Mara blanched. "If you're attached to the grid which is feeding the organ, then it's feeding on you, too."
I screwed my eyes shut and felt the world pitch. I remembered the draining touch of the tentacle.
Mara continued. "And whatever happens to that nexus will also happen to you and everything else on that quadrant. It must be drawing you down all the time. That thing has to be gotten rid of before it kills you."
"What about you?"
"I have this house, and I shall be very careful about touching magic outside of it. Shan't be pleasant, but I'll survive."
Eyes closed, still shutting out the overlapping worlds, I asked, "What about the dark beast?"
Ben checked. "The guardian? What of it?"
"You said it would attack a threat. Why isn't it attacking me or Ser—him? Or the organ?"
Ben's voice was gruff and ragged. "The artifact is just a storage device. The guardian won't notice that. Remember the hierarchies of threat. The threat may need to be more immediate, more active. Maybe you or he need to be doing something to draw the beast to you, like a spider down a twanging web."
I nodded, opening my eyes. "I'll try not to be a fly. That… beast is more than I can handle right now."
Ben gnawed his beard, and the glare he turned at no one in particular was ashen black. "Be careful," he repeated. "Theory says most Grey things shouldn't be able to harm you physically, but—they have. I'm afraid I'm letting you down because we've left theory behind, and theory is all I know."
I glared back at him. "Don't. Leave blame for later. Let's just get through this."
Ben looked away, chewing his lip.
I got to my feet, feeling ninety years old. "I need a nap or something, if I don't unravel first. I've still got a lot to do."
Mara went down the stairs with me, glowering the whole way.
She stopped me in the hallway. "You're not ready for this sort of thing. I could just strangle whoever did this to you."
"I don't think you'd have much luck. I don't know what to do about this," I added, tapping my chest, "but I have other things to do first and I'll do them, so long as I can."
"You must be careful, Harper. You're a stubborn, hardheaded, scientific practicalist, and all of this seems like a nightmare to you that you hope will simply evaporate when you wake up. But you don't wake up from this."
I snorted. "I've learned that already. I just have to figure out how to get through without getting killed."
"What about Cameron? Are you going to quit his case?"
I sighed. "It could be moot. And please don't try to persuade me."
"I shan't. But there is something you should know. Because a vampire can lay a geas, he can also be put under one. You can bind them to a promise in the Grey. Do you understand?" "I'm not sure."
She sighed. "Think on it. If you must deal with them, you may need to try. Do take care, though."
"I will."
I drove home and went to bed. My sleep was tossed by fragmented dreams and nonspecific discomforts. I woke as the sun was going down. Just like a vampire.
I sat on the living room floor and contemplated the unlit TV. Its blind, dark eye stared back. Chaos jumped into my lap and nosed her way under my sweater as I sat and thought.
I had no choice, since I wasn't smart enough or coward enough to give up. Rest and the quiet of the Danzigers' house had helped ease my exhaustion, but I still felt achy and itchy and ill, and I wondered if that was doom. I played with the ferret in a desultory and desperate way until she insisted on napping. I put her to bed, then put on comfortable clothes and went out.
The first place I went was Adult Fantasies.
Carlos was downstairs, glowering at the unfortunate Jason while a firestorm of black fury whirled around them. Jason cowered, drawing in on himself.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…," the boy whined. I cringed.
Carlos's reply dripped scorn. "Yes. You are. Just clean it up and keep your wretched hands to yourself or I'll tear them off at the wrist."
Jason looked near to gagging on fear. He stumbled backward and bolted for the stairs as Carlos released him from his glare. Then the vampire turned it on me. It struck like a stone, ringing through my ribs, and I started to fold my shoulders inward. He raised his line of sight to my face and cut the intensity, cocked his head and flicked an eyebrow.
"Blaine."
I forced myself forward. Revulsion and the residual pain in my chest urged me to draw away.
"I'd like to speak with you."
He nodded and waved me toward the office. Passing him sent cold shudders through me.
The pierced Goth girl was rummaging about in some boxes. She looked up as we entered.
"Leave that," Carlos ordered.
She shrugged. "OK." I envied her lack of sensitivity. We watched her geisha-like shuffle as she left, apparently impervious to the effects of Carlos's presence.
"Sit down."
I sank into a chair. Carlos settled himself behind the desk, then raised his eyes to mine. They had no light in them, and I shivered as he waited for me to speak.
"I need to meet with Edward. Can you help me do that?"
Carlos sat back, his face blank, just glowering for a while. At last he said, "Yes."
"When and where?"
"On Wednesdays, he holds court at the After Dark."
"That's in Pioneer Square, isn't it? I've never been there."
A cruel humor flickered in the blackness of his eyes. "Not many daylighters have. He'll see you. I'll take care of it."
"What time?"
"Never before ten."
"I need as many of Edward's enemies, malcontents, or neutrals there as possible. Can you accomplish that?"
"My pleasure."
"Thank you. I have an unrelated, professional favor to ask you also."
Again the silent gaze pierced me. I sympathized with Jason.
"There is an object I'd like you to look at, as a specialist."
He raised an eyebrow. "A specialist in what, do you believe?"
"Necromancy."
His brows drew down and the force of his personality bore on me like a toppled column. He growled deep in his throat and my body began to quake, the vibration of his fury beating against me. I swallowed hard and began to talk fast through my constricted throat.
"I need the services of a necromancer and you're the only one I know of. No one told your secrets. I guessed from what you told me before. I swear it."
He drew back a little. "And you need one for what?"
"I need to know the history and source of a dark artifact—necromantic, probably. Interested?"
He sat back and withdrew his fury, though a press of darkness remained. "You're a fool."
"I have no choice," I confessed, and hoped I had not made a bad guess about the Byzantine workings of his mind.
"Are you desperate enough to submit to me? I might demand a price you would prefer not to pay."
I was shivering. "You might. Do you intend to?"
He fell silent and stared into me. Streamers of light and darkness wove between us and brushed over me and I let them, though my insides clutched in fear. They slid over the knot with a chill pang of curiosity and withdrew.
He narrowed his eyes with the specter of a curious smile. "Not this time. When and where?"
"Tomorrow, at the Madison Forrest Historical House. We'll need to discuss your information with a friend, too. A witch."
He raised an eyebrow. "A true witch? Not one of those soft, powerless, New Age idiots?"
"A real witch."
"It's been a long time."
I said nothing.
He lowered his head in a half nod. "After sunset, tomorrow.". I stood up and so did he. I didn't offer my hand. "Thank you."