“Very good, Mr. O’Sullivan. That’s generally how these things work. In nine months, eight demon babies will be born-and more soon after, if the witches care to try again. There’s only one coven large enough and soulless enough to try this, and we have run into them before: They call themselves die Tochter des dritten Hauses.”
“The Daughters of the Third House?”
“Yes. They are the bitches I was referring to on the phone.” Her face twisted and she looked as if she was going to scream a curse or five, but she mastered her temper in time and instead observed calmly, “I see you speak German.”
“Ja, several versions of it. Why did you survive when Waclawa did not?”
Malina shrugged. “She was outside when it happened; the rest of us were at home. Here on our floor we are very well protected, as I am sure you are protected somehow. Had we all been outside at the time of the attack, we’d all be dead.”
“If that’s so, then you would think that they would have timed the attack better, to ensure more of you were vulnerable.”
“You are assuming they’re aware of our defenses. They have no conception of the wards the Zoryas provide us. Their magic is as different from ours as it is from yours. To their way of thinking, they have cast a hex no one can survive. They will be surprised to learn otherwise.”
“Why was I targeted? Why were you targeted, for that matter?”
“They targeted us partially to settle an old score,” she replied, tapping her chest with the bottle and then remembering it held a rather tasty vintage. She took another drink before continuing, and moved into the living area. “But mostly, we-and I include you in that we-are all that’s left protecting the East Valley territory, whether you realize it or not.”
“I didn’t sign up for that.”
“It’s not the sort of thing one signs up for.” She put her fist up to her mouth briefly to mask a delicate belch. “They perceive you to be a guardian of this area, therefore you are. Perception is reality, Mr. O’Sullivan.”
“Why not go after the werewolves? Or Leif?”
“They represent entirely different spheres of influence. The werewolves care only about other lycanthropes; since magic doesn’t touch them, they couldn’t care less who rules the territory. The vampires care only about other undead. We, on the other hand, must worry about all magic-casters.”
“Must we?”
“Look at places with high crime. The West Valley as opposed to the East Valley, for example. The west-side cities, including Phoenix, have higher rates of crime, poverty, and auto accidents than the east. Why do you suppose that is?”
“Socioeconomic status and poor civil engineering.”
“No, it’s because the West Valley is not under our aegis like the East is.”
“You are suggesting that your coven is solely responsible for the East Valley’s relative peace and prosperity?”
“Not solely responsible, just largely responsible. The Zoryas are protective goddesses, not the vengeful sort that wants blood and sacrifice.”
“That’s fascinating,” I said, “but hardly germane to the point, which is where can I find this German coven and how do I kill them?”
“Kill them the way you killed my sisters,” Malina said coldly. She didn’t know I hadn’t really killed any of them-five had been werewolf snacks, and the sixth had fallen prey to another witch, one who was on my side. “As for where they are, I imagine they are in town somewhere. I cannot give you a precise location, because I do not know myself. We will attempt to divine their location after midnight.”
“Excellent. I will try to divine their location also. Would you say this coven is more powerful than yours?”
“Certainly they are at the moment, outnumbered as we are. They left us alone while we were at full strength. But now they know we are depleted, the East Valley is a lovely place to live, and they think they can win.”
“Can they?”
“In a sense they already have. We cannot leave this floor of the building until the threat of that hex is removed, because we cannot protect ourselves individually from it. At the same time, we are unlikely to defeat them solely by magic with only six of us. So it is up to you, Mr. Sullivan, to go out and thwart them if you can.”
“I think you’re confusing me with a superhero. Heroes go around thwarting dastardly villains. They give the evildoers to the police, and the bad guys always say they would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for those meddling kids.” A groove appeared between Malina’s eyes as she tried to attach my words to something that made sense to her, and I could see she failed. Not a big fan of Saturday morning cartoons, I guess. “Druids, on the other hand, take revenge on people who try to cook them.”
“Well, that I can understand.”
“Good. Tell me why the East Valley is so desirable.”
“Why do people fight over it, you mean?” Malina gave up pacing the living room and plopped herself on the comfy leather couch, tilting her bottle of Shiraz yet again.
“Yes. Explain it to me as if I were a child, because in truth I have never understood the territorial urge. Why do groups of magical beings fight over pieces of real estate when we could easily spread ourselves thin over the surface of the earth?”
“I thought it would be obvious, Mr. O’Sullivan. In a densely populated industrial society, the citizens are predisposed to think of magic as ridiculous. Therefore it is easier to blend in, easier to prey on them if we were so inclined, and far easier to profit from them. As a single individual, you can go where you wish with relative ease; but a larger group needs a larger herd to hide in and a larger economic engine to afford us the life we’d prefer to live. Urban centers are therefore both our protection and livelihood, and it is natural that we compete for the choicest places to live.”
“You can’t share?”
“To some extent we can, yes. We share this territory with the Tempe Pack, for example. We share it with you. But when too many magic users populate a given area, the risk of exposure increases, as does the risk of overtaxing the economics.”
“I beg your pardon. How exactly do you overtax the economics? I run a bookstore and apothecary shop. All members of the Tempe Pack have legitimate jobs. Don’t you do the same?”
Malina laughed. “Why, no, Mr. O’Sullivan, I don’t. People give me everything I want. The same goes for my sisters.”
“You mean people just give you money?”
“Yes, that’s right.” She twirled a lock of her hair around a finger and smiled brightly at me.
“Of their own free will?”
“Well, that’s how they remember it.” She shrugged a shoulder and raised a hand, palm up. “So it must be true, mustn’t it?” She smirked wryly.
“And you have no moral problem with that?”
“None whatsoever. Actually,” she leaned forward and lowered her voice, as if sharing a confidence in a public place, “we are on the payrolls of two dozen different companies as consultants, but we do absolutely nothing for our paychecks, just like normal consultants.” She leaned back and continued at normal volume, “We do, however, provide a service to the people of the East Valley.”
“Dare I ask what that may be?”
“Why, we keep it free of truly nasty witches, of course, as well as some of the less savory citizens of America. There are parts of Mesa that could easily become like the dangerous parts of big cities if it weren’t for us. And that’s what will happen if die Tochter des dritten Hauses take over this territory. Not to mention the damage that the Bacchants can do once they get here.”
“What? Bacchants are on their way here? Now?”
“Even as we speak. You know, the ones from Las Vegas. I mentioned them to you before, didn’t I?”
“Yes, I believe so.” I struggled to appear nonchalant, but I was dangerously close to needing a new pair of underwear. Back when I was an initiate-this was decades before Jesus-Bacchants were the scariest creatures in the world, according to the archdruid. Anything that could scare the archdruid damn well gave me nightmares; I nearly shat kine whenever Bacchus was mentioned even obliquely for my first few centuries.
Kids today don’t know much about the Bacchants, except perhaps for the story about Orpheus told in Ovid’s
