Part 11 (1/2)

”San Diego, San Jose, Austin, and Seattle. Over the past year, members of a number of small organizations like the Ordo Lebes have been systematically stalked and murdered. Most of them have appeared to be suicides. Counting Chicago, the killer's taken thirty-six victims.”

”Thirty-six...” I ran my thumb over the handle of the coffee Cup, frowning. ”I haven't heard a word about this. Nothing. A year?” year?”

Elaine nodded. ”Harry, I've got to know. Is it possible that the Wardens are involved?”

”No,” I said, my tone firm. ”No way.”

”Because they're such easygoing, tolerant people?” she asked.

”No. Because I know Ramirez, the regional commander for most of those cities. He wouldn't be a part of something like that.” I shook my head. ”Besides, we've got a manpower shortage. The Wardens are stretched pretty thin. And there's no reason reason for them to go around killing people.” for them to go around killing people.”

”You're sure about Ramirez,” Elaine said. ”Can you say the same about every every Warden?” Warden?”

”Why?”

”Because,” Elaine said, ”in every single one of those cities, a man in a grey cloak was seen with at least two of the victims.”

Uh-oh.

I put the coffee cup down on an end table and folded my arms, thinking.

It wasn't general knowledge, but someone on the Council was leaking information to the vamps on a regular and devastating basis. The traitor still had not been caught. Even worse, I had seen evidence that there was another organization at work behind the scenes, manipulating events on a scale large enough to indicate a powerful, well-funded, and frighteningly capable group-and that at least some of them were wizards. I had dubbed them the Black Council, because it was obvious, and I'd been keeping my ear to the ground for indications of their presence.

And look. I found one.

”Which explains why I hadn't heard anything about it,” I said. ”If everyone thinks the Wardens are responsible, there's not a prayer they'd draw attention to themselves by reporting what was happening and asking for help. Or call in a gumshoe who happens to be a Warden, himself.”

Elaine nodded. ”Right. I started getting called in about a month after I got my own license and opened my business.”

I grunted. ”How'd they know to call you?”

She smiled. ”I'm in the book under 'Wizards.'”

I snorted. ”I knew you were copying my test answers all those years.”

”If it ain't broke, don't fix it.” She pulled a strand of hair back behind one ear, an old and familiar gesture that brought with it a pang of remembered desire and a dozen little memories. ”Most of the business has come in on referral, though, because I do good work. In any case, one fact about the killer's victims was almost always the same: people who lived alone or were isolated.”

”And I,” Anna said quietly, ”am the last living member of the Ordo who lives alone or were isolated.”

”These other cities,” I said. ”Did the killer leave anything behind? Messages? Taunts?”

”Like what?” Elaine asked.

”Bible verses,” I said. ”Left in traces, something only one of us would recognize.”

She shook her head. ”No. Nothing like that. Or if there was, I never found it.”

I exhaled slowly. ”So far, two of the deaths here have had messages left behind. Your friend Janine and a woman named Jessica Blanche.”

Elaine frowned. ”I gathered, from what you said earlier. It doesn't make any sense.”

”Yes, it does,” I said. ”We just don't know why.” I frowned. ”Could any of the other deaths be attributed to the White Court?”

Elaine frowned and rose. She took her coffee cup to the kitchen and came back, a pensive frown on her brow. ”I... can't be certain they haven't, I suppose. I certainly haven't seen anything to suggest it. Why?”

”Excuse me,” Anna said, her voice quiet and unsure. ”White Court?”

”The White Court of vampires,” I clarified.

”There's more than one kind?” she asked.

”Yeah,” I said. ”The Red Court are the ones the White Council is fighting now. They're these bat-monster things that can look human. Drink blood. The White Court are more like people. They're psychic parasites. They seduce their victims and feed on human life energy.”

Elaine nodded. ”But why did you ask me about them, Harry?”

I took a deep breath. ”I found something to suggest that Jessica Blanche may have died as the result of being fed upon by some kind of s.e.xual predator.”

Elaine stared at me for a moment and then said, ”The pattern's been broken. Something's changed.”

I nodded. ”There's something else involved in the equation.”

”Or someone.”

”Or someone,” I said.

She frowned. ”There's one place to start looking.”

”Jessica Blanche,” I said.

Without warning, Mouse came to his feet, facing the door to the apartment, and let out a bubbling ba.s.so growl.

I rose, acutely conscious of the fact that my power was still interdicted by the apartment's threshold, and that I didn't have enough magic to spell my way out of a paper bag.

The lights went out. Mouse continued to growl.

”Oh, G.o.d,” Anna said. ”What's happening?”

I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the sudden darkness, when a very slight, acrid scent tickled my nose.

”You smell that?” I asked.

Elaine's voice was steady, calm. ”Smell what?”

”Smoke,” I said. ”We've got to get out of here. I think the building's on fire.”

CHAPTER Twelve