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Chapter Twenty-Three:

Jude’s eyes burned from staring at the monitor and her head was aching from the excruciating sounds of some joker’s version of music blaring from a hidden sound system. The lead singer was screaming how he wanted to get down with the sickness. It was making her eardrums bleed. After screeching the same lyrics over and over again, along with a few others she couldn’t comprehend, she prayed the idiot would catch the damn sickness and die from it so she could get some peace and quiet.

Jude started to feel her age when she realized this was exactly how Mathias felt about her music.

She had spent several hours hunkered down and leaning over a computer at Smiley’s Cyber Café, "surfing the net" or whatever they called it these days. It had taken Dori a while to explain what this was. It had taken longer for Joe, the computer geek sitting one table over, to explain how to get started. Aside from the noise, the experience wasn’t that bad. How much of the crap she found was true or even useful, she couldn’t say, but it was certainly entertaining.

Following one link to another, she discovered that she had missed three elected presidents, one of which redefined the meaning of oral sex for legal purposes. MTV rarely showed music videos anymore. Preppies and punks had given way to goth which had given way to Britney Spears and her ilk. The name Katrina had been retired by the weather bureau after a category five hurricane nearly destroyed everything in its path. There was talk of scattered residents, trouble with toxic FEMA trailers and FEMA in general, and a few choice words about the mayor of New Orleans who had a terrible habit of putting his foot in his mouth.

She shook her head as one of her links led her to a cartoon badger doing calisthenics while singing a string of nonsensical words. It seemed to be trapped in its own little loop. That gave her a nasty feeling of deja vu that had her back tracking to the MSNBC homepage.

Jude had started her search with the intention of finding out what had happened in that alley twenty years ago only to be continually sidetracked. It wasn't going to tell her what had been going on in the magical community, or more importantly, who had created the portal in New York and why it had brought her here. It wouldn’t tell her who had put the hit out on her or why, but she had hoped to at least learn what the mundane community might have made of the mess. Jude found nothing.

She was in the middle of back-tracking her links when Dori ran up to her. Her usual happy flighty demeanor was replaced by a nervous energy tinged with worry.

“Jude, you have to come with me,” she said. “Tara’s sick!”

Dori grabbed her arm. Jude yelped in pain. The little girl didn’t know her own strength when she was upset. She dragged Jude out of the café into the street. Jude let her lead but tried to pry info from the girl as they went.

“Calm down, kid,” Jude said when Dori finally released her from her grip. “What’s going on? Where is Alberta and Tara now?”

“The baby wasn’t crying,” Dori said as if this explained everything.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

Dori shook her head impatiently. “When babies have a bad temperature it means they’re too sick to cry. Her skin was burning up when Albie touched her forehead. She said Tara has a fever.”

Dori hurried along and Jude struggled to follow. They came to an intersection and were forced to wait for traffic to pass. As the cars zoomed by and Dori danced nervously from one foot to the other, Jude asked, “Where are they now? Did she take her to the hospital?”

“Hours ago,” she cried. “They won’t see her right away ‘cause Alberta’s got no ‘surance.”

Jude groaned in disgust. She remembered the time her mother was forced to take her to Charity’s emergency room when she was six years old. One of her mother’s boyfriends had been an angry drunk, had thrown a bottle of Jack at her mother during a heated argument. His aim had been off, hitting Jude instead. It gave her a concussion and a laceration over her right eye that required stitches. It was a good thing she had come in bleeding, the doctor had told her. Patients that were visibly bleeding or wounded were allowed to jump ahead of the other patients. Even then, the wait had been three excruciating hours. Other latter occurrences had proven the doctor's words.

When traffic cleared, Dori grabbed Jude’s arm again and nearly ripped it from its socket in the rush.

“Jesus Dori!” Jude cried out. Other pedestrians were gaping at them and no wonder. The kid was just shy of flying. “The hospital will still be there when we get there. Alberta and Tara probably haven’t been seen yet.”

“We have to hurry,” cried Dori. “We need to get there so you can use your magic.”

Jude dug her shoes into the cement in an attempt to slow the girl down. Dori reluctantly stopped.

“Why are you stopping?” She pleaded. The kid was sobbing. “We have to go!”

Jude knelt down so that she was at eye level with Dori. “I can’t heal her, kid,” she said.

“But you said you were a mage!”

“I don’t have that kind of power.”

“There are spells, right?” Tears were trickling down Dori’s face. “You know spells that can heal people.”

Jude sighed. “I know spells, but to do them I need tools and ingredients and...other things.”

Dori brightened. “Let’s go get them then.”

Jude caught Dori before the kid could make another mad dash. “I don’t have the money and I don’t know the people well enough to trust any contract I’d be forced to sign.”

“I have money,” Dori said frantically. “Not on me, but I can ask Mal or Lucas or El. They keep it safe for me in case there’s a ‘mergency. This is a ‘mergency.”

“That’s good, but even if I had the ingredients it wouldn’t do any good,” Jude sighed. How did you explain magical mechanics to a prepubescent vampire? “You remember how you found me in that alley, Dori?”

She nodded. “You were really, really fast and you couldn’t stop.”

“Using magic is like using your muscles to lift weights. Sometimes you lift too much at one time and the muscle tears. It has to repair itself before it can lift again. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

Dori shook her head. Her cheeks were stained red from crying.

“I did a big spell, a very big spell that took a lot of energy to make. I didn’t have enough energy to make it and it backfired on me. Now my body has to heal before I can use magic again, even small magic. Even small magic that's already been prepared for me. And Dori, most healing spells are big spells. If I try to heal Tara, the best case scenario is that the spell will backfire on me and I’ll soak up most of the damage, but chances are Tara will get the worst of it. I could kill her. You don’t want that, do you?”

Dori shook her head reluctantly. “What’ll we do, Jude?”

“Let’s go to the hospital,” said Jude, not knowing what else to do. “Let’s see what the doctors can do for her.”

“What if they can’t do anything?” Dori asked in a panicked whisper. “What if Tara dies?”

Jude ran her fingers through her hair and let out a breath while she tried to think of options. They could hire a healer, but even if Dori had bags of money it would be a crap shoot as to what kind of healer they ended up with. No Order certified mage would touch this, not for a vampire and a rogue. They could end up with a hedge mage with just enough juice to heal a scraped knee, or if they were really unlucky, a psychotic rogue who had been kicked out for ethical reasons.

When did I become den mother to a homeless woman, her sick baby, and a kid vampire, Jude thought bitterly.

She remembered the brief period she had been on her own, just after running away from the Order, before she had met Trevor and the rest of the band. She had wandered the streets, trying to stay invisible. She remembered feeling lonely, but at least she had no one to answer to and no one to feel responsible for. How could she have ever wanted it any other way?

Jude looked into Dori’s fearful eyes and felt the weight of responsibility.

“Tara’s going to be fine,” she said, not really believing it herself.

“You promise?”

Jude gave her a smile she didn’t feel and nodded. “I promise.”

Dori’s trusting smile added to the weight Jude had felt before. She had promised something she probably wasn't going to be able to deliver. For Tara’s sake, Jude hoped she didn’t live to regret her words.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Confrontation

“You’re being stubborn Archibald,” Jim Cross said to his colleague. Hennessey was giving Cross his famous hard stare, but he was unimpressed.

In the mirror version of his Shetland home, Cross had gone to confront Hennessey in private. He was denying everything, proffessing innocence for the past hour and was no closer to confessing his crime in spite of the very potent drop of truth Cross had slipped into Hennessey’s drink. He suspected the old goat had made his own counter serum.

“I’m no traitor you bastard!” He took a long swig of whisky and refilled the glass. From the redness of his eyes, the slurring of his words, and his unsteady gate, Cross could tell the man was on a drinking binge. “I’ll lay hands on anyone who says I am.”

“I don’t suggest you go toe to toe with me, Archibald,” he said in a chilly tone. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

He gave Jim a hangdog expression that was so pitiful it made even Cross feel sorry for him.

“I don’t understand this,” Cross said with a sigh. “Why did you do it? How could you put the Order at such a great risk?”

“It was for the greater good.”

“That age old excuse. Some things never change,” Cross grunted. “Who else was in on this? Dinah?”

Hennessey snorted. “You must be daft if you think I enlisted the help of that soft hearted little frog. She’s in too thick with Mathias, anyway. I couldn’t risk her going to him if she refused me.”

“Levi then.”

“Don’t be putting the blame on Ester,” he wagged his finger at Cross. “This was all my doing, not hers. It was my idea, and believe you me it took a lot of convincin’ to get that woman on my side.”

“I just bet it did,” Cross said shaking his head. “How on earth did you get her to go along with this?”

“I wasn’t the only one to lose a protégé to Hunter. Esther lost one of her own in that conflict.”

Cross shook his head remembering the young healer, Tam. “Levi wouldn’t loose her head over something like that. She knows the risks a healer takes when she’s sent out on a job. What else did you tell her?”

“You know she lost most of her people in the war,” Hennessey shrugged. “I convinced her, should the prophesy come true, it would make the holocaust look like a traffic accident.”

Cross gave Hennessey a stern frown.

“Don’t look at me like that Jimmy boy. If you had lost your boy like I lost Fin...” Hennessey’s face contorted into a mask of pure misery. “My boy is dead and it is all the fault of that bitch sorceress.”

“No, Archie,” Cross said patiently. “That was Hunter’s doing, not Jude.”

“Right,” Hennessey said unconvinced. “Was that why she was the only one to get out alive?”

“If she had submitted we would have known.”

Hennessey eyed him. “You and I know it’s only a matter of time before she does—before both halves fall. I did what I thought was right and I’d do it all again.”

“No you wouldn’t,” said Cross giving him a bland stare. “Not while knowing you were so easily duped.”

He didn’t give Hennessey a chance to make a cutting remark. Cross related to him the information given to him by his spy. He told Hennessey about the death hunt. Hennessey regarded him with suspicion.

“Your spy heard wrong,” he said pacing the room. “The deal was the Council turns them both over to me. I said nothin’ about a death hunt!”

“Well, see old boy, that’s vampire politics for you right there.”

Hennessey threw his tumbler into the fireplace in a rage. Glass shattered and the flame inside the chimney roared as Hennessey shouted incomprehensible curses.

“What were the terms, Archibald?” Cross asked after his anger died down.

Hennessey sighed. “If both of the women were found and brought to me, the ban would be lifted.”

“Those were the only terms?” he asked. It couldn’t be as easy as that. Cross knew Collin would never double cross his master and the entire Council if he thought he wasn’t thoroughly protected.

A light dawned in Hennessey’s eyes. Regret flashed across his face. “That devil put a clause in the deal.”

“Yes?”

“If at least one of the women is turned in by the vamps, he gets his council seat and full protection from Ester and myself.”

“Even if something goes wrong and one of the sorceresses dies?”

Hennessey nodded. “As long as a body is delivered he is still protected from all harm.”

Cross eyed him. “How full is this protection you promised?”

“The package deal,” he said through gritted teeth. “Both Ester and myself are blood bound to the bastard, ban or no ban.”

Cross took a moment to think this through. “Was this a grant of Asylum?”

Hennessey nodded. Cross frowned.

“It was foolish of you to trust that viper Archibald, but not a total disaster,” said Cross, thinking through the implications. Yes, he thought. The situation could be salvaged.

“What will you do with me and Ester?” asked Hennessey. “Punish me if you want, but leave the woman out if this. It was my idea, like I said.”

“Oh, I believe you both deserve credit,” he held up his hand before Hennessey could protest. “But considering the plan I’ve just set in motion, I don’t think I’ll be the one pointing the finger at you if this should come to trial.”

“Should? Don’t you mean when?” Hennessey eyed him carefully. “What plan?”

“A plan that will solve all our problems.” Cross’s lips twitched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not the only one that knows how to tweak a spell.”

Chapter Twenty-One: A Useful Tool

“This is getting ridiculous,” Eve said through gritted teeth. She stared at the book in her hand with mixed frustration and dread.

When she and Jen left the shop that evening, Eve had searched her bag for the keys to lock up the front door. When her fingers brushed over something leathery and familiar, Eve had to choke down a gasp. She realized for the first time that her bag was heavier than it had been when she first entered the shop that morning. Fear and dread churned in her stomach as she hoped against hope that the book was still in the locked stock room.

“Hey Jen,” Eve said, feeling around the papery edges of the object. “Why don’t you go on ahead?”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I think I left something inside.”

“Okay, Chick. I’ll see you later. I’ve got a hot date tonight,” Jen wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Might get lucky, so don’t wait up, ‘kay?”

Eve smiled, waved, and remembered to shout out, “Don’t forget your mace!”

Jen waved the little bottle of mace attached to the key ring Eve had given her as a stocking stuffer this past Christmas and blew Eve a kiss before setting off. When she was well out of sight, Eve reached into her satchel and pulled out the Necronomicon.

Nervously, she looked over her shoulder, feeling like a common thief. She unlocked the front entrance, turned the lights on, and placed the book on top of the front desk.

“Stay,” she said wagging her finger at the book as if it were a bad dog apt to bite.

After a moment’s thought, she left a note for Mr. Cobb, saying she wasn’t sure where the Necronomicon belonged. She explained why she was leaving it on the front desk leaving out certain unbelievable details. Eve left the store and locked up all while peering through the front window, never keeping her eyes off the book lying on the desk.

On her way home Eve checked her bag just to be on the safe side. The satchel contained her keys, her pocket book with ID, an old paper back, and some Kleenex—only the items she had brought with her. She breathed a sigh of relief, but checked the bag periodically on her walk home.

When Eve finally stepped into the apartment, she set the satchel down and was about to hunker down for a glamorous night of novel reading, when her eyes were drawn to the coffee table in front of the couch. Her breathing hitched.

The Necronomicon was there beside the T.V. Guide and Jen’s Cosmo. The book had followed her home.

“I am so fired,” she groaned.

Not knowing what else to do, Eve picked up the book and thought over her options.

“Let’s see,” she said, pacing the living area nervously. “I can try to return it.”

Eve stared at the book. She imagined making several trips from the shop to her apartment trying to ditch the thing only to have it waiting for her when she returned. The idea would have been comical if both her job and her sanity weren’t at stake.

“That’s out,” she thought. She stared at the book again. If it was human, the damn thing would be mocking her, she was sure of it. “How about I call Mr. Cobb and explain what happened?”

She thought what Randal Cobb was apt to do. He would call her crazy or a liar, right before calling the police. She assumed they would put the book in an evidence locker. She imagined the unlucky person in charge of said locker getting chewed out and accused of stealing when the book went missing again. It would certainly make the trial interesting.

As amusing as that thought was Eve thought it best to stay as far away from possibility of imprisonment.

“I ought to burn the damn thing to ashes just for putting me through this trouble,” she mumbled. Eve smiled as a thought struck her.

She took the book into the small kitchen nook and placed it in a pot. She found the matches, lit one, and holding the book in one hand, stroked the flame against the brittle looking pages. Nothing happened. The fire burned through the wood of the match burning her fingers. She hissed and sucked on her aching fingertips. The flame died. Her fingers tips might be burned, but the pages didn’t have so much as a scorch on them.

Changing tactics, Eve hunted the apartment for something flammable like lighter fluid. In the end, she had to settle for a bottle of Jen’s nail polish remover. She dumped the entire bottle into the pot, threw in a lit match, and quickly took a step back to avoid the whoosh of the fire. Tendrils of angry smoke snaked out from the pot. Eve cursed when the grating beep of the smoke alarm went off. She took a broom out of the pantry and tried to wave the smoke away from the alarm, but by then it was too little to late. The kitchen was filled with black smoke that made her cough and caused tears to trickle from her eyes. Out of annoyance, Eve turned the broom around and stabbed at the smoke alarm with the blunt wooden end. Plastic pieces came crashing down around her head, and the thing gave one last distorted, piercing wail before dieing.

Eve slammed the cover on the pot and quickly opened a window. When most of the smoke cleared, and she deemed it safe to do so, Eve removed the cover from the pot. Tendrils of smoke escaped making her wretch and cough and beat her chest. After she recovered her breath, she peeked inside the pot to find its metal insides black, sooty, and scorched. The book was smoldering, but to Eve’s amazement, remained undamaged by the flame.

She rubbed her face with her hands and groaned.

“Why do these things happen to me?” she said, her eyes glaring holes into the ceiling as if to accuse the powers above for her misery. “I just can’t have a normal day, can I? Can’t I just wake up one day and have the strangest thing happen to me be finding a winning lottery ticket? No! I have to wake up and see dead people. I have to be stalked by magic books!”

Pacing the kitchen now, Eve kicked one of the cabinets in frustration and howled when she stubbed her toe. She sat down on the linoleum floor of the kitchen, rested her head in her hands, and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried not to think. When she looked up again, the ghost girl was standing over her, in silent supplication.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want."

The girl tried to move her lips, but the words wouldn't come out. Eve shook her head.

“Find some other freak to help you,” she snapped.

The ghost girl gave her a frustrated grimace. Eve’s spine straightened bolt upright and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. This was the most emotion the girl had yet to display since Eve had stumbled upon her. Pots and pans rattled inside the cabinets. Cabinet doors opened and slammed closed. The pot on the stove rattled and shook and fell to the floor with a dull clank. Its smoldering contents slid from the pot to the floor in front of Eve. She yelped when the book opened of its own accord and the pages started to flip this way and that, caught in a breeze that wasn’t there.

“Please stop it,” she moaned and was shocked when the pages stopped flipping and the book slammed shut.

A laugh escaped from her. She stared at the book wondering if it was just a coincidence.

“Open?” she said tentatively.

The book obliged and its pages started flipping again. The wheels in Eve’s head turned. She wondered if she could find any spell she wanted just by asking.

“Book,” she said out loud with some embarrassment that she was talking to—ha, ha—an inanimate object. “Show me a spell that I could use to make Mr. Cobb give me a raise.”

The flipping slowed and then lay still to reveal a particular page. Eve stared at the unusual script as she had before, and concentrated on what the words might say. They revealed themselves to her and she skimmed over a spell that was supposed to bring the caster prosperity and fortune. Eve would have laid bets this spell was a popular one. Uninterested in money, Eve searched the kitchen for inspiration. Her eyes paused above the window over the sink.

Harold, Jen’s ivy plant, was still hanging on to life, but just barely. The leaves were a sickly yellow and the vines themselves looked brittle and ready to crack. One wilted leaf tumbled pitifully into the sink. Jen watered the thing sporadically, gave it plant food—too much, and talked to it every morning in embarrassing baby gibberish. She was determined to save it from the brink, though Eve had already warned her it was a lost cause.

“Book, find me a spell that will save Jen’s ivy plant,” she said, and then after some thought, “a spell that doesn’t require killing or drinking something disgusting.”

The pages flipped and paused again. She read the spell.

“That doesn’t seem too hard,” she said.

Eve gingerly picked up the book, keeping the desired page open, and walked to the window. The spell seemed simple enough. Just read the words and touch the roots of the plant. She read the words out loud and was surprised that the words that came out of her mouth were a garbled translation of the text. She was reading the text and understanding it, but the words she uttered were not the words she was reading. Feeling slightly schizophrenic, Eve did as the text instructed, dipped her finger into the dry dirt Jen had probably forgotten to water, and wiggled it around until her finger found a root from the plant.

At first nothing happened. She removed her finger from the dirt and was about to find something to wipe her hands when the soil pot started to shake. Eve’s eyes widened and she took a step back. The brown wilted leaves turned green and waxy. Its vines lengthened, grew, and more fines popped up out of the dirt. It was like watching a plant grow with a high speed camera. Eve’s lips twitched in delight, until the plastic soil pot started to crack and the flimsy metal chain holding the plant over the sink strained and snapped from the added weight. She squealed when the soil and roots exploded from the soil pot and the whole thing tumbled down into the sink. Even with most of its soil scatted on the linoleum, the Ivy was still growing.

Eve gave a panicked whisper as the ivy’s roots and vines shot out over the sink, and started to claim new territory through out the small kitchen area, like a demented kudzu on speed. “How do I stop it from growing?”

The pages flipped in her hands, startling her, and stopped. She read the instructions and gritted her teeth. “Something that doesn’t require killing a small animal.”

This time, the pages flipped around a little longer before finding what she needed. She recited the text and grabbed the roots of the ivy. Not only did the plant stop growing, it wilted and died. Eve sighed at the mess she made realizing she would have to explain to Jen not only why she was missing a bottle of nail polish remover or why one of the pans was scorched possibly to the point that it would have to be thrown out, but also what had happened to Harold.

She took a deep breath. A nagging thought had her wondering if maybe it wasn’t such a bright idea to read from this book. She held it at arms length as if it were some kind of radioactive substance while her fear of death and dismemberment battled with her temptation to stay up all night searching for nifty spells. An Idea occurred to her.

“Book, show me a spell that will help me rid myself of unwanted reading materials.”

The book remained static. Eve gritted her teeth. She tried again.

“Book, show me a spell that will help me put you back where I found you,” the pages flipped, “and keep you there.”

The pages stopped flipping. It opened to a page that contained an elixir that was supposed to heal the caster of unwanted pock marks.

“Very funny,” she said with a humorless laugh. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this thing now?”

The pages remained static again. Eve sighed.

“Alright, since I can’t get rid of you, I’ll take care of other business,” she said peering at the ghostly presence. Eve took a deep breath, closed her eyes and thought out very carefully what she was going to say before making her request.

“Book, find me a spell that doesn’t require bloodshed of any kind, that won’t physically hurt anyone or destroy property, and will reveal the killer the police are calling the Party Girl killer.”

The pages started flipping again, and when they stopped Eve read the instructions and smiled. She was stuck with the book, but by the end of this night, she would be rid of her unwanted house guest for good.

Chapter Twenty: An Old Enemy, a New Client

Malcolm’s detective agency was located in a two story office complex in Storyville. The building was one of the few that received little damage during the storm. Nestled comfortably between a dentist’s office and a Notary Public, Malcolm’s establishment was the only business that operated after dark. There had been a brief attempt to keep daylight hours by hiring an assistant, but that, Malcolm recalled bitterly, had ended in disaster.

This late, the building was as silent as the morgue. The sign on the door had a symbol of an eye with the words Malcolm Brady, Private Eye etcheted above and below the middle iris. He had been told the sign wasn’t catchy enough, but Malcolm didn’t care. Most of his clients were sent to him by referral anyway, supernatural cases Trixie couldn’t handle on her own or those in the vampire community who didn’t want to share their dirty laundry with others of their kind.

Malcolm unlocked the door and walked into the outer office area. It was everything a client would expect from a detective agency only less clean. There was a receptionist’s alcove-gone unused since his last incident with Dru-and a waiting area filled with half a dozen uncomfortable looking chairs. A few old magazines were gathering dust in a receptacle near the alcove, all of them dating from before the storm. The magazines and a few fake potted plants were Dru’s idea of infusing personality into the place. It would have made the office more homey if Mal had bothered to renew the subscriptions or dust the plastic foliage every once in a while.

Beyond the reception area was the door to the inner office, Mal’s office. It had an opaque window with his name written in black lettering. The inner office was sparsely furnished. According to Dru, it wasn't very homey. She had nagged him into replacing the cheap army surplus desk with something more professional and a padded chair that wouldn’t make the client squirm in discomfort, but she hadn’t convinced him into scraping his old rolling office chair. Malcolm had bought the thing in the fifties and it looked its age. The leather backing was patched up with duct tape in some places and the wheels made an ungodly squeaking noise when they rolled. It was a point of contention between the two of them, but he held on to it.

After she left, it became a point of pride. Dru may have screwed him over, she may have broken his heart, but by god he still had his ugly chair!

As he entered, he gazed morosely at the clutter on his desk. He had a ton of paper work to do. The inside of the dented file cabinet near his desk looked like a squirrel’s nest. It was the greatest irony that he could locate rare magical items and slippery rogue mages missing for decades but couldn’t find a file on any particular client if his life depended on it. Malcolm sighed. He was going to have to bite the bullet and hire a new assistant. He perked up when he remembered Alberta was looking for work. The arrangement would be perfect if he could keep her out of the Bohemian. Getting his office organized would be a bonus.

And she’s not mage, he thought. He couldn't find it in himself to be ashamed for thinking it.

Malcolm sat in his ugly chair and placed a call to El asking for Alberta, but the woman had yet to pay her a visit. He told her about the job offer and El promised to pass on the message. After that was out of the way, he debated over calling Mathias. The man was his client and Malcolm knew he would be waiting for a report, but he didn’t like being played.

He dialed Mathias’s number and relayed what he had been told by Sammy.

“Did you know the city was barred?” Malcolm asked, keeping his tone even.

“Not at the time I hired you,” said Mathias. “I only knew the city was being put under a net. I didn’t want my colleagues to know I was searching the area. One of my fellow mages is being a bit territorial.”

There was a sharp tone to Mathias’s words that interested Malcolm.

“Barring the city this thoroughly is unusual,” said Malcolm. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what’s so special about this rogue mage of yours?”

“Nothing concerning this barricade,” he said. Malcolm couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “She’s a witness to a murder that took place twenty years ago. The rogue was spotted in New Orleans and now she’s wanted for questioning.”

“Is she just a witness or is she a murder suspect as well?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Withholding information at this point could impede the investigation,” Malcolm said evenly. “Is it possible that your mage might have gone over to the Brotherhood?”

He sighed. “I wouldn’t have thought so.”

Mathias was definitely keeping something from him. Malcolm decided to let it go for now.

“I have something else I need you to look into,” said Mathias. “Some graffiti I found while looking through an old crime scene photo.”

“Is it occult?”

“I don’t know, but it might be connected with my rogue,” he said and paused, “possibly a rogue gang signature.”

“You still have the photo?”

“I’ll send it to you by e-mail.”

Malcolm sighed. He got along with his computer about as well as he got along with Lucas. The thing started for him first try this time and he checked his inbox to find a blown up copy of what looked like a gang sign spray painted on a brick wall. He frowned.

“The symbols look familiar, but I can’t seem to place it,” said Malcolm. “Where did you find this?”

“At the murder site in New Orleans twenty years ago.”

Malcolm took another look and grunted. “Well, I’ll check around, see what I can find. Is it alright if I show this to a friend of mine in the NOPD?”

Mathias paused. “As long as she can be discreet.”

Malcolm agreed and promised Mathias he would report back to him if Sammy contacted him. He ended the call. Malcolm e-mailed the crime scene photo to Trixie requesting information and turned back to his desk to get some paperwork done.

Malcolm was hunched over his desk, cursing the technology gods for the invention of the personal computer when he heard the echoing click of heels coming from the outside office. He was about to get up from his desk to see who it was, but the visitor entered without bothering to knock.

“Still haven’t hired a secretary, I see.”

Malcolm glared at the woman standing in front of his desk.

“No hello for an old friend, Malcolm?”

“Most of my friends don’t try to kill me.”

“That’s surprising considering—.”

“Considering I’m a vile creature that no god could possibly approve of?”

Dru gave him a lazy smile, “I was about to say considering what a complete dick you can be, but we can use your nasty comment if you like.”

“What do you want Dru?”

She took a seat without waiting to be asked, crossed her legs, and rested her delicate hands over the front of her skirt. Dru looked him over while his dark eyes pierced into her own, met them without blinking or hitched breath, but she couldn’t keep her heart from skipping a beat from looking at him. Malcolm considered it a small triumph that he still had some effect on her.

He rapped his fingers against his desk impatiently waiting for her to get to the point and tell him what she wanted.

“If you’re here to get your job back the position has already been filled,” he said trying to keep his eyes from wandering over her.

“Oh?” she said, with genuine interest and to Malcolm’s pleasure, a touch of jealousy. “I’m sure your new employee will be…adequate. Not as good as me, but then who is?”

“She’ll certainly be more trustworthy," said Malcolm with a cold grin, "but then, who isn’t?”

She stared at him through cool blue eyes that revealed little and gave him a charming smile.

“You don’t pay enough to keep me, anyway” she said and stood up restlessly. She roamed the office taking everything in, turned to the computer on his desk. She slid an index finger over the computer chassis and blew at the fine layer of dust. “This dinosaur is well on its way to becoming a paper weight. You really should have upgraded by now.”

Much to Mal’s consternation, the computer made an obscene groaning sound. The screen went hazy and died on him. He tried to fix the thing the usual way by cursing and smacking it around.

Dru made a disappointed tisking noise with her tongue. Mal gave her an evil look.

“I guess I don’t have your gift with electronics.”

She circled around him, making him uncomfortable as she stood directly behind him. Every muscle in his body tightened, as if expecting an attack. Dru reached around him with one arm resting against the back of his chair while the other reached past him. She pressed the power button and rebooted the machine. Her arms encircled him as she typed while peering over his shoulder. He could feel the tickle of her breath against the nape of his neck and it made something inside of him shiver with longing. Malcolm tried to calm his aching libido. The screen wobbled and cleared. After a while the broken dinosaur came back to life.

“Guess there’s still life in this old thing after all,” she whispered. The floral sent of her perfume was starting to make his head spin. Malcolm was grateful when she moved away from him and sat back down.

“What do you want Dru?” he asked once more with steel in his tone.

“A case has just been turned over to me,” she said, suddenly all business. “It’s big.”

“Vampire related?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m no longer in that division.”

“Oh, so there are divisions that don’t concern the killing of my kind? Who’d have thunk it.”

Her smile tightened. “We could sit here and argue over issues of morality in the supernatural world, but I don’t have the time to waste, and certainly it would be lost on both of us...don't you think?”

“Touché’.”

“I’m here to hire you.”

“That much I gathered. Are you planning to pay me this time?”

“Generously,” she said, the smile returned. “Of course, the Order will be footing the bill.”

“If you think your people can write a check big enough to convince me to help them you can leave my office right now. I’m not about to go hunting for someone’s hidey-hole so you can burn them out of it at high noon.”

“It’s not like the guy was a complete innocent,” she said, casually eyeing her nails. “He killed hundreds before I took him down.”

“And his last victim died over a hundred years ago,” Mal snapped. “He was reformed.”

“The Order has a long memory,” she said, turning those cool eyes back on him, “especially when a vampire kills a sanctuary full of nuns, two of which were our own people. We had council approval to kill him, but one of yours helped him escape. He was tried and convicted, and if this were a mortal we were talking about he’d still receive a death sentence, so don’t give me any of your reformed bullshit, Malcolm. Some crimes need to be punished, no matter how old.”

They sat in stony silence for what seemed like an eternity before she proceeded.

“As I said before, I’m no longer a hunter, at least, not a vampire hunter.”

“What do you hunt now?”

“Mortals.” She smiled when his angry expression melted into confusion.

“You kill humans now?”

She me made a rude noise. “No, Mal. I don’t kill them. I find them. The two I’m looking for aren’t ordinary mortals. They may be awakened sorceresses. At least, that’s what our seers are saying.”

Mal couldn’t hide his suspicion. Mages who could cast using split second concentration without the aid of hand signals, scrolls, or spoken spells were incredibly rare. Only a handful of mages had the ability, but most spent a lifetime of dedicated study to get that good. Even rarer were the mages that were born with the ability. Born sorcerers were highly prized in the supernatural world. They were also ruthlessly exploited when found by the wrong people.

And the chances of two surfacing in the same area at the same time were astronomical.

Mathias’s story of a rogue mage was more believable then this.

“You expect me to believe there are two awakened sorceresses in New Orleans?” he said with raised eyebrows, “awakened at the same time?”

“Twin souls,” Dru said, but didn’t give him any further explanation.

Malcolm decided to play along.

“What will you do once you find them?”

“Oh, the usual,” Dru said, waving her hand casually. “Thumb screws to start with followed by boiling oil and the order’s latest brainwashing techniques.”

She made a face when he didn’t laugh. “I’m kidding, Malcolm.”

“Why do I doubt that?”

She sighed. “We’ll find them. We’ll tell them what they are and what they can do. We will assure them they aren’t alone. Then they will be asked to join the Order. If they accept, they will each be given over to a mentor who will teach them to control their powers.”

“And if they don’t accept,” said Malcolm with a bland expression, “will you whip out the thumb screws, then?”

“No, but they will have to be watched,” she held up her hands defensively. “Don’t give me that look. It has to be done and you know it. If they turn out to be a danger to themselves or society, the two will have to be dealt with. You better accept that, Malcolm.”

He nodded, though he hated to admit that she was right.

“Why come to me?” asked Malcolm. “The Order has people that could find them faster than me.”

“Yes, but we believe they are located in vampire territory.”

Malcolm’s smile widened.

“The Council is being stubborn at the moment. They want to know why we want to search and my superiors would rather your people didn’t find out they have a couple of rich blooded mages in their area. They don’t want to step on any toes either, so I can’t perform the search until I get Council approval. My superiors thought it best if we used someone on the inside. Some one we could trust.”

“The Order trusts me,” he said with an innocent smile. “That’s good to know. For a moment there I thought it might have something to do with the barricade placed over the city.”

Her eyes didn’t give up so much as a flicker, but her fists clenched.

“You know about the barricade?” Her tone was smooth, and she fought to keep her hands flat in her lap. It was always fun to watch Dru attempting to dodge a bullet. “It was only recently enforced.”

He nodded in affirmation and waited to see how she would cover.

“Alright,” she said, apparently deciding honesty was the best policy. “I can’t search the city because doing so would leave me powerless. I was out of town when the barricade was put in place. I need you because I don’t have any other options open to me.”

“Send a hedge mage or a rogue.”

“I don’t trust rogues and I don’t think a hedge mage would be up for the job,” she said. “If something should go wrong—”

“I’m more expendable,” he said finishing for her.

“Harder to kill,” Dru corrected.

“And you’re certain these awakened are located in the city?”

“One hundred percent certain,” she raised her hands. “Don’t ask for details. I don’t have the authorization to tell you even if I did. They are there somewhere. That’s all I’m at liberty to say.”

“That doesn’t give me much to go on.”

Dru reached into her handbag and pulled out a pouch. She handed it to him reluctantly. “This might be of some help.”

The pouch was tied closed. He eyed the funny rune like writing burned into the bag with suspicion.

“What the hell is this?” he said, waving it at her.

“Be careful with that,” she hissed. “The bag is magically protected, but the scroll inside is not. Whatever you do don’t open the bag, not until you need it.”

“Why,” he raised an eyebrow, “is it set to explode?”

“No, but I’m only authorized to give you the one. Lose it or break it and I’ll have to clear it with the Circle before I can get another one. I really don’t need that aggravation.”

“The top dogs are in on this?”

“I told you this was big,” she said.

“Just how powerful are these two awakened supposed to be?” he asked warily.

Dru gave him another of her tight smiles.

“You’re not authorized to say, I take it,” he grunted. “How do I use this?”

“You take it to the area their aura was last sensed and open the bag. You’ll find a scroll inside—among other things. Just set the scroll on fire and the spell inside the bag will do the rest of the work.”

Mal frowned. Magic was rarely that simple. There was always some way the spell could back fire—especially if the user wasn’t a practiced mage. The fact that fire played a small part in triggering this particular spell did not bode well.

“What will happen once the scroll is burned?”

“The bag will neutralize their powers and you will be automatically drawn to the two. If they are in two separate locations, they will feel an irresistible urge to congregate. When you find them, call me and I’ll send a team to pick the two up.”

“What are the side effects?”

“No side effects,” Dru raised her fingers in a scout’s solute. “I give you my word.”

Malcolm grunted. “That gives me so much confidence.”

Dru’s lips stretched across her tight smile. She couldn’t have looked more ferocious if she had just grown fangs. “I am an adept level mage, sweetie. When I say there are no fucking side affects, I mean it.”

Mal held out his hands defensively. He had forgotten how proud she could get over abilities, but then she had good reason to be proud.

“I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did,” Malcolm said, surprised that he really meant it. “My apologies.”

Dru’s expression softened. She smiled the way she used to, the way she did before he found out she wasn’t what she claimed to be. The part of him that still loved her returned the smile.

“You are ever the gentleman, Malcolm. You haven’t changed a bit.”

There was a melancholy in her tone that told of a longing of her own. Maybe she still loved him too, in her own way. He wanted to say something to her, something that would make the old feelings stay, but she took that opportunity to rise from her seat. From her stance and the look in her eye, she was all business again.

“Bring the bag to this address,” she said handing him an envelope, “and report back to me once you’ve located the two. Don’t attempt to make contact with either of them. This is for your safety as well as theirs.”

“You said their powers would be neutralized,” he said, eyeing her with suspicion. “Why would they still be dangerous?”

Dru hesitated. “A born sorcerer carries a lot of potent magic. The bag may not work at all or it might lead you to them without making them powerless. They might realize what’s going on and panic. If they do it’s probably not their fault. Newly awakened are usually jumpy when they first show signs and without proper training to control their gifts…” Dru shrugged. “Just be careful. And remember, don’t open the bag until you’re in the area.”

He nodded.

“You shouldn’t have a problem finding the place,” she said. “It’s just down the street from that club El and Lucas bought.”

Mal nodded. “It opened last night. El’s in the middle of interviewing some of yours for keeper.”

Dru snorted. “I’d wish her luck, but god knows what she’ll end up with. Probably a poorly trained hedge mage who couldn’t evaporate water with a provided flame.”

Mal smiled.

“I’ll be seeing you Malcolm,” she said with a smile of her own.

Malcolm would never admit it, but he was lonely for her. His mind shuffled around for some excuse for her to stay that wouldn’t make him appear like he cared. She seemed to want it too, hesitated on her way out as if to say something, then wordlessly turned and walked out the door.

Later, when he had opened the envelope, Mal thought it was just as well Dru had left when she did. He wouldn’t have been able to hide the expression on his face when he discovered that the address she had given him was the same alley Max had been staked, the alley where a girl had been murdered. Malcolm wondered with some trepidation where Dru’s scroll would lead him and who it would lead him to.

Chapter Nineteen: Office Briefing

“Fighting in my club, allowing a mortal to see our true form, and getting staked!” El turned her eyes to heaven searching for a god that would show a vampire a little mercy. “Why me? Why my club?”

“It’s not my fault this fool doesn’t know how to behave in public,” Oliver waved a hand in Max’s direction.

Lucas had called them into his office and sitting at his desk, watched them line up while he glared with silent menace. He had learned a long time ago that people, living or undead, would tell you so much more than they wanted to reveal if you said nothing at all. Make them think you know something, he thought, and they’ll tell you everything you wanted to know. Oliver was defensive. El was put out. Max stood to the side and kept his mouth shut. He was looking everywhere but at Lucas. They were all on the receiving end of Lucas’s vicious glare.

“As part proprietor of this establishment,” Lucas finally began after they had quieted down, “it is my responsibility to make sure any unwanted attention is dealt with swiftly.”

He eyed El in silent accusation. She folded her arms over her chest defensively.

“What would you have me do, Lucas? Tear myself in two? I’m only one woman.”

“What were you doing in the hallway when you saw the girl walk by?”

El shrugged, “I was scolding Oliver for his behavior.”

“What was more important at the time?” Lucas glared. “Scolding Oliver or catching that mortal?”

“I tried to go after her—.”

“You wasted time searching for me, wasted effort trying to revive me, instead of going after the girl and dealing with her yourself. At the very least, you should have stopped Max from leaving the maze in the state he was in.”

Max shifted uncomfortably. Oliver snickered.

Lucas turned his gaze on Oliver. The glare he received was enough to wipe the smug look off of his face and would have been hot enough to burn him to ash.

“Oh come on!” Oliver shot back.

“Apart from your earlier display that distracted El from her duties in the first place,” El grinned and quickly stared at her feet before Lucas could turn on her, “you let the mortal get away, you allowed Max to be seen in a public place when he wasn’t fit to be seen, and you did nothing at all to help the situation.”

“How is any of this my responsibility?” said Oliver defensively. “This isn’t my club. Anyway, I helped El find you.”

“‘Maybe he’s in his office,’” El mocked. “‘You go find him. I’m not sticking around for the fall out.’”

Lucas glared at her. El looked away.

“If one of us is exposed we are all exposed.” Lucas paused. “I’ve received word from Collin. The Council has heard of our little fiasco last night.”

The mention of Collin’s name had El’s head snapping up. She uttered a curse in Japanese. Oliver uttered a curse of his own. If Max could have taken that moment to crawl under a rock, he would have done so gratefully.

“They are not pleased,” Lucas gave them a tight smile. “They are speaking of repercussions. Someone will be thrown to the fire before this is over.”

El and Oliver turned to Max who let out a frightened squeal.

“Is it really that serious?” asked Oliver. “We retrieved Max. Most of the mortals who saw him thought he was apart of the floor show.”

“Perhaps,” said Lucas, “but the girl is still missing and the murder in the alley where Max was found complicates things. I’ve received information that this murder was not a mugging gone wrong or some everyday ‘slash and dash’.”

Max stammered nervously, “Y-you don’t think—?”

Max snapped his mouth shut when Lucas turned to him.

“No Max,” Lucas said, deciding to be merciful. “I know you had nothing to do with the murder. I know this because I recall you have an alibi for at least two of the other three.”

It took a beat for the information to sink in.

“Other murders,” El repeated. “What other murders?”

“It turns out Max has stumbled upon the most recent victim of the Party Girl killer. The police believe the dead girl is his fourth,” Lucas explained. “Max was busy upgrading my computer system the night Angela Merici was killed and he was under constant watch around the time the Wyatt girl was killed.”

Max’s expression relaxed as he remembered the trial period he had to undergo when he was first brought under Lucas’s liege.

“I remember the first one was big news in the mage community,” said Oliver. “She was one of them.”

“The Wyatt girl?” said El, straining to recall. “She was killed just before Katrina hit us. A rogue, I believe.”

“I thought she was just a hedge mage,” said Oliver.

Lucas nodded. “She was stripped of power after being ostracized from the Order for fraternizing with infernals.”

“I heard she was kicked out for selling high level spells to magic brokers,” Oliver said. “The wizards frown on that sort of thing. She was lucky she wasn’t hunted.”

“I remember her now,” said Max who looked sheepish when the others stared at him. “Not that I bought anything off her or nothin’, it’s just that she was a serious party freak. Where ever Agatha went you knew there was a good time to be had.”

Max gave them the sad look of someone who had lost a kindred spirit, if not a soul mate.

“Miss Wyatt’s body was found in the same alley as the recent victim,” said Lucas, “killed in a similar fashion. It seems the police were correct in their past assumptions. She wasn’t one of ours.”

El and Oliver nodded. Everyone remembered the rumors flying around at the time. The mages believed a vampire had been the culprit because she had died in their territory. The vampire community thought the Order had finally had enough and killed her without enacting a hunt, hoping the vampires would get the blame. Word on the street was she was killed by a disgruntled client, or maybe the Infernals had grown tired of her. It really didn’t matter because the case was not pursued by the Order or the Council. Everyone was too busy recovering from the storm to care about one dead rogue mage.

“How does this affect our community?” El asked.

“It shouldn’t affect us,” said Lucas the steel back in his voice. “Rather, it wouldn’t affect us if the only possible witness hadn’t run off into the night. A witness who the police are currently eager to find,” he glared at Max. “A witness who has seen things she shouldn’t, things that could put the vampires of this community in danger of being exposed if they find her before we do.”

Max gulped.

“Will the Council send in a memory thief or will we have to pay for the service?” asked El.

“They are determined to keep this in house.”

Oliver shook his head. “But that would mean…”

“The girl is officially on the hunt list. She is to be hunted and killed.”

The trio was silent.

“I would think you would be more enthusiastic about this,” Lucas said, with a raised eyebrow and a tight sarcastic smile. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a good hunt and you all enjoyed the last one so.”

Max looked confused, not understanding what they were talking about. He hadn’t been apart of the community for the last hunt, but he had heard rumors. They said the hunted was a mage and that she had been accused of kidnapping a vampire and feeding from him. Nobody talked about it around Lucas, though. When ever Max asked, he was met by cool stares and was told to keep his mouth shut or he would be defanged.

Oliver fidgeted uncomfortably, but El only glared back.

“I believe we all remember the consequences of the last hunt, or should I call Malcolm to jog your memory?”

Lucas flew over his desk and grabbed El by the neck in such a split second hurry, even Oliver didn’t see his body move. El didn’t have a chance to defend herself. She struggled to remove herself from the grip of his hands with her legs flaying about in the air. Her eyes were wide with fear and pain.

“You will never speak to me again with such disrespect!” Lucas roared. His eyes glowed yellow, his fangs were fully extended. “Have I made myself clear?”

El’s throat was squeezed too tight for her to utter anything but the tiniest yelp. She couldn’t even nod. Oliver was smart enough to keep his distance, but he yelled at Lucas to put El down. Max watched with mouth agape. There was a snap of bone, El’s hyoid cracked loud enough for Lucas to hear. The sound of the bone snapping brought Lucas back to his senses. He released his grip. El crumbled to the floor.

“I want that mortal found and killed and I want evidence of the kill. Not an ear or her heart wrapped up in a box with a pretty bow. I want her fucking corpse on my desk. I want proof to bring to the Council that the job was done and I want it before the police track her down. I want it done before the rest of the community finds out about this. If they find her before you do—if we lose this club because of this…” Lucas’s tone was cold and even and the chill of it terrified even Oliver, “…foolishness, I will send the Council someone else’s corpse in her place. Have I made myself clear?”

Oliver, who had knelt down to help El up, turned to Lucas and nodded. Max added his own quiet yes sir. El lay crumpled on the floor like a broken doll. Her head was turned away, refusing to look him in the eye. Lucas turned away as well, his back towards them, his eyes glaring at the book shelf in front of him. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.

“Max,” Lucas said, and handed the boy the girl’s spectacles. “Can you use that computer of yours to trace these to their owner?”

Max looked pained. “I could try.”

“Do it. Question everyone who was here last night. Employees, patrons, vampires, and mortals, but do it quietly. She must be found.”

Lucas turned back to them, turned away from the bookcase. Something nagged at the back of his brain, something important. Had he not been distracted, he might have discovered an important item was missing from the book shelf in front of him. An item that couldn’t possibly be stolen.

Chapter Eighteen: Death Hunt; Quarantine

Lucas picked up the glasses from the carpet where the girl dropped them, turned them over in his hands. The world became slightly blurry when he peeked through them. She’ll need replacements, he thought. It might be one way to track her. Handing them over to Malcolm’s cop was the most logical option, but it was risky. The detective’s first priority was finding her murder witness. She would be hard pressed to give up whatever testimony she could squeeze out of the girl whose memory would have to be wiped of the night’s events. There was no way around that.

It didn’t help that while the logical part of his mind went over steps and scenarios, another part of him—the part that had little to do with thinking—remembered the kiss they shared with an unwanted longing. Lucas frowned.

The ringing of the phone on his desk brought him back to earth.

“You are in a lot of trouble, my friend,” said a pleased voice that melted the smile off Lucas’s lips.

“Collin.” Lucas didn’t bother to feign his enthusiasm. “To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”

Collin Lowery, the Elder’s newest favorite, was a constant irritation. He was a schemer, a fact Lucas knew the Elder was well aware of when he brought the boy over in the early twentieth. Collin had proven his worth when he compiled evidence of treachery against one of the ancient’s most powerful rivals on the Council. Lucas had known the man, suspected the allegations to be false, and made the mistake of speaking up for him during his trial. In the end, the vampire was forced to walk into the sun anyway and Lucas had earned the ire of his maker, much to Collin’s advantage.

“This situation is disgraceful, Lucas. Even for a dung heap such as the Bohemian, there are procedures to follow. Procedures that should have been put into affect the second you found that girl in your office.”

Lucas enjoyed the mental picture of bashing Collin’s head into a bloody bubbling puddle, but held his tongue. Patience was a lesson he had tried to foster in all the vampires that he had sired through the ages. The irony was not lost on him, that when it came to Collin or Council business, he had yet to learn it as well. He would need every ounce of patience to get through this phone call, especially if he wanted to keep his bid for the new Council seat alive.

Lucas had lived in the city for the past few decades, trying to keep a low profile while wooing the local politicians at the same time. Mortals were a nuisance, but he needed their officials under his sway. So far, he had almost total control of the CBD. It hadn’t been easy. Lucas had been forced to step on more than a few toes to get what he wanted and his section of the city was in close proximity of the Elder’s own territory, something that would make the ancient consider a threat to his powerbase. His kind didn’t like to share.

Collin knew this. Collin had a way of knowing things. He had his network of spies everywhere. One of which, no doubt, told him about last night’s little incident with Max. This Lucas had expected. What he had not expected—and he would find out—was how the bastard knew the girl had been in his office. It worried him that the blond haired girl might not have been the only one sneaking around the Maze last night.

He made a note to inform El that there just might be a spy amongst the staff. Tightened security would be priority number one at the next staff meeting.

“I followed procedure to the best of my ability,” said Lucas. “The situation is under control.”

“You call having one of our own staked and losing the girl who did it, under control? I’d hate to think of what you consider, pardon the phrase, a royal fuck up.”

Lucas didn’t bother arguing with him that Max was the one to blame for his own stupidity. Max, though not his child, was technically under his liege. Like any good general, he would take responsibility for the mistakes of his troops. Once Max was safe and sound back home, however, Lucas planned a bonfire all of his own. He fondly remembered the punishment for a Roman foot soldier caught sleeping on guard duty was to set the unfortunate, lazy soldier’s toga on fire.

“Max is being retrieved as we speak. My contacts in the mortal world—.”

“—are not your contacts,” Collin shot back. “Don't lie to me Lucas. No one working for the city morgue is under you thumb. These contacts belong to that misfit boy of yours. What does he do now?

“You’re spies couldn’t find that out, Collin?” Lucas smiled. “I’ll have to let Malcolm know. He’s a private detective. Perhaps he could offer you his services.”

“Yes, I remember now,” said Collin, not amused by the dig, “A bad move to trust him considering the bad blood between the two of you.”

“There is no bad blood,” Lucas said calmly, refusing to let that little twerp hear the frustration in his voice. “Malcolm and I have an understanding.”

“Yes,” Collin said, amused. “You understand each other enough to keep out of each other’s way. A smart move on your part, considering the boy has been hawking his services to anyone with the money to spend.”

“That’s usually what detectives do, Collin.”

“He works for mages, wolves, and mortals and does so without Council approval.”

“I see that as a problem for the Council, not mine. As I’m sure you know I broke all ties with the boy ages ago, only using him when absolutely necessary. He is no longer under my liege,” Lucas raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You have my full permission to put him on the hunted list, but please do wait until after I’m finished with him.”

“That, in a sense, is my problem,” said Collin. Lucas could practically see the fool frowning. “Every time I get close to putting his name on the list, he finds someone with enough clout to keep him out of harms way.”

Lucas resisted the urge to laugh. “Again, this is not my problem.”

“But the girl is your problem.”

“I understand, Collin,” said Lucas with a sigh. “I realize I will be forced to use my own expenses to cover the cost for the services of the memory thief. I will see that it is done immediately.”

“That won’t be necessary. As much as I would love to leave you with a bill to teach you a lesson for your disregard for the authority my status, the members of the New Orleans Council have decreed the girl should be dealt with the old fashioned way. Her description has been placed on the list. She is now under death hunt.”

Lucas was surprise by the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I believe this is a mistake,” he said.

“Are you questioning the authority of the Council?”

“The girl won’t be believed if she talks. If she does, I’ll say she was three sheets to the wind by the time she left. In a bar full of people dressed up as vampires—a good deal of which were mortal—it’s easy how the girl would become confused.”

“For someone who isn’t fond of mortals you seem keen on defending them. Perhaps that boy of yours has infected you with his mercy.”

Lucas’s expression tightened. “I’m more worried about the reputation of my establishment. One of my patrons is put on the list the day after opening night. The rest of the community will stay away.”

He needed the vampire community to keep the club going. Their revenue was secondary to the psychological pull they had on his customers. Mortals were subconsciously drawn to his kind, especially when they were hungry. A hungry vampire’s charisma could draw in a crowd faster than a rock star. It made it easier for them to feed. If the death hunt scared off his fanged clientele, his breathing clientele would soon follow and the club would be ruined. El would never let him hear the end of it.

It was El he was worrying over, not the girl.

“You should have thought of that before you let that mortal make a mess of things. At any rate, the fall out won’t be so bad on your part. The community won’t stay away forever.”

Only long enough to ruin me you son of a bitch, thought Lucas.

“Bodies are piling up in the city from what my sources say. What’s one more body?” Collin said gleefully. “And Lucas…”

Lucas set the glasses down gently on the desk and waited for Collin to continue.

“The Elder suggests you handle this matter personally. From what I’ve seen of your protégé’s handy work, I would tend to agree.”

He hung up before Lucas could have the last word. He returned the phone to its cradle and placed his palm over the girl’s glasses as he thought through his next move.

***********************************************************************

Bourbon Street was a bustle of drunken activity as Malcolm waded through the crowds. A street band whaled Jazz on a nearby corner competing with music from the surrounding clubs. Neon signs advertised the wares of strip joints, sex shops, and night clubs for tourists eager to part with their money. They did so eagerly, more than willing to help Bourbon Street live up to its sleazy reputation. Mal watched a group of women stumbling past him to cross the street and considered it lucky Bourbon was block off to traffic after dusk.

There was a line waiting to get into Razoo’s. A muscle bound bouncer with a handle ‘stash was checking IDs at the door. He glared at Mal as he approached.

“Back of the line’s that way buddy,” the bouncer said with a quick nod. The look in his eyes dared him to argue.

“I’m here to see Sammy.”

The bouncer’s lip curled as if he had just smelled something rotten. It was the common reaction when Sammy’s name was mentioned.

“You’ll see him quicker if you walk your ass to the back of the line and wait like everybody else,” the bouncer gave him the once over, didn’t seem impressed with what he saw. “Unless you think your special or something.”

The bouncer stared him down, challenging him. Mal had been prepared to slip the guy a bill to get in, reconsidered. When you only had a few hours of night to work with, time became precious, but Mal had met guys like this on the old western range. This one was a bully. Money wouldn’t talk to him, only muscle would.

Malcolm’s eyes glowed yellow for a fraction of a second and he gave the bouncer a sharp, toothy grin while grabbing the man’s wrist. Mal could hear the quickened thump of the man’s heart beat. It was amusing to watch the guy’s eyes bug out. He took a sharp inhale of breath as Mal squeezed the wrist. Not hard enough to break bone, just enough to leave a very memorable bruise.

“All God’s creatures are special,” Mal said with another flash of teeth, “don’t you think?”

The bouncer whimpered.

“Do you mind if I skip ahead,” Mal asked keeping pressure on the man’s wrist. “I’d really appreciate it. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

The bouncer’s head nodded quickly. Malcolm smiled and released his hand. The bouncer rubbed his aching wrist and let Malcolm pass while the people at the front of the line muttered and cursed.

Inside, a pair of male oriental twins entertained the crowd while prancing flamboyantly on the stage near the bar. They wore matching gold lame’ hot pants, purple sequined crop top, and a green feather boas around their necks, the official colors of Mardi Gras. They gyrated on stage while belting out Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls”.

Malcolm waded through the crowd to the outside courtyard. There were more people milling about, but the crowd was thinner here. He spotted Sammy sitting by the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. A brunette was hanging on his shoulder and a blond was sitting in his lap. Both ladies were buxom, beautiful, and clinging to Sammy as if he were male ambrosia. The idea was laughable. Sammy was a living warning to all expectant mothers to just say no to drugs. Malcolm was a great believer in the saying that beauty was only skin deep, but Sammy was ugly to the bone. The man didn’t have a face, he had a mug. It was the kind of face you saw on wanted posters and mug shots. His eyes were almost bigger than the rest of him and were the same dirty dish water color of his thinning head of hair. He had a winning smile, with a mouth full of crooked yellow teeth that reeked of halitosis.

Sammy whispered something into the blonde’s ear that made her giggle. Her eyes were dilated. She might have had one too many drinks, but Malcolm would have laid money that the woman was on something no bartender or ordinary pusher could supply.

“Long time, no see Sammy,” said Malcolm eyeing the two girls. “You still selling love in a bottle or did you win these two over with your charming personality?”

Sammy smirked as the brunette nibbled one of his earlobes.

“What can I say? The chicks dig the Sam man.”

The two girls burst out into a fresh batch of giggles.

Definitely from a bottle, thought Malcolm.

“Send the bimbos away,” he said.

The girls let out an insulted grunt, but Sammy did as Malcolm commanded. The two detached themselves reluctantly. Sammy slapped the blond on the ass as she walked away. This earned him another burst of giggles as opposed to the stomp to the crotch Malcolm felt he deserved.

“Why do you even bother?” Malcolm said watching the two women saunter off. “It’s not like you can do anything with them.”

“Just because my bodily fluids are acidic doesn’t mean I don’t have a libido,” Sammy said. “Besides, I don’t have to do the horizontal mambo to get my rocks off. Feeding off the lust of mortals is so much more satisfying.”

Malcolm stared at him for a beat. “You really are such a slime ball.”

“You here to buy or to hassle me?” asked Sammy with the wary eyes of the typical shady character.

“I’m here for some information.”

“Buying then. I’ll tell you what I can…if the price is right, of course.”

Malcolm recognized the game and slipped him a fifty. Sammy pocketed the bill and smiled.

“What do you want to know?”

“Has anybody come to you with any unusual orders lately?”

Sammy shrugged. “Most of my orders are tinged with the strange and unusual. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Masking spells, portal spells, anything a mage might need to get out of town in a hurry without being detected,” said Malcolm. “The order might have been placed by a woman in her mid to late forties. Dark eyes, dark hair possibly graying.”

“I don’t rat on the clientele for anything less than a hundred.”

Malcolm glared at him. Sammy nearly fell into the fountain.

“Just kidding man,” he said, waving his hands defensively. “Not that it makes much difference since there’s nobody to rat on. Nobody’s placed that kind of order for weeks.”

“Guess I wasted a Grant,” said Mal and turned to leave.

“I got something else,” said Sammy, “something juicy.”

Malcolm turned back to him. “Juicy as in?”

“Money first.”

“Information first,” said Malcolm. “If it helps me out then I’ll pay.”

“I just bet you were hired by some high and mighty wizard,” Sammy said with a knowing grin.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. He didn’t know how high and mighty Mathias was, but he knew the man was no novice.

“Maybe he told you he didn’t have any contacts in the city or he was too busy to go trolling around New Orleans looking. Am I right?”

“I don’t give out information regarding my clients.”

“You don’t have to,” said Sammy. “I can tell you why your wizard hired you…if the price is right.”

“Why are you so sure I’m working for a mage?”

Malcolm gave Sammy a long look. The expression on the broker’s face was greedy and smug. Sammy held out his empty palm. Mal handed him another bill.

“Your mage hired you because the entire city of New Orleans is under quarantine.”

Malcolm shrugged. “That isn’t surprising. The Order is after a rogue mage, possibly a murderer. They always place a net around an area when they go hunting for someone.”

“That net may be surrounding the city, but the wizards won’t be able to close it. Not until the Council okay’s it.”

“How would that stop my client?”

“It wouldn’t,” Sammy said flashing those crooked teeth, “if the city wasn’t under a barricade.”

Malcolm frowned.

“The Council is barring the city?”

“I’m talking total quarantine here,” said Sammy. “Nothing higher than a hedge mage can set foot in the city without losing their juice.”

Malcolm shook his head, puzzled. Telling the Order to stay out was one thing. Magically barring them was another. The Council would either be forced to go through rogues—few of whom had the juice to keep the Order out of the entire city—or forced to hire Infernals. Infernals were expensive. Infernals were devious. The only reason the Council hired them after the blood ban went into effect was because there were no other options.

“This doesn’t make sense,” said Malcolm. “Why would the Council go through so much trouble to barricade the city? No vampire wants a psychotic rogue mage in their territory. Even if the rogue is made powerless by the barricade it’s still a waste of time and money.”

“I wouldn’t say your rogue is powerless.”

Malcolm stared at him. “You said nothing higher than a hedge mage can enter the city.”

Sammy grinned. “The barricade only affects you if you enter the city. I was here when the shit hit the fan so I’m still juiced.”

“I bet business is booming,” said Malcolm sardonically.

“I’m making money hand over fist,” Sammy grinned. “It’s just me and a handful of brokers to scrape up the profits.”

“So there’s a wanted mage in the city who’s possibly still juiced and the Council is keeping the Order out,” said Malcolm shaking his head. “What do you know that my client hasn’t told me?”

“I don’t know anything about your rogue or if she has anything to do with this barricade,” Sammy shrugged, “but I do know whatever is up has got a lot of tails twitching in the Brotherhood.”

Malcolm reached into his bill fold for another fifty, but Sammy stopped him with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t know anything solid yet. I’ve just heard a few rumors amongst the infernal prognosticators about something big happening.”

“How big?”

“Bordering on the cataclysmic.”

Mal snorted. “Moon turning to blood and all that crap?”

“Don’t know. The soothsayers are usually chatty with their doomsday predictions. Makes them feel useful when business is slow. This time they’re playing it close to the vest which means the upper echelon are keeping them muzzled. Literally. The one prognosticator I tried to pry for info went mute on me when she tried to tell me what was up. Her vocal cords shriveled up inside her throat,” Sammy shivered. “If they aren’t talking it’s because the boys downstairs are planning something or they’re worried. Either way, they aren’t letting the little guys in on the fun.”

Malcolm cursed silently to himself. Being kept in the dark by a client bothered him. Being kept in the dark by a client who happened to be a mage enraged him. Mathias was one of the few he thought he could trust. What was the old wizard keeping from him? More important, what did the Infernal Brotherhood have to do with any of this?

“The Brotherhood’s main goal is bringing hell on earth,” said Malcolm eyeing Sammy with suspicion. “You don’t seem too enthused over this possibility. Why risk giving me this information?”

“I’m not looking forward to Armageddon like the rest of those brimstone farting bastards if that’s what you mean,” Sammy said with a dark look.

He grinned in response to Malcolm’s skeptical expression. “Don’t look so shocked. I may be half demon, but I’m human too and I like this place just the way it is.”

“You’ll keep your ear to the ground for me?”

Sammy nodded. “Anything to keep the bastards from taking over is doing me a favor. I hear going through all eternity without central cooling is real bitch.”