The Last of the Red Hot Vampires - By Katie MacAlister Page 0,87
look in his eyes. "That's not what it says here. According to the official records, you have completed all trials but the last one: four of them successfully, two failures."
"How could I pass the fourth and sixth trials? I didn't do them!"
"What elements did the fourth and sixth trials test?" Theo asked, looking even more thoughtful.
Terrin consulted the monitor. "The fourth was logic, the sixth grace."
"Now I know your records are at fault. I was the least graceful person alive this morning," I said, shuddering at the memory of my muck-covered self.
"Grace," Theo repeated, his eyes on me.
Why are you looking at me like that?
I was thinking that grace doesn't necessarily indicate physical adeptness. Perhaps it is another type of grace for which you were being tested.
What other sort of grace is there? I asked. A blessing?
No, I was thinking more the quality of forgiveness, or mercy, if you will.
Mercy? To whom have I been merciful?...
A vision rose in my mind of Dame Margaret taunting me, baiting me to throw her into the mud. I hadn't given in to that almost overwhelming desire, though. I'd walked away from her with as much dignity as I could muster.
"I didn't throw her in the mud," I said slowly.
"You did not. You demonstrated grace sufficient to pass the sixth trial," Terrin said.
"So Leticia deliberately caused that accident, arranged it so I would be put into a position where I was covered head to toe in the worst sort of muck, then baited me to see if I would retaliate?" I nodded. In an odd sort of way, it made sense. "That explains the sixth trial, but not the fourth one. I haven't done it at all."
"According to this, the trial was conducted last night at" - Terrin peered at the screen - "ten minutes to midnight. You successfully completed the trial seven minutes later. That was rather pushing it as far as time goes, but all ended well."
"That can't be right," I said, shaking my head. "Last night at midnight I was in a haunted mill, watching my friend and a ghost hunting group as they examined the building. There was no logic trial..."
Goose bumps crawled up my arms.
"Didn't you say you played a logic game with someone last night, while you were waiting for Sarah?" Theo asked.
"Milo," I said, more confused than ever. "Milo gave me one of those logic puzzles to solve, but it wasn't a trial. Milo is a person, a normal person, not someone from the Court..." My voice trailed away again as Theo and I both turned to look at the large book sitting on the dictionary stand.
Theo beat me to it, hurriedly thumbing through the book as I peered over his shoulder.
"Milo, originally archon, later banished from the Court of Divine Blood for abuses of power," Theo read. "Cleared of charges, and removed to vessel of mortality at request of mare Irina. Mundane residence: Newberry, England. Mundane names: Milo Lee, Miles Leighton. Miles Leighton is the man I was trying to find last night, the one who had disappeared, the man who is known to be one of Hope's friends, and supposedly the one she sought shelter with."
"This is wild. Milo is a...a..."
"Vessel," Theo said grimly, his jaw tight. "In other words, a servant to mortals."
"Ha! That's what he meant about being in customer service. He deliberately hid his connection with the Court from me. But why?"
"I think it's time we had a few words with him to find that answer, and a few others as well."
"Agreed. Er..." I glanced over to where Terrin sat watching us, a pleasant expression on his face.
"Hello there. I wondered when you'd remember me."
"We hadn't forgotten," Theo said slowly, eyeing Terrin. "I'm curious as to why you haven't raised the alarm about us, though. And why, for that matter, are you here now?"
"Life possesses so many questions, doesn't it?" Terrin leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. "Since I am a tidy person by nature, I will answer those I can. I am here, my good nephilim, because this is one of my offices - I have three. And I have not turned you in because I am one of those people who are somewhat offensively labeled cockeyed optimists. A reverse Cassandra, if you will - rather than no one believing what I say, I believe most of what people tell me."
"You believe I didn't have anything to do with Hope's disappearance?"