“Then let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.” We drove in silence for a few minutes, then my phone rang, but since I was on the freeway I didn’t want to risk reaching into my purse. “Would you answer that for me?”
Parlan pawed through my bag and finally emerged, first with my compact and then the cell phone. He gazed at the screen and figured out how to answer. He then handed it over to me. It was Jeff.
Without salutation or preamble he said, “Linnet, I think it’s on.”
“Wha … why … how do you know?”
“A doc friend who works at Cedars-Sinai called me. Someone broke in—”
Memories tumbled into place. Parlan’s descriptions of blood magic, Connie telling me about the Alfar blood supply. “To the supply of Alfar blood they keep at the hospital,” I interrupted. Dread for what was coming clawed at my gut.
“How did you know about that?”
“The EMT on set told me about it.” I beat the heels of my hands on the steering wheel in a frenzy of guilt and anxiety. “I should have thought of this. Warned them to move it, hide it.” The words tumbled over each other.
“And they wouldn’t have listened to you! You’ve done nothing wrong. If it weren’t for you, we’d have no idea what he was planning. As scary as this is, again because of you, we’re ready for him. We’ll stop him and no one else will get hurt.”
“I wish I could share your confidence,” I said quietly.
There was silence for a moment, then Jeff said, “This silly case that brought you out to LA—it sure doesn’t seem very important now, does it?”
“Actually, Jeff. I think it’s very important. It’s about how we all treat each other and live together, and it means David and I better find a Salomon-like solution in this fraught atmosphere.”
“Yeah … well, I’m glad that’s your job and not mine.”
The next day found us prowling through the Kodak Theatre. On stage the emcee for the event was going through his schtick, dancers were rehearsing, cameras were being set, singers were warbling through the nominated songs, presenters were parading on and off the stage. When they weren’t playing for a singer the orchestra rehearsed movie themes in stuttering, disjointed snippets of music. The musicians looked like an accidental gathering of random people off the street. Instead of tuxes and long gowns the musicians wore blue jeans and T-shirts. Over all the other cacophony there was the whine of power saws and sharp staccato of hammering, sounds that echoed oddly through the nearly empty hall.
We had come in through a freight door, and we drew more than a few glances as we wandered about the auditorium. Understandable because we were a motley crew. There was David, Hank and me, Maslin and Merlin, Jeff and Kate, Parlan and the six Alfar, which Merlin remarked sounded like a ’60s rock band. That earned him a glare from David and an elbow in the side from his brother. As we wandered I found myself wondering what we should call our little group of plotter-protectors. A gaggle? A herd? A flock? Or maybe a murder—as in crows. Then I decided no, all the murdering was going to be on the other side. Unless we stopped it. That thought removed any humor from the moment and had my stomach once again huddling at the back of my spine.
I was feverishly turning over every possible permutation to our plan when the flaw in my logic leaped out and slapped me upside of the head. It was so obvious and so devastating, that I just collapsed into a seat. The paper that was set on the cushion with the name of the actor for whom it was reserved crackled as I landed on it, and an official started hustling toward us.
“What?” David asked.
“Qwendar was not on the set when Jondin went nuts. He was on the lot, but not on the actual set. He wasn’t in the car when Kerrinan fled into Fey. What if he doesn’t show up here tomorrow night? The best we can hope for is to prevent or reduce the carnage, but we’ll never tie him to the events.”
The tall Alfar, Ladlaw (I was proud that I remembered his name), laid a hand on my shoulder. The long hair brushing at his shoulders was black with a green tinge, like sunlight on leaves. “Mere proximity is sufficient with a single individual. The blood enables you to ride in the mind of the thrall, holding the reins of their spirit, feeding the emotion you have teased forth from deep within them.” The stilted delivery, faint accent, and florid word choice marked him as old, not all that familiar with the human side, and it was totally charming. I had to force myself to concentrate and not lose myself in the soft velvet voice. “But when you attempt to control many thralls, that is not possible. You must be able to see them in order to guide them. He will be here.”
Maslin gave me a pat on the shoulder. “And just to be sure, let me take a look at some video from the car chase. With some enhancement I bet we’ll spot Qwendar in the freeway traffic.” So we all began scanning the theater looking for that vantage point.
Jeff pointed to the rear of the theater, up toward the ceiling. “The light booth. That’s got to be it. Since Linnet is convinced he can’t effect her, we station her up there.”
“But it could be in the upper level of seats,” Merlin countered.
“Or on the stage,” Kate added. “You can see the entire hall from there. I know, I was a presenter last year.”
“So we leave Linnet in the audience and hope she can make her way to him,” Maslin said.
David looked down at me, and his expression was aggrieved. “I don’t know why you won’t give that job to me. I’m stronger and taller, and it’s very hard to kill me. Unlike you who are—”
“Small and weak?” I interrupted.
“And mortal,” he interrupted right back.
I decided against mentioning my seeming ability to walk unscathed through most situations. I settled for a more reasonable and logical argument. “And for all those reasons people tend to discount me and overlook me. If he sees you coming, he’ll throw everything at you to try and hold you back. I can slip through. He might not even see me coming, small human worm that I am.” David’s eyes narrowed. I gave him back a limpidly innocent look.
“You’d try the patience of a saint,” he growled at me.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” was his response. His attention was suddenly caught by an elderly woman who had joined the emcee on stage, and for several minutes he forgot to breathe. Which meant that when he turned to Jeff and started to ask a question there was no oxygen in his lungs, and what emerged was a wheezy squeak. The vampire forced air into his lungs and tried again. “Is that…” He seemed unable to continue.
“Yes,” Jeff said. “She’s still amazing-looking, isn’t she? And she’s past eighty.”
“I saw all her movies,” David said in almost reverent tones. He had told me he liked movies, but it was kind of sweet and sort of incongruous to see him starstruck.
“We’ll make sure you get introduced,” Kate promised.
“That would be…” He fumbled for a word and finally said, “Excellent.”
Jeff led us over and showed us our seats for the ceremony. They were all on the aisle and directly behind the nominated stars and their guests. Parlan spoke up. “You can remove some of those. Ladlaw and I will be in the auditorium, but the others will wait in Fey. Ladlaw will cross over if they should be needed.”
“That’s probably smart,” Maslin said. “If Qwendar saw a lot of unfamiliar Alfar, he might twig.”
“But what if they end up hanging out in the same space over in Fey” I asked as a new worry intruded.
“The elder one is about to try a spell of great complexity and difficulty. He will not wish an audience or distraction, and my companions will be a most rowdy and drunken distraction. He will choose to make magic well away from them.”
We all chuckled at that, and the five other Alfar looked smug. Parlan cuffed one of them on the upper arm. “Don’t decide to actually
“But I am ever so much more charming and effective when inebriated,” the golden-haired Alfar responded, to general derision from his companions.
“Okay. I guess we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” I said. “Oh, how do we get in tomorrow?”
“Front entrance like everybody else,” Jeff answered.
“But what if Qwendar sees me?”
“If he’s doing a magic spell over in Fey I doubt he’ll be watching the Oscar preshow,” David said.
“Wanting to check out what everyone’s wearing on the red carpet,” Hank snorted.
