Autumn Bones

Twenty-five

For another half hour, the coven discussed the specifics of implementing their various plans of occult protection. I listened and made mental notes on the individual members and their different areas of expertise, figuring it was all good input for my thus-far-hypothetical database.

Hey, I’d promised to keep confidentiality, but I hadn’t promised not to make a record of what I learned. It might be useful someday.

At quarter after eight, I excused myself. “Cas, I’ve got to leave. Sorry, but duty calls. You said someone could give Sinclair a ride home?”

“I’ll do it,” Kim McKinney volunteered, smiling sidelong at Sinclair. “No problem.”

He smiled back at her. “Thanks, sistah.”

The Fabulous Casimir spread his fingers. “Et voilà.”

It’s not like I had any right to complain. I was the one who’d broken up with Sinclair, and I was the one to arrange this meeting. Now that he was back on the market, I couldn’t blame Kim for flirting with him.

Still, it gave me an inward pang.

Of course, that was offset by the fact that I was meeting with my childhood crush and sometime partner in police business, Officer Down-low himself. Too bad we were headed out to Twilight Manor to locate a missing kid. Not exactly a fun date.

I called Cody from Casimir’s driveway. He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Pixy Stix. Ready?”

“Yep.”

Unless I imagined it, there was a faint sigh of relief on Cody’s end. No matter what he’d said, no one in their right mind wanted to enter the House of Shadows without backup. I know, I’d done it. “Meet me at the gas station on the corner of Sixty-fourth Street,” he said. “I’ll pick you up. If you’re coming as Hel’s liaison, I think it’s best if we present a united front.”

“See you in five,” I said, and ended the call.

One thing about living in a small town: It’s easy to estimate travel time. Five minutes later, I pulled alongside the squad car in the parking lot of Pineview Gas & Convenience.

Leaning over, Cody opened the passenger-side door for me. “So what was this important appointment you couldn’t reschedule?”

I slid into the seat. “None of your business.”

“I heard you broke up with the fake Jamaican,” he said. “I heard he’s not so fake, and his baggage is a problem.”

I gave Cody a sharp look. “Did the chief talk to you?”

“He worries.” Cody gave me a scowl in return. “I just wish the timing was better, Daise. Whatever’s going down with this sister of Sinclair’s, I wish it wasn’t happening around the full moon.”

“Yeah?” I buckled my seat belt. “Me, too. But right now, we’ve got a missing kid to worry about, right?”

“Right.”

The House of Shadows was located on a huge piece of property out in the countryside, not far from the lakeshore. Depending on how far the actual boundaries of Little Niflheim extend, it might be situated atop the underworld itself. It was purchased in the 1940s by the mistress of the manor, the beautiful, wealthy, and undead Lady Eris, who promptly moved her brood of a dozen or so vampires into the place. I’m not sure what their number is today, although it hasn’t grown as much as one might think. Vampires form blood-bonds with their chosen mortals, but they’re very picky about who they actually turn. Bethany Cassopolis’s undead paramour had been stringing her along for eight years.

For the record, I’d done some research into breaking the blood-bond. So far, the only method I’d found other than killing the vampire in question was a massive blood transfusion, which wasn’t exactly a procedure that could be done on an unwilling subject.

Anyway, the House of Shadows was awake for the night, blackout curtains drawn, lights ablaze. I checked the zipper on the collar of my motorcycle jacket as Cody pounded the door-knocker.

“Yes?” The blond vampire who opened the door a crack sounded annoyed. Maybe it was because he’d been stuck on reception duty for years.

“Pemkowet PD.” Cody held up his badge. “We’re looking for a sixteen-year-old girl who’s gone missing. I have reason to believe she may be on the premises.”

Over Cody’s shoulder, I saw the vampire’s eyes narrow. Without thinking, I kindled the merest spark of a shield, holding it in my thoughts. “I assure you, Officer, there are no minors here.”

“I’d like to have a look.” Cody’s voice sounded casual, but there was tension in the line of his back.

“Do you have a warrant?” the vampire inquired, curling his lip to reveal the tips of his fangs.

“Even better.” I stepped out from behind Cody so the doorkeeper could see me, raising my left hand to display Hel’s rune. “He’s got me.”

Maybe it was because I was bolder with Cody at my side and a psychic shield at the ready, or maybe it was because the word was out that I’d used dauda-dagr to dispatch two ghouls since last I’d been here, but the doorkeeper backed down a lot more quickly this time. “Wait here,” he said with resigned disdain, ushering us into the foyer. “I’ll announce you to her ladyship.”

We waited.

The sound of classical music drifted in fits and starts down the majestic stairway that led to the grand ballroom on the third floor. It sounded like a string quartet rehearsing rather than a party in full swing, which is what I’d encountered the last time I’d been here. Periodically the music would stop, and we could hear someone issuing arcane instructions that hovered on the verge of audibility.

The doorkeeper returned. “Lady Eris will receive you in her sitting room,” he announced. “She is not pleased by the early hour of your visit.” He flashed another hint of fang tip. “You recall what passed the last time you displeased her, Hel’s liaison?”

“I remember.” Not as much had happened as he thought, actually, but I’d let Lady Eris save face in front of her minions in exchange for a temporary no-hunting decree. “But it was just after sunset that time, too.”

The vampire heaved a sigh, a disconcerting sound in someone who breathes only in order to speak. “When the nights are short, we make the most of them. As they begin to lengthen, we enjoy a more leisurely pace.”

“Some of us daywalkers don’t have that luxury,” Cody said in one of his more laconic tones.

The vampire glanced at him, his eyes narrowing again. At a guess, he’d identified Cody as eldritch, but hadn’t placed him yet. “Follow me.”

We followed him up the staircase to the second-floor landing, turning off down a hallway lit by sconces with fluted lamps of mauve glass. It made Cody’s healthy complexion—and probably mine—look sickly, but it created a pleasing effect on the bloodless alabaster pallor of our guide. I wondered how any non-Caucasian vampires in the House of Shadows felt about Lady Eris’s choice in lighting.

Our guide halted before the door of the master bedroom, knocking on it once. “Hel’s liaison,” he intoned. “And some cop.”

Huh. Maybe he wasn’t quite so ye olde world as he acted.

The door was opened from within. Lady Eris—which, no, I don’t believe for a moment is her real name—was seated on an ornate padded stool being groomed for the night’s revels. She wore a deep crimson satin dressing gown trimmed with black lace that, frankly, reminded me a lot of what the Fabulous Casimir was wearing tonight. One attendant was brushing out her long, jet-black hair while another knelt with one of her ladyship’s elegant white feet in her lap, assiduously applying toenail polish.

“Daisy Johanssen,” she said in flat acknowledgment. At least she wasn’t pretending not to remember my name.

“Hi,” I said.

Her ebony-dark gaze shifted to Cody, one eyebrow arching. “And Officer . . . ?”

Cody’s nostrils flared. “Fairfax.”

“Fairfax.” She echoed him, smiling a little. “How very interesting! A lycanthrope on the local police force?”

Apparently she didn’t have any problem identifying him, but if she was trying to use a touch of hypnotic vampire seduction on him, it wasn’t working. Maybe werewolves were immune to it. Ignoring her question, Cody showed his badge again. “We have reason to believe there’s a minor on the premises.”

Lady Eris’s eyelids flickered ever so slightly. “I’m sure that’s not the case. My people are under strict orders.”

“People make mistakes, my lady,” I said.

Her gaze shifted back to me, and this time I felt its weight. “Last time, you came seeking a favor and I granted it freely, Hel’s liaison,” she said in a silken voice filled with playful menace. “What will you give me for this one?”

Oh, gah! That shouldn’t be effective, but it was. I could feel my skin getting warmer, my blood rising. Clearing my throat, I let my mental shield grow from a tiny spark to the size of a mirror in a makeup compact and held it between us, trying to play my cards close to my chest. Lady Eris gave me the eyebrow arch anyway. “The courtesy of your response was noted in Niflheim, my lady,” I said to her. Total lie, but I needed to put my own spin on it. “However, I am tasked by Hel herself to mediate between eldritch and mundane authorities, and this matter pertains directly to the House of Shadows.”

I thought that was pretty damn diplomatic of me, not to mention well phrased, but the mistress of the manor was unamused. “In other words, this is not a request.”

Inclining my head a few degrees, I kept my mouth shut.

“No,” Cody said bluntly. “It’s not.”

Lady Eris came off her stool with blinding speed to slap him across the face with an open hand, her nails raking his cheek. Her attendants scattered out of the way. Cody’s head snapped sideways, his face distorting in a snarl, his mouth suddenly full of too many teeth, hands clenching into fists. Hairy, hairy fists. She stood imperiously before him, unmoving, unbreathing. “Mind your manners, wolf. This is my territory.”

He growled at her in response, blood trickling down his cheek.

“Whoa!” I found my voice. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, people! Let’s not go all Underworld here.” No one was listening to me. “Cody!” I thumped him on the back. He glanced at me with a low growl, his face still distorted and his eyes glowing with green phosphorescence. “Hey! You’re in uniform.”

I’m not sure what made me choose those words, but they worked. His features shifted back into human form. “I could arrest you for assaulting an officer,” he said in a hard voice. “You’re not above the law.”

“You could try.” Unimpressed, Lady Eris sat back down on her ornate stool. She raised her hand to taste Cody’s blood on her fingernails with the tip of her tongue, then made a face. I guess werewolf blood wasn’t yummy. She gestured to an attendant, who scrambled to bring her a bowl of water in which to dabble her fingers. “Is that what you really want?”

“No, my lady.” I got the words out before Cody could respond, elbowing him in the ribs for good measure. “Just the chance to look for the child.”

Lady Eris and I did the locked-gazes thing. What can I say? It was big in the eldritch community. I kept my expression neutral and my miniature shield shining between us. “Naturally, I have no desire to be in violation of Hel’s order,” she said at length, snapping her fingers at her attendants. One hurried to arrange her hair in a loose chignon, while the other eased a pair of open-toed mules onto her feet, careful not to smudge the fresh nail polish. “Come! Let us review the latest acolytes.”

Once acceptably attired, she swept out of the room before us, down the mauve-lit hallway and up the grand staircase to the ballroom on the third floor, where her early arrival—not to mention Cody’s and my presence—provoked consternation.

“My lady!” A tall vampire with a supercilious face protested. “The spectacle isn’t ready yet!”

I knew that face. Geoffrey Chancellor, the insufferable prat who was blood-bonded to Jen’s sister.

“Oh, my lady! It’s so important to get the lighting just right!” added a young mortal woman from above, tears in her voice.

And that would be Bethany Cassopolis, whom I did not expect to find up on a scaffold, arranging lighting. From what I could tell, they were in the midst of staging a scene from a play. On a low dais there were three, maybe four, people dressed in Renaissance-looking robes and frozen in poses around a platter with what appeared to be a bearded man’s severed head on it. Hence my confusion regarding the actual number of people on the dais.

Cody took a step forward. “What the fuck?”

“It’s a tableau vivant,” Lady Eris said irritably. “Caravaggio’s Salome with the Head of John the Baptist, tonight’s surprise spectacle, which you’ve now ruined. Well?”

I studied the tableau. Unlike the members of the string quartet in the corner, sitting bloodless and motionless with their instruments at the ready, the participants were mortal. Now that I looked closely, I could see that the severed-head effect was accomplished using a black curtain affixed to the rim of the platter. Phew.

All of them held their poses resolutely, but the young woman playing Salome, draped in a red robe and ostensibly holding the platter, was trembling.

“Heather Simkus?” I said to her. She didn’t respond, keeping her face averted. “Heather?”

“Goddammit!” Bethany Cassopolis came storming down from the scaffold, a lighting canister in one hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ignoring her, I eased the folds of Salome’s robes off her nearest arm, revealing dozens of lines of cutting marks, some of them old scars fading to pink, others still red and angry. Aside from trembling, she didn’t budge.

“Leave her be!” Bethany grabbed my shoulder and yanked me away with surprising strength. “She’s mine!”

“Excuse me?” I said, steadying my faltering shield.

“Not like that, duh!” she retorted.

Geoffrey the insufferable prat glided over, stopping a few feet away when Cody angled toward him. “With her ladyship’s blessing, I gave Bethany permission to recruit an acolyte,” he said, looking down his nose at me. “I assure you, she came most willingly.”

On the dais, Salome—or Heather, I should say—gave the tiniest of nods. She had a pretty face in that sort of soft, unformed way some teenaged girls do. At the moment, there were silent tears trickling down it.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “She’s a minor. She’s sixteen.”

“Do you think I didn’t ask?” Bethany glared at me. I had to say, she actually looked better than she had in years; less strung out, more pissed off. Maybe recruiting acolytes agreed with her. “She’s eighteen.”

I glanced at Heather. Her trembling had turned to shaking. “She didn’t show you ID, did she?”

“Miss Simkus, you can’t stay here,” Cody said in a gentle voice. “We’ve come to take you home.”

At that, she abandoned her pose with a gulping sob, turning to Bethany. “You promised! Don’t let them take me! I don’t want to go!”

Bethany looked uncertainly at Geoffrey.

Geoffrey looked uncertainly at Lady Eris.

Lady Eris smiled. “I don’t suppose you happen to have proof of the girl’s age with you, Officer?” she asked Cody. “A birth certificate, perhaps?”

He stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Not at all,” she said in a complacent tone. “The mantle of my protection has been extended to the young lady. I take these matters very seriously.”

I was pretty sure she was just yanking our chain because we’d ruined the evening’s entertainment, but the musicians in the corner laid down their instruments and rose to add their pale and silently menacing numbers to the assembled vampires. On the dais, the remaining members of the tableau broke character, straightening to watch the events unfold with glazed, haunted eyes, and in the case of John the Baptist, a curtain-draped platter around his neck like a collar.

“Hel takes her rule of order very seriously, too, my lady,” I murmured to Lady Eris. “She has banished others for defying it.”

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, tapping one mule-shod foot. “If you return with a valid birth certificate, I will relinquish the girl in accordance with Hel’s rule and mundane authority,” she said eventually. “But since the issue is in question, if you desire immediate satisfaction . . .” The living and the dead hung on her words, awaiting her decree. She smiled again, this time showing a hint of fang, her dark eyes sparkling with glee. “I declare myself neutral in the matter and proclaim this an individual dispute.”

A murmur ran around the ballroom, where the number of vampires appeared to have multiplied as they emerged from their chambers to observe the confrontation. Someone did a polite golf clap.

“What does that mean?” Cody asked.

“It means Geoffrey and I have the right to stop you from taking her!” Bethany said defiantly, positioning herself in front of the dais. “Right, honey?”

Although he didn’t look quite as committed to the battle, he joined her. “Right.”

Cody and I exchanged a glance. Obviously, the smart thing to do would be to go get a copy of Heather Simkus’s birth certificate and return. If we were lucky, her parents had it in a handy file at home and we’d be back within half an hour. If we were less lucky, they kept it in a safety-deposit box and we’d have to wait until the banks opened tomorrow. And if we were downright unlucky, it might be lost or in storage someplace where it would take days to retrieve it or to request and obtain a new copy, during which time God knows what might happen to Heather at the House of Shadows. She’d probably end up blood-bonded.

And then there was the ever-present matter of face. If we accepted Lady Eris’s ultimatum and backed down from a fight, we’d lose face.

“What does Hel’s liaison say about her ladyship’s ruling, Daisy?” Cody asked me, his eyes glinting green. There were streaks of blood drying on his cheek and despite his police uniform he was looking distinctly . . . wolfish. “Is it fair?”

“Yeah,” I said reluctantly. “I mean, she’s splitting hairs, but it’s fair. And, Cody, if you accept her—”

What I was going to say was that if he accepted Lady Eris’s terms, according to Hel’s rule of order he would be acting under eldritch auspices and not mundane law, which meant there would be no charging anyone with assault, but I never got the chance. Cody strode up to the dais, pushing his way between Bethany and Geoffrey the prat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, extending his hand to Heather. “But it’s time to go home, sweetheart. Your parents are worried sick.”

Everything that happened after that was sort of a blur. It started to take place in slow motion, watching Bethany raise her canister in preparation to bash Cody across the back of his head with it. And then it was like the tape sped up, and I found myself struggling with Bethany for control of the canister with no recollection of how I’d gotten there while Cody and the prat rolled on the ground, grappling in a chaotic mess of fangs, unnaturally pallid skin, and police uniform.

“Fuck you, devil girl!” Bethany spat at me. “Why can’t you just let me be for once in my life?”

“You know what?” I hooked her leg with mine, unbalancing her. “This really, really isn’t about you.”

Utilizing the skills I’d learned in Mr. Rodriguez’s Li’l Dragonz Tae Kwon Do classes years ago, I took Bethany down hard, the back of her skull thudding loudly against the ballroom’s polished hardwood floor. She didn’t exactly go limp, but she looked dazed. I scrambled to my feet.

On the plus side, Cody had managed to keep himself from shifting, which was good, since a wide-eyed young Heather Simkus was watching the whole thing unfold. On the downside, it meant Geoffrey the prat had the upper hand. Two large white hands, in fact, wrapped around Cody’s throat. I wouldn’t say Cody’s face was purple, but it was definitely headed in that direction. Knowing Cody, I was afraid he’d rather be strangled to death than concede.

The weight of dauda-dagr was solid and reassuring on my hip. In that moment, I could have drawn it and knifed Geoffrey Chancellor in the back, putting an end to his undead existence; and if I understood Lady Eris’s decree correctly, I’d actually be within my rights. I suspected that possibility had slipped her mind in her delight at the idea of pitting us against each other.

I have to admit, I considered it, not least because it would free Bethany whether she wanted it or not. But in the end, I wasn’t a stone-cold killer, and no matter how much I disliked Geoffrey the prat, he hadn’t sent Bethany out to recruit a minor. It wasn’t his fault the girl had lied, and it wasn’t his fault Lady Eris had decided to amuse herself. What he’d done wasn’t a killing offense.

Not today, anyway.

Meanwhile, Cody was looking purpler by the second, and Bethany was on her hands and knees, trying to shake off her dizziness. Taking a page from her playbook, I hoisted the canister and whacked Geoffrey across the back of the head as hard as I could.

He made a weird, breathless, huffing sound, his hands loosening long enough for Cody to draw in a ragged gasp of air, get his legs underneath him, and thrust Geoffrey away with inhuman strength. A werewolf in human shape might not be vampire-strong, but he was strong.

This time I didn’t hesitate. I dropped the canister, drew dauda-dagr, and pounced on the prat, straddling his chest and shoving the dagger’s tip under his chin, pressing almost hard enough to draw blood. His body twitched reflexively, his neck stretching in an effort to avoid contact with the dagger. Vampires don’t fear cold iron in general, but dauda-dagr is another matter.

I pushed a little harder. “Do you concede?”

Geoffrey fixed his gaze on me, working up a good dose of hypnotic allure. “The girl wants to be here, Hel’s liaison. Why must you be so cruel?”

Oops, I’d all but dropped my mental shield. I let it blaze briefly, then dwindle to a compact size again. “Just doing my job.”

Beneath me, his body tensed slightly, telegraphing his intent. Behind me, I heard Cody’s rasping voice tell Bethany, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either if I were you,” I said to Geoffrey. “I mean, I know you’re like ten times stronger and faster than me, and you could probably throw me across the room without breaking a sweat—which you probably don’t do anyway, right? Sweat?—but the thing is, what if my hand slips when you do?” I eased the tip of dauda-dagr from beneath his chin and let it trail up his face, laying the flat of the blade against his skin and setting the keen edge against his supercilious nose. “What do you think happens when a dagger capable of killing the immortal undead wounds undead flesh?” I mused. “You know, it’s an interesting question. I have to admit, I don’t actually know for sure. But I’m betting the wound never heals. What do you think?”

What Geoffrey the prat thought was that it was better to lose face than his nose. “I concede,” he grated.

I glanced up at Lady Eris. “Does that settle the matter, my lady?”

She inclined her head. “It does.”

Sheathing dauda-dagr, I unstraddled Geoffrey and got to my feet. Somewhat to my surprise, there were several polite golf claps.

Vampires. Go figure.