Midnight's Daughter (11 page)

Fighting mages is never as straightforward as I would like. I prefer a nice physical contest where it’s mostly about strength, speed and who has the best moves. With mages, it’s about who has the nastiest toys. Considering that I was facing a dark war mage, I had no doubt at all that his toy collection rivaled mine, which was why I ignored the impulse to have some fun and just threw the knife I pulled out of my boot. The guy didn’t even flinch or try to duck, acting under the assumption, I suppose, that his shields would stop it. They would have, if I hadn’t paid a small fortune to have it enchanted.

That’s the problem with magical protection—it’s only as good as the mage who cast it, and it is no help whatsoever if your opponent’s mojo is stronger than yours. Luckily, my spell had been worth the price. The last emotion on the man’s face before he hit the tarmac was surprise as he looked down at the blade that was sticking out of his heart.

I retrieved my knife and ran back to the ramp, shaking my head to get rid of the last of the stupor, but the remaining mage had slipped past the ship’s defenses while I was preoccupied. I found him inside, engaged in a tussle with Louis-Cesare. I barely noticed them, or the ransacked state of the plane. My whole attention was focused on the battered pilot, who was staring in horror at a small box wired into the floor near the cockpit. It said 01:34 when I first glanced in his direction, and 01:33 a second later.

The pilot’s legs were shattered, with a femur sticking out of the dark blue material of his once nicely pressed trousers. I grabbed him and glanced around. “Anyone else on board?”

He blinked at me but didn’t answer. He didn’t appear to be in pain, which meant that either Louis-Cesare had given him a suggestion or he was in shock. Either way, I doubted he’d be much help, but figured it was worth a shot.

I gave him a little shake, and pointed at the bomb. “Can you disable that thing?”

“I don’t know.” He blinked dilated eyes. “If I had more time, maybe…”

I took in the guy’s dull expression and pale, sweaty face. When I first met him, I didn’t think he looked like someone who should be working for a bunch of bloodsucking monsters, with his sandy blond hair, sun-reddened cheeks and heavy squint that somehow failed to clash with his open, friendly smile. He looked more the part now. “Let’s go,” I said, slinging him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. It left my hands free for weapons, and I assumed I’d need them.

“Dorina! I ordered you to wait!” Louis-Cesare shot me a look while dodging a blow from the mage in front of him. It looked like a standoff to me, since the mage’s shields were deflecting the vamp’s blows, but Louis-Cesare was too fast for the mage to hit. The guy might have used something a bit nastier than the long knife he was carrying, had he not been in a magically sealed area. I couldn’t risk using my toys for the same reason—it was too easy for them to backfire given the wards the Senate had put up.

“Leave him!” I yelled at Louis-Cesare. “We have to go!”

“You go,” he replied, making another useless slash with his rapier. “Jonathan dies today.”

I glanced at the mage, whose cloaking spell had dropped, since he was using all his extra strength to maintain his shields. The two men were nearly the same height, but the mage’s leanness and slim shoulders made him seem smaller. I cataloged him automatically: short white-blond hair, big gray eyes, even bigger nose, pale face; no, I didn’t know him. But then, I try to stay away from mages in general and dark ones in particular.

“We have to get clear before that thing goes off or we’ll all die!” I gestured at the bomb, which now read 00:52. “Come on!”

Louis-Cesare and his opponent both looked at the clock; then the mage decided on the better part of valor and bolted for the door. I didn’t try to stop him; I was too busy following hard on his heels. Louis-Cesare trailed after me, dragging the limp body of the cabin attendant with him, and the three of us ran full out for the chain-link fence near the runway. The mage, unencumbered by bodies, reached it first and vaulted over. Louis-Cesare dropped the steward and sailed after him, jumping across the eight-foot fence like it wasn’t even there.

I dropped the captain beside his coworker just as the plane exploded in an eruption of orange flame and black smoke. Several white-hot bits of metal collided with my back after I moved to shield the captain. I was reaching for the steward when a flying piece of silver sliced through his forehead, scalping him before embedding itself in the fence post behind his head. I huddled over the captain’s still-breathing body and waited it out. Some days, it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed.

Half an hour later, we were in a shiny new Mustang heading for Vegas. It had been chosen because of the heavy UV coating on the windows, but it also came equipped with a manual transmission. I had stared at it doubtfully after we located it in the rental office’s vast lot.

“You should have let me steal something. I don’t drive a stick.”

“I’m driving,” Louis-Cesare said, sliding into the low seat as easily as if he’d done it a hundred times. “You’re drunk.”

I wished. “I had all of two beers, mostly for the water content.”

“If you needed water, why didn’t you drink water?”

“I don’t like water.”

“Get in or stay here, Dorina.”

I got in. I wanted to be there when he told the Senate that we’d destroyed a million-dollar aircraft in less than a day. I rode shotgun, while our two passengers took up the backseat. One was the captain, who had gone to sleep after a little suggestion from Louis-Cesare; the other was the only dark mage, other than Jonathan, to have survived the explosion. If you want to call it that.

Louis-Cesare had insisted on bringing him along, but the guy was giving me the willies. The foot growing out of the side of his neck and the fact that he now literally had eyes in the back of his head probably had something to do with that. After five minutes of hearing him scream, I’d had enough and knocked him unconscious.

“So, who’s Jonathan?” I asked, fiddling with the air vents to get them as wide open as possible. The sun was so hot I could taste it, and the road shimmered in front of us like an undulating black snake. It was the kind of heat that made newspaper headlines and started people making dire predictions about global warming. I had brought the rest of the six-pack along, but like me, the bottle in my hand was already sweating heavily.

The only answer I got was a slight increase in speed. “If we are going to work together, we should know something about each other,” I quoted piously.

“The mage is not important.”

“You risked your life to try to kill him and he’s not important?”

I received only stony silence for an answer. Louis-Cesare’s eyes were on the road, but I could see them clearly in the mirror. They were perfect receptors, showing every reaction in those vivid irises. His expression was blank, the planes of his face like those of a statue, cold and unyielding. But when he thought about Jonathan, his eyes were haunted.

“I
said
, you risked your—”

“It is not your concern.”

“Really? Because that’s not how it looks to me. There was no reason for the Black Circle to hit that airplane. Yeah, it belongs to the Senate and yeah, there’s a war on. But they didn’t just attack it and leave. They waited for us to come back. They
waited
.”

“We already knew we have a traitor.”

“Yes, but now we know—” I was interrupted by a gasp of agonized sound from the mage in the back. Considering his current state, I didn’t think pummeling him into silence all the way to MAGIC was a good idea, not if anyone wanted to question him later. I found a knockout dart in my backpack and ensured that he stayed unconscious for the duration of the ride.

I turned back to find Louis-Cesare’s eyes on me. “Now we know something else, too,” I continued. “We have to conclude that Drac is working with the Black Circle, unless you think we have two leaks, one informing Uncle of our whereabouts and the other giving the same information to the mages. Personally, I find that a little hard to swallow.”

“It is not impossible,” Louis-Cesare said stubbornly. “There have been cases recently where vampires, some sworn to first-level masters, have managed to break their allegiance. A few even attempted to kill their own sire.”

My beer had left a ring of condensation on the knee of my jeans. I rubbed at it and tried to digest this new bombshell. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

“The Senate is keeping it quiet. They are afraid that to do otherwise would encourage any vampire dissatisfied with his position to attempt to break their master’s hold.” He glanced at me. “You understand the risk?”

I nodded numbly. One of the main things keeping the vamp world all nice and tidy—most of the time—is the near impossibility of any vamp breaking the control of his sire. Each master answers for his or her children, right up to the Senate level. The only exception to the rule, or so I’d thought, was vamps who reached first-level status. I wondered how many would stay loyal if they had an alternative. Why did I think it wouldn’t be a lot?

“What is the Senate doing about this?” I demanded. If the Black Circle had figured out a way to emancipate at will, we could be looking at chaos—hundreds, maybe thousands, of disaffected vamps, all making their own decisions, with no regulation other than brute force.

“Investigating. We have reason to believe that the method the dark was using is no longer available to them. However, there is no knowing how many vampires were affected before then. The number is unlikely to be high, but it is almost certain that we have not yet found them all.”

Things just kept getting better and better. “As interesting as all this is, it still doesn’t explain Jonathan.”

“Jonathan has nothing to do with our mission.”

“It looked like he was pretty involved to me!”

A parade of emotion finally flickered across Louis-Cesare’s face—pride, stubborness, bone-deep pain—but he said nothing. I’d long ago learned the same lesson—showing your sore spot only allows it to be hit more easily. And Jonathan was obviously a very sore spot for Louis-Cesare. But I had to push. Whether I liked it or not, we were in this together. And there’s nothing I hate worse than fighting enemies I know nothing about.

“That hit wasn’t meant for me,” I said bluntly. “Drac already left me a message, remember? He took out my team and thumbed his nose in my face. Why do that if he was planning to kill me barely an hour later? For some reason, he wants me alive and scared.” At least for the moment. “So he didn’t order the hit on the plane. The mages cooked that one up on their own.”

I waited, but the only response to my nice logical argument was Louis-Cesare’s hands tightening on the wheel. “I’ve had no run-ins with the Black Circle that could explain them sending a whole hit squad after me,” I continued. “So they were after someone else. And there’s only two of us.”

A long pause. “Jonathan is a… personal issue,” I was finally informed.

“There aren’t any personal issues at a time like this.”

Louis-Cesare reached over and flipped on the radio. He settled on an eighties station where Eddie Van Halen was going to town on a guitar riff. Nice, but I suspected he just wanted something loud. I scowled at my reflection in the eggplant-colored windows, wondering when my partner had decided that I’d recently been lobotomized.

The plain fact is, anyone the Senate wants dead gets dead. That holds true even for powerful dark mages. It might be more difficult in their cases and therefore take a little longer, but there’s no one they can’t reach in the end. Yet Jonathan was still alive. Meaning that Louis-Cesare hadn’t asked them for help.

Now, maybe he just wanted to take care of the mage himself—he had said it was personal—but I doubted it. I felt the same way about Claire, but if anyone had harmed her, the Senate would hold him for my tender mercies. Taking their help didn’t mean ruling out personal involvement. So there was something about Louis-Cesare’s history with the mage that he didn’t want known.

“You can’t hide it from them forever,” I told him, just to make it clear that I was keeping up.

“I am hiding nothing.” The words were calm enough, but the Mustang was all but flying down the highway.

I was left with the certainty that whatever Louis-Cesare was keeping from me, it was very personal and very disturbing. But there was exactly nothing I could do about it. “If that’s how you want it.”

His hands flexed on the wheel, their tight clench loosening slightly. “That’s how it is.”

“Hey, Marlowe. You ever consider staking your decorator?” I glanced around the once-immaculate suite of rooms that now, like much of MAGIC, resembled a rummage sale in an inner-city neighborhood. A scorch mark in the shape of a human body marred one wall of the laboratory, next to the hall door that was half-torn off its hinges. And if there was a whole test tube or beaker in the place, I didn’t see it.

“Ah.” The handsome brunet vamp spun on his lab stool to face us. He smelled of Cuban cigars, cinnamon and some funky ointment with too many ingredients to list. The latter was emanating from the bandages wrapped around his head. His curls escaped from under them in dispirited clumps, but I didn’t have the urge to laugh. Any wound that a vamp couldn’t heal without resorting to gross-smelling concoctions was enough to have killed a man. It looked like the war had caught up with him recently. “That explains the stench,” he said, with a smile that never came close to his icy brown eyes. “I thought something had died in here. But no, that would be in about ten seconds.”