"Even Vampires Get The Blues" - читать интересную книгу автора (Макалистер Кейти)

Chapter 17

"What's first?" Finn asked without any prologue when Paen and I emerged from my bedroom several hours later. "The statue or the manuscript?"

"Manuscript," Paen said at the same time I answered, "Statue."

The love of my life glared at me. "We'll find the manuscript first. You need your soul."

"We'll find the statue first," I said, ignoring his scowl to pour myself a cup of tea from a lukewarm pot and scrounge a piece of toast from the breakfast remains that Finn and Clare had left scattered over the table. "My soul is already gone, but your mother's isn't."

"We still have a day left—" Paen started to say.

I shook my head and interrupted him, speaking around a mouthful of cold toast. "You said yourself my soul is tucked away somewhere on the Akasha. It's not going anywhere, but Paen, your mother's is in danger. And my darling, you and I both know how horrible it is to live without it. I wouldn't want her to have to go through this hell."

His frown deepened until it was as dark as his eyes. Begrudgingly—his reluctance to postpone the hunt for my soul something I cherished close to my heart—he agreed. "But only because it's likely the two things are related, and if we find the statue, we should find if not the Coda itself, information about where it is."

"That makes sense," Clare said, pushing around a small mound of scrambled eggs with her fork. I looked at Finn, and was struck for the first time by something that hadn't occurred to me.

"You can eat food? People food, that is, rather than just… people?" I asked.

He grinned. "I prefer the latter, but yes, I can eat food. Clare insisted I'd fade away to nothing unless I had something other than a liquid breakfast."

"Oh." I looked at Paen. "Can you eat something other than blood, too?"

"If I had to, yes."

I spread a little grapefruit marmalade on a bit of toast. "Good. I was worried that since I was a few quarts low, you'd have to go elsewhere to have your breakfast, but if you can eat real food, that's perfect."

He shook his head. "Sam, food provides us with no nutrition. Finn and I need blood to survive. I'll just wait until you have fully recovered before I feed."

You fed off me a few hours ago, I pointed out.

Just a few mouthfuls. His voice was tinged with regret. I'm sorry about that—I didn't intend to take any of your blood until you've recovered from the loss, but you drove me into such a frenzy it was all I could do to keep from taking more than I did.

"I can feel how hungry you are, Paen," I said, accepting a plate of fresh eggs from Clare. "I don't particularly like the thought of you snacking off of someone else, but this is a bit of an unusual situation, so you've got my OK to round up some breakfast."

"No, I can't," he said, going to the window to carefully look through the blinds.

"I appreciate that you don't want to do the fang sink with anyone else, but I have a feeling we're going to need your strength today. So go on out and find someone to feed from. Just don't enjoy it too much."

Clare rolled her blue eyes and went to get her coat and purse.

"You don't understand. I can't feed from anyone but you," Paen said, watching out the window.

I moved over to see what he was looking at. It was raining again, a cold, dark, nasty rain that almost exactly matched the cold, dark, nasty emptiness that resided inside of me. "You can't? Is this some sort of a Beloved thing?"

"Yes. When I said a Dark One can't survive without his Beloved, I meant it. Once he finds her, human blood taken from anyone but a Beloved is poison. Likewise, the Beloved's blood is unacceptable to any other Moravian."

"Whoa," I said, a chill going down my arms. "So if I had died when Pilar tried to kill me…"

"Paen would have died as well," Finn said, standing to stretch. "Which is one more thing I have to thank you for, Sam."

"I thought you were immortal?" I asked Paen. "You'd die without me? Really die?"

"Eventually. It isn't a quick or pleasant process, but it is inevitable."

"Who thought up these rules?" I asked, exasperated. I didn't mind thinking that Paen would mourn me for a long time if I died, but I didn't want to be the cause of his death.

"I hope the answer to that is in the Coda," he said, dropping the blinds to face the room. "Have you finished?"

"Eating or asking questions?" I stuffed a last forkful of eggs into my mouth, washing it down with cold tea.

"Both."

"Yes, I'm done. Let's go find Pilar and get the statue."

"We must also have our revenge for the dress he shot!" Clare said. "It will never recover, poor thing. This evil Pilar person must pay for that crime, and for shooting you, as well, Sam."

"Nice to know I come in second to a dress," I told her as I grabbed my bag and a jacket.

"Well, it is a Versace," she pointed out.

"What's the plan?" Finn asked, waggling his eyebrows at Clare. "I take it you want us to do some investigating?"

I looked at Paen. His eyes were dark with introspection. "I think it's best if they tackle Reuben while we go after Mr. Race and Mr. Green, don't you?"

Paen nodded his agreement, still rubbing his jaw.

"So you're going to meet with Mr. Green while we're doing what with the poltergeist, exactly?" Clare asked as we left the apartment and headed down the stairs to the outer door. We stopped at the door so the men wouldn't have to stand around outside while we made the last of our arrangements.

"You're going to find Reuben. It shouldn't be too hard—Paen ripped off one of his arms, and there can't be that many five-armed, former faery poltergeists around here. Here's the address of the Guardian we used the other night. You and Finn help her question the poltergeist about the whereabouts of the statue."

She put her hands on her hips in a faery version of pique. "Why do we have to question Reuben about where it is? You're the one who lost it."

"Stop being so snippy. Lives are at stake!"

She sighed. "I know. But that poltergeist makes me uncomfortable."

"I'm sure you'll be able to cope with him just fine. As for why you need to question him, I have no idea where the statue could be. It was taken from me, and could be anywhere in the beyond. I didn't have it when Paen pulled me through the only entrance he knew. But Pilar has no doubt told Reuben by now, so your job is to get that info from him." I glanced at the watch on her wrist. "We still have an hour before the appointment with Owen Race, so I think it's probably best if we talk with Caspar Green about what he knows first, then go out to Race's house. Does that sound all right to you?"

"Yes. I have a few things I'd like to say to Mr. Green," Paen said, flexing his fingers.

I smiled at him. Amidst the horrible cold and torment that raged around inside me, he brought a little spot of warmth and happiness that gave me the strength to go on.

"What if they won't tell us what we want to know?" Clare said, her brow puckered. "That poltergeist didn't look terribly smart to me."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Paen said, looking grim, his voice even grimmer. "We aren't powerless."

Clare murmured an agreement, and with that, we separated, Finn and Clare going off to see what they could find from the poltergeist while we headed to Caspar's apartment. To my surprise, he seemed to be expecting us.

"Good morning, Miss Cosse. What a pleasant surprise. And Paen Scott! Welcome to my humble home. It is indeed a pleasure to see you both again. I take it you have come to deliver the statue to me?"

"Not quite. We've come to talk about a few things with you," I said, sitting when he gestured toward a peach love seat. "Not the least of which is your choice in employees."

"Why did you try to hire Sam to find the statue when you knew I was already searching for it?" Paen asked abruptly, every line in his body radiating anger.

"Ah. I thought perhaps you might put things together. Please, Paen, take a seat. There is no need to be uncivilized about this. You are naturally upset by what would appear to be some sort of trickery on my part, but I assure you that there is none intended."

Paen snorted something rude under his breath, but sat down next to me.

Do you believe him? I asked Paen.

No.

Good. Neither do I. He's lying. All my elf senses are tingling.

Sweetheart, I'm beginning to believe your elf senses are easy tinglers. But I agree—he's not telling us the truth.

"The situation is a little more complicated than I originally led you both to believe," Caspar said, making another of those hands-spread-in-honesty gestures that I didn't for a moment buy into. His face was blank, unreadable, although he seemed to be watching us with sharp, dark eyes. "In hindsight, I am perhaps a little guilty of muddying the waters, so to speak, but I assure you that everything I told you, Paen, and you, Samantha, was the absolute truth. The demon lord Oriens has called the statue due as payment for services rendered to Sir Alec."

I shot Paen a questioning look. Your father is a knight?

Baronet, Paen said, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for Caspar to continue.

So, someday when your father decides he doesn't want the title, you'll get it?

Eventually, yes. He will pretend to die of old age in a distant location, and I will take over the title until he has passed from mortal memory, then we'll reverse the procedure. It's worked quite well the last few hundred years.

Let me get this straight—you're a brooding, sexy titled Scottish vampire?

Paen shot me a quick puzzled look. What's your point?

Nothing. But remind me to write a book about you someday when this is all over. I bet women would eat you up with a spoon.

"Are you finished?" Caspar asked politely, brushing an infinitesimal bit of nothing off his knee.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to stop you. Please, continue. This is fascinating," I said, blushing a little at being caught mind-talking to Paen.

Caspar smiled, and I swear if I had been mortal, I'd have lost a couple of years off my life at the sight of it. "I have been remiss in congratulating you on finding your Beloved, Paen. My felicitations."

Paen was made of sterner stuff. "What exactly haven't you told us about the statue?"

"So forceful, so blunt and to the point," Caspar said, the creepy smile still on his lips. Something about him had changed since I last saw him. Before, he seemed like a relatively pleasant, if a bit intense, man. Now I could swear I felt tendrils of dark power snapping and crackling around him, as if he sat in the middle of an electrical charge. "You two will do well together, I think. The information I perhaps unwisely kept from you is in regards to the statue's origin."

I thought back to our last meeting. "You said that it had been commissioned from a Chinese artist and later given to Marco Polo by the emperor."

"As indeed it was. But the person who commissioned it… well, there is no avoiding this revelation. The person who commissioned the statue was none other than myself."

Now, that took me by surprise. I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn't that he was the one behind the creation of the statue some two thousand years ago. "So the statue was originally yours… Wait a minute." I dug through my recent memories and came up with something that didn't make sense. "You told me that the statue depicted Sun Wukong, the monkey god."

"As indeed it does," Caspar agreed.

I looked at him, a sense of dread building inside me until it was so great it spilled over onto Paen. He took my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my fingers. What's wrong, love?

So many things, I don't know where to start. "You also said that the person who ordered the statue created was the god of death."

Paen's thumb stilled. Outside the room, the normal sounds of Edinburgh traffic faded away until it was as still as the room in which we sat.

"That is so," Caspar said finally, a tiny muscle twitching in his eyebrow the only sign that he was less than pleased that I had such a good memory.

"You are Yan Luowang, the god of death?" Paen asked.

"It is one of my names." Caspar made an odd sort of dismissive gesture with one hand. "Not one that I have used for some time."

"You're a god of death," I said, stunned. "A Chinese god of death. A real, honest-to-god god. Of death."

"God of the fifth hell, if I remember correctly," Paen said softly to me before frowning at Caspar. "But you told me you were an alastor. How can you be both?"

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.