Spellcasters (74 page)

“Not for Cassandra,” I said. “She’s an old one. Probably less than fifty years left on her quasi-immortality warranty.”

“That doesn’t matter, though, right? If anyone’s waiting for her on the other side, they’ll be disappointed, since vamps don’t go there.”

Both Lucas and I looked up. “They don’t?”

“Hoo-ha, look at that. The necro knows something the whiz kids don’t. Vamps are dead already, remember? So where do the dead go when they die? There’s a stumper. All I know is there are no dead vampires in the ghost world. My opinion?
This
is their afterlife. When their time card runs out, poof, they’re gone. And that’s your undead lesson for today. Now it’s time to get back to work. Or should I grab takeout first? We missed lunch and it’s almost dinnertime.”

“You have contact calls to make,” I said. “My only contacts are council members, who know next to nothing about Cabal business. So I’ll get dinner. What does everyone want?”

“What I want is for you to take a break,” Lucas said. “You’ve been—”

“I’m fine.”

“When I saw you dashing through the bookstore, Paige, you looked pale enough to
be
Jaime’s ghost. And, as well as you might think you’re hiding it, don’t think I’ve failed to notice that you wince every time you sit or stand. As for dinner—” He lifted his cell phone. “Room service. Wonderful invention. Go lie down. Please.”

“But I—”

“Paige …”

“The files on Joey and Matthew,” I said. “We still haven’t read them—”

He handed me the files. “Read them in bed, then.”

I hesitated, then took the files and left them to their phone calls.

I fell asleep reading the files and didn’t awake until after nine. Lucas, having suspected I’d drift off, had ordered me a sandwich and salad earlier. He’d also removed my clothing, probably assuming I was down for the night. When I got up, I thought of redressing, but it seemed a waste of
effort, so I just pulled on my kimono. Decent enough. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen Jaime in less.

Jaime had reserved the adjoining room, and was in it finishing her calls, but when I awoke, she came over to fill me in. Both she and Lucas had canvased their contacts and found no one who’d heard so much as the vaguest rumor about a supernatural living in Ohio who’d recently had contact or trouble with the Cabals. Even Raoul hadn’t been able to help. Lucas was disappointed, but not surprised. When you lived so far off the Cabal grid, it was unlikely you’d have any opportunity to clash with them.

Knowing the Cincinnati connection might be a false lead, Lucas and Jaime had broadened their questions to include any supernatural targeted by the Cabals in the past two years. That led to a list of twenty names, plus half a dozen promises to call back with more information. Of those names, though, neither of us could see any whose beef against the Cabals was great enough to launch a murderous rampage. The most common complaints were being refused Cabal employment, or being harassed because
they
refused Cabal employment. No one would ever kill teenagers over something like that. We hoped that when the other contacts called back with their lists, we’d see more likely possibilities.

“And until then?” I said. “I didn’t see much in the crime-scene files, but we should probably go through them together. Let me grab—”

Lucas put a restraining hand on my knee. “Tomorrow. We’ve done enough today, and I believe we’ve earned ourselves an hour or two of respite.”

“We could order in a movie,” Jaime said.

I said nothing, but Lucas caught my underenthused look. He pushed to his feet, crossed the room, and tugged the scroll tube from his suitcase. When he glanced over at me, I grinned.

I turned to Jaime. “Would you mind if we skipped the movie? My brain’s still whirring, and I really need a more active distraction. Lucas and I have this spell we’ve been dying to practice.”

“Spell-casting practice?” she said. “Sounds like work to me.”

I grinned. “Never, especially not when it’s a new spell. You can never have too many spells.”

She laughed. “You kids are such keeners. You’re so cute. So what does your new spell do?”

“Lowers a target’s core body temperature, inducing moderate hypothermia.”

Jaime looked from Lucas to me. “Uh-huh. Okay, I gotta ask: What the hell do you guys need a spell like that for?”

“We both have a limited range of lethal spells.”

“And … that’s a bad thing?”

“It can be. Don’t worry. We’re both very responsible spell-casters. We’d never misuse our power. Oh, hey, if you don’t mind sticking around though, we could use a target.”

“Target?”

“Well, we can’t know for sure whether the spell works without a target.”

Jaime stood. “I hear my television calling. You kids have fun.”

“We will.”

Lucas waited for Jaime to leave, then plunked down beside me.

“Alone at last,” he murmured.

I snatched the scroll from him, unwound and read it. “So how are we doing this? Straight-up spell-casting? Or fun and games?”

“Do you need to ask? The decision, though, should really be yours. If you’re too tired, or too sore—”

“Oh, I feel fine.” I grinned. “Fine enough, anyway. Strip spell-casting okay?”

“Better than okay.” He looked down at my kimono. “Although you would appear to be at an initial disadvantage.”

“You arguing?”

A slow grin as he pulled me to him. “No, not at all.”

We didn’t get the spell working, having exhausted our—or my—store of energy before a successful cast. It didn’t matter. It used to matter. Success or failure at spell-casting practice used to matter a lot, to both of us, and we’d both admitted to hours or even days of frustration following a failure. But now that we almost always practiced together, it had become a game rather than a test. And, no matter whether we cast a new spell successfully or not, practicing together did have one definite advantage—it meant we never left a session feeling frustrated.

W
e awoke at seven. Jaime popped over minutes later, and from the looks of things, hadn’t slept more than an hour or two. While Lucas picked up breakfast, I took a quick shower. I’d just stepped out when someone rapped at our door. Lucas probably, with his hands full again.

“Could you grab that?” I called to Jaime.

I dressed, then opened the bathroom door to find Jaime standing there.

“Vampire at the door,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I sighed. “Please tell me it’s not Cassandra.”

“Short auburn hair? Looks about my age? Perfect makeup? Designer outfit?”

“Shit,” I said, leaning against the wall.

“How about I don’t invite her in?”

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t work. Cassandra goes where she pleases, invited or not, wanted or not. Crosses, holy water, icy glares, nothing keeps her out.”

“I heard that, Paige,” Cassandra called from the main room. “Stop hiding in the bathroom and tell me what this is all about.”

I walked through the bedroom into the living area. Cassandra was lounging by the window, taking in the sunlight and, sadly, not bursting into flame.

I turned to Jaime. “Cassandra, this is—”

“I know who she is,” Cassandra said. “I have a television.”

“Oh, but you two had already introduced yourselves—No, wait …” I looked at Jaime. “You didn’t know her name. So how’d you know she was a vampire?”

“Easy. It’s like you witches and sorcerers can recognize one another. I’m a necro. She’s dead. So I can tell. Only dead things walking around are vamps. Well, there are zombies, but they don’t smell like French perfume.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassandra said, fixing Jaime with a glower. “I’m not dead.”

“Of course you are. So you came all this way—?”

“I am
not
dead.”

Jaime slanted me an eye-roll. “Sure, whatever. Now—”

The hall door opened. Lucas walked through, then stopped. He looked at Cassandra, then down at his tray of breakfast for three.

“Don’t worry,” Jaime said. “She doesn’t eat. Well, she does, but even you aren’t that hospitable.”

“Ah, Cassandra, I presume,” he said, laying the tray on the dinette table.

“Cassandra, this is Lucas Cortez,” I said. “Lucas, Cassandra DuCharme.”

Cassandra’s gaze skimmed over Lucas, assessing and dismissing him in a millisecond. Anger darted through me, not so much at the insult as at the coolly confident way she did it, with a look that said, if she had wanted him, she could have him. Now I knew how Elena felt.

“Cassandra’s just leaving,” I said. “Seems she took a wrong turn on her way somewhere else.”

“I’m not leaving until I get an explanation.”

“First, we don’t owe you an explanation. Second, if I thought you’d leave once we gave it, I’d tell you in a heartbeat. We’re very busy, and as much as I appreciate your interest—”

“You said my name came up in reference to this case. I want to know who, how, and why.”

“Don’t know, don’t know, and don’t know,” Jaime said. “It didn’t tell us.”

“It?”

“The spook.”

Cassandra crossed her arms. “Spook?”

“Ghost,” I said. “Or maybe not—we haven’t determined that yet. A spiritual entity of some kind has been pestering Jaime and it has something to do with you. That’s all we know.”

“Me? Why on earth would a ghost want to communicate with me?”

“Maybe because you put him there,” Jaime said. “Dinner coming back to haunt you. Literally.”

Before Cassandra could answer, our room phone rang.

“Jesus,” Jaime muttered. “Grand Central Station.”

Lucas picked up the extension from the side table. He announced himself, then waited. His gaze flicked to me, a slight frown on his lips.

“Yes, of course, perhaps we—” He paused. “Oh, well, certainly then. Come up.” Lucas hung up and turned to me. “That was Sean Nast.”

“Savannah’s—Kristof’s son?”

“Yes, he has something to tell us, about the case. He was phoning from the lobby.”

“You want me to skedaddle?” Jaime said.

“No need. He knows from the trial that you’ve been working with us. But perhaps …”

He looked at Cassandra.

“I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers,” she said. “Yes, I understand, but given the animosity between the Cabals and vampires—”

“It’s not animosity,” Cassandra said. “To have animosity, you have to acknowledge that the other party exists. You needn’t worry. I will be as the Cabals wish me to be: invisible. Since no one can outwardly recognize vampires”—she shot a pointed look at Jaime—“there’s no need for him to know what I am.”

A knock at the door. Lucas opened it. Sean Nast walked in, followed by a man who could only be a Cabal bodyguard. Sean turned to his guard.

“Wait outside,” he murmured.

“Mr. Nast said—” the guard began.

“Please,” Sean said.

The guard nodded and retreated into the hall. Lucas closed the door behind him.

“Granddad’s getting paranoid,” Sean said. “I feel like I’m twelve again.”

“Sean, this is Jaime Vegas,” Lucas said. “Jaime, Sean Nast, Thomas Nast’s grandson.”

Sean grinned. “Hey, my frat watches you on
The Keni Bales Show
every month.”

As they shook hands, Sean’s gaze flicked to Cassandra.

“Sean, this is Cassandra,” Lucas said. “Cassandra, Sean Nast.”

If Sean noticed the lack of a surname for Cassandra, he gave no sign of it, only shook her hand with a “Pleased to meet you,” then turned to us.

“Tyler Boyd is missing.” He glanced at me and added, “That’s the Boyd CEO’s youngest son. He’s seventeen.”

“He’s missing? Since when?”

“We aren’t sure. Tyler went to his hotel room around eleven last night. When he didn’t show up for breakfast, his dad sent someone to get him. His bodyguard was in the room, dead, and Tyler was gone. Mr. Boyd called Granddad and the Cabals have been out searching ever since.”

“Good,” Lucas said. “My father has excellent shaman trackers.”

“That’s the problem. They didn’t call your dad, or anyone in your Ca—your family’s Cabal.”

“What?” I said. “But he went missing here, right? In Miami?”

“And the Cortezes have all the resources here, I know. It’s crazy. I am so fucking—” He glanced at Jaime and Cassandra. “Sorry. I’m just fed up with their crap. Joey’s dead and now Tyler’s missing and all the Cabals can do is bicker about who’s to blame and who’s trying to take control of the investigation. Without your dad’s trackers and CSIs, all we have is a bunch of VPs and bodyguards milling around the city, hoping to bump into Tyler.”

“So you want me to call my father.”

Sean rubbed his hand over his chin. “Yeah, I know you’re on the outs with him, and I hate to ask, but I don’t know what else to do. I tried phoning his company switchboard but, of course, they just kept routing me to some junior, junior assistant who won’t even relay a message. If you have your father’s direct number, I’ll make the call.”

“Your family wouldn’t appreciate that. Better let me handle it.”

“I’m not worried about what my family thinks. You can tell your dad I’m the one who told you to call.”

“I’ll call him, because he has the resources to process the scene and search for Tyler. I won’t, however, tell him it was at your instigation. You’re angry, with good reason, but that’s not a decision you want to make right now.”

“I don’t care—”

“Lucas is right,” I said. “Not only don’t you want to start a rift with your family, but you don’t want to widen the one between your Cabals. It’ll only make things worse.”

Sean nodded. “Okay, but after you make the call, will you come to the Boyds’ hotel with me? I came here because I wanted to get your dad involved, but also because I wanted to get you two involved. So far you’ve done a hell of a lot more than the Cabals.”

“We’ll certainly go,” Lucas said. “But I believe it would be best if we arrived independently. Why don’t you give Paige the hotel address while I phone my father?”

When Lucas was gone, Sean glanced at Jaime and Cassandra, neither of whom was making any attempt to pretend they weren’t listening. He obviously had something else to say to me, so I offered to walk him down to his car. The bodyguard followed us to the elevator. While we waited, Sean gave me the address for the Boyds’ hotel.