The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires (19 page)

The mud was thick and dank, and made horrible sucking noises as I struggled to my feet. I lost my summer sandals somewhere in the muck as I sunk up to my knees, my linen pants soaked through with the horrible mess. The entire front side of me was black with sodden detritus, reeking with such a horrible odor that my eyes ran.

“Well, so long as you're all right, we shall commence with the trial,” Dame Margaret said, marching over to a sun-bleached piece of tree-trunk driftwood and taking a seat on it. She pulled out a notebook. “As you are no doubt well aware, this is the trial for grace.”

I took one step forward, lost my footing again, and fell facedown into the muck a second time.

Dame Margaret pursed her lips.

“Letty, perhaps we should wait,” her companion said, watching as Theo pulled me to solid land.

I tried not to touch him with the stinking, filthy mess that covered me, spitting out bits of foul-tasting dirt and mud.

“No time to wait,” Dame Margaret answered. “We've a schedule to keep to. Now, let's see…during this trial, you will demonstrate to us your grace, that innate sense which separates you from the mortals, and by which you will be known as a member of the Court of Divine Blood.”

One seagull, braver than the others, evidently enjoyed the aroma I'd stirred up and tried to land on my head. I beat it off with a profanity that made Theo grin, Sarah cover her face with her hands, and Tansy gasp in horror.

“Indeed,” Dame Margaret said, raising both eyebrows and making a note in her ever-present notebook.

I scorned Theo's offer of a hand, stomping my way over to where Dame Margaret sat. She rose as I approached, bits of mud falling off me to hit the ground with unpleasant splatting noises.

“Really, I must protest,” Dame Margaret said, pulling out a handkerchief to hold at her nose. “Your stench is quite offensive.”

Mud covered me from the top of my head to my bare feet, squishing out from between my toes, ground into my hair so deeply I'd probably have to wash it at least five times to get it all out. My clothes were ruined, soaked through to my skin. I stunk of dead fish and sewer through no fault of my own, the blame for my condition standing squarely in front of me, gently fanning the air with a pristine white handkerchief.

“Step away, Portia Harding. Your audacity in standing near me knows no bounds. We are offended.”

Tansy gasped again.

My eyes narrowed at her. It would be so easy.

Sweetling, do not do what I know you are thinking of doing,
Theo warned.
No matter how much she goads you, she is still a member of the Court, and your trial proctor.

She caused the whole thing! She popped into the car without warning, and her buddy grabbed you and kept you from steering properly! It's all her fault that I'm a walking, fishy cesspool!

No good will come of you seeking revenge.

Oh, I beg to differ. A whole lot of good will come from it—it will do my spleen tremendous good to see her as filthy as I am.

“You are delaying us unnecessarily,” Dame Margaret said, holding the handkerchief to her nose again. “I will make note of your attempts to deprecate this trial.”

“Deprecate!” I stared Dame Margaret in the eye, my hands itching to grab her and toss her into the mud. It would only be fair, after all.

Sweetling…

I took a deep breath, choked on my own stench, and turned around, stumbling away with my head held high.
Don't worry, I won't do it, no matter how much I'd give to see her as filthy as me.

“If you leave now, it will be so noted on the trial records,” Dame Margaret yelled after me. “Do not expect another chance, for there will be none!”

I muttered profanity after profanity to myself as I fought my way up the grassy slope to the road.

“Does she know that if she fails this trial, it will all be over?” Tansy asked her companion.

“She knows,” Dame Margaret trumpeted. “She is simply too cowardly to face us! Her attitude is reprehensible! She is not worthy of the virtue name!”

Damn the trial. Damn everything and everyone…except Theo.

One of the gulls crapped on me as it flew over my head.

“I'm in so much trouble.”

The hum of the air-conditioning in the car was the only noise.

“I wonder how much groveling it's going to take to get the mare to give me another shot at that trial?”

Outside the window, gulls cried overhead. I flinched as we passed the area where earlier we'd skidded off the road, averting my eyes from the sight of Theo's car, still half-buried in the mountain of oyster shells.

“I hope your car will be all right. When are they coming to tow it?”

“Soon.”

I sighed, slinking down into my seat.
Are you still mad at me?

I have not been mad at you, so there is no “still” to it.

Then why aren't you talking to me? You haven't said a word since we went back to the pub so I could take a shower and change. I know you have to be angry, or at least disappointed, that I've messed up the trial so much that I won't be a virtue, and won't be able to pardon you, but I really don't believe the situation is as hopeless as you no doubt think it is.

I don't think anything is hopeless, sweetling, nor am I in the least bit angry. I think you showed remarkable restraint in not acting rashly with Leticia. I know how much you wanted to treat her in kind.

“Can I ask a question?” Sarah leaned forward so she could be heard in the front seat of the car she'd rented for our trip, now serving as our primary mode of transportation while Theo's car was out of commission.

“Since I'm delighted to know you're still talking to me, by all means, ask away.”

“I wasn't not talking to you, silly. I was taking notes on what happened. This is so incredibly fascinating!”

“I'm glad someone is getting enjoyment out of it. What was your question?”

“Why are we going to the Court if you're now out of the running as a virtue?”

A headache was building behind my forehead. I rubbed it, not for the first time, wishing I could rewind my life and start this section over. “Because I'm hoping that if I bring proof to the mare of what happened to Hope, they will excuse the last trial and give me another shot at it.”

“Yes, but if you're no longer a virtue, how are you going to make with the fog?”

I glanced at Theo. His jaw was tight, his eyes a light grey that indicated he was not a happy camper. “Evidently, even though I failed the three trials, I am not de-virtued until someone strips the power from me.”

“I hope so, otherwise you'll be in even hotter water than you are. So, we're just walking in the front door?”

“There is more than one entrance to the Court,” Theo answered. “We will take the one nearest the library, so Portia's talents won't be overly taxed.”

“Good thinking.” Sarah sat back to make a few more notes. I spent the rest of the way to the castle mentally sorting the events of the last few days, looking for something we might have missed. I had an uneasy feeling that something significant had happened that I'd failed to acknowledge, but a quick survey of the last three days didn't come up with anything to assuage my uneasiness.

“Someone is bound to notice this fog isn't normal,” I murmured to Theo forty minutes later, as we stopped just beyond a small doorway cut into the stone wall that surrounded the Court. Ahead of us stood the building we'd visited earlier, the library where the Akashic Record was held.

“We will be gone before they can trace the source.” Theo's voice was muffled, oddly contorted through the heavy fog that now rolled through the area surrounding the library. Even though he was just a few feet away from me, I could barely see his silhouette. “Just a little more, sweetling, then we can go in.”

“I resent being put on watchdog duty,” Sarah hissed from somewhere behind us. “I won't be able to see anyone until they are right on top of me.”

“No one knows who you are,” I whispered back, taking Theo's arm. His fingers closed around mine, reassuringly warm and strong. “All you have to do is distract anyone who comes to the door. It's not rocket science, Sarah.”

“Hrmph.”

Theo guided us to the main doors of the library, opening them wide. I summoned more fog, and sent it into the building, thick white rolls of it slowly filling all available space. We crept along the now-fogged hallways, hands outstretched to avoid colliding with obstacles. There were a few exclamations of surprise from people who found themselves caught in the fog, one person shouting for someone to find the mare.

We don't have much time,
Theo said. I clutched the back of his shirt, my other hand holding Sarah's arm, so we wouldn't get separated.

I know.
“Sarah, this is the doorway to the archives. Stand here and keep anyone from coming in.”

“Will do.”

I released her arm and followed Theo into a small, dusty-smelling room, shutting the door behind me to keep the fog out. Theo flipped on a light switch, and stood considering the cases around us. The room was, thankfully, empty of people.

“We can split up and search for it,” I said, moving to the nearest glass archive case. “What does it look like?”

“I have no idea, but since it is one of the most valuable records in existence, I assume it will be found in one of the more elaborate cases.”

I quickly examined the books contained in the climate-controlled case in front of me, but nothing had a title even remotely similar to Akashic Record. I skirted a giant library-sized dictionary opened on a book pedestal, and started for the next case.

Something tickled at the back of my head. I looked back at the dictionary, giving it a closer examination.

I closed the dictionary to read the title.
The Akashic Record: Being a List of All Immortals Possessing Membership in the Court of Divine Blood and Abaddon.

“Theo, I found it. It's very large.”

He hurried over, frowning slightly. “They keep it out here in the open?”

“Evidently. I thought it was a dictionary. F, G, H…ah. Here it is:
Hope, originally internuncio, later designed virtue by request of holder. Primary residence: Court of Divine Blood, Grand Apartments, third floor. Mundane residence: Seaton.
Seaton?”

I looked up at Theo.

“That's near Newton Poppleford.”

“That would explain why she was around the faery ring, then.
Mundane name: Hope Campbell.
Is that ink blotch covering another name, do you think, or is it just a blot?”

Theo bent over the book, squinting at the black area next to Hope's name. “It's hard to tell. It could be either.”

“Hmm. I'm willing to bet she covered up her mortal-world name on purpose.”

“She could have.” Theo looked thoughtful as he tapped his chin. “If she thought she was in danger, she might have destroyed any proof of her name as a safety precaution.”

“That's lovely. Is there anywhere else we can go to find out what name she is using now?” I asked, miffed that our lead had fizzled out.

“Not that I know of.”

I sighed. “Well, at least we have one of her names and a town to go on.”

“Indeed you do. That was very clever of you to think of consulting the Akashic Record.”

I spun around at the sound of a man's voice coming from the doorway.

Terrin leaned against the door, a slight smile on his face. “I particularly liked the fog. Very effective. Hello again. Is that your friend guarding the other side of the door?”

“Yes, she is. She wasn't supposed to let anyone in,” I said, trying to come up with an excuse for being in the Court when I'd been forbidden entrance.

“Good morning,” Theo said, giving Terrin a little bow. “You have us at a disadvantage. It is somewhat disconcerting to be caught breaking and entering into the Court.”

Terrin's smile widened. “And yet you managed it with such ease. A very admirable feat.”

“Is my friend all right?” I asked, a bit nervous about Sarah.

“She is right where you left her. I'm afraid I had to obscure her vision for a moment or two while I slipped past her, but she is unharmed.”

I relaxed a little bit. I was willing to take responsibility for my own actions, but I hated for anyone else to suffer on my behalf. “I suppose you'd like to know why we're here when we were told to leave.”

“I assume your purpose is two-fold: to consult the Akashic Record, and to conduct your final trial.” Terrin strolled over to the window, looking out at the still-dense fog. “Yes, a very clever use of your Gift. Quite effective.”

Theo and I exchanged glances. “You're partially correct: We did come here to see the Akashic Record. But as for my trials…well, even if I hadn't been disqualified, I would only have been on trial number four, not seven.”

“No, that cannot be correct.” Terrin frowned, walking over to a desk on the other side of the room and sitting down to access the computer there. “You have completed all the trials but the last one, I'm quite sure.”

“I'm afraid not. Trial number four got put off. I skipped ahead to five, which I did when I was in the Akasha. The two women who did my first trial came back earlier this morning for the fourth trial, but I…er…I failed it.”

“How very odd.” Terrin's fingers tapped out a few words on the computer's keyboard. He perused the resulting screen, a puzzled look in his eyes. “That's not what it says here. According to the official records, you have completed all trials but the last one: four of them successfully, two failures.”

“How could I pass the fourth and sixth trials? I didn't do them!”

“What elements did the fourth and sixth trials test?” Theo asked, looking even more thoughtful.

Terrin consulted the monitor. “The fourth was logic, the sixth grace.”

“Now I know your records are at fault. I was the least graceful person alive this morning,” I said, shuddering at the memory of my muck-covered self.

“Grace,” Theo repeated, his eyes on me.

Why are you looking at me like that?

I was thinking that grace doesn't necessarily indicate physical adeptness. Perhaps it is another type of grace for which you were being tested.

What other sort of grace is there?
I asked.
A blessing?

No, I was thinking more the quality of forgiveness, or mercy, if you will.

Mercy? To whom have I been merciful?…

A vision rose in my mind of Dame Margaret taunting me, baiting me to throw her into the mud. I hadn't given in to that almost overwhelming desire, though. I'd walked away from her with as much dignity as I could muster.

“I didn't throw her in the mud,” I said slowly.

“You did not. You demonstrated grace sufficient to pass the sixth trial,” Terrin said.

“So Leticia deliberately caused that accident, arranged it so I would be put into a position where I was covered head to toe in the worst sort of muck, then baited me to see if I would retaliate?” I nodded. In an odd sort of way, it made sense. “That explains the sixth trial, but not the fourth one. I haven't done it at all.”

“According to this, the trial was conducted last night at”—Terrin peered at the screen—“ten minutes to midnight. You successfully completed the trial seven minutes later. That was rather pushing it as far as time goes, but all ended well.”

“That can't be right,” I said, shaking my head. “Last night at midnight I was in a haunted mill, watching my friend and a ghost hunting group as they examined the building. There was no logic trial…”

Goose bumps crawled up my arms.

“Didn't you say you played a logic game with someone last night, while you were waiting for Sarah?” Theo asked.

“Milo,” I said, more confused than ever. “Milo gave me one of those logic puzzles to solve, but it wasn't a trial. Milo is a person, a normal person, not someone from the Court…” My voice trailed away again as Theo and I both turned to look at the large book sitting on the dictionary stand.

Theo beat me to it, hurriedly thumbing through the book as I peered over his shoulder.

“
Milo, originally archon, later banished from the Court of Divine Blood for abuses of power,
” Theo read. “
Cleared of charges, and removed to vessel of mortality at request of mare Irina. Mundane residence: Newberry, England. Mundane names: Milo Lee, Miles Leighton.
Miles Leighton is the man I was trying to find last night, the one who had disappeared, the man who is known to be one of Hope's friends, and supposedly the one she sought shelter with.”

“This is wild. Milo is a…a…”

“Vessel,” Theo said grimly, his jaw tight. “In other words, a servant to mortals.”

“Ha! That's what he meant about being in customer service. He deliberately hid his connection with the Court from me. But why?”

“I think it's time we had a few words with him to find that answer, and a few others as well.”

“Agreed. Er…” I glanced over to where Terrin sat watching us, a pleasant expression on his face.

“Hello there. I wondered when you'd remember me.”

“We hadn't forgotten,” Theo said slowly, eyeing Terrin. “I'm curious as to why you haven't raised the alarm about us, though. And why, for that matter, are you here now?”

“Life possesses so many questions, doesn't it?” Terrin leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “Since I am a tidy person by nature, I will answer those I can. I am here, my good nephilim, because this is one of my offices—I have three. And I have not turned you in because I am one of those people who are somewhat offensively labeled cockeyed optimists. A reverse Cassandra, if you will—rather than no one believing what I say, I believe most of what people tell me.”