A situation board, just like in the cop shows. This is where I problem solve, writing facts, names, and places on three-by-five cards, then pinning them to the board. If I’m lucky, sooner or later a pattern will emerge.
I was hoping for some luck tonight.
It didn’t take long to write out cards with the scanty information I already possessed. But putting them on the board only made one thing crystal clear: I didn’t have much to go on.
“Okay, there’s the Bat Pack,” I said out loud. The sound of my own voice helped me focus my thoughts sometimes. “Rude bastards, but that’s not a crime.”
I had put the card for them beside one that read “Con at
Sher
.”
“A rumored threat of a con at the
Sher
with a high-tech aspect.”
I still didn’t have the first idea of what that might be, and realized I had failed to follow up on Al’s suggestion that I check in with the
Sher’s
own IT department.
Top of tomorrow’s to-do list
, I thought.
“Could anything high tech be connected to the Bat Pack?” I wondered aloud,
then
sighed. This was part of the problem. High tech and vampires don’t usually mix.
I looked at the Bat Pack’s card once more. There was their assumption that they would be more powerful
after
New Year’s Eve. Was that related to the con, or just something that would happen at the same time?
Then there was Dune, who mostly seemed connected to Ash. I put up a Dune card, pulled it down at once,
then
ripped it to shreds.
Not very useful, but highly satisfying.
I moved the remaining cards around a bit then groaned. Moving them around wasn’t going to make a single bit of difference. All I did was create bigger holes. All I had were impressions. I could see no pattern.
I reached into my desk drawer, fished around for some more cards, and came to a sudden halt as my fingers encountered something I had forgotten. Lying in the drawer was a charcoal drawing of Ash. It once sat in a silver frame on top of the desk. When the frame broke, I had taken that as the perfect excuse to shut the picture away.
I gazed at it now. It was a remarkable likeness. The artist had captured Ash’s strong, clear features in no more than a few strokes. His eyes seemed to be staring straight into mine. Annoyed with myself, I turned the drawing facedown.
I looked once again at the strange red mark I had noticed when the frame broke. The first time I had seen it I thought it was a drop of blood. Now, tilting the mark toward the light, I examined it once more.
The tiny figure of a man with the head of a bird.
A
bloodred
headdress—a disc nestled in a crescent—topped his head. He held a scale in one hand and a rolled papyrus in the other. The figure’s two-dimensional, stiff profile made me think the image was Egyptian.
I fished a magnifying glass out of the drawer and looked at the image on the paper again. There were even tinier marks beneath the figure.
Letters?
Hieroglyphics?
One of these days, I was going to have to see if I could decode them. I didn’t have that kind of time now.
I turned my attention back to the cards on the corkboard. It was as if I were looking at pieces of two different puzzles instead of one. Nothing added up, and the clock was ticking down to New Year’s Eve.
There is at least one pattern. Whatever was going to happen at the
Sher
could spell disaster. Just like the terrible love I still harbored in my heart.
Thirteen
San Francisco
, two years earlier
Ash
“Then it’s a deal,” I said, “
you
drove a hard bargain.”
Listening to the satisfied laugh coming through my cell, I clicked it closed. I was sitting in the lobby lounge at the
Union Square
. I reached for the glass of merlot on the small table in front of me and smiled. For more than a year I had been trying to convince a retired movie star to sell a certain Grecian bowl that a wealthy client of mine wanted enough to pay me several thousand dollars more than I would have to pay.
Leaning back, I took a sip, then reopened my cell and dialed a number I knew by heart.
“Hello?” I heard as I put the glass down again.
“I got it.”
She understood at once. “He’s willing to sell the bowl?”
“Yes. Let’s go out and celebrate.”
There was a moment of hesitation,
then
she said, “Oh, Ash. I’m sorry. Don’t you remember I have that big deadline tomorrow? I have to stay in and work, but you could come over here. I can fix us something.”
“That sounds like
more
work for you,” I protested, and heard her warm chuckle.
“For such a smooth-talker, you sure don’t know much about women.”
“And you’re going to teach me?”
“I guess I’ll have to. Lesson number one: The more often I cook for you, the more you won’t be able to live without me.
Especially after you’ve tasted my pasta.”
“Lesson learned,” I said. “What time do you want me?”
“Lesson number two,” she said. “Never ask questions you know the answers to yourself. I always want you.”
I smiled as I closed the cell and slipped it into my pocket. Stretching forward to pick up my drink, I saw a familiar figure standing beside the wide stairs that led to one of the restaurants.
He walked toward me as if he already had laid claim to the Board and the whole universe.
“Hello, Sloane. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I heard you passed the
Nigredo
, too,” Sloane said, the emphasis on the final word. I was aware that Sloane had also been successful. Otherwise, there would be no need for the second trial.
The
Albedo
, the test of purity.
“Are you here for some pointers about the next test?” I inquired.
He flushed, but sat down. He leaned his portfolio on the table between us. “They’re playing us, you know.”
Now there was a news flash
, I thought.
“Their game.
Their rules.
If you don’t like it, take your ball and go home. What the hell do you want, Sloane?” It was a pretty sure bet the Board was keeping tabs on us. I didn’t want to risk any action that smacked of conspiring with Sloane. “Speak up, or come to the point.
Your choice.”
He sat back, his gaze assessing. “You’ve bought into their mumbo-jumbo, haven’t you?” he asked.
“All that ancient crap.
It’s bullshit.”
“And your point?”
“My point is
,
if that’s a load of crap, then maybe the Chairman’s so-called power is also. If we work together, we might be able to take him. Then
we’d
run the Board.”
Was this some sort of test in and of itself
? I wondered. The point of the
Nigredo
was to prove I could surrender to the darkness, subvert my ego for a greater cause. Joining Sloane to take on the Chairman ran counter to everything the first test stood for.
“I don’t have time for this,” I said. “I want you to go.”
“Why won’t you even listen?” Sloane exclaimed. His eyes blazing with passion, he struck his fist against the table and the portfolio toppled over. Papers spilled out onto the table, cascaded onto the floor. With a curse, he began to gather them up. I scooted my chair back to help.
“I’ll get them,” he growled. “Leave them alone.”
“Have it your way,” I said. I sat back down. Resting on the tabletop was a single sheet of paper, smaller than the others. It had slipped out from between several larger pages as Sloane had hurried to turn his attention to the ones on the floor. Keeping my movement slow and simple, I slid it toward me, then slipped it into the inside breast pocket of my jacket just as Sloane straightened up. The color in his face was high.
His eyes, alarmed and wide.
He looked like someone afraid he’d just been caught in the act.
What have you done, Sloane
? I thought.
He stuffed the pages back into the portfolio, zipped it closed. “I tell you, we need an exit strategy,” he insisted.
“Wrong. I don’t need one and you’ve already been given one.”
“So you are going to accept being destroyed?”
“I’m not planning on being destroyed.”
“You
should
be,” Sloane’s superior smile returned.
“That’s not your decision to make,” I said.
“Not yours either.”
“So what’s the point of continuing this conversation?” I held up my glass. “I’d like to enjoy this…alone.”
His jaw worked in fury. “You think you’re so safe, so smart. They know about her. I’ll bet you didn’t know that, did you? I told them myself.”
I felt fury tear through me then. It took all the strength I had not to let it show. Nothing was going to interfere with what I was trying to accomplish.
Certainly not a junkyard dog like Sloane.
“Thank you for sharing,” I said. “Anything else before you go?”
“Damn you, Donahue,” he said. “I am going to take you down.”
“You’re going to try,” I said. “But first you’re going to leave.
Right now.”
He turned on his heel, strode out of the bar and toward the main lobby. For the first time, I wondered if I had underestimated Sloane. I hadn’t bothered to conceal my relationship with a human woman. I hadn’t seen the point. Now, I wondered whether I had made a mistake.
A costly one.
Finishing the wine, I reached for my wallet. My fingers encountered the piece of paper I had rescued from Sloane’s portfolio. Curious now, I drew it out, examined it more closely.
This is old
, I thought. Heavy linen, the edges rough. I was about to return it to my pocket when a bright spot of red caught my eye. I leaned down. It was a miniature image of
Thoth
. There was the human body, the ibis head. One hand held a scale, the other, a rolled papyrus. The ibis head was crowned by a full moon rising from a crescent. Beneath the god, a line of hieroglyphics I couldn’t decipher.
Where did Sloane get this
? I wondered.
The answer came to me immediately: He had stolen it from the Board. No wonder he wouldn’t let me help him pick up the papers. He was afraid I would see
this
.
Was it a deliberate setup? Was he seeking to defeat me by any means, at any cost?
I left the restaurant, went out onto the street. I was just debating which way to go when I spotted Sloane standing on a nearby street corner, anxiously searching through his portfolio.
Not a setup, then
, I thought. If it was, Sloane wouldn’t look so desperate. He had stolen something from the Board, and now he’d lost it. Now it was mine.