"What happens if the ghost gets to the organ first?"
"Then he'll execute his plan."
I dragged my feet up onto the seat in front of me and huddled like a struck child.
"We'll have to destroy it," Mara said.
Carlos chuckled, the sound of bones rattling. "As if it were that simple. It must be done with great control. You and I together, witch, would not be sufficient."
"How many more would you need?" she asked.
Carlos thought aloud. "We require mages adept at unweaving the strands of death. Of necromancers, we'd need only one more—but there are no more nearby. Witches' strength runs in the wrong direction. One could hold it, but we'd need a dozen to break it."
My brain wasn't entirely frozen, however cold I felt. "How many vampires would it take?"
Carlos and Mara both stared at me.
"What?" Mara asked.
"How many vampires?" I repeated, my mind filled with a shape of information but not the information, itself. "They must have some powers over death, since they're the undead," I reasoned.
Carlos frowned. "I wouldn't have thought…"
"Why not?" Mara responded. She turned and stared at Carlos. "Would it work?"
"After the spirit is released… it might."
I laid my head on my knees, drained and battered by ideas conversely helpful and unwelcome. Wygan's voice echoed through my mind, saying that his «gift» would keep me alive, and I gave a bitter laugh.
We parted ways to plan and prepare. I chose to drink and sleep and make my preparations in the morning.
By Wednesday evening, my choices had dwindled down to what to wear for my meeting with Edward. I ended up in a slinky dress and heels and felt I was a bit overdressed for my own funeral. I'd discovered that my evening jacket wouldn't cover the holster, but the pistol would do me no good against vampires. I missed it, though. I felt less my own master than Sergeyev—whatever his real name—must have felt.
Cameron was waiting outside my office building. His eyes widened and he gave me an appreciative smile. "You look terrific."
My voice came out cold. "This is not a date, Cameron. I feel like a tethered goat."
He followed me up the stairs. "Are you nervous?"
"Why?"
"You just seem upset or something. You look funny, too."
"You just said I looked nice."
"I mean, you look… hard. Armored, maybe."
I threw myself into my desk chair. "Lovely." I felt anything but. "OK, here's the deal. I said there was something new we had to discuss."
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Things have changed."
"You're dumping my case, aren't you?"
"Would I be dressed like this if I was? No. I admit I wanted to, but it's no longer an option. And it's ethically repugnant."
He started to get up from the client chair. "But you don't want to work for me anymore. I understand."
I snapped, "No, you don't. We have something in common. We both had no idea what vampires were really like when we made our contracts. I've had some of that reality thrust upon me in unpleasant ways. But I am not becoming like you. I still have to live in a human world, by human rules. What you are and what you must do to survive are things I cannot stretch my mind over without going crazy."
He whispered, "That's what I felt," and sat down again.
"I know. That's why I'm not quitting. Besides having a contract, I'm as screwed as you are, and I need your help as much as you need mine."
I told him about Wygan and the Grey thread. He stared at me in shock.
"It's all my fault."
I rolled my eyes. "Everyone wants to take credit. It's my own fault. It can't be undone—or I don't think it can—but that doesn't mean it can't be dealt with. But that's for later. For now, we fix your problem and maybe some of mine, but it's dangerous."
The plan was simple enough, but I half expected Cameron's head to bulge under the speed and density of the information I poured into him. He goggled at me at first, frowning, asking questions. At the end, he just shook his head and looked dazed.
"That's… seriously wack."
"Best I can come up with. If I've accounted for all the factors, if I can persuade him it's to his advantage, we may all survive."
"What if he won't help? What if he doesn't see it as you do?"
"Then we run and hope we beat the blast. Which is why you will not be in that room tonight. Find a place to lurk where you can watch the front door."
"What am I supposed to be watching for?"
"Me. Once Edward comes in, I expect to be finished with him one way or another in less than an hour. If I don't come out the front door within two, I want you to come looking for me. Do you understand?"
"Yeah. I get to be the Seventh Cavalry."
"That's the plan."
"Well, I'm not thrilled with it…"
"Nor am I, but face-to-face is the only way."
"What if he just—you know?"
"Punches my card? He could, but it's a fair bet he'll hear me out. That room will be full of his enemies, watching and waiting for a chance to take him out. Edward is not stupid. I'll be there under protection, a defenseless daylighter begging a favor. Killing me in front of that audience would be like firing on Fort Sumter. You, on the other hand, he might be able to get away with, if he's still pissed enough to try it."
Cameron didn't look happy, but he agreed to it. We left my office and strolled down the streets until we were half a block from the After Dark. The only sign was a small brass plaque next to iron gates and an iron-railed circular staircase leading down. Cameron squeezed my shoulder for encouragement, not thinking. My knees buckled as the black corners of the Grey folded over me in acid-trip lights.
He jerked his hand away, contrite and apologizing. I caught my breath and told him to get going. I walked down the stairs alone.
My heels rang a hollow clacking on the white marble stairs. The soles of my shoes slid on the cool stone. The foot of the stairs opened into a small marble foyer. It was like a very expensive crypt. A glossy pair of black-enameled doors faced me. I tapped on one of them.
The door swung back, silent as a 1910 movie. A dark man in an equally dark suit looked me over and beckoned me in. As the door closed behind me, he glanced at a list.
I was quivering as the surface of reality rolled beneath my feet. I kept my voice low. "Harper Blaine."
He nodded and held out a hand to take my jacket. He raised an eyebrow when I refused.
"I don't want to catch cold."
One corner of his mouth turned up, but you couldn't call it a smile. He led me through another set of doors, into the club proper, and pointed to a table.
"Your patron awaits." His voice was crushed glass. His mouth made another jump; then he turned and left me standing on a curve of red carpet. Glances tore me. Quick movement pulled my attention around to Alice, sidling to intercept me. I stepped into the room before she got close. Her glower cut a swath of cold down my back.
I presented an outward cool as I crossed the room, but a sick sense of impending doom writhed in the pit of my stomach. Every figure wore an outline of glowing threads, and shadows crept or stretched everywhere. Pushing back against the tidal swell of Grey was hard. I picked out faces I recognized in the crowd, illuminated by their strange lights. I didn't spot Wygan among them, but I almost stopped and stared when I saw Gwen cringing against a small table in a wash of faded green. She looked more miserable than I felt. I shook myself and completed the long walk to Carlos.
I slid into the seat that faced the door and breathed a moment's relief. Carlos and I sat almost side by side, and I could feel the weight of his darkness press over me.
"Is he here yet?" I asked.