Publish and Perish Page 4

  There was a click and the door to the office opened. “And let me guess, it’s going to be David,” I said without looking around.

  “I can’t let you go careening off on your own,” came the voice of David Sullivan from over my shoulder. “You’ll just end up in the soup if I’m not around to bail you out.”

  Shade was sporting what would be a grin on anyone who wasn’t a vampire. Vampires were too elegant to actually grin. I cranked around to look at David.

  “Well, I hope you’re not going to assault fairyland in a Canali suit,” I said, but I couldn’t help noticing how beautifully the material fit his body.

  “How are the ribs?” David asked.

  “Fine,” I said shortly, not wanting to admit that they still hurt. I looked back at Shade. “May I have a few days off?”

  He nodded gravely and gestured toward the door with the air of a medieval pope bestowing a blessing. David and I left. Outside the office I looked up at David and gave him a frown.

  “I do not need a babysitter.”

  “You so totally need a babysitter.”

  “You do modern slang really poorly.”

  He glanced around then leaned in closer. “What’s the word about your friend?”

  “He’s in a coma.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And the female—” David looked alarmed and I broke off. “Uh. The person, you know. Anyway, she and some guy turned up at the hospital with a prepaid credit card.”

  “That would suggest she’s not the individual who attacked your friend.”

  “She’s was kneeling over his body. This might be a way to try and get to him. And thanks for ditching me, by the way. So, who did you report to?”

  He looked away. “I haven’t actually. I wasn’t exactly sure who to tell, and it raised an interesting issue for me. But enough of that,” he snapped. “Back to your latest harebrained scheme … What’s the plan?”

  “We go to my apartment and create the plan.”

  He forced extra air out of his lungs to create a sigh. “I was afraid of that. I’ll meet you there. I need to gather a few items.”

  * * *

  Parlan was at the apartment when I got home. He and Ladlaw were slouched on the couch still watching Scooby-Doo and sharing a bag of potato chips I’d hidden away for a snack-attack moment. For once I had thought ahead and picked up Chinese takeout for dinner. David was going to be on his own. I didn’t know what kind of blood he preferred and vampires were as snotty as wine snobs about their preferred blood type. Some vamps wanted fat-saturated blood. Others something highly oxygenated. It was rumored that some more dissipated vampires liked the blood from a drunken host for the buzz it provided.

  The two couch potatoes bestirred themselves and went to get plates and utensils while I unloaded the white and red boxes from the big paper bag. We tucked in, and both Parlan and Ladlaw were fascinated watching me wield chopsticks. They insisted on trying and Ladlaw caught on right away. Not surprising given the grace and quickness of the Álfar. It took Parlan a bit longer but he was fairly adept by the time we had finished.

  There was a knock at the door. I ran to open it and as expected it was David. He had his left hand hidden under his long overcoat, and once he reached the table he revealed why. Concealed beneath the coat was a gun about two feet long with a snubbed-off barrel and an extremely truncated wooden stock. It landed on the table with a solid thud.

  “Dear God, what is that thing? It looks like something that would have been carried by gangsters back in the roaring twenties,” I said.

  “It’s a cut-down BAR.” Parlan and Ladlaw looked lost. “Browning automatic rifle,” David explained and then looked down at me. “And yes, a gangster did use one like this. Clyde Barrow carried one,” David answered.

  “As in Bonny and Clyde?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You weren’t Clyde Barrow, were you?”

  His voice caught on a laugh. “No. My body isn’t riddled with bullet holes.” He touched his chest. “Well, aside from that one I got in California.” He rightly interpreted my expression. “Oh, don’t feel guilty about that too.”

  “I haven’t been very good for you,” I said.

  “Not true.”

  There was an awkward silence, then I said, “Seriously, we want to avoid any deaths.”

  “And you may not get what you want, Linnet. We are assaulting the realm of a powerful individual who can use magic to steal away her son. We’re going to meet resistance,” David said, and his tone was grim.

  My stomach lurched and I wished I hadn’t eaten quite so much kung pao chicken. I turned to Parlan and Ladlaw. “Have the Álfar adopted guns?”

  Ladlaw looked down his nose and Parlan laughed and said, “We use bows when we hunt.”

  “And swords to settle arguments,” Ladlaw added.

  “These noisy contraptions…” Ladlaw gestured at the gun.

  “Aren’t sporting,” the two men concluded in chorus.

  “Well, I’m not a damn bit interested in playing fair,” David said. “I want us to get in and get out without anybody getting hurt.”

  “On either side,” I added.

  “No, on our side,” David corrected.

  I planted my hands on my hips and glared up at him. “I repeat—I don’t want anybody killed.”

  “Linnet, five werewolves attacked you and they all ended up dead.” My guilt must have shown in my face because David added more gently, “Not that you actually killed any of them, I’m not saying that, but nonetheless they died. And if Álfar start dying they’re going to fight back. I want to be able to counter that.”

  Ladlaw had been looking increasingly grim. “No one died in California. I had not heard of these other deaths. I can’t be party to this if deaths are likely.” The tall Álfar bowed gravely. “I thank you for the meal.” He headed toward the door.

  “You’re going to warn her now, aren’t you?” I called after him.

  “I feel I must. I am torn between loyalty to my people and my friendship with Parlan, but…” He shook his head and walked out the door.

  I sank down on the couch and tried not to cry. To know that John was only a few short miles away, that I might have freed him, and then to have it all collapse was a crushing blow. Silence hung like cobwebs in the room.

  David picked up the sawed-off BAR. He had a smile that was grimly satisfied. “Well, good, this nonsense has been laid to rest.”

  My head jerked up and I glared at him. “If it was so stupid why did you sign on?”

  He stared down his nose at me. “To try and keep you out of trouble, of course.” He pulled on his overcoat and slipped the gun beneath it. The door shut with a sound like endings.

  “Arrogant bastard!” I said.

  Parlan looked at me for a long moment. “He’s in love with you, you know.”

  The complete idiocy of the comment, and also the undeniable truth of it, stole away my breath. The only thing I could think to say was a totally inadequate, “Oh … shit.”

  Because the risks to a vampire and a human woman who got involved were pretty significant—as in end-up-dead significant— there was an absolute prohibition against vampires—all male—ever Making a woman. Same went for werewolves. The problem for vampires was if you actually loved someone and knew you were going to live virtually forever and they were going to die after a few short years the temptation to keep them with you would inevitably lead to a Making. Which would end the love affair real fast since a female Making was punishable by death for both parties.

  David loved me. I tried to analyze my emotions and found only tangled confusion. There was only one thing I knew and I knew it with a razor’s clarity. I would have to leave the firm. For David’s sake, the temptation had to be removed.

  My world was in ashes—career, John, Jolly, everything. I stood, gathered up the printouts I had made of the Dakota off Google Earth and started to toss them into the trash.

  Parlan gripped
my wrist and held me back. “Wait. There may be another way to enter Fey.”

  A green shoot had appeared in a landscape of nuclear winter. “Okay. How?”

  “My mother herself brings you in.”

  “And she’d do that … why, exactly?”

  “Because you will challenge her for her place.”

  “You want me to fight an Álfar queen so I can become a pseudo-Álfar queen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just me against Queenie? Nobody else involved?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re nuts.” Parlan looked crestfallen, then brightened when he saw my grin. “I love it,” I said. “What do I have to do?”

  4

  Parlan wrote the formal challenge using a thick-nib fountain pen and expensive watermarked paper from a stationery store. It also wasn’t in English and that’s when it struck me yet again that I was naive. The Álfar were aliens. Not human. A different species with a different language living in a different world.

  After studying the delicate swirls and twists I gave Parlan a suspicious look. “Okay, what does it say? You’re not talking smack are you?”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Are you being rude?”

  “A little.” He gave me a quick grin that made him look younger. “But very elegantly.”

  “Well, thank heaven for that.” I paused and added, “Is there a spoken version of this language?” I asked.

  “Of course.” Parlan said something that sounded more like a bubbling fountain than discrete words.

  “So, how do you come to know English?”

  “We study it. We are, in a manner of speaking, in your country and English has become the international language. But I can’t write it worth a damn. Frankly, it’s an absurd tongue. Why do you have so many words that sound the same but are spelled differently and mean different things? Bear and bare. There and their. Dear and deer. And not the least—right and write. Ridiculous.”

  “And we did that just to inconvenience you,” I drawled, amused by his princely sense of offended privilege. “Now, what does it actually say?”

  Lifting the page off the table, Parlan declaimed, “Whereas the most Puissant and Supreme Queen has taken from me my vassal and servant without recompense or substitute and offered insult to the person of This Most Noble Human and Friend of the Lifeless, This Human therefore calls challenge against the Queen and demands the right of combat upon acceptance of this challenge to ascertain authority in all realms and all principalities until the stars burn dark and worlds ends.”

  “Forget the cooking school. You should become a lawyer,” I said.

  Parlan smiled. “I shall make ten copies, have you sign them, and leave them at the intersection of ley lines. And make sure your signature is impressive. Lots of flourishes.”

  The letters were signed and deposited and I went meekly back to work the next day. I knew I needed to quit, had to quit, but I couldn’t do it until after Parlan and I pulled off our caper. Leaving one of the most prestigious law firms in the country was going to draw attention, and I couldn’t withstand the scrutiny right now. The best I could manage was to avoid David. He probably assumed I was sulking over his refusal to help, but I’d live with that if it would keep him away until I could quit. I kept my office door closed and arranged for a deposition to be held at an opposing council’s office rather than our own so I could get out of office.

  I also kept calling the Brooklyn police, who wouldn’t tell me anything even when I forcefully pointed out that I was Mr. Bryce’s attorney, and the hospital, who also wouldn’t tell me anything beyond the fact that Mr. Bryce was still in intensive care. I was just about to call the barn manager when she called me. Kim didn’t waste any time.

  “Linnet, have you heard anything about Mr. Bryce?”

  “Nothing beyond the fact he’s still in the hospital.”

  “Look, I was authorized to pay the bills for the management of the stable, deposit board checks and so on, but you know what’s it’s like at a barn—you’re always a dollar short and a day late when it comes to horses. Jolly left a pretty good cushion in the account, and there’s the board checks, but I don’t know how long we can keep operating. We’ve got five horses here that are school horses so their costs are all on Jolly’s tab. It’s pretty clear Rikki needs to have his hocks injected, and that’s five hundred bucks, and…” Her voice faded. “What happens if he … well, you know?”

  “First, we’re not going to think like that. Jolly’s a fighter and he has good doctors. He’ll be okay.” I hope. “Next, how much cushion do you have?”

  “We can probably go for at least three months, four if I stretch, and that only works if we don’t have any unexpected expenses.”

  I exhaled and leaned back in my chair. “Well, I hate to do this to you, but I’m about to create an unexpected expense. We need to get Vento home.”

  “I know. Jolly had me make arrangements as soon as it was clear you were coming home. They’ll be picking him up in LA on Thursday. With layovers and so forth he’ll probably get here in six or seven days.”

  “Great, that’s one problem dealt with.”

  “Keep me posted? I’m really fond of Jolyon.”

  “Believe me, I will.”

  I hung up and went back to work, but it was hard to focus. I wondered if the energy I was spending on John should have been directed toward Jolly. Why had he been attacked? I was pretty sure it was about me, but I’d like to know for sure. Was the female vampire behind it? Did he have a will? Relatives? I needed to find them. Well, if I got John back I could put him to work doing what he did best—investigating.

  The next day the queen’s reply came back. She had accepted the challenge. I rushed out of the office and bought a pepperoni pizza on my way home. The changeling was perusing her letter when I arrived. He looked up as I came in.

  “She’s set the date for two days hence and she’s settled on swords … that smells good … you know how to use a sword of course.”

  “Not a clue,” I said with a serenity that I hoped came across as real. I dropped the pizza box on the table.

  Parlan goggled at me. “You don’t … then why—”

  “I gotta trust the super power.”

  “Hilal.”

  “Is that an Álfar cuss word?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it means…?”

  “It roughly translates as oh holy shit.” Parlan sighed and dropped his face into his hands. “You are putting a great deal of faith in this mysterious ability.”

  I opened the box, pulled out a slice of pie, and started eating. “It hasn’t failed me yet,” I mumbled past a mouthful of hot, gooey pie. “And I got the basics—keep the pointy end aimed in her direction.”

  “Well, I can’t teach you swordplay in two days,” Parlan said grumpily, but the lure of pizza trumped his annoyance and he fished out a slice. “We’re to meet in the courtyard. I went by the human building,” he mumbled around another huge bite. “It is heavily guarded.”

  “Yes.”

  “So how are we getting in?”

  “I’ve got a plan for that.”

  * * *

  The next day I went out and rented a panel van. Which totally made me feel like a serial killer. I then had a magnetic sign for a fake florist shop made up, and I stuck that on the driver’s door. Next up, research on the residents so I could pick my mark. It wasn’t easy because the residents of this exclusive real estate jealously guarded their privacy. Which had a certain piquant irony since these wealthy humans were literally living on top of another version of the Dakota that existed in Fey and they had roommates they didn’t even know about.

  I settled on the wife of a hedge fund manager who had just made a million-dollar donation to the Metropolitan Opera Company, so it wasn’t inconceivable that the opera guild would send her a thank-you bouquet.

  I actually cooked a dinner the night before, and Parlan and I engaged in nervous conversa
tion until I could gracefully retire to the bedroom and worry by myself. Gadzooks abandoned me to sleep with Parlan on the couch, the ungrateful little shit. I comforted myself with the thought that maybe he was just a man’s cat.

  The appointed day dawned, the clouds were gone, and the sun was shining. I decided to take it as a good omen. I dressed in a pair of riding breeches and paddock boots that had rubber soles with a good grip. I topped it off with a sweater and a tweed jacket my folks had bought me in Scotland. Studying my image in the mirror I thought I looked very Lara Croft or Indiana Jones. I almost added a hat, but realized my playing dress up was just to cover my growing nervousness.

  I left the bedroom with Gadzooks twining and purring around my ankles and threatening to trip me with every step. Parlan was already up and dressed—in all his Álfar finery.

  I sighed. “Well, let’s hope you can fit the coveralls on over all that froufrou.” I held up a plain white coverall with the logo of my fake florist shop. Parlan reared back and his nose pinched and turned white as he gazed down at the offending garment.

  “I am going to wear that?”

  “I’m wearing one too. We can ditch them once we’re in Fey,” I added to mollify him.

  He grunted a grudging assent and removed his coat and boots to pull on the coveralls. A new thought struck me. One that should have struck me a long time ago. “You do know how to drive, right?”

  “No, I’ve always preferred horses. I know I will need to learn if I’m going to obtain that pizza delivery job.” He tried to keep it light, but there was real anger and real pain beneath the bantering tone.

  I gave him a hug. “There is going to be more in your future than that. Believe me.” He closed his eyes and gave a sharp nod.

  Down the stairs and into the van. We stopped at a florist’s shop to pick up the elaborate floral arrangement of roses and gardenias that I had ordered the day before. Fortunately, the bored girl behind the counter didn’t notice the supposed florist van parked out front.

  The trees of Central Park hove into view burnished with a pale green that gave us hope that spring was at last arriving. At the corner of Seventy-second Street and Central Park West the stone bulk of the Dakota loomed up on our right. The high gables, deep roofs, and dormers gave it a Germanic quality. Behind it towered an aggressively modern skyscraper. The incongruity was perfect given the reality of the two worlds existing side-by-side.