Redlisted (42 page)

Ah yes. Of course.
Mirabel. Just the thinnest remnants of her blood remain in
Katherine’s veins, but even that much is enough to carry the
taint of the coil.

I look down at the
dhampyr laying motionless on the black marble, overtaken with a
tenderness I am sure I can afford. Clearly Adam worked his hardest to
prolong her little life. As did she. Her remarkable
determination—that tenacity with which she clung to any chance
at survival—must have kept him captive.

I see still more
in the girl: a delicate balance of empathy and amorality, idealism
and egotism, humanity and brutality.

I’ve made up
my mind about her.

I bite down on my
tongue until it bleeds, then spit out a handful into my palm. I place
a drop behind each of eyelids, then pull them both closed. A third
drop goes on her tongue.

It will be
sufficient. It is never anything less.

First her memories
will return, including the missing motor memories that rendered her
mute. Then her heart will begin its constant, rhythmless push,
sending my blood through the little networks in her body, reviving
her brain.

I won’t be
here to see her awaken; I can’t afford to wait. Before long,
the Wardens will deduce that something has gone awry. They will send
a contingent, and I am still too weak to face them.

I reach under
Katherine’s limp form and withdraw the handheld device from her
back pocket. I’ve never held one before, but our brief contact
has left me with a vague idea of how to use it. I press a green
button; the object lights up with an image. Numbers. 4:00 AM. Three
hours to dawn, this time of year. Not much time, but time enough.

I press the green
button again, and more numbers appear in a sequence I don't
comprehend. I press the button a third time. The device begins to
emit a high pitched noise, something like a xylophone. And then a
voice:

“Hello? Page
slave?”

A telephone. How
convenient.

“Yes. Hello.
This is Katherine.” I mimic the dhampyr’s voice.

“Christ.
What did I tell you about names? Over an unencrypted line?”

“I
apologize.” I don't bother to sound contrite.

“What is
it?”

“I’m
in trouble. Two of my friends are badly hurt. Could I ask you to come
retrieve us?”

“We’re
still talking about the here from before, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then,
we’re already on our way.”

We?

I inhale,
thinking. The voice is familiar; I am suspicious that it’s
being altered somehow, made to sound higher, but the speech patterns
are those of someone I’ve met before.

“Good,”
I reply, still digging for her identity.

Ah. Guinevere
Schuster, also known as Jennifer. Haruko’s benefactor. Which
means, most likely, the other part of the ‘we’ would be
my own Julian. Not the ideal situation, to be sure, but something I
can accept.

“We’ll
be there right after nightfall,” Guinevere says.

Traveling during
the day? Reckless children.

“All right,”
I said. “I’ll be waiting.”

I place the
telephone on the floor next to Katherine. Walking to the door of the
crypt, I consider my next move. Mirabel's ghouls are waiting on the
other side. Seizing them will prove no challenge, no matter their
number, but their company will hinder any chance at discreet travel.
I will have to discard them somewhere. Perhaps I’ll compel them
to hide in the forest until the Wardens arrive.

Yes. Let them deal
with the havoc Mirabel wrought.

From there it will
simply be a matter of finding transport, then shelter. And then the
matter of Markham.

I nod, smiling to
myself, and open the door.