Days 21-23: 3,690 words; 37,026 total

Part 8: Animal Sacrifice

Thursday afternoon, I was close to poking my eye out.

Alhambra's not as dressy as formal occasions at Darkspring Manor, but it still warranted a bit more attention to my looks than a day at the office. This year, the modern mage fashions ran to modified Golden Age Hollywood chic, and while at least I didn't have to look up the way it had to look, since it had been in vogue right when I'd first arrived in America, the makeup was way more than I usually wore. This was my third attempt at getting the sharp double eyeliner on the eyes right.

I heard a snicker, and threw the eyeliner in that direction without looking.

Anton caught it in mid-air. "Is this a cry for help?"

"If you can do it while keeping my eyeballs intact, that's more than I can do." I eyed his full business drag. "Aren't you supposed to be heading to work soon? Or was the office gossip about the early date with Michael Ianovich not on the mark?"

"The date's on Sunday, tonight it's just boring accounts work." He came up and held my chin as he put the eyeliner way too close to my corneas. I closed my eyes and tried not to twitch. "I'd rather get there after sunset, just in case he does dig up something that shouldn't be dug up and I need to put the voodoo on him to make him forget."

"I thought there wasn't anything for him to dig up?" Kirill was now standing in the door to the bathroom as well, which made the place rather crowded. "Or what am I paying you for?"

"Standing around looking good," Anton shot back. "Besides, you were the one who wanted me to dump the assassin gig."

I glared at them both with my freshly made-up eyes. "Guys..."

Kirill caved in first. He came over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "Are you sure you should go alone?"

"It's just coffee in Alhambra. If that place isn't safe, I don't know what is." I put my hand over his. "Relax. You'll drive me there, Skyler'll pick me up, and all I'm doing is meeting Natalie for coffee."

"Who's Natalie anyway?" Anton had been ensconced with Holcombe and his crew all night, and he'd missed the round of introductions.

"A student from Finisterra. She's writing a thesis on Nightfolk commerce, with New Granada as her study ground," Kirill explained.

"Innocent as a lamb, blonde like a wheat field, and if she's writing a thesis, I'm the Empress of China." I caught Kirill's eyes in the mirror as I put the finishing touches to my hair – for once behaving, due to prolonged torture with tongs – and I winked at him. "On second thought, Kirill Yevgenyevich, I think you should drag her into bed. She needs someone to open her eyes, before something takes them out."

"On second thought," he told me with utter seriousness, "I have decided she's too flighty for me. I prefer people you can hold a conversation with."

"Or at least a screaming row?" I handed him a silver seal-of-Hermes pendant and lifted my hair so that he could fasten it around my neck. "She'd be likely to faint within the first five minutes."

"Or at the sight of blood?" Anton looked amused. "If I were you, father, I'd stick to people who can keep up with you."

"Look who's talking, Junior." I'd had about enough of his smugness. "First librarians, now a Daylighter accountant – you're not exactly going for challenging prey here."

"Not all things are hereditary." Anton licked his lips. "And helpless prey has its advantages."

"You're hopeless at times," Kirill told him matter-of-factly. "And you don't want to know what your latest dalliance is costing me as a forfeit."

Anton fled the room with a disgusted hiss about people betting on his sex life, so I decided not to tell him about the office pool.

Once Kirill and I did get to Alhambra, I could pass easily – I'd nailed the style of the average modern hermetic groupie – but he drew stares. Alhambra's a mostly traditional crowd, since you're much more likely to run into the cutting-edge people in places like Charlie around St Germain, and vampires didn't show their faces here much.

He eyed the mages in the entrance hall with a small smile that stopped just this side of showing fangs. I could hear the ripples going through the crowd.

"So much for keeping a low profile," I muttered.

"Will it be a problem?" He sounded distracted, probably by glaring at a gaggle of grumpy shamans that were muttering about abominations and enemies of mankind.

I shrugged. "It's not like it's news. Have fun at work."

"Take care of yourself." He brushed his lips across mine.

On impulse, I put my hands around his neck and gave him a proper kiss that he returned without hesitation. If the magical fossils considered me a vamp slut either way, might as well show them what I was getting out of it.

Kirill let go of me, threw a last smug look at the gaping faces in the crowd, and turned on his heel. If he'd been wearing a cape, I'm sure he wouldn't have resisted the temptation to snap it as he walked out the door.

I threw the crowd a challenging look myself, and it was a pleasure to see them giving me a wide berth as I walked into Alhambra proper. I wondered if they were afraid I had vamp cooties.

Someone whistled behind me. "Hey, Malory, wait up!"

I turned and saw Everett, a seedy character dabbling mostly in the witchy side of things. A rat, but several classes higher than the late unlamented Olson, mostly due to the fact he knew how to make contacts and find favors to do for people. Funny, too, at times, and I let him catch up to me before I started up the stairs to the refreshment chambers. Ahead of us, the walls of inner Alhambra glittered in perfect recreation of the original gardens, every enchantment placed in the exact same place by refugees who remembered the Caliph's courts themselves.

"What was that about?" Everett wheezed. He needed to lay off the cigarettes, or pay a better alchemist to fix him up. "I thought you were working for the bloodsuckers, not fucking them." He hadn't seen me with Kirill before – not exactly the same social circles.

"No reason not to do both." I looked around – I was a little early, so I wasn't surprised there was no sign of Natalie. "You mind?"

"Hey, you know me, moving on with the times. Live and let live and all that shit. Just gives a new perspective to all that talk about the Quill Killer."

"Quill Killer?" We were in one of the higher courtyards, and I zeroed in on a fountain-side bench just as a pair of grey-bearded Kabbalarians rose from it. "What do you mean?"

"That's what they call those things, all those people disappearing." Everett lit up, ignoring my scowl. Working with vampires has done wonders for my sense of smell. "'Cause it's like a conspiracy story from one of those books, with that big quill on the cover?"

I stared at him in incomprehension for a few moments before I made the connection. Both of Ralph Green's books featured quills prominently on the cover – The Buonarotti Cipher, anachronistically signing the Sistine Chapel with Michelangelo's name, The Marlowe Tract, dripping blood over a manuscript of Faustus. There was also a quill in the Magdalene Publishing logo. "Okay, but Killer? It's just been kidnappings."

Everett's flighty eyes stilled for a moment. "Wake up and smell the blood, Malory. Can't you feel it? Everyone knows. They just do."

I shook my head. "Everett, I haven't been in touch for a while. Everyone knows what?"

"That there's something big. And someone's going after the people who might stop it. Doesn't make sense to leave them alive." He lowered his voice. "Mal, is it true they've got a Tribunal agent on it?"

"No, Ev." I looked down at my fingers, snake-still. "But yeah, the Tribunal's aware of things. There's nothing concrete to call in an agent about."

The strap of my handbag rubbing against my shoulder, that thing still inside it, Rachel Malory either telling stone truth or lying through her fangs depending on the way you looked at it.

"The vamps got you to dig into this, didn't they?" For some reason, Everett brightened up. "Because you do that both-worlds thing. That's good."

"How come?" I smiled, felt the warm Alhambra air again. The fountain was perfumed with rosewater.

"You get stuff done." He gestured with his cigarette. "And there's not much left once you're through, right? That's what the place needs."

I laughed. "Did anyone ever tell you that you suck eggs at kissing ass?"

"Just the ladies I got to know better." He leered at me; the expression was patently ridiculous on his rodent-like face.

I made the sign against the evil eye. "Enough. I'm doing my best either way. Now, scram, because my date's here."

Natalie was indeed making her way hesitantly towards us through the crowd. Everett looked as if he wanted to hang around and get introduced, but a glare sent him running without even a comment on my sexual habits. This meant that he was rattled.

I wondered what were the implications of that. Everett might be a rat, low-level and only staying afloat through his wits, but wits he had, and rats do know about storms.

"Hello." Natalie was wearing a white dress with blue trim, her hair plaited around her head in a crown. I wondered if the Ukrainian allusion was unconscious, or if she'd read up on my origins. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"No way, I was early." I rose from the bench and led the way to a coffee house, one that had not heard of frappucinos and tended to treat request for venti beverages with the kind of curses that made your nose fall off. "Gave me a chance to catch up on the local gossip."

"This place is lovely." She did not sound overawed, though that was to be expected – the ever-revolving citadel of Academia Finisterra, with its thousand chambers of wonders, tends to leave the graduates a little jaded. "It looks like every mage in New Granada is here."

"Hardly," I told her. "We're not especially social at the best of times, and this side of the pond, add the individualistic American Dream to the usual ivory tower. It might seem a lot, but most people stay at home or mingle with the Daylighters instead."

"It hardly seems possible. There are shops, restaurants, living quarters - you could spend your whole life here."

"Some people do." I ordered coffee for both of us by pointing at the menu. My spoken Arabic has never been anything to brag about.

Natalie found us a table. "I'm very grateful you agreed to meet me."

"Nothing to it." I kept my curiosity about the motives behind her invitation to myself.

"I'm really grateful for our talk yesterday." She looked at me with those innocent blue eyes that were starting to grate on me. "There's so much about New Granada that I need to learn – America seems to be very different from Europe. I wonder if it's the presence of the Tribunal that does that."

"They're just as prone to coming down like a hell-fire storm on Concordat infringers here, no matter where they're based," I pointed out. "Trust me, people are still afraid of them. If I were to choose a region without much respect for the Tribunal, I'd go for Asia, especially Russia. Between the schism, the reds and the vamp presence, mages have other things on their minds there."

"Do you think that's wise? I mean, the Tribunal not interfering there?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, I've never had a Russian passport. I'm Lvov-born, but I left it as a kid, and it was Polish then. I've been there a few times recently, but I just tagged along with Kirill and took care of the wards. Most sightseeing I got was when we went horse-riding at Rossov Hall."

"I was just wondering. Whether they're going to come here about the killings." Her fingers played with the tassels of the tablecloth, knotting the individual strands into a neurotic macramé.

"You've heard about these? Right now it's all Nightfolk business. I guess it might be a matter of scale." I nodded at the waiter as he placed our coffees on the table. I picked up the petite cup, letting the hot china warm my fingers. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

"Why not?"

Sharp, too sharp, and those innocent eyes were shining a bit too bright. I pushed the snake back and unclenched my fingers from around the cup. There was a hairline crack in the enamel on the china.

"Because they leave a mess for others to clean up." A blink, and my hand was wrapped around her wrist. Gently, thus far. "If we're playing Truth or Dare, how about letting me have my turn once in a while?"

She kept stock-still. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"What have you been hearing from people?"

"That there are many mages missing, and three werewolves, but just one vampire, one that was only Changed a month ago."

"Let me guess." I knew that tune. "The vampires are behind it. It's all a sleazy bloodsucker plot to take over New Granada. And turn everyone into blood cattle, dazed and doing their cruel masters' bidding."

By the way she blushed, I could tell I'd nailed it.

"I guess the fact they tried to kill me, too, hasn't made the gossip circuit yet." Natalie's mouth opened in a perfect O. I felt the pulse in her wrist galloping under my fingers. "You should take acting lessons. You show too much, little one."

That got her out of her shock. "I'm not little," she objected.

"Figuratively speaking." I let my eyes slide down to where her dress hugged her not-too-insignificant breasts. "I'm sure you're perfectly mature in other ways."

"Rachel!" She blushed. "I mean, Miss Mallory."

"Rachel," I told her firmly. "Get used to that, if you're going among vampires."

"I already noticed that yesterday." If anything, her blush intensified. "I mean, I'm not used to people commenting on my looks so much."

"It's usually meant kindly. Trust me, if a vampire doesn't like the way you look, he'll tell you – or just correct it himself, so get used to being touched, too. Looks are a big thing, part of the whole style."

"I've read about that. Nothing's as important as maintaining style, right?"

"It's a balance – a game, and learnable." I let go of her hand and ran my fingers through my hair in a studied, slow-motion gesture I'd learned from Arthur, arching my wrist to reveal the ear and finishing by trailing the tips over my neck. "Something like this can give you power in a social situation – people look at your hands, are distracted, give you time to think and plan. On top of it, this one draws attention to the neck and the fact you're comfortable with revealing it in this company, so you don't consider other vampires present a threat, either because you trust them or because you trust yourself to kick their asses if needed be. The end effect is about the same as the growling and wrestling that werewolves do, but a lot more fun. And possible for a human to learn in ways that don't involve loss of limbs."

"The way you tell it, it doesn't sound that different from hermetic hierarchy rituals. Who you talk to, the jewelry you wear, things like this."

"Compared to vampires, Finisterra's full of kindergarteners playing house. The Tribunal, they're closer to having a grasp on things."

"How come you know?" She couldn't resist the bait I'd dangled in front of her. It was like a kitten chasing yarn.

"Wouldn't you like to know." I cuffed her gently on the shoulder. "Drink your coffee, it's getting cold."

It wasn't anywhere near cold, not in the enchanted cups, and I was treated to a spectacle of coughing as Natalie managed to burn her tongue and throat at once. I never claimed not to be a bit of a vengeful bitch, after all.

I took pity on the girl and fetched a glass of cold water with a few drops of a healing draught. She took it from me gratefully.

"Was that an object lesson in keeping on my guard?"

"Mostly. And my weird sense of humor." I hoped no permanent damage had been done. "Want to walk it off?"

Natalie looked like a kitten who had just fallen into a full bathtub. "That might be a good idea."

I might think that Alhambra's the abode of enough stuffy academics to keep the world's taxidermy industry busy for a decade, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate its architecture. You could spend hours just looking at the lattices and columns in one courtyard out of a hundred or more. And in the less-frequented passages, the sound of water could lull you to sleep before you had the time to think about coffee.

We didn't get that chance. We barely got three chambers out of the commercial section when a flutter of wings announced the arrival of a search-bird, an artificial construction resembling an underfed blackbird and with much lower intelligence. I grabbed it by the neck as it tried to sit on my shoulder.

"What now?" I barked.

"Lady. Malory. Is. Requested. In. The. Aula. Magisteriae." The bird's staccato grated on my ears. "Lady. Malory. Is..."

I snapped the bird's neck and turned to Natalie. "If you'll pardon me? Some people haven't learned about e-mail yet."

"Sure." She smoothed out her skirt. "See you some other time? His lordship – I mean, Prince Arthur, invited me to spend the weekend at Darkspring Manor, so it won't be out of your way."

"It'll be my pleasure." I sketched a casual bow and skipped off with the limp form of the artificial bird in my hand.

The Aula Magisteriae is another example of design by committee – in this case a bunch of hermetic mages taking offense at the overwhelming Moor and alchemical character of the Alhambra. In an attempt to soothe their offended prides and get them to get rid of the demons lurking behind every column, three rather charming courtyards on the outer rim, fortunately not part of the meticulous recreation, had been demolished in order to make way for a grand hall full of the draperies, bones and tortured metal that hermetic mages like best. It looked as if a freak djinn had picked up a storage room at Academia Finisterra and dumped it in the middle of the Aladdin section of a Disney theme park.

It's usually the abode of whatever high-ranking hermetic manages to dump the competition into pentagrams this month, and since the last time I'd checked that status had been proudly held by Alcibiades, a perennial contestant in that particular game, I was surprised not to see him among the small group waiting for me. There were six people sitting in the high chairs at the throne end of the room. I recognized two of them as Muriel Phearieal and Laocoon, a pair of ambitious hermetics that had both had their turns in the high chair, but the four others did not pay homage to Hermes Trismegistos at all. They were the ones who had been there at Arthur's council.

Jake opened the proceedings without preamble. "Magister Alcibiades is missing, and his laboratory has been searched. We thought Prince Arthur should know about this."

I reacted instinctively, drawing up all the formality at my disposal as a response to the out-of-order situation. "I shall convey this message to the investigator the joint council has chosen."

"The investigator the Prince of vampires has appointed." Muriel's voice made it clear she subscribed to the vampire conspiracy theory.

"The time has come for more decisive action than visiting crime scenes," one of the women – Esther Holz, Willem's niece, I remembered – put in. "Every day makes it more likely that it's murder, not kidnapping."

"The two are not mutually exclusive. I am sure that Genevieve – Lady Sands – is near to tracking down whoever is behind this."

Everyone spoke at once.

"Your assurance-"

"Vampire-"

"Lives mean nothing-"

I gave up on untangling the shouts and thought about Genevieve, coked-up and human with the barest touch of magic, with her twisted mind that might not be twisted enough. I thought about Rachel Malory, frozen in indecisiveness as she gave up control, a china figurine on a vampire's mantelpiece, going through motions and explaining the facts of life to bumbling spies when she could- she could-

"The matter will be resolved." I pitched my voice to carry, and it echoed in the Aula Magisteriae, rattling the demon skeletons and the rune stones on the shelves. "I will see to it. Personally."

There must have been something in my voice, or maybe in the way the search-bird's neck crumbled under my hand, because none of them spoke a word.

I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room. My mind was whirring, flashing up images and ideas and plans, and I didn't realize that I'd taken out my phone and dialed Skyler's number.

"I need transport. Alhambra, south entrance. Now."

"Sure, boss." The cell phone made his voice flat, tin-like. "Twenty minutes, tops. Listen, I'm at your place right now, feeding the cats. Your neighbor's asking about you, that blondie with all the pink? What should I say?"

My tongue flicked out to lick off a drop of blood where I'd bitten my lip. "That I'll be home tomorrow night."

It would be over by then, if I had anything to do with it.