Staying Dead - Laura Anne Gilman [96]
“I thought that you said you had everything under control?” their hostess said finally, breaking the polite silence that had fallen after casual chitchat. As frustrating as Frants found it, he could not rush the issue. Not here, where he was very much not in control. He had scorned the Council years ago, using a go-between to get around their prohibition on doing business with Frants Industries, and paid the price for that deception. Was, in fact, still paying that price. The fact that Madame Howe was willing to meet with him at all now was due only to his rather blatant bribe.
Galling though it was, in this situation he needed her aid. Rather desperately.
“We did,” he replied. “But the stone was returned to us in damaged condition. The spell has been…dislodged.”
She snorted, a surprisingly ladylike sound. “Dislodged? Say what you mean, Ollie. It’s been broken. That will teach you to try to work with amateurs. Hiring a lonejack, what were you thinking?”
They both knew what he had been thinking. A Council mage had installed the spell, and been dispatched by Council order immediately after they discovered the nature of the spell. No mage had worked for Frants Industries since, until his ill-fated attempt twelve years ago to use current to take his father out of his way. It had been stupid, to use magic to do something more ordinary means could have accomplished. But he had wanted to make a point, that no man—or woman—could say no to him.
And the mage hadn’t. More fool her.
He had thought he would never have to worry about the Council’s anger so long as he stayed within the building. The ban held: no Council mage would touch that building, for good or ill. They could no sooner go against their order than they could take back the original spell which had caused it. But they could, he hoped, give him help in other ways. It was, after all, their work. They should have some pride in it.
“The spell no longer works, even with the cornerstone returned. It needs to be repaired.”
“I’m not sure you can blame the lonejack for that,” Kim-Ann said, placing her coffee down with a gentle clink of china against wood. “But either way, the fact is that you’re screwed.” Even the obscenity sounded polite in her mouth. “Really, the theft and resultant breakage is hardly surprising. What did you expect? You left anger, pain in your wake with that spell. Only the weight of the building kept it in check for this long.”
“Not me, my grandfather,” Frants objected. “He was the one who commissioned it.”
“You believe that that makes any difference to magic?” She was elegantly scornful. “You reap the benefits, directly, so too do you reap the costs.”
“That spell bought protection against ill will.” Ill will, in that particular case, to cover everything from envious competitors to disgruntled union organizers, and any other conflict his grandfather, no innocent when it came to the underbelly of big business, could name.
“You cannot use the spell against the spell itself,” she said in return. “And money, even a great deal of money, cannot outrun death’s hatred. Your grandfather knew the risks when he purchased our work.” “Our,” although the Council still denied any involvements. Which was why she alone met with him here in Chicago, rather than a full quintet on their own turf, as was usual. This meeting was not happening on any level. “You should have paid more attention to the details when you set all this in motion.”
Frants wasn’t sure if she was referring to himself or his grandfather. The old woman was old enough to have known the bastard personally, but her mind seemed clear enough to tell the difference. He repressed a shiver. Mages. They were all damned spooky, and only a fool trusted one.
“And, to make matters more complicated, there has already been some inquiry from outsiders as to our part in this matter.” She made a moue of disgust. “I’m not very happy about that, Ollie,” she continued. “Part of our agreement at the time—the reason