Silence greeted this for several seconds, and I began to fear I’d lost the connection. Just as I was about to check, Hal said, “Pardon me, is this some kind of social experiment? You want me to get a hundred and forty-four Samoans and cram them into your cabin with a case of whiskey?”
“No, I said Samoas. The Girl Scout Cookies with chocolate and coconut. Luxury item outside of the States, you know. I’ve seen them go for fifty bucks on the Malaysian black market, but they’re only four dollars a box for us. The problem is they’re out of season right now, so it’s going to be tough.”
“Out of season?”
“Yeah, they don’t sell them year-round, Hal. It’s usually January through April and here we are in October. I’m sure you can find them somewhere, but it’s going to be tough. This is a major quest I’m giving you here.”
“I’m too old to be chasing after Girl Scout Cookies.”
“Well, I’m older, and I’m paying you to be my lil’ cookie monster.”
“This is not why I have a law degree.”
“No, but the law degree is why you get to charge me that hourly rate.”
Hal sighed audibly through the phone. His frustration carried across the Atlantic very well. “How did our conversation get to this place? I mean, didn’t we start with everyone trying to kill you? Let’s go back to the part where you said they already killed you once.”
“Hal, I don’t have time to explain. I borrowed this phone and need to give it back. Just have an associate of yours show up at Le Grand Bleu with a fat stack of bills and get that contraband to the cabin. Pretty please.”
“Fine, but I’m going to bill you for my therapy session.”
“You do that. Oh, and we have a few local vendors who would probably appreciate some reimbursement for my activities today. Have your dude also drop off a few hundred euros at this store.” I gave him the address of the clothier as well as the café from which we’d snaffled lunch, and he quickly rang off before I could think of anything else for him to do.
I slipped the phone back into the teen’s purse and then dissolved my camouflage. Granuaile was about a half block away with Oberon sitting by her side, and he was getting plenty of attention.
he commented as a pair of women paused to smile at him and scratch him behind the ears.
Oberon, you’re doing that thing again where your ego replaces your reason.
Don’t get carried away, now.
I ignored his gibe and said, We’re going to be heading indoors to eat. Ready to squeeze underneath a table?
Okay. Where do you want to plonk down?
Oberon wandered around to the rear of the restaurant and stretched out against the wall.
You mean seconds?
I cast camouflage on him to prevent someone from calling in a stray and then took Granuaile’s hand and squeezed it gently. For another hour, perhaps two, we would have some time to enjoy our lives instead of running for them. She smiled at me and leaned in for a quick kiss. We decided, however, to give it an extended run.
You’re supposed to be asleep.
We granted him mercy and circled the building to get a table in the restaurant, camouflaging our weapons and taking them inside. Tables of a light wood awaited us, along with rattan-style chairs in a cold gray. We eschewed alcohol—we’d be swimming soon—but ordered some challenging items for our digestive systems.
I opted for something that translated literally to monkfish in an algae shirt, but monkfish are famously unconcerned with wearing clothing. It really meant that the monkfish was wrapped in seaweed, but privately I thought the Algae Shirts would be a great band name. Incredible merchandising potential.
Granuaile wanted fish too but wasn’t feeling up to the monkfish, so after asking me for a wee bit of coaching on pronunciation, she ordered “turbot Hollandaise au citron vert, écrasée de pommes de terre, crème de ciboulette.”
The waiter, a tall gentleman with heavy eyelids, bobbed his chin and said, “Oui, mademoiselle.”
She grinned with victory as he departed. “That was fun to say. I’ve enjoyed all these little phrases I’ve picked up today. I think I should learn French next.”
“I agree. Let us begin. Repeat after me: J’ai l’air ridicule quand je ne sais pas ce que je dis.”
“Wait. I heard a cognate in there. Something about ridiculous. You’re setting me up to say something stupid, aren’t you?”
“Auggh! You caught me.”
She smiled briefly before her expression turned serious. “How long do you think it will take us to cross the channel?”
“It’s a twenty-one-mile swim, so however long it takes Oberon to dog paddle the whole way. It might be a very long time, unless you think you’d be strong enough to kind of tow him along and speed up the process?”
She pursed her lips in uncertainty. “I haven’t even tried to swim yet. I have no experience with that form; we haven’t been by the sea in the past few weeks since I’ve been bound. But towing a hundred fifty pounds of wet dog doesn’t sound easy.”
“Well, it won’t be deadweight. He’s going to be helping. Hopefully we’ll have time to experiment. We’ll use the belts to jury-rig a harness for the weapons first, and then if we can figure out something for Oberon too, great. But if not, we’ll basically swim circles around Oberon to make sure nothing’s coming at us.”
That earned me a Billy Idol lip curl. “Something’s going to come at us, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Odin revealed that it’s Poseidon and Neptune’s job to make sure we never make it to England. I don’t think they’ll content themselves with waves.”
“So what do we do?”
“The same thing that Poseidon and Neptune will do. If they can influence the animals of the sea, so can we. You look at them in the magical spectrum and attempt to communicate with them, the same way you made the initial connection with Oberon. Try to convince them that we taste like ass or there’s something shiny waiting for them in the Black Sea or whatever, just don’t eat us.”
“We’re not going to have access to magic while we swim.”
“Nope. Whatever I can store in my bear charm will have to last us the entire way across. We should cast magical sight while we’re still in the shallows and keep it on all the way.”
“We need to make like ten more of those bear charms.”
“Yeah, it’s tough to argue that. But it might be more important to bind your amulet to your aura first. Everyone who wants to find me can do it now by finding you. The only reason we’re staying mildly ahead of them is because we keep moving. But that’s not sustainable.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well,” a cultured voice said, “I found you the old-fashioned way. A wiretap.”
Our heads swiveled in alarm as our hands reached for weapons. Leif Helgarson, living embodiment of a frenemy, stood stiffly with his hands clasped together in front of him. He was out of reach beyond the neighboring tabl
e, but he could get into reach quickly if he wished.
“Though I admit, I was informed ahead of time which city you would be in. Hal is not so security-conscious as Gunnar was, have you noticed? He should be using a scrambler.”
What I noticed was that Leif had ceased trying to blend in—not that he had ever been especially good at it. He was wearing a black paisley waistcoat over a white shirt and a candy-apple-red cravat pinned with a pearl. Black skinny pants and shiny, pointy black shoes completed his look, which suggested to me mild mental illness.
“Since when did you start monitoring calls?”
“Working with Theophilus has given me access to technologies and methods I would not have used earlier. I have been monitoring all calls running through the cell towers near Hal’s residence and place of business, so thank you for reaching out to him.”
“It’s not a wiretap if you’re not actually tapping a wire,” I said, in a peevish attempt to reassert control. A small part of me was relieved that Leif wasn’t able to track me through all the blood we had shared—he used to drink mine in lieu of payment for his services and I think I probably ingested some of his once back in Flagstaff, so that had been a legitimate fear of mine after he’d surprised us that time in Thessalonika. Tracking Granuaile through divination and monitoring calls was annoying, but at least we could work on countermeasures against that; I couldn’t take back the blood. “Now get out. We were trying to have a romantic interlude, and your cravat is ruining everything.”
“Your conversation sounded rather prosaic and based on survival rather than procreation to me.”
“Who said anything about procreation? The point, which you apparently missed, is that you’re not welcome.”
“Where are the dark elves this time?” Granuaile asked, looking over his shoulder. “Are they in the kitchen?”
“No dark elves at all,” Leif replied, “though some other vampires may arrive shortly.”
“Please wake Oberon and get him in here,” I said to Granuaile, never taking my eyes off Leif. “Look out for threats while we talk.” Leif wouldn’t leave before he’d spoken his piece, so I ground out, “Say what you came to say.”
I heard Oberon grouse in response to Granuaile’s mental call.
Leif gestured to the empty chair next to me. “May I join you?”
“No. Over there.” I flicked my eyes at the unoccupied table across from us.
“Very well.” No sooner had he seated himself than our waiter swooped in to inquire about getting him a drink. Leif caught his eye, charming him, and said, “You will forget I am here. Ignore me.” The waiter turned and shook his head once, wondering what he’d been doing, before retreating to the kitchen to see if the answer waited for him there.
Oberon, invisible to most everyone, joined us and squeezed in behind Granuaile’s chair.
he said.
I decided to let Granuaile answer him and prompted my erstwhile attorney, “Why are you here?”
“I have been given a task to perform, which I have no intention of performing. It runs counter to my own interests, despite the attempts of Theophilus to ensure that I have a personal stake in its completion.”
“And that task is what, exactly? Kill us?”
“Near enough,” Leif admitted. “I am to prevent you from swimming the channel, or, at minimum, delay your crossing. I therefore urge you to depart sooner rather than later.”
“Fine by me,” I said, making as if to rise. Leif held up a pale, placating hand.
“Nonsense. Enjoy your meals first. The urgency is not so great as that, and we have other things to discuss.”
“Such as the note you left for me in Germany?”
“I am glad you received it. I have heard that you killed one of the snipers.”
“There was more than one?”
“There were five. The one you killed was at the edge of the net, so to speak. Had you continued straight ahead from the place where you found the note, you would have been caught in a crossfire.”
I didn’t bother correcting him on who had killed the sniper. “Whose idea was that, and how did they know to set up there?”
“As to the latter, you probably know better than I. It is someone in Tír na nÓg who is divining the future of your protégée.” He waved a finger at Granuaile.
“Do you know who it is?”
“No. Theophilus is quite closemouthed about it. All I know is that he gets regular updates from his source on your future or current position. As soon as the sun set, we heard you would be in Calais this evening, and I was sent immediately to cut you off. I am supposed to coordinate with the local vampires and one other to prevent your escape. Naturally, you are the wild card in all of this. Your amulet prevents them from predicting your actions and thus they never know whether they will be successful.”
The waiter arrived with our orders and placed the artfully arranged plates in front of us. We thanked him and he left without looking at Leif.
“Where is Theophilus now?”
A tiny shrug. “He is constantly on the move now, as am I, but I believe he is somewhere in Italy at the moment.”
“Good.”
Leif quirked an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Yes,” I said. Perhaps the yewmen would find him and deliver the vengeance of Druids. I wondered if Leif had heard about what had happened in Rome, but I didn’t want to bring it up. “Was it his idea to send the snipers?”
“No, but he approved it. The idea came from one of his allies who rather concerns me—an Austrian fellow named Werner Drasche. You may have the misfortune to meet him shortly. He bankrolled the mercenaries and has the wherewithal to continue such activity. It is his opinion that modern military force would be most effective in bringing you down.”
He was right about that. I noted that Granuaile fumed silently at this news, and I felt a bit sorry for Herr Drasche. He was now irrevocably on her shit list. “Interesting,” I said. “Why would I meet him shortly?”
“Theophilus has sent him here with the same basic information I was given—namely, that you would be in Calais tonight. He is probably searching for you even now, as I would be had I not heard from a hireling about your call to Hal.”
“A hireling?” Granuaile said. “Who talks like that?”
“A contracted employee,” Leif amended, which was not much better.
“Why should I be worried about this guy? Is he a vampire?”
Leif shook his head once, curtly. “No. He is human, or at least he once was. You cannot simply unbind him. Think of him as a vampire without the common disadvantages. He is not dead; he can walk in the daylight; wood is no more dangerous to him than any other substance. And yet he enjoys many of our advantages—superior strength, long life, extraordinary recuperative powers, and an ability to hide his feeding so that no one notices.”
“What is he, then?”
“I cannot say with certainty. A horror born of madness, perhaps. I have only recently met him, and my investigations have yet to bear fruit. But if you ask him, he will say that he is an arcane lifeleech.”
“An arcane lifeleech?”
Leif winced. “He does have a penchant for melodrama. And cravats.”
“Oh.” I dipped my chin at his throat. “So that thing on your neck wasn’t your idea?”
“It was my idea to flatter him into thinking he influences my personal tastes. But it is not my idea that cravats are attractive.”
“I’m relieved. So what does Herr Drasche do, latch on to his victims and drain their life?”
“He does nothing physically. He can do it from a distance. Hence his use of the word arcane.”
I frowned. “How great a distance?”
“I cannot provide an accurate measurement, but within his sight, certainly. He cannot hide in Sri Lanka and drain a victim in the Seychelles. But he could stand at the door to this establishment
, for example, and leech the very life from your cells. A little from you, a little from Granuaile, and a little from everyone else.” He swept his hand around to include the entire restaurant. “You may not feel anything at all, except perhaps a mild fatigue. He is the perfect parasite. He thrives entirely on the energy of others now and has no need to ingest food—only water.”
“So he can just drain a little at a time?”
“Oh, no, he can drain people completely. He refrains, however, because it is unnecessary. Imagine, Atticus: He can walk abroad in daylight and sample from everyone in public. He is sustained and kept youthful wherever he goes.”
“This only works on people?”
“No. Plants and animals too. He can live until the end of days if he so chooses and have minimal impact on his surroundings. Yet if he needs unnatural strength, it is at his fingertips. He can grow stronger by draining the life of everything around him.”
“Gods below, what a monster.” Given enough time, he could snuff an elemental.
“Indeed. But apart from some odd cosmetic decisions, he does not look the part of a monster. Instead, he cultivates the aspect of a dandy.”
I snorted. “Nobody calls people dandies anymore, Leif. We call them douche bags now.”
“In sooth?”
“Verily. And in case you were wondering, you’re dressed like a dandy.”
“Alas! It is the least of my faults, I imagine.”
Truer words were never spoken. I could never forgive his betrayal, but somehow I had slipped into bantering with him like old times. I looked down at my plate and realized I had yet to touch my food. Granuaile hadn’t sampled hers either and became aware of this at the same time I did.
Leif noticed our gazes and said, “Please, eat.”
The monkfish in algae shirts looked tasty, but I was no longer hungry. “I’ve kind of lost my appetite.”
“Me too,” Granuaile said.
Oberon spoke up. Granuaile picked up a fork, scooped a bite of turbot, and held it out to her right, over seemingly empty space. A couple of licking noises later, the turbot had disappeared from the fork.