Greywalker - Kat Richardson [119]
Ben looked away, chewing his lip.
I got to my feet, feeling ninety years old. “I need a nap or something, if I don’t unravel first. I’ve still got a lot to do.”
Mara went down the stairs with me, glowering the whole way.
She stopped me in the hallway. “You’re not ready for this sort of thing. I could just strangle whoever did this to you.”
“I don’t think you’d have much luck. I don’t know what to do about this,” I added, tapping my chest, “but I have other things to do first and I’ll do them, so long as I can.”
“You must be careful, Harper. You’re a stubborn, hardheaded, scientific practicalist, and all of this seems like a nightmare to you that you hope will simply evaporate when you wake up. But you don’t wake up from this.”
I snorted. “I’ve learned that already. I just have to figure out how to get through without getting killed.”
“What about Cameron? Are you going to quit his case?”
I sighed. “It could be moot. And please don’t try to persuade me.”
“I shan’t. But there is something you should know. Because a vampire can lay a geas, he can also be put under one. You can bind them to a promise in the Grey. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure.”
She sighed. “Think on it. If you must deal with them, you may need to try. Do take care, though.”
“I will.”
I drove home and went to bed. My sleep was tossed by fragmented dreams and nonspecific discomforts. I woke as the sun was going down. Just like a vampire.
I sat on the living room floor and contemplated the unlit TV. Its blind, dark eye stared back. Chaos jumped into my lap and nosed her way under my sweater as I sat and thought.
I had no choice, since I wasn’t smart enough or coward enough to give up. Rest and the quiet of the Danzigers’ house had helped ease my exhaustion, but I still felt achy and itchy and ill, and I wondered if that was doom. I played with the ferret in a desultory and desperate way until she insisted on napping. I put her to bed, then put on comfortable clothes and went out.
The first place I went was Adult Fantasies.
Carlos was downstairs, glowering at the unfortunate Jason while a firestorm of black fury whirled around them. Jason cowered, drawing in on himself.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . . ,” the boy whined. I cringed.
Carlos’s reply dripped scorn. “Yes. You are. Just clean it up and keep your wretched hands to yourself or I’ll tear them off at the wrist.”
Jason looked near to gagging on fear. He stumbled backward and bolted for the stairs as Carlos released him from his glare. Then the vampire turned it on me. It struck like a stone, ringing through my ribs, and I started to fold my shoulders inward. He raised his line of sight to my face and cut the intensity, cocked his head and flicked an eyebrow.
“Blaine.”
I forced myself forward. Revulsion and the residual pain in my chest urged me to draw away.
“I’d like to speak with you.”
He nodded and waved me toward the office. Passing him sent cold shudders through me.
The pierced Goth girl was rummaging about in some boxes. She looked up as we entered.
“Leave that,” Carlos ordered.
She shrugged. “OK.” I envied her lack of sensitivity. We watched her geishalike shuffle as she left, apparently impervious to the effects of Carlos’s presence.
“Sit down.”
I sank into a chair. Carlos settled himself behind the desk, then raised his eyes to mine. They had no light in them, and I shivered as he waited for me to speak.
“I need to meet with Edward. Can you help me do that?”
Carlos sat back, his face blank, just glowering for a while. At last he said, “Yes.”
“When and where?”
“On Wednesdays, he holds court at the After Dark.”
“That’s in Pioneer Square, isn’t it? I’ve never been there.”
A cruel humor flickered in the blackness of his eyes. “Not many daylighters have. He’ll see you. I’ll take care of it.”
“What time?”
“Never before ten.”
“I need as many of Edward’s enemies, malcontents, or neutrals there as possible. Can you accomplish that?”
“My pleasure.”
“Thank you. I have an unrelated, professional favor to ask you also.”
Again the silent gaze pierced me. I sympathized