excellent physical shape and well proportioned. I just looked through the stack of applications this morning and half of the candidates are malnourished, while the other half have wrong proportions.”
Ghastek in all his glory. Clinical “R” Us.
I sighed. Was there any remote chance that he would get to the point of his visit this morning? Time was a- wasting and I needed to leave to look for Julie’s mother. “My schedule is a bit cluttered this morning. I would appreciate it if we could get down to business.”
“Our patrol sighted an unusual undead last night,” Ghastek said. “Prehensile hair, claws, very interesting power signature.”
Claws, huh. I replayed the fight in my mind. The claws only came out when the reeve was closing in for a kill. Two reeves had attacked my apartment within minutes of each other, but the third didn’t show up until much later. It was delayed. I took a stab in the dark. “So how quickly did this weird undead dispose of your patrol?”
If Ghastek was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Under ten seconds.”
“That’s a bit sad, don’t you think?”
“It was a young vampire. We just got him.”
Excuses, excuses. “I fail to see how it concerns me.”
“We traced the power signature to your apartment. Which is in a state of advanced disrepair, from what could be seen through the window. Although it does appear to have a new door. I take it the old one was destroyed?”
“In a very dramatic way.”
The vampire paused. Here we go.
“The People would like to obtain this specimen.”
Knock yourself out. Ghastek was arguably the best Master of the Dead in the city. He had the best journeymen and the best vampires. The look on Ghastek’s face, once he wasted several of those prized bloodsuckers trying to capture a reeve only to have it turn into sludge, would be priceless.
“Your smile has a disturbing edge to it,” Ghastek observed.
I kept smiling. “I can’t help it.”
“Since the incident took place in your apartment, the People would like to request your assistance in this matter. What do you know, Kate?”
“I know very little,” I warned.
“Share it with me anyway.”
The People really wanted a reeve. Perhaps piloting good old vampires just didn’t do it for them anymore. “What’s in it for me?”
“Monetary compensation.”
The day I took People’s money would be the day I gave up on being a human. “Not interested. Any other offers?”
The vampire stared at me, his mouth slack as Ghastek assessed his options. I took a couple of forms from my desk, put them into the vamp’s mouth, and pulled them up by their edges.
“What are you doing?” Ghastek asked.
“My hole puncher broke.”
“You have no respect for the undead.”
I sighed, examining the ragged tears in the forms. “It’s a personal failing. Have you thought of anything, or can I be on my way?”
“I will owe you a favor,” Ghastek said. “Now or in the future, at your request, I will perform a task of your choosing, provided it doesn’t require me to cause direct harm to myself or my crew.”
I considered. It was a hefty offer. In the hands of an experienced Master of the Dead, a vampire was a weapon like no other, and Ghastek wasn’t just experienced, he was talented. A favor from him could come in handy. And even if he got his greedy mittens on a reeve, he would put it through its paces, trying to determine the extent of its powers. The moment it suffered a serious injury, it would turn into sludge. What was the downside?
“Maxine?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Ghastek promised me a favor for my assistance. Do we have any paperwork that would put this arrangement into written form?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to have me sign a contract?”
“Yep.”
The vampire emitted a series of strangled creaks, and I realized it was trying to reproduce Ghastek’s laugh.
Derek wandered into the office and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed.
“Your associate is still alive,” Ghastek said, reading through the forms. “Remarkable.”
“He’s hardy.”
The fact that Ghastek’s signature looked exactly the way it did when he signed the document in person was a greater testament to his control than any wall crawling or claw waving. I had to admire the degree of his competency. He still made my skin crawl.
“I’m all ears,” he said once Maxine took the paperwork back to her desk.
“Two days ago a coven of amateur witches disappeared from their meeting place at the bottom of the Honeycomb Gap. I visited the place on unrelated business and discovered a bottomless pit and lots of residual necromantic magic. Lots of blood. No bodies.”
“Go on.”
“I picked up the daughter of one of the witches.”
“The child that ran into your office a few minutes ago,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle her.”
“Yes.” I didn’t particularly feel like explaining that Julie had a vampire phobia and since magic was down, she couldn’t detect the vampiric power signature. “She asked me for help. I’ve extended the Order’s protection to her.” So don’t start getting any ideas. “I took the child to my apartment. During the night we were attacked.”
“How many of them were there?”
“Three, not including the navigator.”
The vampire went rigid. “There was a navigator?”
“Yes.”
“Human?”
“Not exactly.”
I described Bolgor the Shepherd, focusing on his tentacles, and the reeves, going into detail on the hair, claws, and toxic goo on said claws. I explained the sea-demon angle, although I didn’t tell him how I got the information. I could’ve led him on regarding their peculiar dying habits, but a bargain was a bargain so I came clean and expanded on the whole melting into sludge thing. I did gloss over my near demise, shortening it to “I was stabbed in the back, after which I dispatched the reeve and called to my associate, who picked me up and transported me to the medmage.” Which was almost true. To the best of my awareness, nobody knew I could pilot vampires, and it was essential for my safety that things remained that way.
The vampire went into statue mode while Ghastek processed the information. The People consider themselves to have a monopoly on all things necromantic. The idea of a third-party navigator running around the city, even if he was a demon, had to grate on Ghastek. “The moniker Shepherd interests me. It could refer to his ability to navigate.”
I tapped my nails against the desk. “I strongly suggest you abandon pursuit of the reeves. They turn into goo once critically injured.”
“That’s truly unfortunate, but I wish to ascertain that fact for myself. Do you have reason to believe this Shepherd would return for the girl?” Ghastek asked. He was wondering if the reeves were the Sisters of the Crow, brought into the undeath by some strange power they had released. I had wondered it, too.
“The girl is in the vault. If he does, he’s out of luck.”
“What are your plans?”
“I’m going to go and visit an expert who might help me sort through this mess. I understand the Fomorians’
