Even The Vampires Get The Blues

you and mine didn't.'

'I don't have a boyfriend. Paen is not a boyfriend. He is a client. I admit we have a personal situation going on, but it's nothing permanent.'

'So you say. What have you been doing this morning, Miss Productive?'

I tossed a folder onto her desk, stretched, and looked out the window at a rare sunny May day.

'Quite a bit, actually. I ran out to Mr. Race's house first thing this morning to see what it knew about his manuscript, but came up empty there.'

'Was it like Finn's castle?' she asked, leafing through the pages of the report I'd typed up and printed.

'No, the house remembered a manuscript, but the memory was fuzzy, as if it was from a long time ago. The housekeeper let me look around, but there wasn't anything else to pick up. I did get the name of the appraisers who worked on Mr. Race's collection a few years ago. I was just about to drop by their offices and see if I couldn't wheedle a peek at their report on the manuscript, but if you don't have other plans, perhaps you could do that while I go talk to the local expert on mages.'

'Mages?' Clare's nose wrinkled as I scooped up my purse and jacket. 'Why on earth do you want to talk to someone about mages?'

'Read the second report. While you've been romping away half the morning in bed with Finn, I found a morsel of information about the Jilin God statue. Turns out it's older than I thought—and has mystical origins. There are not a lot of details about it available—'

'You can say that again,' Clare interrupted. 'I've researched that thing for three days now without finding so much as a solid description of it.'

'—but I did find an obscure reference to a mage who supposedly possessed it before it disappeared. It's not a big lead, but other than scrying, it's the only avenue I have to pursue right now.'

Her eyes got huge. 'You're not going to scry, are you?'

'Stop looking so frightened. I told you I had it under control,' I reassured her. 'But just to make you rest easier, I'm going to have Jake with me when I try it. Just in case.'

'Oh, Sam, I wish you wouldn't—'

I let her work it out of her system (there's nothing quite as pathetic as a frustrated faery), but in the end, did what I had intended to do all along. I did admit there was some validity to her concerns, however, and swore to be careful and to not scry without a spotter. 'Jake'll be there for me,' I told her as I was leaving.

'I just hope that's enough,' she said darkly.

I hurried down the stairs and out onto the street, stopping when Clare leaned out the window to bellow at me, 'What about the statue? I thought we were going to look at it?'

'Later!' I waved frantically at her to hush up, glancing up and down the busy street. No one seemed to pay us any attention, but who knew what interested ears might have caught that?

The mage expert lived on Cockburn Street, in a very chic area full of cafes, exclusive shops, and snooty galleries. The apartments, like the other businesses, were housed in a connected line of grey stone, steep-gabled Victorian buildings. I located the correct apartment, pressed the appropriate buzzer, and gave my name. 'Hi, I'm Samantha Cosse. I called earlier.'

'Ah, Miss Cosse, yes, of course I remember you.' The disembodied voice of a man came out with the tinny quality so peculiar to intercoms. 'Please come up.'

I glanced at the sign reading Caspar Green and noted the apartment number, opening the door when it buzzed at me. Two minutes later I found myself in a sunny peach and cream sitting room, enjoying a brief burst of sunlight while sipping a cup of India tea and nibbling on a tart lemon cookie.

It was perfectly normal-looking, peaceful even, except for one thing—my elf warning system was going off like mad. Something was not right in this room. Something was definitely not right.

'How can I assist you?' Caspar asked, holding out his hands in a gesture of generosity.

I rubbed my arms, trying to quell the goose bumps that marched up and down my flesh. 'Er… this is going to sound very rude, and I apologize in advance for that, but you don't happen to have anything demonic around, do you?'

'Demonic?' he asked, looking startled.

'Yes. Something that a demon has touched, maybe?' I suggested, looking around the flat. Nothing looked out of place—the sitting room was flooded with sunlight, the peach walls catching the light and turning it warm and soothing. Regardless of that, I felt chilled, as if the air was refrigerated. 'Perhaps something that's been charged with a dark power?'

Caspar looked around as well. 'I am a bit taken aback by that question. I have no demonic object, nor any object that has powers, dark or light.'

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you,' I said hurriedly. 'It's just that something is pinging my Otherworld radar.'

His face, unremarkable except for a pair of extremely bushy black eyebrows, mirrored surprise. 'Your Otherworld radar?'

'That's what I call it,' I said, smiling and trying to analyze the feeling that something was wrong. 'But I have to admit that sometimes it's a bit off.'

'Indeed,' he said politely, offering me the plate of cookies again. 'How is it I can be of help to you?'

'I understand you have an academic interest in the history of mages,' I said, hastily swallowing a mouthful of cookie. Nothing makes quite such a dashing impression as spewing cookie crumbs all over the place. 'I'm interested in the man who may be connected with a manuscript called the Simla Gestor Coda. Have you ever heard of him or it?'

Caspar sat back in a peach-colored chair, his brow furrowed and fingers steepled as he thought. 'The Simia Gestor Coda. Hmm. The name is somewhat familiar, but not something I remember much… ah. Wait. I have it. The Coda concerns the origins of several races— Dark Ones, Fomhóire, and Ilargi are what I remember, but there may be more in the manuscript.'

I licked lemony powdered sugar off my lips as I pulled out my PDA, relieved that my long shot had turned out so well. 'Fomhóire I've heard of—they are the Celtic branch of faeries, yes? But I don't think I've ever heard mention of Ilargi.'

Caspar waved an elegant hand at the plate of cookies. I shook my head, taking notes on my PDA as he spoke. 'I believe the Fomhóire would be very surprised to find themselves called faeries, but that is neither here nor there. The Ilargi have Basque origins. They are reapers, of the moon clan.'

'Oh,' I said, a little chill going down my spine. Reapers I'd heard of from my Diviner studies—they are beings that light the way of the dead. Not someone you want to hang around. 'Do you happen to know who wrote the Coda? Thus far I haven't been able to find out any information regarding its author, or more than a vague skeleton of its history. I know it was connected with Marco Polo somehow, and it disappeared approximately three centuries ago, but that's about it.'

'I wish I could help you, but alas'—Caspar spread his hands again, showing me they were empty—'I know little more about it than you. I do not know who authored it, although I have heard the name of Samaria Magnus mentioned in connection with the Coda.'

'Samaria Magnus?' I asked, making a note of that name for further research. 'A woman?'

'No, it was a false name, one taken to protect the identity of the individual from charges of heresy. No doubt his origins were in Samaria. Magnus was a common surname adopted by mages over the centuries.'

'Ah. That makes sense. So this Samaria Magnus wrote a manuscript about the origins of a bunch of different people, and then… what?'

'No one knows. Both Magnus and the Coda disappeared for several hundreds of years. The latter made an appearance in the late seventeenth century, when it was the cause of much infighting between the mages of the time. But it, too, slipped from view. Few know it ever existed, let alone know much about it. I'm afraid that is the extent of my knowledge about both the Coda and Samaria Magnus.'

'Well, I appreciate both,' I said, tucking away my PDA and taking a sip of tea before setting the delicate china teacup on the table next to me. 'There's not a lot to be found about it, but this should give me a little more to go on. Thank you so much for your time.'

'It is my pleasure,' Caspar said, escorting me to the door. 'If I can assist you any further with mages,