Both of these questions could likely be answered if I could track my way to a central control room. There had to be one. Anyplace as huge and guarded as this most assuredly had some command central deep in the house, likely in—or close by—this “safe room” … into which I had not been invited, not that I was crying about it.
Frankly, I’d rather be running free with an alarm going off and someone trying to get inside than trapped in a room with that loopy bunch. Again I felt a pang of concern for Adrian, but I talked myself off that ledge by recalling that the ghouls were bunked elsewhere, segregated as a class.
No self-respecting vampire in his or her right mind would hide with a bunch of ghouls. They’re worthless, except during the daytime when there’s nobody else to watch you. At night, we’re better off watching our own backs. Only the most desperate and feeble of vampires would use ghouls as pawns or cannon fodder.
And just like that, I was back to being worried sick.
But it wouldn’t do me any good. Finding a control room, that would do me some good. It might even have cameras showing me what was going on in the basement’s Ghoultown, if I was lucky. All I had to do was find it.
Unaware if I was now effectively all by myself in this ludicrous McMansion’s tacky corridors, I dashed through them with all my wimpy psychic sensors thrown open like a net, trawling the place for signs of previously undisclosed inhabitants. I didn’t find any. I found overturned tables and chairs that had been knocked askew; I saw a kitchen with gleaming steel pots and pans hanging from a center rack, and these pans were swaying gently like they’d been recently touched. I found two spare bedrooms that were furnished as lightly as a hotel room, and I breezed past a home gymnasium proving that yes, these people would do anything to look like regular … um, people.
Then I snared the sense that someone was close, up ahead, to the right.
I veered that way and nearly collided with Clifford O’Donnell, whom I was determined not to call “Odo” anymore. His wide, square face was set in grim lines, but he didn’t look particularly frightened. It was something else I saw in him, and something else I felt radiating off him. Not fear, and not protectiveness. Not even a grudging awareness that self-defense might be called for at any moment.
No.
When I drew up short to keep from face-planting into his collarbone, I saw his face very clearly, very closely, and I realized that it was contempt. Not for me, I didn’t think—for his expression changed when he realized I was the one who’d nearly smacked into him.
“Ms. Pendle,” he said. “They abandoned you up here with me, did they?”
“Up here? Their safe room is underground?”
“It’s more of a safe compound, really.”
“What about my ghoul?” I asked, not even caring if it gave too much away for me to be so concerned.
“Oh, they don’t stay with the ghouls. Their hideaway is underneath the backyard, all the way back to the pool.”
“Wait. There’s a pool?”
“Behind the freestanding garage.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered.
“I’ve never seen any of them swim in it, that’s for damn sure,” he said.
The beeping went on patiently, persistently … more loudly, now that I was closer to the home’s dense center. It called unceasingly from somewhere nearby.
I asked Clifford, “They must have a control room—someplace where the security cameras, feeds, and sensors converge.”
“Yes, it’s this way.” I got the impression he had just come from it, and this impression was verified when he said, “I was trying to figure out how to turn it off, but they’ve changed so much since the last time I was here … I have no idea how it works. I need a goddamn tutorial, I swear.”
“No you don’t. You just need me,” I said with a forced smile.
The room felt claustrophobic and rounded, stuffed as it was with control panels, keyboards, screens, wires, and buttons, but not a window in sight. It was the size of a huge closet or a small bedroom, take your pick, and its lights and signs were going bananas.
“You know how to deal with this kind of thing? Because I won’t lie, it’s well above my pay grade.”
“Oddly enough, it falls right within mine. At least, my usual pay grade.”
“San Francisco checkbooks must be more generous than Atlanta ones.”
I scanned the equipment, looking for the master panel and finding it. “I’m not a seneschal by trade, only for travel purposes.”
“And for your usual gig …?” He let the question hang as he watched me flip switches, press buttons, and turn things on, up, and off.
“I do something else.”
The system was an epic mess in every direction—a Frankensteined work of artlessness combining at least four different security systems without a central mainframe. Whoever installed it ought to be dragged into the street and shot. I had a feeling the Barringtons thought they were being clever when they hired four different companies to do the installation.
It wasn’t clever. It was certifiably retarded.
“What are you doing?” Clifford asked, now genuinely interested.
“See those split screens over there?”
“The ones that go into four quadrants, or two?”
“Four,” I specified. “Something tripped the system that watches those areas—I can’t really tell what it was. I can see in the dark, but you need better infrared than this if you want to guard property without good exterior lights.”
He squinted at the monitor. “That’s the northern edge of the lawn.” He poked at one square. “That’s the southern edge, and these two are the property behind the garage. Did you park at the small lot by the back door?”
“Yeah.”
“Then if you tilted the camera a bit, you’d be able to see your car in this square.”
“That’s useful to know, thanks. You don’t see anything there now, do you?” I asked, my fingers still flying over the controls like they were Braille and I was reading the ever-living shit out of them. It sounds like hyperbole, I know—but I was very close to flying blind. I know what these systems look like and how they work, sure. However, that doesn’t mean I can magically parse a clusterfuck such as this without taking some time to get to know it first.
“No, I don’t see anything. Whatever set it off is gone now.”
Over to my left, something lit up with a squeal. A green light flashed. I swatted it like a Whac-A-Mole. “Gone, but not far. What’s this monitor showing?” I pointed at a split-screen with one side lit up, and one side in near darkness. Who the hell puts a camera in the dark when it doesn’t have infrared? Idiots, that’s who.
These people weren’t crazy, they were morons. There’s strength in madness—I knew that better than anyone, and I was pretty sure my new tenant Elizabeth Creed would agree with me there. But this … this feigned insanity? It was a paper mask, a fragile thing worn for show.
But it didn’t fool me. Not anymore, now that I’d seen it up close.
Clifford indicated the dark half of the screen. “That’s the yard by the gate. And the front yard outside it, where the street is.”
“Got it.”
“What does that mean?”
I said, “Someone’s checking the perimeter—moving back to front, skirting the edges.”
“Dammit, I think you’re right. Look, there!” he said, jamming his finger at a screen so hard he nearly cracked it. “Did you see that?”
“No, but I’ll take your word for it.”
“A fast-moving sucker won’t show up for shit on these things.”
I grinned. “Oh, I know. Keep your eyes on them anyway, will you? All the monitors you can watch at once, just … watch. And don’t blink. We need to know how many intruders we’re dealing with.”
“I’ve only seen the one blip so far, but that might not mean anything. If only these stupid screens were closer together.”
“I know, right? Wait, hang on.” I ex
amined the farthest screen, realized it wasn’t hooked up to anything that couldn’t be unhooked for the purpose of moving it, and yanked it off the wall. “Here,” I said. “Prop it up there, for easier watching.”
The connecting lines now ran across the panel, but that was okay. I was getting the hang of this.
“Okay,” I declared, and I began to narrate. “I was confused at first because the screens and the sensors aren’t lined up with their controls, but I think I’ve got it now. This screen here is connected to that panel there; those screens answer to these keys; that screen ties to this section.”
“It’s like this was designed by monkeys.”
“No shit. This slate over here handles the windows, I think—they’re on an electric current system, a little old-fashioned but perfectly serviceable. This same section of buttons and levers probably also handles the doors, and … and … this.” I found the newest slab of electro-tech, which had an LED readout but not a black-and-white screen. “This is for the pressure pad in front of the back door. I’d bet money on it.”
“There’s a what-now?”
“A pressure-sensitive sensor. It—”
He cut me off. “I know what it is, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I had no idea they’d put one in, that’s all. How did you know about it?”
“I felt it when we came inside.”
“You must have very sensitive feet.”
“Outrageously so, yes.”
“Or,” he said drily, “you have a very interesting primary career back there on the West Coast.”
“That, too. But don’t jump to conclusions just because I know what to look for.” Though for real, his conclusion-jumping was on base as likely as not. I’m not sure why I bothered to attempt a disclaimer, but with that, I flipped the switch to silence the beeping. The immediate quiet startled us both, even though I, for one, knew it was coming.
“Now …” His eyes were locked on the screens, now conveniently positioned more or less in front of him.
I withdrew from the console and went to stand beside him so I could watch, too. “Now what?”
“Now we see what our visitor is getting up to. Can you tell if he’s breached the house itself yet?”
I checked the panel and saw that the circuits were still unbroken. “Not yet. So far, he’s staying outside. Maybe he’s just looking.”
“Like hell he is. He’s back, and God knows what for this time.”
“Back?”
“Yes, back. For you. Me. Them. I don’t know. But this same thing—all this scoping, swooping around, and sneaking—it happened the night William Renner died, too.”
“Were you here that night?”
“Yes. They were nervous about him. They didn’t want him here, but stood to lose a lot of face if they didn’t extend the hospitality. They were so damn desperate to keep anything from interfering with their Chicago merger that they had to put up the show. But they invited me to help keep an eye on him.” He delivered the last sentence with a dash of ironic disgust.
“And I guess we all know how that worked out.” Then I caught myself with a mouthful of foot, and said, “Not that I’m saying you had anything to do with it. Just that whatever happened—”
He shook his head and waved a hand at me. “No, it’s all right. It wasn’t my job to protect him. It was my job to protect them. Still, it’s hard not to feel a little egg on my face.”
Together we scanned the screens, and I kept one eye on the console lights. We were waiting, anxious because we didn’t know what we were waiting for. But it was out there, and it was coming, and we both knew it.
I noted, “You said he got himself killed.”
“As if you bought the line about his suicide.”
“No, you’re right. That was a bullshit pizza, and any idiot could smell it a mile away. How did he really die?”
“I’m not positive, but I can guess.” He hesitated.
“But you’re not supposed to tell me, I get it. All that stuff about transparency, cooperation, yada yada yada—we all knew it was just for show. I understand if you’re tied up with them, or tied to them, whatever. You’ve got lots to lose if you go against their wishes.”
“I suppose.”
Something about his tone made me not quite believe him. “Look, I don’t know what your arrangement is, so I can’t hold it against you if you don’t want to share. But it’s worth pointing out that I’m here with the specific intent of preventing something really bad from escalating up to the level of international incident.”
“International?”
“ ‘International’ sounds more dramatic than ‘interstate,’ don’t you think?”
“I do.”
After a long moment wherein we both pretended to dedicate our full attention to the screens, he finally spoke. “Let me ask you a question first, and if you answer it honestly, I’ll respond likewise. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“How powerful is the Renner House? Strong enough to knock down the Barringtons, should it turn out to be worth their time?”
“That’s hard to say without knowing more about the Barringtons. How many others are there—inner-circle-wise?”
“Not many. Two or three not-quite-children who have been orphaned from other places. It’s strange, how the Barringtons have chosen their kind for the last … I don’t know how long. As long as I’ve been acquainted with them, so let’s say forty years or so.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Theresa got this idea that the line had become inbred, which wasn’t a far cry from the truth. She wanted to bring in new blood, reinvigorate the House with new people.”
“A worthy goal.”
“Yes, but the way she went about it … that’s the odd part. She was obsessed with the idea that her children weren’t devoted enough—that they’d leave her, or overthrow her one of these days. And Paul wasn’t too far behind her. He’s more arrogant than she is, and even happier about the prospect of control. She wanted it because she’s insecure; he wanted it to feed his ego.”
“But how do you guarantee loyalty?” I wanted to know. “Money won’t always do it, and money is the glue that holds civilization together. Makes the world go ’round, or that’s how I hear it.”
“I heard it was love, but maybe we listen to different radio stations. You’re right, though. Money wouldn’t do it. She didn’t want people on her payroll. She wanted addicts to be controlled. So she hooked up with this chemist from the east side, about twenty years ago. Between them, they developed a drug they could use to keep the newbies close to home. Nothing’s hard to escape like a bad habit, right? She tried it on a handful of kids but it didn’t work like the charm she’d hoped. There were too many side effects, like rage and paranoia. And besides that, the resentment ate them alive, until they either ran away or she killed them.”
I said “Hmm” because it lined up neatly with what I knew of Adrian’s sister—a young vampire in peculiarly poor health, begging for help, escaping her House and being left to her own devices … oh yes. The pieces fit nicely. Or horribly, as Adrian would probably see it.
“But you didn’t answer my question,” Clifford noted.
Drat his perceptiveness.
“I’m sorry. I got sidetracked.” And as I pondered how much to tell him, another blip went dashing across the screen—right to left, in front of the gate and around the inner edge of the wall. “Did you see that?”
“I did. He’s headed back to the east side. I think he’s covered the whole perimeter now. There’s nothing left for him to do but make a play to get inside. But I still want an answer to that question.”
Fine. “The answer is yes. Honestly, I think the Renner House could wipe this place off the map. I wouldn’t have thought so until tonight, but meeting these maniacs has sealed it for me.”
“Does San Francisco know this?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Do you plan to tell them?”
“I haven’t decided yet. But I probably will.”
He was no longer looking at the monitors, but looking at me. “You don’t give a shit about the San Fran House. What are you really doing here?”
“I believe that’s more questions than I agreed to answer.”
“Answer anyway.”
“No,” I told him. “Not until you tell me what you’re really doing here. You aren’t like the Barringtons, and it’s obvious enough that you don’t care for them. They drive you nuts, and they treat you like something they found on the bottom of their shoes. I didn’t know Macon even had a House. Are you really part of their family?”
“Sort of. The Macon House isn’t much to speak of. There are only three of us, and we keep to ourselves.”
“I see. So if you want any authority or muscle, you have to keep yourself allied with these yahoos.”
“That about sums it up. Now what about you?”
“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.” And I had no intention of telling him that I was here because my favorite blind vampire was in hot water, and my not-a-ghoul had lost a sister. “But it boils down to San Francisco wanting to know what the hell happened here, before Atlanta and Chicago come down on it and install a pet judge to drive California crazy. Maximilian sent me here in case I could turn up something that would derail—or at least delay—Atlanta’s efforts to mount a hostile takeover.”
“But you’re not one of the California people.”
“Look, buddy—I’m trying to help some friends, okay?”
I might’ve gone on, but right at that moment something landed hard on the roof.
If we hadn’t been vampires, we wouldn’t have heard it. It only reached us as a dull thump—something that could’ve been mistaken for the shutting of a door or the dropping of a heavy book. But we did hear it, and we both jerked our eyes up to the ceiling like a couple of dumb-asses—since neither one of us had X-ray vision.
Then we looked quickly at each other.
“He could be doing anything up there—setting the place on fire, cutting a hole in the roof …”
“Hanging out, disabling cameras,” I said, noting that the second screen with four quadrants had just lost the feed from the top of the chimney. “Were those new?”