Garnet Lacey - Tall, Dark And Dead Part 10

A car sped down the highway. I craned to watch its approach, afraid it might be the Vatican agent. I didn't get a good look except an impression that it was silver or maybe gray. At any rate, it zipped by without slowing.

I glanced at Sebastian, who was chewing on his lip, apparently lost in thought. "So, you weren't expecting to become a vampire?"

"People were telling me I would become a vampire my whole life."

"Huh?"

"I was born on Christmas."

"Okay," I said, feeling intensely dense. "That still doesn't make any sense to me. Shouldn't that make you holy?"

Sebastian shook his head. "It's an old superst.i.tion. Where I'm from it was once considered sacrilegious to share a birthday with Our Savior. The thought was that one's parents were committing carnal sin on the same night the Blessed Virgin received the Holy Ghost."

"You're not two thousand years old," I said.

"I'm not saying it made any sense," Sebastian said. "Though it made me a wildly unpopular kid, especially since vampirism was considered contagious."

"That must have sucked."

Sebastian nodded and took a sip of his coffee. A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the maple, sending dappled light dancing across his shoulder. He shrugged. "It gave me a lot of time to read."

"Occult stuff," I reasoned. "Since you ended up an alchemist."

"Cause and effect," Sebastian smiled.

"So I guess theywere right." The pa.s.sage of the car made me anxious. I shifted in my chair, no longer feeling content to stay still. A tremor pa.s.sed across my stomach. I clutched at it, as though to say,Down, girl . I found myself on my feet. "I have to pee. Then I should go home."

What? Why had I said that? I mean, yeah, I had to pee, but I was really enjoying hanging out with Sebastian in the cool shade of the maple. I felt Lilith rumbling restlessly under my skin, pushing me forward. I headed back toward the house only half under my own control.

Sebastian caught my arm. "Go? I thought you took the day off work."

"I'm more worried about leaving William at the store on his own than I realized." It was a lie, and my lips said it without any go-ahead from my brain.

"Right." He sounded a little hurt, but he rallied quickly. "Well, allow me to treat you to dinner, then."

"Yeah," I said, wondering if he'd really want me back if he knew whatWe were planning. "That would be nice."

The entire pot of coffee I'd had this morning had made its way through my system. The first stop I made was, in fact, the bathroom. I didn't flush right away, however, just in case Sebastian followed me inside. I wanted him to think I was still on the toilet while I investigated the locked room.

I put my hand on the doork.n.o.b and shut my eyes. Lilith's power rose easily in me like a bubble. With a slight magical nudge, I slid the bar back. Slowly and as noiselessly as possible, I swung the door open.

Just as I suspected, the room was Sebastian's sanctum.

The smell of old books permeated the s.p.a.ce, which was no surprise, considering the fact that hundreds, possibly thousands, of volumes crowded the floor-to-ceiling shelves. All of them were about magic in some form or other. Many more were open and piled on two long oak tables set in the shape of anL , which had been lifted straight from my memory of fifth-period chemistry cla.s.s, complete with stainless steel sinks and racks of test tubes. It was not my image of an alchemist's lab. Instead of greenish liquid bubbling in various bits of gla.s.sware, all the test tubes were arranged by size in a rack. An unlit Bunsen burner had been stored neatly and carefully to one side of all the books.

Despite the evil laboratory look, the room was sunny. Morning light streamed in from large windows, and an open doorway led to a sun porch. A framed picture of something abstract hung on the wall. I took a closer look. A signed Cezanne.

I poked my head through the doorway into the porch. Besides the ubiquitous crammed bookshelves, a comfortable chaise lounge and a reading table were nestled into the sunniest corner. A leather-bound journal, the kind we sold at Mercury Crossing for forty bucks, lay open to a page partially filled with Sebastian's distinctive cursive. A fat, silver Montblanc pen had been tucked into the seam of the book. I doubted this was the book I was looking for, however. This looked more like a personal diary not a Witchy one, from what I could see.

Sebastian had implied that the spell had been recorded a long time ago. With a defeated sigh, I scanned the shelves.

How on earth would I find what I was looking for among all of these books?

Well, I told myself, his book of shadows would be old. If Sebastian were actually the age he claimed to be, the book would likely be hand-bound. That presumed, of course, that he hadn't recopied his originalgrimoire or, f.u.c.k me, just scanned it onto a CD. Great Mother, it could be any one of these.

Why was I doing this anyway? It suddenly occurred to me that my entire obsession with Sebastian's grimoire wasn't mine at all but Lilith's. I wasn't going to do this. It was bad enough I'd broken into his special room; no way would I violate his trust even more.

So resolved, I headed off to grab my clothes from the shower curtain and flush the toilet. My foot had just about crossed the threshold into the hallway when I felt the sensation of being pushed aside. It was a relatively gentle shove, and my center of gravity shifted just slightly to the left.

Except, when my body turned around and headed back into the room, somehow, I didn't. That is to say, the part of me that was me, disconnected. "I" became a camera-eye view stuck in the doorway of Sebastian's sanctum, a helpless watcher, as I strode purposely around the room, my hand trailing across the bookshelves, eyes closed. Even not being me at that moment, I knew what I was doing. I, or rather Lilith, used magic to attempt to locate Sebastian's book of shadows.

Whoa.

Nothing likethis had ever happened before.

When Lilith took over in the past, I blacked out. This time, I was riding shotgun in my own body, watching myself from the outside.

Weird.

She/I paused at a bookshelf near the entryway into the sun porch. I hated to admit it, but I looked very silly in G.o.ddess mode. The slight bluish glow at my fingertips rocked, but the smudge of mascara and the freakish bed head thing my hair had going on marred the stately look of concentration on my face. Oh and Matyas was right; the sweatpants/a.s.s-kicking knee-high boots combination really did nothing for me.

My a.s.sessment of my current fashion choices came to an abrupt halt when a slow smile crept across my face. Lilith had found her quarry, I was certain. I watched helplessly as I crouched down and scattered a row of books from the bottom shelf onto the floor. Reaching deep into the case, I removed a leather-bound volume.

Stop, I tried to make my mouth say, but my disembodied self stayed rooted to the spot where I'd been booted from my own flesh. Talk about taking liberties.You get back here with my body , I tried to shout, but I was too busy leafing through the grimoire to notice me.

Downstairs, I heard the door open.

She/I shut the book with a snap. I gave myself another thin, cold smile. If Lilith hadn't been in possession of my spine, shivers would have crawled up and down it. As it was, I felt a tightening, as though in response to that evil gaze, my spirit tried to curl itself into a small ball.You're not supposed to be able to cast me aside so easily , I'd have said with my mouth, if I'd had one.You're breaking the rules .

"You're the one who called me down, mortal. You begged me to make your body my vessel. We're just getting more... comfortable, is all," I whispered, standing up. I moved toward the threshold, and for a moment I thought I might leave myself floating in the doorway forever. Instead, I held out a hand, fingers open, like a net, and then I felt myself being pulled along just out of step with my body. "I have asked for little in return for all that I have done for you. If you will not willingly offer t.i.the, I shall take it." She/I wrapped Sebastian's grimoire in my still damp mini and tucked it under my arm. I grabbed my spiderweb lace hose, flushed the toilet, and headed downstairs. It was weird not to have the physical sensations that corresponded with my movements. For instance, I knew that the mini would be wet where it pressed against my ribs, but instead I felt nothing. I was an impotent, disconnected observer of my own body.Let me back in , I demanded wordlessly.You have the grimoire now. If Sebastian sees you, he'll know you're not me .

She laughed. "I don't trust you to follow our plan."

Your plan.

"Very well," Lilith conceded. "My plan."

Stopping in the kitchen, She commandeered one of Sebastian's empty grocery bags. She unwrapped the grimoire, put it inside the sack, and dumped my damp clothes on top.

Then, turning, Lilith/I headed for the front door.Aren't we even going to say good-bye to him ?

"He's a thief, Garnet. I don't share your sympathetic opinion of him. He beheld me, and despite my kindness in allowing him to live, he attempted to possess us s.e.xually, and took our blood.Our blood, Garnet. The blood of a G.o.ddess." I saw myself puff up with righteous indignation. After a moment of consideration, Lilith added, "You couldn't even take the active role during s.e.x. I wouldn't let the first man conquer me that way, and I'll be d.a.m.ned if I let this thieving corpse do it."

Hey, I liked s.e.x. And it's my body.

Lilith let that comment pa.s.s without anything other than a disparagingwhatever lift of my eyebrows.

Anyway, aren't you, er, we the thief, taking his book and all that?

"Blood is a metaphor for life," the G.o.ddess said with my cheery alto voice. "He dares to consume my very essence."

It'smyblood , I insisted.

"I have been with you since the beginning, and I am that which is attained at the end of desire."

Stop quoting the "Charge of the G.o.ddess" and stick with the program.

Lilith had no reply. Apparently, being disembodied, I was easy to ignore.

We opened the door to the sight of Sebastian shoving my bicycle into the trunk of his car. Seeing me, he waved.

"It's the least I can do," he said. "It's a long way back into town, and, well, you haven't been all that steady on your feet." The grin he gave was one of pure sheepish guilt.

Lilith barred my teeth in a snarl. Sebastian had said the wrong thing, reminding Her of the damage his bite had done to my/our body. I had to run interference, or She'd strike him down for his insolence. Is it worth losing the grimoire? I asked simply.

"If I kill him I could have everything. Even revenge," She whispered.

Yeah, but what kind of revenge? I asked, hoping to play to a G.o.ddess's sense of drama and ritual.

Would it really be t.i.t for tat to rip his throat out here and now ?

A tiny tug, and I was back behind my own eyes.

Sebastian drove one of those mafia cars from the late thirties. Big, black, and shiny, it reminded me of a June bug on wheels. Wedging my mountain bike into the skinny trunk was a bit of a challenge, but Sebastian clearly had a system involving lots of brightly colored bungee cords and a rope.

The interior smelled like axle grease, but the crushed red velvet upholstery was unstained and unfaded.

His car was even more fastidiously maintained than his house. There were no empty pop cans on the floorboards. When I sat down, the wide-open feel of the bench seat and the complete lack of seat belt disconcerted me. Apparently noticing my discomfort, Sebastian dug into the seat and produced a clunky-looking buckle like those popular in the seventies. It looked like an airplane seat belt, only fatter.

"The strap is somewhere in there. I had to add them to make it street legal," he said.

I found the other part in question and buckled up, feeling strangely naked without the standard shoulder strap. I held the grocery bag on my lap, self-conscious about its contents.I should give the book back to him , I thought.

Lilith growled.

Sebastian looked at me. "Still hungry?"

"Uh." What did I say here? No, that was just my inner G.o.ddess letting me know I shouldn't narc on Her. I glanced guiltily at the grocery bag. "Well, actually, I..."

Pain shot through my stomach.

"Uhm," I managed to say, "Yeah, I guess. Or maybe I'm just digesting. Good sandwiches, by the way."

"Thanks. Say, that reminds me, do you eat fish?" he asked casually.

"What?"

"Fish. I was thinking about dinner tonight. Are you vegetarian or vegan or what?"

"I could eat fish," I said absently, watching in rapt fascination as Sebastian went through some strange rituals to start the car, part of which included pressing a b.u.t.ton on the dashboard. The engine, when it sprang to life, surprised me by being relatively quiet. I'd expected the car to sound like a jalopy, since it was old. Of course, I should have realized Sebastian would keep all the parts in perfect working order.

"Did you buy this when it was new?" I asked. As I watched him expertly work the column-mounted stick shift, I tried to imagine Sebastian in the gangster era dressed in a zoot suit, fedora, and fangs.

"Good G.o.d, no," he said. "I didn't even know this car existed when it was new. I was in Senegal. I gotthis off eBay."

There were so many questions that his response produced in my brain that I opted not to ask any of them. Besides, I was busy trying to revise my image of Sebastian to include a working familiarity with eBay, while simultaneously trying to remember in which continent Senegal belonged. Africa? Asia?

Cripes, my high school social studies teacher would be so disappointed in me (again).

"Anyway, like everybody else, I lost a lot of money during the crash," he continued, as we rolled out onto the county highway I'd biked the night before. "Many world markets crashed, too, not just America's."

"Huh," I said with what I hoped was interested politeness. It wasn't that I wasn't curious about Sebastian's past, but I could feel the weight of his grimoire on my thighs. Looking at the bag, I swore I could see a distinctly square shape at the bottom. What would I say if he noticed it?Sorry about stealing your book, but my G.o.ddess made me do it .

"Luckily, I had expert advice from a London stockjobber in the late seventeen hundreds. Diversify, he told me, and never entirely trust paper money. He was well before his time, he was."

"So, you're rich?" I hadn't really meant to ask that, but all this talk of money and investments made me wonder. I mean, fiscal responsibility was such a foreign language to me that when people talk about IRAs, my first a.s.sumption is that they're referring to gun-toting Irish nationalists.

"When I realized I'd conquered the grave, I started thinking about long-term survival. Money is part of that."

"So, you're rich?"

He gave me a half grimace, half smile. "Yes."

"Like, I-can-live-comfortably rich, or I-have-so-many-Swiss-bank-accounts-I-have-to-hire-someone-to-keep-track-of-them-all astronomically rich?"

Sebastian frowned at the road. We whizzed past a herd of cows standing in a pasture. The smell of their manure briefly overwhelmed the air.

"That rich, huh?" I said when he didn't respond. "Why are you living in Madison, then?"

"What's wrong with Madison?"

"Nothing, it just doesn't seem like a haven for billionaires." Or vampires, for that matter.

"I like my house. I like being able to live in the country, but also be within minutes of a decent, medium-sized city. I like the smell of alfalfa, and I like the people here."

"Why work? If you've got money, why not..."

"Do nothing? Nothing is boring. You can only read so many books."

I almost said,Are you sure, because you have a ton of them , but stopped myself just in time.Sebastian didn't know I'd been inside his private, locked study.

I glanced over at Sebastian. He'd rolled his window down partway, and his hair swirled around him in the breeze. His face was pulled tightly into a frown. Though his eyes stayed darkly focused on the road in front of us, I could tell his mind was miles away. Brooding, clearly.

I had to admit that discovering Sebastian had money bothered me much more than knowing he was a vampire. Vampires I could deal with. Rich? I didn't know the first f.u.c.king thing.

"Do you have a Learjet?"

"No."