Magic Bites

“Besides this one and the shadow, how many did you lose?” I asked.

“Four.”

“Four? Four vampires?”

Ghastek shifted uncomfortably, looking as if he had tasted something slimy and sour. “We aren’t happy about the situation.”

“Where are the other photos?”

“We have none. The others were taken. We were not able to recover the bodies.”

“What do you mean, taken?”

“Something killed them instantly, severing the link between their minds and the navigators who piloted them. Then their bodies were removed before our field team was able to recover them.” He produced a piece of paper covered with neat typescript. “Here’s the list of the locations, dates, and times.”

Derek took the list from him and gave it to me. I glanced at it and put it in my pocket. Six vampires and seven shapechangers. Someone was trying to start a war between the Pack and the People and was doing a damn good job of it. Who would benefit from it?

“You’re out six vampires and you can account for only two of the bodies. Are you positive that the other four aren’t active?” The idea of four unpiloted vamps running around the city made me hurt with dread.

“They are deceased, Kate!” Nataraja snapped out of his reverie. “Why don’t you ask Curran and his pet lympago what was done to our property?”

A lympago was an inaccurate term to use for Corwin but Nate seemed so happy to have found it that I let him wallow in his own ignorance.

“I spoke to the Pack,” I said. “I’ve been able to clear Corwin to my satisfaction.”

“That’s not good enough for me,” Nataraja said.

“It’ll have to do.” All of this verbal fencing strained my patience. “His m-scan didn’t match.”

“I saw the m-scan of the crime scene,” Ghastek said, coming to life like a shark sensing blood in the water. “There was no power print except for our vampire and the diviner.”

Shit. Me and my big mouth. I should carry a banner with a big sign, “Confidential Information Given Away Free!” At least it would let people know upfront who they were dealing with.

“You must not have been looking at the right m-scan. The one I saw had a clear power record of the murderer.”

I could almost feel that formidable brain working behind Ghastek’s eyes. “Would you be willing to provide us with a copy of this other m-scan?”

“Would you be willing to tell me why the hell your shadow vampire was tailing Feldman?”

“Perhaps we merely wanted to keep an eye on the diviner,” Nataraja said.

I pretended to consider it. “No. I don’t buy it. Keeping a vamp in the field is too expensive for casual surveillance.”

“We have nothing further to discuss,” Nataraja said.

“A pleasure seeing you, too,” I said.

“Ghastek, escort the Order representative out of our territory.” Nataraja grimaced. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. I simply couldn’t bear it.”

Ghastek gave me an odd look and walked out with us, leaving Rowena and Nataraja behind.

As soon as we were out of Nate’s earshot, I stopped. “You don’t really have to escort me.”

“But I do.”

“In that case I have a question.”

Ghastek looked at me.

“If I were to taint a living animal with necromantic magic, how would I do it?”

“By taint you mean . . . ?”

There was no way out of this question without giving myself away. I was too stupid for this job.

“A sufficient amount of necromantic magic to produce a blended power print.”

“What color?”

I strained to keep from gritting my teeth. “Pale orange.”

He thought about it. “Well, the most obvious answer would be to feed an animal on necro-infused flesh. If a rat gorged itself on the flesh of a vampire, the necromantic magic would show up in its stomach contents. Some of it would make its way into the blood stream. But, since it’s obvious, it’s also wrong. I’ve scanned animals that fed on undead flesh before and the power print showed a pure necromantic arch.”

“The magic of the undead flesh overwhelmed the magic of the animal?”

Ghastek nodded. “Yes. To produce a blended power print, the influence of the necromantic magic would have to be very subtle. In theory—and this is only in theory—it would have to involve reproduction.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If you ask me nicely, I might explain,” Ghastek said.

“Could you please explain this to me? It’s important and I would very much appreciate it.”

Ghastek allowed himself a smile. It touched his lips and vanished in a flicker, as if it was no more than a muscle twitch. I showed him my teeth.

“You’re much more pleasant when you talk like a human being,” Ghastek said. My smile failed to disturb him. “The bravado is amusing, but it becomes tiresome.”

I sighed. “I’m a merc. I walk like a merc, I talk like a merc, I act like a merc.”

“So you admit to being a walking stereotype?”

“It’s safer that way,” I said honestly.

For a moment I thought that he somehow understood the deeper meaning of my words. Then he said, “We were talking rats?”

“Yes. And I did ask nicely.”

“In theory, if I take a female rat and feed it undead flesh, while allowing her to mate and carry offspring to term, then repeat the process with the offspring, somewhere down the line the descendants of the original rat may display permanent influence of necromantic magic, which will produce a blended power print. Something along light orange on the m-scan.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.” He smiled.

THE WATER OF SHIVA’S FOUNTAIN WAS REFRESHING. I splashed it on my face, fighting an urge to lay down on the lovely cold concrete. Nataraja’s little test had sapped my reserves, but I had once again prevented the show of power he was trying to provoke. I sat on the rim of the fountain. “I’m tired. I feel soiled and in need of a shower. How are you?”

Derek gripped the rim with his hands and dipped his head into the water. He shook, flinging droplets from his wet hair and washed his nostrils the way shapechangers did when they wanted to clear a strong smell from their noses.

“That place reeks of death,” he said.

“Yeah. You know, it’s not wise to mouth off to Nataraja.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“He expects me to mouth off. Still, it was pretty funny. What did you think of Rowena?”

“You don’t want to know,” he said.

“You’re right. I probably don’t. She bothers me,” I admitted.

“Why? Because she’s prettier?”

I winced. “Derek, never ever tell a woman that someone is prettier than her. You’ll make an enemy for life.”

“You’re funnier than she is. And you hit harder.”

“Oh, thank you. Please, continue to reinforce the fact that she’s more attractive. If you say that I have a better personality, you’ll find out how hard I can hit.”

He grinned. We walked to our horses.

“Be careful on the way back,” I said.

He gave me a puzzled look. “I’m the one protecting you. You be careful.”