Industrial Magic - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,102

twenties. Her face was too angular to be pretty, with features better suited to a man. She wore her blond hair long and straight, an uncomplimentary style that left one with the fleeting impression that she might be a guy in drag, yet her black silk baby-doll revealed enough to reassure any confused onlooker that she was indeed gender female. Even her feet were bare, toes painted bright red, as were her fingernails and her lips. It looked as if she’d put on her lipstick in the dark, and smeared it. As she moved into the semilit room, I saw that it wasn’t lipstick at all, but blood.

“Wipe your mouth, Brigid,” Cassandra snapped. “No one here is impressed.”

“I thought I heard harping,” Brigid said, gliding into the center of the room. “I should have known it was the queen bitch—” A tiny smile. “Whoops, I meant queen bee.”

“We know what you meant, Brigid. Have the guts to admit it.”

Cassandra’s gaze slid from Brigid and riveted to a young man following Brigid so closely that he was almost hidden behind the statuesque vampire. He was no more than my age, slightly built and pretty, with huge brown eyes fixed in a look of bovine befuddlement. Blood dribbled down the side of his neck, but he seemed not to notice, and stood there, gaze fixed on the back of Brigid’s head, lips curved in an inane little smile.

“Get him out of here,” Cassandra said.

“You don’t give me orders, Cassandra,” Brigid said.

“I do if you’re fool enough to need them. Send him home.”

“Oh, but he is home.” She reached down and stroked his crotch. “He likes it here.”

“Don’t be boorish,” Cassandra said. “Find another dupe to charm when I’m gone.”

“I don’t need to charm him,” Brigid said, hand still on the young man’s crotch. He closed his eyes and began rocking. “He stays because he wants to stay.”

Cassandra thrust the young man toward Ronald. “Get him out of here.”

Brigid grabbed Cassandra’s arm. When Cassandra glared at her, she dropped it and stepped away, lips drawn back. She saw me and her eyes glimmered. I tensed, binding spell at the ready.

“You bring your human along and I can’t bring mine?” Brigid said, eyes fixed on mine.

“She’s not human, which you’ll discover if you continue what you’re doing.”

Brigid’s blue eyes gleamed brighter. Charming me, or trying to. The power rarely worked on other supernaturals, but to be sure, I took the opportunity to field-test yet another of my new spells: an anticharm incantation. Brigid yelped.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” Cassandra said. “Leave the girl alone or she’ll move onto something even less comfortable.”

Brigid turned to Cassandra. “What do you want, bitch?”

Cassandra smiled. “Undisguised hate. We’re making progress. I want John.”

“He’s not here.”

“That’s not what your bouncer said.”

Brigid flipped her hair off her shoulder. “Well, he’s wrong. Hans isn’t here.”

Cassandra turned on Ronald, who backed up against the wall.

“He was in the back room, with Brigid and the boy,” Ronald said.

“Let me guess,” Cassandra said to Brigid. “He told you to come out here and create a diversion while he slipped out the back door. Come on then, Paige. Time to hunt a coward.”

Never Underestimate the Power of Vampire Ego

THE BACK DOOR OF THE RAMPART OPENED INTO AN ALLEY.

“What about Ronald and Brigid?” I said, hovering in the doorway. “They might know something, and the moment we’re out of sight, they’re going to bolt, too. Two birds in the hand are definitely worth more than one in the bush.”

Cassandra shook her head, gaze traveling along the alley. “They’d never betray John. Without him, they wouldn’t survive.” She turned left. “This way.”

“You picked up his trail?”

“No, but I’d go this way.”

We looped behind a body shop and came out into a warren of dilapidated row houses that looked as if they’d been boarded up since I was in grade school. At the end of the lane, Cassandra stopped and studied the houses. A bottle clinked. I jumped.

“If you hear someone, it’s not him,” she said.

“Someone else is out here?”

“Lots of someones, Paige. Abandoned doesn’t mean empty.”

As if to underscore this, a woman’s laugh floated down the street. A bottle sailed from a second-story window and smashed on the road, adding to a puddle of broken glass.

Cassandra walked to the far sidewalk and traversed the row of houses, with me at her heels. I felt silly tagging along after her and, worse yet, useless, but there was nothing else I could do. My sensing spell wouldn’t work for finding a

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