Part 13 (1/2)

I held my breath, waiting for Lilith to surface. I'd been purposefully vague in my request. I didn't want to name another G.o.ddess specifically, since I thought that might give Lilith a target for any jealous rage she might feel.

Miraculously, Lilith didn't stir. I'd been obtuse enough to escape Her notice. Although that probably also meant that the ritual failed on some level, since Lilith would likely be more ticked off to find Herself warded against.

The sun felt warm on my face. I took a drink of the water, then set it aside to drain as a libation into my potted plants later. I fished the coin out of the chalice to keep in my pocket as a talisman. I thanked whatever Bright G.o.ddess had touched this ritual with Her presence, which I felt as the heat of the light on my skin, and then began the unwinding of the magic. I released the quarters. Walking counterclockwise along the painted edge of the pentacle, I opened the circle.

”The circle is open, but-” I started the traditional closing words, and then choked. I hadn't been able to say the words as part of a ritual since that night. Hurriedly, I finished with, ”So mote it be.” That finished, I went downstairs, locked the door behind me, crawled under the comforter, and slept.

Sebastian's grimoire figured prominently in my dreams.

Numbers and symbols danced around in my head, making a jumble whose meaning lay always just out of reach. At first, in the way of dreams, I was somehow inside the pages, standing beside the words and images. In the next moment, I was outside, looking down at the pages, when a hand touched my shoulder.

I looked around. Though I saw no one, I felt watched. The flutter of black wings against a moonlit sky skittered along my peripheral vision. When I glanced back at the book, the words had become English. Over and over, it read: ”I want my f.u.c.king grimoire back, you thieving b.i.t.c.h.”

I woke up to the sensation that someone was pounding on my door. Tense, I waited to hear the sound again. ”Sebastian?” I called, albeit softly. ”Parrish?”

No answer, other than a plaintive mew and a scratch.

”Come in, Barney,” I said, standing up to unlatch the door. ”I should get up anyway.”

Barney wiggled herself inside. She sat upright on the bed and curled her tail over her paws. Once she was certain she had my attention, Barney sneezed.

”I'm sorry, okay?” I said, picking up the ceremonial knife, the athame, from its spot on the shelf altar. I made a slas.h.i.+ng motion at the door, effectively breaking the warding spell. Destruction was infinitely easier than construction.

I'd slept much longer than I'd intended. A glance at the alarm informed me that it was already past seven. Outside, the streetlights flickered on in response to the encroaching darkness. Twilight. Parrish would be mobile.

Changing out of Sebastian's clothes, I rooted around in my closet until I came up with something casual and s.e.xy. After a quick trip to the shower, I slipped into a black lace-up-the-front teddy and pulled on my most faded, threadbare blue jeans. From the pocket of the sweats I removed the Mercury dime and slipped it into the watch pocket of the jeans.

Checking the look in the mirror, I decided I looked pretty good in a s.l.u.tty sort of way, especially with wet hair and mascara-smudged eyes and the very faint bruise on my shoulder. Sebastian would approve, I was certain, and probably Parrish as well.

Speaking of my new roommate, I found Parrish in the kitchen, reading Sebastian's grimoire.

Oh, c.r.a.p.

I felt so stupid that I'd left it out in the open like that. This was not good.

Could Parrish possibly know how important the grimoire was? I told myself there was no reason to believe he could read ancient German any better than I. Maybe if I could act casual, Parrish would never suspect anything. How likely was that?

Parrish had made himself a cup of tea. I saw it steaming by his elbow. While I watched, he touched the rim of the cup to his lips but didn't drink-an affectation left over from a lifetime of consuming food and liquids. Parrish's eyes scanned the page slowly. I suddenly realized hecould read it.

”Hey,” I said. ”You read German?”

He was so startled he nearly spilled his drink. ”How long have you been spying on me?”

I laughed. He was a fine one to talk, sitting there perusing Sebastian's secrets. Of course, I had stolen them. My righteous indignation evaporated with a shrug. ”Not long.” I pulled up a chair to sit beside him.

”So, you can read it?”

”Not really,” he said. He closed the book, sending the scent of dust and mold into the air. ”Seeing the book made me nostalgic. It was new when I was young.”

I rolled my eyes at him. ”Next you're going to say they don't make books like that anymore.”

”They don't.” The teacup went to his lips again, and I watched as he breathed in the orange blossom scent of Lady Gray. ”Where did you get it?”

Leaning an elbow on the table, I batted my eyelashes innocently. ”I stole it.”

A smile twitched across his lips, as if a million snarky replies occurred to him, and he couldn't decide which one to use. ”Ah,” he said. ”I see.”

”Okay, fine,” I said, as if he'd refuted my claim, which, in a way, he had. I mean, his tone fairly dripped with I-so-don't-think-you-have-it-in-you derision. ”Lilith stole it.”

”Lilith?”

Right. I hadn't gotten around to telling Parrish about Lilith and that night. Still, I found myself more frustrated by my apparent credibility gap. ”You'd have no problem believing I can cut the throats of Vatican agents in cold blood, but you have a hard time picturing me taking someone's book?”

Parrish raised a finger as though to count off his first point. ”Not cold blood. Pa.s.sion.” Then, he flashed me the European ”two,” thumb and forefinger. ”This is clearly a rare book, Garnet. I can only think that the university's special collection would have such an item, and I'm trying to imagine you pulling a caper that would involve scaling walls in the middle of the night.” He broke into a smile. ”Though I can easily see you in a skintight cat suit. You'd make a lovely burglar.”

”Thanks.” I got up to pour myself my own cup of tea. Parrish had, in the parlance of his people, left the kettle on. The gas flame glowed low and blue under the blue-and-black-speckled teakettle. Steam escaped through the spout. I pulled a mug from the cast-iron tree under the cabinets. The cup was a nondescript yellow, exactly like the one Parrish had. I'd bought them from the discount bin at the big department store on the edge of town on highway whatever. My favorite mug, a blue and brown glazed, hand-thrown pottery one made for me by my friend Frank out in Oregon, had been left with so many other important things in Minneapolis. ”So,” he prompted when I didn't offer anything else. ”Did you use a grappling hook? Are you holding the book for ransom?”

I laughed. ”It's not from the library. It's-” I stopped myself. Was he fis.h.i.+ng? Leaning against the kitchen counter, I fiddled with the box of tea bags as I tried to gauge Parrish's expression. He'd folded his hands on top of Sebastian's grimoire, and he gazed at me with a bemused expression as though still trying to imagine me in full thief mode.

The overhead lamp radiated harsh light on Parrish's pale white skin and cast a fluorescent halo around his auburn curls. I was struck by how unhealthy he looked compared to Sebastian, which was silly, considering that they were both equally dead. You don't get any sicker than dead.

”What?” Parrish prompted. ”It's what?”

Turning my back to him for a moment, I poured water into my cup. Could I trust him? I wanted to. After all, he was the guy I called when I needed to bury bodies. He was good at keeping secrets. Plus, I desperately needed to ask an expert about Sebastian's vampirism, such as it was.

Pulling a spoon from the drawer, I stirred some honey into my tea and made a decision. ”Have you ever met a vampire who could walk around in the daylight?” I asked, returning to the chair I'd pulled up beside him.

He snorted a laugh. ”How could I?”

”Well,he can walk around at night. Anyway, have you everheard of one?”

He rolled his eyes. ”Of course. Vampires love urban legends as much as the next fellow,” Parrish said, sniffing the contents of his cup again. ”Since my conception, rumors have circulated about a mad scientist and a mystical formula. It's the Holy Grail for vampires. Why? Have you found it?” He looked down at the grimoire lying underneath his hand. His face became serious. ”Good G.o.d, Garnet. You're not saying this is it?”

I hadn't really intended to say anything of the kind, but Parrish was always smarter than I gave him credit for. ”I don't know,” I said. ”Maybe.”

”Is he the one who bit you?” Parrish asked.

I started to protest, but then I realized my choice in clothing had left Sebastian's love bite exposed. I hadn't really thought about covering it up because it hadn't bruised as much as I expected, plus the puncture wounds were magically nearly faded. Now I felt a blush creep up my neck. ”I...” I had no idea what to say.

Parrish gave me a long, appraising look. ”Impressive,” he said finally. ”The rest of us have been chasing after a ghost for centuries, and you find him in Madison, Wisconsin. You haven't even lived here that long.”

”Are you jealous?”

”No,” he said a little too quickly, and, moreover, the twitch of his jaw told me otherwise. Then Parrish affected a more casual air. ”You know, if word of this were to get out, every vampire on the planet would be after you.” ”Well, they'll have to stand in line,” I grumbled into my mug, thinking of the FBI and Vatican agents. I started to take a swallow of my drink, then stopped. ”Would that include you?”