Industrial Magic - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,84

from the hotel was the best way to ensure she’d answer. Cassandra was a call-screener, and not one who just ignored calls from strangers. She almost always let her machine pick up, then phoned back at her leisure. The only way to persuade her to answer was to pique her curiosity. A call from a Miami hotel just might do that.

Cassandra answered on the second ring.

“It’s Paige,” I said.

The line went silent and I could fairly hear Cassandra’s annoyance buzzing down it. Short of “accidentally” pulling out the phone cord, though, there was little she could do. Well, she could hang up, but that would be crass, and Cassandra would never be crass.

“What is the problem, Paige?” she asked, voice dripping icicles.

“I had a question—”

“Oh, of course you do. Why else would you call? Just to chat, say hello? Hardly. Very presumptuous of you, Paige, to come asking for favors after what you’ve done to me with Elena.”

“I haven’t done—”

“I don’t know what you’ve been telling her about me but, let me assure you, I will set her straight. I understand you feel threatened in your friendship with her, but—”

“Cassandra,” I said sharply. “I haven’t said anything to Elena about you. Why would I? If she’s not taking your calls, then I’d suggest you ask her why not. Or better yet, ask yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

“It has nothing to do with me, that’s all I’m saying. Believe me, I have better things to do than sabotage your friendships. No one else’s world revolves around you, Cassandra.”

“Did you call me to insult me, Paige?”

“No, I called to see how you’re doing.”

“Very funny.”

“No, I’m serious. I’m in the midst of a murder investigation and your name came up—”

“Oh, and you suspect me, do you? How…thoughtful.”

“No, I don’t suspect you,” I said through gritted teeth. Sometimes, carrying on a conversation with Cassandra was like paddling upstream during a hurricane. “The victims had all their blood and I’m sure you wouldn’t waste a free meal. I’m calling because your name came up, so I was concerned. Has everything been okay there?”

“Are you saying I’m in danger? How long did you know this before you deigned to call?”

“About two minutes.”

A pause, as her brain whirred to think up some way to turn my concern into a slight.

“What’s going on there?” she asked.

“A murder investigation, like I said. There have been several deaths—”

“And you haven’t notified the council?”

I counted to three. Across the room, Lucas pointed to the minibar. I rolled my eyes.

“It’s not council business,” I said. “It’s Cabal—”

“Well, then, it can’t concern me, can it? Cabals will have nothing to do with vampires. So obviously I’m neither a suspect nor a potential victim.”

“Guess not,” I said. “Must be a mistake. I’ll see you at the next council—”

“Don’t blow me off like that, Paige. If my name came up in this investigation, I want to know more about it. What’s happening?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d tweaked her curiosity and now she wouldn’t let me off the phone without a full explanation. I didn’t have time for that.

“Like you said, it must be a mistake—” I began.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sorry for bothering you. If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know. Thanks. Bye.”

I dropped the phone into the cradle and collapsed onto the sofa.

“Jesus,” Jaime said. “She sounds like a piece of work.”

“Next time we have to make contact, I’ll trade you,” I said. “Your spook for my vamp.”

“Think I’ll stick with the spook. So it seems maybe my haunting isn’t related to the case after all. This spirit saw me with you last week, you know Cassandra, and it wants to relay a message to her. Although, from what I heard, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to talk to her.”

“She’s not that bad,” I said. “We just don’t get along.”

“Maybe, but she is a vampire. Gotta be a whole passel of spooks in the next world because of her, just biding theirtime waiting for her to show up. Maybe that’s the message: When you die, we’re gonna kill you…or something like that. Course, they’ll be waiting a long, long time.”

“Not for Cassandra,” I said. “She’s an old one. Probably less than fifty years left on her quasi-immortality warranty.”

“That doesn’t matter, though, right? If anyone’s waiting for her on the other side, they’ll be disappointed, since vamps don’t go there.”

Both Lucas and I looked up. “They don’t?”

“Hoo-ha, look at that. The necro knows something the whiz kids don’t. Vamps are dead already, remember? So

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