Even Vampires Get the Blues (26 page)

Caspar's shrug was a thing of elegance. “One does not reach heights of godhood without earning such a position. I rose through the ranks, naturally. I began as a mortal, became an alastor due to the intervention of a vengeful god, and eventually assumed the mantle of god of death. To be honest, it sounds much more impressive than it was.”

I had an epiphany at that point. I'd like to think it
was my own razor-sharp brain putting facts together, but I suspect it was my elf side seeing beyond the obvious. “You're also Oriens, aren't you? You're the demon lord who wants the statue.”

The muscle in his eyebrow twitched twice before he got it under control. “How perspicacious of you. I see I underestimated you, my dear Miss Cosse.”

Paen rose slowly to his feet. Fury rose in him, hot and red, and I knew he was going to lunge at Caspar, intending to punish the demon lord for threatening his mother. I couldn't let him do that, of course—even if Caspar didn't
seem
like one hell of a badass power, he was. I grabbed Paen's arm and dug my feet in. He snarled an epithet into my head. I held firm.
No, Paen. You can't. I know you want to stop him, but even if he looks human, he's not. He's a death god. You can't beat him up.

“Interesting,” Caspar said, watching Paen's struggle to contain his anger. “But counterproductive. I can't help being who I am any more than you can, nor do we have the time to waste in trivial shows of anger.”

“Trivial!” Paen growled. I held on with both hands, murmuring soft words of reason into his head.

Caspar waved away Paen's objection as if it was a pesky fly. “Time is running out. If you do not bring the statue to me before midnight tonight, I will be forced to take what payment I can for your father's debt.”

“You bas—”

I slapped my hand over Paen's mouth, oddly enough agreeing with what Caspar was saying.
My darling, my sweet, sweet Paen, I would like nothing more
than to see you rip him to shreds, but he's right. We don't have the time to waste hours arguing. We have to find that statue. Now.

We wouldn't be in this position if he hadn't invoked the debt!
Paen snarled.

I know. And I agree. But there's nothing we can do now but find the statue and give it to him. So let's put aside the fact that Caspar is the source of all the trouble, and get the damned statue.

“I see you have reasoned with your lover,” Caspar said with another cold smile as I half shoved Paen back into the love seat. “My estimation of you rises even more, Samantha.”

I whirled around and made the meanest eyes I could at him, letting him see in them the extent of my feelings. “I swear to you by all that is holy in this world and the next, you will pay for all you have done. You have threatened the family of the man I love, and I will never forget nor forgive that.”

His smile dimmed a couple of notches.

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Am I correct in assuming that you still do not know where the statue is?”

“If I knew that, it would be in my possession this very moment,” he said dryly. “Should I find it, I will naturally excuse the debt, but as I have had no luck finding it thus far, I am forced to rely upon one of you to bring it to me.”

“Who is Pilar?” I asked, sitting next to Paen, my hand possessively on his leg. The muscles of his thigh were tense and tight, as if he was poised to spring. “Or rather, what is he?”

“Pilar?” Caspar looked surprised by the question,
he looked truly surprised. “Pilar is a minion, a kung, a water demon of low caste. He should not concern you.”

He doesn't know Pilar knows where the statue is. Do we tell him?

No. We need it to fulfill the debt. There's no guarantee that he will consider it met if he finds the statue first.

There's something we're missing here—he's a demon lord, god of death, and who knows what else. But he can't find one little statue?

A slow smile curled Paen's lips. I was glad he wasn't smiling it at me. Caspar's smile might have taken a few years off my life, but Paen's promised retribution at any cost.
He's weakened. That's why he's appearing in mortal form—I'm a fool for not realizing that. The statue must be a source of power to him, and without it . . .

Before I could read the intention in Paen's mind, he was across the room, holding Caspar off the floor by his throat. “You will pay.”

“You cannot harm me,” Caspar choked out, the power crackling around him as it built up. “All you can do is guarantee your mother will suffer as your Beloved has. Now release me, Dark One, before I lose my temper.”

“Let him go, Paen. Let's just get this over with so we can do our job.”

Paen released Caspar. I stood next to him, a united front. “Right. Why do you want this statue so badly?”

Caspar adjusted his tie and brushed out the suit jacket that had been slightly wrinkled when Paen grabbed him. “It is my statue, as I have explained. I
commissioned it. It was stolen from me and given to the emperor. All I seek is to have my property returned to me.”

“You told Sam the secrets of the origins of the immortal races were held within it. Is that true?”

“I did not lie to her,” Caspar said with an evasive air.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
I asked Paen.

That it's too much of a coincidence that the statue should contain the same information as the
Coda
?

Yep. I'm thinking there's more there than meets the eye.

“Where is Pilar now?” Paen asked Caspar.

The latter frowned. “Why do you wish to know about my minion? He is nothing, a weak kung, of no relevance.”

“He's also murdered my Beloved. I have a score to settle with him,” Paen said.

“And yet she still lives. Would you waste your time on something so immaterial as revenge?” Caspar asked, clearly surprised.

“We also think he might know something about the statue,” I said, stepping lightly over the truth. “We'd like to talk to him. He might give us a clue.”

“Pilar? Hmm.” Caspar closed his eyes for a moment, the dark power aura around him suddenly snapping out feelers, as if he was sucking in power from the surroundings. Paen pulled me backward, out of reach of them. Caspar's eyes opened, anger visible in them. “He does not answer my summons.”

I didn't look at Paen, but my fingers tightened around his.
Pilar has double-crossed him.

So it would seem.

“Where is he now?” Paen asked again.

“I do not know,” Caspar admitted. “He is a water
demon, so he must go to ground near the water, but I do not know his location at the moment. I will, however, have a few things to say when I find him.”

“Let's get out of here,” I said to Paen, my senses going nuts in the power-charged room. “I can scry Pilar's location.”

“You have twelve hours,” Caspar said as we brushed past him. “I must have the statue by the first hour of deep night, or your mother's soul will be forfeit.”

Paen's arm shot out so fast, I almost didn't notice it. Caspar did, though. Paen's fist slamming into his nose drove the Chinese god of death backward into the wall, the impact of his body hitting it sending several delicate china cups to the floor. Caspar slumped down the wall and joined them.

“Oh, that was smart—just break the nose of a demon lord,” I told Paen as we left the apartment. “Like he's not going to get you for that?”

“It was worth it,” Paen said with a smile.

“Let's see if you're saying that later on tonight.” I looked at his watch. “Oh, good, we're not late for the appointment with Owen Race. Let's hope the seer was right, and he does know exactly where the statue is.”

“I don't doubt that the seer was correct,” Paen said, getting into the car. “It's what Race will want in exchange for that information that worries me.”

I slid in next to him, pointed out the side of his face was burned, and waited the few minutes it took for him to fade the burn away. “As I see it, we have an excellent bartering point. And since it is a good guess the statue and the
Coda
are tied together, it seems to
me he'd want to help us find the statue so we can figure out where the manuscript is.”

We drove the short distance to Owen's house without saying much more. Paen was apparently busy with his own thoughts, while I tried to digest the fact that Caspar had so deceived us. On the way there, I made a list of things we wanted to ask, but it was of little use.

“He's not here?” I asked the housekeeper as Paen and I stood in the hallway of the big old house. “Is he going to be back soon? We had an appointment to meet him this morning.”

“He said nothing to me about that,” the housekeeper said, plainly wishing we'd go and leave her to her work. “The last I heard from the professor he was in Barcelona, and wasn't expected to be back for several days.”

I looked at Paen as the door closed behind us while we stood on the front steps. The sky was black and sodden, rain falling in an endless misery. “He's gone?”

“Evidently,” Paen said, turning up the collar of his coat. “I think we should—”

He stopped abruptly, grabbing my arm in a grip that was almost painful.

“What? What is it? What's wrong?” I asked, a sudden chill brushing me.

He hauled me forward to the car, jerked the door open, and shoved me inside.

“Hey!” I said as he slammed the door and raced around to the driver's side. “What gives?”

He started the car and jammed his foot onto the accelerator. “It's Finn.”

“Oh? Are they interviewing the poltergeist?”

“They were,” he answered, his voice deep with anger.

What's wrong? What's happened? Why are you so mad?

Paen spun the car around an intersection, blithely disregarding both traffic safety and all applicable laws.
It's Clare. She's been kidnapped. By a small, dark man with a monkey on his shoulder.

“Where is she?”

Paen pulled up in front of a small, comfortable-looking bed-and-breakfast. Finn dashed from the protective shadowed doorway to the car, climbing into the backseat as I asked my question.

“I don't know,” Finn answered, his face bloodied and black with anger. “The bastard grabbed her as we were talking with Reuben. I don't know what the hell he is, but he has some serious power at his control. He slammed me up against the side of the building before I even knew what was happening. I think I was knocked out for a few minutes, because when I came to he was shoving Clare back into her car. I tried to go after them, but didn't make it far on foot. I can promise you this, though—when I find the slimy wanker, I'm going to beat the living shit out of him.”

“Sam?” Paen asked, waiting for me to tell him which direction to go.

“I'll try, but no promises.” I closed my eyes and cleared my mind of everything until it was as blank as a clean sheet of paper. My thoughts went to Clare,
visualizing her, drawing from within all the emotions that represented her. I saw Clare as a child at a birthday party, happy and laughing; Clare as a teenager on a double date, gorgeous and poised next to my gawky, awkward self; Clare as she was last week, helping me move furniture around the dusty, dank office, happy and excited and talking non-stop. I held all of those memories and emotions tight inside me, and used them to find where she was.

“To the east,” I said, looking in that direction. “She's to the east of the city.”

Paen pulled out a map from a pocket on the door, spreading it out on the steering wheel. “Can you pinpoint where?”

One possibility jumped out at me. I didn't hesitate as I tapped my finger on a large beige shape. “Dunstan Moor. I just bet you he's taken her there.”

“Why?” Paen asked. “Why would he want to kidnap her in order to take her to a movie set?”

“It's not the movie set that's the attraction,” I said, making shooing motions until Paen pulled out onto one of the major arterials leading to the east. “It's the lodestone.”

“The what?” Finn had used a couple of tissues from my purse and wiped up most of the blood that had streaked down from a cut above his eyebrow, but he still looked pretty grisly, especially in the gloomy afternoon light. Like Paen, he had shadows under his eyes, making me wonder how much sleep the two had during the past few nights.

“Lodestone.” I fell silent, wondering if it really was just four days ago when Paen had walked into my office.
We're running out of time.

I know.
The pain and regret was in his voice, seeping through despite his attempts not to worry me.

I don't want your mother to have to experience this
, I said, rubbing a hand on my chest, as if that would ease the constant agony of howling wind that seemed to tear me apart from the inside out.

I know you don't, love. I don't want you to have to live this way, either. We'll find the statue and the manuscript. Don't worry.

“Lodestone like the magnetic stone?” Finn asked.

“That's one meaning of the word, but in the Fae world, it also refers to a location that is strong with the magic of the beyond, a place that draws elves and faeries. It's like a doorway between realities.”

“Something like the place your office is located?” Paen asked.

“Like founded land, only multiplied by about a thousand times. Lodestones are treated as holy places, as sanctuaries where only the most ancient of rituals are held. There are only three in the UK.”

“And Dunstan Moor is one of these lodestones?”

“Yes. I felt it when we were there the other day, but didn't think much about it. That's why Uilleam and the other ghosts had such a strong presence—the land itself was founded, making it possible for them to be more than just an apparition in our reality.”

“You think Pilar has taken Clare there?” Finn asked.

I shrugged. “It's the only logical place I can see he might want to go to in this area. Although he's a demon, and as such can't use the lodestone as a doorway, it's conceivable he could tap its power by means of some being who could, like Reuben . . .”

“. . . or Clare,” Paen finished the sentence.

I nodded.

“What did you find out from Reuben?”

“Nothing,” Finn answered, disgust evident in his brown eyes. “It was a complete waste of time. He was clearly afraid of Pilar, and had been in hiding since Paen ripped off his arm.” Finn paused for a moment. “Did you know that a poltergeist can't function without his arms?”

“Er . . . no,” I said, sidetracked for a moment into wondering if they could do the starfish thing and grow back their limbs.

“Well, according to Noelle, they can't. That's why Reuben was hiding from Pilar. He couldn't go into the beyond with one arm missing.”

“Odd,” Paen said.

I nodded.
That pretty well sums up the entire last five days.

The rest of the trip was accomplished in near silence, our speculations of what Pilar might be trying with Clare too troublesome to put into words. We broke some serious traffic laws as we raced into the Lammermuir Hills, passing through gently rolling hills, small farms, and endless stretches of land dotted with sheep. The sky was black as huge, ominous clouds gathered to block the sun until it was almost as dark as night. Paen followed the signs pointing the way to Dunstan Moor, pulling in at the same viewpoint where we'd parked a few days before. Although night was almost upon us, the sun sinking behind the hills surrounding the area, huge arc lights lit up the ground beyond the cluster of trailers and collections of small tents used to house wardrobe and makeup personnel.

“Looks like they're filming again,” Paen said as he helped me over the guardrail.

Sounds of men yelling, assorted deathly screams, and the inevitable clash of metal confirmed Paen's guess. I glanced at the field where the mock battle was taking place, then scanned the people outside of the range of the camera. No familiar shape caught my eye.

“To hell with them, I want to know where Clare is,” Finn grumbled, following after us as we made our way down the low hill, angling slightly away from the bright lights.

I stopped for a minute and tried to locate Clare using my elf senses. I couldn't feel her presence specifically, but I had a hunch we would find her where the lodestone's strength was the strongest.

“I think she's over there,” I told the two men, pointing to a small rocky cliff that rose behind the trailers. I started forward through the wild moor grass, heather, clumps of bracken, and occasional bluebell that made up the terrain.

“Sam,” Paen said, taking my arm so I couldn't go any farther. “Stop. We need to have a plan of action.”

“Plan of action? We're going to rescue Clare, find out from Pilar where the statue is, and then we'll get Clare to get it for us,” I said, a little bit annoyed at the delay.

“Pilar has Clare,” he pointed out, his eyes almost as dark as the falling night. “We can't just charge up and demand he hand her over.”

“Sure we can. Once he sees the two of you, he'll realize he's outnumbered.”

Paen shook his head. “He's murdered you, shot Clare, and thrown Finn aside as if he was a feather.”

“Well then, I'll . . . I'll . . . I don't know. I can scry something. That might help.”

Paen just looked at me.

“OK, so maybe it won't help,” I said, throwing up my hands in exasperation. “You two are just going to have to be all manly with him. You're big, bad, immortal vampires. Do the creatures-of-the-night thing on him.”

“Sweetheart.” Paen sighed, releasing my arm. “I might have an exaggerated idea of my own strength, but even I don't believe we can overpower him by ourselves. He is a demon of immense power. It's going to take more than just the three of us and brute force.”

“Well, this is just great!” I said, my hands on my hips as I turned to glare at Paen. “Why the hell didn't you mention this before we drove all the way out here?”

“You told me to drive. I assumed you would have a rescue plan. Since you don't, let us create one now.”

I looked at Finn. “Is your brother always this annoying?”

“Yes,” he said, grinning. “But since he's usually right, we tolerate him.”

“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest while giving Paen a glare that would have scorched a mortal man. “What do you suggest?”

Paen looked thoughtful. “It would help if we knew exactly what sort of weaknesses water demons have. Do either of you know?”

Finn and I shook our heads.

“Sorry, they didn't teach demonology at Diviners' school.”

A burst of noise from the battlefield momentarily distracted Paen. “Hmm. Then we'll have to use what we have here. Sam, tell us more about this lodestone. Is there anything related to it that we can use to gain the upper hand on Pilar?”

I thought. “Well, it's like I told you—it's a sacred place to Fae folk. Not religious sacred, but one revered because it provides a natural bridge between the beyond and this reality.”

“So you're more powerful here than you are anywhere else?” Paen asked.

I shook my head. “The power contained in the lodestone is not one we can tap into and use—it permeates the area, rather than people. That's why the ghosts were able . . .”

I stopped, my eyes meeting Paen's.

“The ghosts,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked beyond me.

“You think?” I asked, not surprised that we'd had the same thought at the same time.

“Think what?” Finn asked.

“Are they here?” Paen asked, ignoring his brother.

I scanned the area. “Not sure. I need to open myself up to the location to find them.”

“What are you thinking?” Finn asked again. “What do ghosts have to do with anything? What are you looking for?”

“Are you sure they'll have a physical presence?” Paen asked. Finn punched him in the arm. “Ow. We're thinking the ghosts might be able to help us with Pilar. Now, stop beating me before I knock your lights out.”

Finn grinned at him as I closed my eyes and
cleared my mind, preparing myself to listen to the site.

“Well?” Paen asked, clearly as impatient as I was to get on with things.

“I don't see . . . oh, wait. I think maybe over there.” I opened my eyes and headed around the side of the trailer cluster to a flat area that stretched upward to a rocky cliff. “Hello, Uilleam.”

The big Scottish ghost turned from where he and a few of his fellow countrymen were perched on an outcropping of rocks, evidently watching the battle scene being filmed. All the men wore the same disgusted looks on their faces.

I held out my arms for him as if I was welcoming an embrace. Uilleam's face lit up. His body did the shimmering thing as he allowed himself to be grounded, striding forward to me with a calculating look in his eye. I ran for Paen and held up a hand for him to stop before he could pull me into another ghostly kiss. “Up to you, master linguist. Let's see if they're interested in helping us fight for Clare.”

Four minutes later we streamed over the rocks that marked the edge of the cliff, behind us an army of ghostly Scottish warriors, all of whom were aching for a good brawl.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Finn asked. “Something out of Tolkien. Paen could be Aragorn with his army of the dead, and you could be Legolas, while I am—”

“You are going to be one sorry Moravian if you continue with that analogy,” I said, giving him a look that let him know I meant what I said. “I have no compunction about decking you if I have to.”

Finn laughed, but the merriment dried up a few moments later when we reached the base of the cliff.

“Sam?” Paen asked, obviously hoping for some insight on my part.

“They're here,” I said, holding my hands out, palms down toward the ground. “We're at the heart of the lodestone. I can feel they're here. There's something disturbing the grounding.”

“Disturbing it how?”

I tried to locate the source of the disturbance, but the waves of power coming from the location itself were muddying the feeling. “Disturbing it. Making it not happy. I can only assume it's Pilar. Demons normally avoid places strong in power from the beyond, so it makes sense that such places wouldn't like them any more than the reverse.”

“Then why did he bring Clare here?” Finn asked.

“Because it provides access to the statue, naturally,” a voice called down from above us.

Uilleam shouted and pointed his sword at the cliff face. Standing on a ledge about halfway up, Pilar held a knife to Clare's throat. Beppo sat chirping on a rock next to them. The ghosts roared something that made the hairs on my neck stand on end, and started swarming up the cliff.