows shone under the wooden overhangs and must have cost a fortune when the house was built. Four gas lamps, now converted to electricity, bracketed the path from the open iron gate to the front doors. Like the Danzigers' house, it glowed, but the glow wasn't so friendly.

Mara stopped and looked at the ground. "I didn't realize there was a nexus of this size on this side of the lake. It's just a bit off the property, about... here, in the street." She stepped out a few feet from the curb. "And I can't even draw on it standing right on top of it. I'm not at all sure there isn't something rather unpleasant going on here. Maybe even the power blockage. Take a look at it sideways, like I taught you. Tell me what you see."

I peered at it from the corner of my eye. The off-color glow of the house seemed to start under her feet, like a fog that wafted toward the house. "It looks... sick to me."

"Funny way to describe it."

I shrugged and tried not to look anymore.

We walked up the path to the massive, carved cedar doors. Mara and I paid the entrance fee and began to wander around. After a while, we found the upstairs parlor and the organ. It was hideous: six feet of tortured wood flecked with ivory, bone, and gilt and upholstered with garish red fabric panels, all of it wrapped in a sucking web of black and red energy I couldn't avoid seeing. I stayed well back from the instrument, feeling ill and threatened.

"Is this it?" Mara asked, staring at it with horrified fascination.

"I think so." I got the description sheet out of my bag and com-pared it as best I could from my distance. It seemed an exact match.

"Oh, my," she breathed. "It's dreadful, isn't it?"

"It's pretty terrible," I agreed, feeling pain and nausea growing in my belly as a familiar anxiety began to rattle on my vertebrae. I closed my eyes, but the sense of the coiling horror in front of me didn't go away.

"No, I mean it's full of dread, though it's terrible, too. It's horrific, really. It gives me the wailing creepies just looking at it."

"What do you think of it?" I asked.

"Interesting." She made a glittering gesture and threw it at the organ. It dissolved as it hit the writhing mass of Grey. "Swallowed it... Very interesting, indeed. I think I've seen enough, what about you?"

I circled a little closer to the thing, like a wary cat, getting a better look at its shape, both physical and paranormal, while trying to keep my distance. It was impossible for me to ignore the warped, twined normal and Grey that had tangled around it, though I couldn't imagine what had caused their knotting up. Sympathetic knots tied up my nerves and muscles with pain, disgust, and despair.

"I've had enough," I gasped, backing off. "Let's get out of here." Mara looked at me and saw my distress. She put an arm around me, which seemed to help. We hurried back to her car and sat in the front seats, staring back at the Madison Forrest House with combined horror.

Mara shook her head. "There's an incredible amount of energy flowing round that thing, but none of it seems to be going anywhere. That must be the source of the blockage. And it's so... dark. I've never seen an artifact that was dark like that one before. Of course, I've rarely dealt with them, so I'm no expert." "Artifact? I don't understand."

She turned to me. "It's a dark artifact. That's an object that's acquired an energy aura. They store some of the energy, and if you know what you're at, you can use it—directly or indirectly, depending on your skill and the object. You can tell a great deal about the object and what's happened to it by looking at the color, size, and activity of the energy corona around it. 'Dark' is usually a misnomer.

But that one is dark in fact. Means there's been something rather nasty associated with it for a long time. Bleak things, grim doings. Dreadful, as I said."

I sighed. "And my client wants it. He claims it's a family heirloom, but having seen it—and him—I'm starting to wonder."

"He must be a rather unusual person."

"I don't know if he's a human being. He's... Grey, but I don't know what. Not a vampire, though."

"That would explain why signs point to you. I don't like the idea of a thing like that on the loose with someone Grey. Why does he want it? I mean really?"

"It's certainly no sentimental heirloom. I have a bad feeling there's a purpose for that thing."

Mara thought a moment. "We'll have to do something about it, if for no other reason than that it's blocking magic that could be useful other places." She wrinkled her brow and toyed with the steering wheel. "If we could discover why it's a dark artifact, we might be able to figure out what to do about it. I don't usually care for them, but a necromancer would be useful here."