Crimson Veil

Chapter 11

The Blackthorn neighborhood of Belles-Faire wasn’t exactly run-down, but it had a wild, thorny feel to it. The houses were hidden behind tangled vegetation, thick hedges, and overgrown ferns. They weren’t dilapidated per se, just mysterious and hidden. The area had become a haven for both Fae and Supes. Truth was, most of the Supe Community—and the Fae—felt more comfortable around others of their kind. Which was why the spate of vampire apartments going up were so popular. Wade, the leader of Vampires Anonymous, lived in the Shrouded Grove Suites—a tower of condos specifically designed for vamps. And there were at least two more condo towers going up.

When it came down to it, there was still a great deal of segregation going on among Supes and FBHs… but then again, there was a great deal of self-segregation as well. It would be a long time before the races were intermingling in a comfortable fashion, but overall, I thought we were doing pretty well. Change didn’t happen overnight, but what mattered was that people made the attempt.

The streetlights shaded the street with a yellowish light, which highlighted the rain as it slashed down. Swirls of smoke rose from brick chimneys as we drove down the street. The wind caught them up, whipping them round and round before being absorbed into the darkened night.

I loved this time of year. Autumn, with its burnished leaves and whistling winds and incessant rains. It was my time—and Camille’s and Delilah’s, too. The time of the vampire and the witch, of the werecat. It was the time of ghosts and spirits and our goblin menaces—all sorts of bogies in the night.

Camille made a left turn, easing into the parking lot in the Rosecross MiniMall. There was a supermarket here—a QFC—and Bartells, a drugstore. A pizza joint, a Pad Thai noodle place, a small bakery—Seattle Supe Cupcakes—a dry cleaners, a yoga studio, a satellite branch of the King County Library System, and—of course—Starbucks.

As we dashed out of the car and into the coffeehouse, trying to dodge the stinging drops that splattered hard and heavy against us, I glanced up at the sky. Once again, the roiling cloud cover made me think of Elqaneve. While I hadn’t been out in the storm proper, Delilah and Camille had described it so vividly that I could all too easily imagine what it had been like. Hell on Otherworld.

Once inside, Camille glanced around, then headed toward a table near the restrooms. A pale, tall Fae sat there. His hair was the color of spun platinum, and his eyes frosty blue—almost mirroring my own.

He stood, clicking his heels and giving us a short bow. “Thank you for coming.” His accent was thick—Germanic to a degree, but more exotic, with a hint of the ancient woods lingering in his voice.

Camille got herself one of her mega-lattes, and Kitten bought hot chocolate. Trillian opted for a cup of tea. As we gathered round the table, the Black Forest Fae sat back, toying with his coffee cup. His hair was a mop of unruly curls, cut short, but it was his eyes that entranced me. Alpine pools in the winter. That was what they reminded me of. Ancient and frosty and veiled. I wondered how old he was.

The Earthside Fae were from the same stock we were, but they had evolved in a different way. They’d had to live in a world filled with FBHs, and an evolving world of technology where they were long thought a myth. Now they were emerging into the light, along with the rest of the Supes, and I had a dread feeling that there would be a backlash as they tried to reclaim their lands and the humans fought back.

“Not to slide past niceties, but you said you’ve had a vision of Violet?” Camille leaned forward. “We want to save her—to find her. So give us what you have.”

He toyed with a piece of lemon pound cake. “I was performing a ritual that… I told you we are bound through a ritual, did I not?”

Camille nodded. She motioned to Trillian. “This is Trillian, one of my husbands. He and I went through the Eleshinar ritual many years ago. It bound us together like that. And all my husbands and I are soul-bound. I understand what you are talking about.”

Tanne studied the pair, then gave them a faint smile. “I can see the tattoos layered under your skin. I see the connections in your magical signatures. I have that gift. So yes, you know of what I speak. I was deep in a ritual to search for Violet’s signature and I finally caught a trace of it. I followed it—sending my spirit out—and what I saw was a dark labyrinth of tunnels. Bricks and broken boards lining them and faded writing on signs.”

I perked up. “That sounds a lot like Underground Seattle.” We’d had a number of run-ins down there. The labyrinth of underground tunnels had been created during the great fire in Seattle, when the entire area that had gone up in flames was raised up. The storefronts and shops that had once stood aboveground now lurked below the city, a testament to a forgotten time. But over the years, creatures had built new tunnels, and forged homes in the old ones, and now there was a thriving but dangerous community that utilized the underground in all too many nefarious ways.

“I traced her energy through a coiling path, until I arrived at a brick wall that covered the walkway. There were two sconces to the side, and her signature stopped there. The sconces were all a pale glow. And as I watched, a man in a suit appeared.”

“Human?” Camille took a long sip of her iced latte.

“I think so. His signature reads as human. He reached up and pressed a knob on one of the sconces and a secret door opened. I followed him through, and the passage led to another door, then things got misty, then I found myself in a hallway running through a long line of cells. Violet was in one of them, crouching. She looked…” He stopped, his voice growing harsh. “She was bruised, and covered in filth.”

I stared at the table, a slow boil beginning to rise. I glanced up to see Camille staring at me with the same look in her eyes. We’d both been there, we’d both been the victims of freakshow pervs before. Maybe we hadn’t been captured to sell off as slaves, but we’d been kidnapped, used, and abused. There really wasn’t much difference. Whether the psycho was out to make money on us, or out to just hurt us, the end result was pretty much the same thing. Slavery and abuse.

“There’s a lot of the underground to go through.” Camille turned to Delilah. “Any way to narrow it down?”

“You said you saw signs, Tanne. Do you remember what they said?”

He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and his breath trickled out in a slow stream. “Let me think. I see the sign—it’s to the right, broken and off to the side. The words were painted in white, with a faint drop-shadow of red. I glanced at it and the sign read… the sign read… yes! The sign reads PETE’S BARBERSHOP. And there’s a red-and-white barber’s pole painted beside it!” His eyes flew open and he sat up straight. “That was it—Pete’s Barbershop! There has to be a way we can find out where that sign is located without searching every inch of those tunnels.”

“I don’t doubt there is.” Delilah pulled out her laptop and flipped it open, typing quickly as soon as the screen booted up. As she began to search, Trillian pushed back his chair.

“Anybody want any more coffee?”

“I’ll take a cookie, if they have any.” Camille held up her latte. “Still good here.”

Delilah mumbled something about a brownie, and Tanne gratefully held up his cup. “Refill, please. Cream, no sugar.”

As Trillian headed up to the counter, I glanced around the shop. Even this late, it was buzzing. It occurred to me that, without caffeine, the entire greater Seattle metropolitan area would shut down and die an unruly death. Both Seattle proper, as well as the Eastside—just across Lake Washington, where Microsoft and Google roamed free in the sprawl of back-to-back cities.

Camille excused herself and went to the restroom while we waited. Delilah was nose-deep into her computer and Trillian hadn’t returned, so I leaned over to Tanne.

“What’s the Black Forest like?”

He gave me a long, quiet look, but it was friendly, if reserved. “Your forests here—they are old and wild and tangled, and filled with fern and bracken. The Black Forest is different. We have fir, like you do, in the highlands, but there are vast swaths of beech and oak, and we have wide meadows that open out to catch the sun. The history of my area is rich—but most of it is human history—where here, the mountains grew untouched by most human mythology. Civilization is still new to the lands here, while across the ocean, it was established when there were no inklings that North America even existed.”

“I think… I think I prefer it the way it is here, but I see how the cultural heritage over there might be a nice thing to have.”

“Ah, but it is not my cultural heritage—it belongs to the humans.” Tanne smiled again, and once more I was struck by the fact that though he looked very much like any handsome man on the street, his Fae blood crept out to tinge everything he said and did.

Camille returned, sliding into her seat just as Delilah popped her head up from her Internet wanderings.

“I found it. Or rather a reference to it. Pete’s Barbershop was located underneath the… oh perfect… it was on the outer edge of what’s now Underground Seattle, near the Greenbelt Park District. We’re talking ghost city there.”

I perked up. “Not near where Wade and I took out that priest-turned-vampire. Charles, that was his name. I doubt those tunnels have been cleared of rubble yet.” The vamp had gone over the edge when he was turned and ended up lobbing a hand grenade at us, which of course, brought down the house. Or the tunnels, rather.

Delilah shook her head. “Different branch of the tunnels but not too far from there. Those were closed off years ago by the authorities, and now only the Supes and teenagers bent on a thrill ride go down there.”

“So the sconces on the wall lead to a secret door and that is where Lowestar’s operation is stashing their victims.” I glanced at my watch. Ten twenty. “We’ve got plenty of time tonight. I suggest a raiding party. If Violet’s still alive and there, we have a chance to rescue her before they sell her off.” So much had gone wrong the past week, the chance to save someone—anyone—beckoned like a warm day in the middle of an icy winter.

Camille nodded. “I’m in. We need to go home and change first.” She paused, looking at Tanne. “You want to come with us?”

He pushed back his chair, standing. “Of course. I’m handy with fights. I throw a mean punch and have magical abilities you might not have.”

Delilah slammed her laptop shut. “Let’s roll. Tanne, you driving or riding with us?”

“I’ll come with you. I took the bus here.”

As we headed out to the car, I couldn’t help but think this was just what we needed. Not only a break in finding Violet, but the opportunity to accomplish something—to be able to actually put a stop to at least one of the bad guys.

By her car in the driveway, I saw that Nerissa had made it home. Chase, too, by the looks of things. But unless the evening had gone badly, he’d be over at Iris’s playing with his daughter.

As we walked through the door, I motioned for Tanne to wait for us in the living room, and headed into the kitchen, where I found Nerissa, parked in front of her own laptop, frowning. As she saw me come through the door, she waved me over.

“I’m starting to get e-mail from HotBod24.” She had logged into the Supe Matchups website. “He’s viewed my video five times already—and there have only been four other views, all from different users. He just sent me an e-mail requesting to meet.”

HotBod24 had been obsessed with Violet’s video on the Supe Matchups site, and he had been the one to e-mail her shortly before her disappearance, requesting a meeting. Which meant, if we were right in our suspicions, that Lowestar Radcliffe had taken the bait. Here’s where it got dicey—stringing him along while we figured out our best approach.

I frowned. “No way in hell are you going to meet him. But for now, just tell him you’re not sure. Ask him a few minor questions—get-to-know-you types. Don’t make them obvious. Express… a little doubt as to whether you’re ready to meet or not, but try to phrase it so…” I wasn’t sure what I was saying.

“Play hard to get but not unattainable.” Nerissa glanced up at me as I leaned over her shoulder.

“Right!” I laughed and stroked her back. “I’ve got to head out. We finally caught a break. We think we know where to find Violet.”

She paused. “You’re going to search for her.”

I knew exactly what she was thinking by the tone of her voice. She was worried. She had a certain lilt, a certain light accusatory tone, that only showed up when we had to head out on a case, and I knew it was her fear talking. She’d never ask me not to go, she knew what we were up against, but the fear was there, and chances were it would never go away.

“We have to.” I studied her face. “I wish you could come with us but…”

“But I’d be a liability. I’m trained in healing—be it through words or through sex, I’m trained to heal the soul. Not fight. I understand. But please…”

“I’ll be careful. I love you.” And with a kiss, I headed downstairs to change clothes. I was wearing a nice outfit and chances were things were going to get dirty, if not rough. I switched it out for a pair of snug but flexible indigo jeans, a black turtleneck, and a banged-up corduroy jacket. I slid on a pair of motorcycle boots and was ready to rumble.

By the time I returned to the kitchen, Nerissa had finished her e-mail back to HotBod24—a perfect blend of hesitation and promise—and she was eating dinner. Hanna had sliced some leftover steak, added gravy, and made her a thick sandwich.

“Do everything you can to save her,” Nerissa said, staring at her plate. “Get her out of that hellhole.”

I rested my hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find her.” I wished I felt as confident as I sounded. But so much had gone wrong, it was hard to trust in anything anymore. “You get some sleep. We probably won’t be back till late and I don’t want you waiting up like you usually do. Promise me?”

She shrugged, but nodded. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

Camille and Delilah appeared. Camille was wearing her Emma Peel catsuit, along with a low-slung silver belt. Her kitten-heel granny boots and black suede jacket were both gothy and yet functional for where we were headed. Somehow, she managed to look dressed for clubbing no matter what the circumstance.

Delilah had changed into a pair of camo cargo pants with a green V-neck sweater, and she had her leather jacket slung over her shoulder. Her boots—this time a pair of steel-toed hiking boots—were new, but I knew she’d been breaking them in for a couple weeks so they shouldn’t present a problem.

Smoky, Morio, and Roz were waiting for us. Vanzir, Trillian, and Shade would stay home to help protect the place. Even with Aeval’s guards, we still were uncomfortable emptying the joint, especially with babies in the mix now. Trillian had headed over to Iris’s house to make sure everything was set for the night. Shade gave Delilah a kiss and I heard him murmur a warning for her to be careful as we headed out the door.

“We’ll take two cars—Camille, you take Tanne, Smoky, and Morio. Roz and I will ride with Delilah.” I preferred taking my Jag when I could, but with it banged up, I didn’t want to chance using it much. And we’d be less conspicuous with two cars instead of three.

“What’s the plan? Or do we even have one?” Camille snorted. “Not that we usually do.”

“We head down in the tunnels nearest where Pete’s Barbershop was, follow the trail Tanne did, and… well… see what we find.” I gave her a fangy grin. “That’s the best I’ve got.”

“Then it will have to do. Make sure we all have our weapons. I can’t use the unicorn horn till after I charge it in a few days—I expended all of its power when Delilah and I were trying to escape from that room during the storm in Elqaneve. So I’m packing silver. And magic.”

She patted her hip and I saw she had strapped on the sheath to her silver dagger. Father had given each of us a silver dagger when we were younger. Delilah’s had proved to be sentient, after a fashion. I couldn’t touch mine now—silver and vamps didn’t mix. So it stayed in my lair, on the wall in a display case.

“I’m ready.” Roz opened his jacket. As usual, he was a walking armory. Stakes, magical incendiary devices, daggers, shurikens, a mini-crossbow, and gods knew what else were fastened snugly into the folds of his duster.

“You’re insane, but that’s beside the point. We can always count on you for some sort of destructive firepower.” Morio shook his head, but he was laughing quietly. “I’m ready. Smoky—what about you?”

“I am a weapon.” That was all the dragon needed to say.

As we headed off into the rain-soaked night, the storm parted for a brief second, but the moon was nowhere in sight, and she was waning to dark anyway. A few stars peeked through, but they were covered over again by another incoming band of dark clouds. October had us by the balls; that was for sure.

Underground Seattle. We’d been there so much you’d think we’d know it like the backs of our hands, but the truth was, the maze of buildings tucked away beneath the city streets was labyrinthine. And with our local crew of denizens who made their home down there, the tunnels were growing—slowly but surely. What had started out being the remains of a major fire that destroyed over twenty-five city blocks of the city back in 1889 had turned into a sublevel of Seattle. An underground haven.

After the fire, the city officials required that all buildings be made of stone or brick, and they raised the level of the growing city from anywhere between ten and thirty feet higher than they’d been, leaving the burned-out shells of stores to linger in the depths below the new city streets.

The official Underground Tour had shifted quite a bit since the Supes had come out of the closet, and the reality of how large the Seattle underground had grown came to light. There were rumors at first, then a few articles had cropped up in the papers, worrying about the stability of the city considering the network of tunnels was growing. But officials were quick to quell fears.

As to what the truth was? I didn’t know. And I doubted that anybody really did. It was far too chancy to attempt to map out the network, because the FBHs were gradually beginning to realize just how dangerous some of the Supes could be. Chase had mentioned not long ago how much busier the FH-CSI was becoming as the regular police force turned over more and more cases to them. In fact, he’d mentioned that at the last biennium, his department had seen a substantial increase in funding.

All these thoughts and more ran through my head as I called shotgun and slipped into the passenger seat in Delilah’s Jeep. Roz and his personal arsenal climbed into the back. He was a one-man army of weapons, and we’d come to rely on him for anything we might have forgotten.

Delilah led the way, with Camille following. They both had the GPS coordinates to the area we were looking for. I wasn’t thrilled that we were headed back into the Greenbelt Park district. It was haunted—severely haunted—and while we’d discovered just what had been causing a lot of the intense ghostly activity, and dispatched it—hopefully for good—the spirits would take quite a while to calm down. And by quite a while, we could be talking years.

The streets were empty. Seattle was a busy city, with a bustling metropolis, but at night, most of the business districts and a lot of the suburbs were quiet, the activity going on behind locked doors. Oh, in the Broadway District, or the U District, things were different. The streets were filled with students and hipsters, with junkies and hookers, but here it was fairly quiet.

The rain pelted down, hard bullets of water tap dancing against the pavement. The businesses in this district were run-down and shabby, as were the houses. Everything had been let go—and while nothing seemed to be in rack and ruin—nothing actively falling apart—neither were the buildings in great condition. It was as though nobody here cared. There was a feeling of abandonment that permeated the neighborhood.

Delilah swerved to avoid a blown tire in the road, then pointed to a building up ahead. “That warehouse? It’s abandoned. It’s also got a basement entrance into the tunnels. We can slip in through there.”

I frowned. “Anybody using the building that we know of?” Walking into an abandoned building had never done us any good. There always seemed to be somebody staked out in it.

“I don’t know.” She laughed. “I guess we pay our money and take our chances.” And with that, she turned into the parking lot and swung around back. Camille was following us, and within minutes, we were parked and out of the cars, staring at the back of the warehouse.

The building was three stories high, but we had no clue how far belowground it went. We knew, thanks to Delilah, that there was a basement, but whether that was the extent of the warehouse was anybody’s guess.

The place had been a storehouse of some sort, by the looks of the loading docks. The building was brick or concrete or some sort of stone—it was hard to tell what lay under the layers of dirty cream-colored paint. The metal roll-up doors were probably locked, but a regular door stood to the side, and chances were we could pick that lock. This setup seemed to be standard with the warehouses we’d found.

It crossed my mind that it might be handy to have someone like Daniel with us now—he was supposed to be an expert at getting into buildings, and he was used to holding his own in a fight. But then again, how many times had he gone up against a goblin horde? Or a troll? Fighting other humans was one thing. Fighting Supes who were stronger and tougher than you, quite another. Chase had discovered that, all too painfully.

Tanne knelt down by the door. “I know the charm of unraveling. It is akin to the charm of unlocking, but I don’t know if it will work.” He glanced up at us. “I am a spell singer by nature. I can charm fir and oak. I’m not so handy with metal, but I’ll try.”

I stared at him. This was a new one to me, but Camille seemed to understand what he was saying.

He began to hum, a low tune—slow and melodic. The sound became a whisper of words in a language I couldn’t understand, but I could feel the magic behind them, and the spiral of sound built until I could almost see the shape of a creature emanating from Tanne’s lips.

He held out his hand and sure enough, a vaporous form—bipedal and vaguely humanoid—stepped onto his fingers. As he reach out, holding his hand out to the door lock, the creature delicately bent down to touch the lock, and then, in a puff of smoke, it vanished into the keyhole.

We heard the sound of grating, then a faint tumble and click. The door sprang open and Tanne sat back, squatting on his heels, staring at it.

“I can’t believe that worked. But then again, the spell of Unraveling is stronger than the spell to charm locks.” He stood, letting out a long breath.

I stared at him for a moment. “You aren’t nearly as afraid as you should be. Unless you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

Tanne shrugged. “Fear destroys. Fear tears plans and people to pieces. I lived in the ancient forest, where the dark arts are honed to a brilliant degree. My people are not gentle, and neither are the humans who share the forest with us. I brought my skills, and my legacy, here.”

“What legacy is that?” It was apparent Tanne was far more than he seemed to be at first notice, but often people with real power were. They didn’t need to parade it because it was there, tangible.

“I come from the Woodland Fae, yes. But my people are more than this. People know me as a writer, but my family… we are the Hunter’s Glen Clan. We’ve chased down demons and monsters for centuries. Back in the Black Forest, my mother leads the clan. My sisters and I learned from her, and now some of us have emigrated here. We are establishing our own niche.”

Camille turned to him. “You really know how to fight, don’t you?”

He smiled faintly. “I can hold my own. As I said, I’ve protected myself over the years in more than one skirmish. And I’ve destroyed more than one monster. I will tell you more later, if you are interested. For now, let’s search for Violet.”

“I’m least likely to be harmed by a sneak attack. Let me take the lead.” As I moved in front with Delilah, Roz and Tanne swept in behind us. Camille and Morio came next—they worked in unison with their death magic and needed to be able to clasp hands for some of their spells. Smoky played rear guard.

The door led to a darkened hallway. The air was musty, as if nothing had stirred through it for a long time, so I was hopeful we’d make it through to the basement without incident. But we needed light in order to see.

From behind, Morio whispered something and a glowing orb of green light suddenly appeared in the air behind me. Foxfire. One of the youkai-kitsune’s natural abilities. It hovered alongside me, lighting our way enough to see a few yards in front of us.

The passageway was like any hallway that had been let go for some time—a feeling of abandonment permeating the air, both in sense and in smell. Our movement stirred up dust from the floor, and the ceiling was covered with cobwebs and spiderwebs. By the looks of things, nothing had ventured this way in a long time, which was a good thing for us. But then again, ghosts didn’t stir up dust usually, so I didn’t want to get too cocky in case we were surprised by an unwelcome spiritual visitor. The hall ran on for some distance, forking off to the right along the way.

“We want the third hall to the right,” Delilah whispered in a falsetto voice. “That should lead us to the basement.” She gestured to the next turn. “That one. Turn right.”

“Where else would we turn? There is no left turn.” I gave a little snort, but turned where she’d motioned to. We were facing another long hall, but it jogged to the right up ahead, after ending at a door. “Is that it? The door to the basement?”

Delilah nodded. “I think so. We’ll find out for sure soon enough.”

As we reached the door, I stood back to allow Tanne room to examine it. He shook his head. “No lock. Not locked. And I have no ability to tell if it’s trapped. That would be one of my sisters’ specialties.”

Morio took his place. “No traps that I can sense,” he said after a moment. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t one, but if there is, I can’t place it.”

“Well, here goes nothing.” I reached out and turned the knob. As the door inched open, a dark hole appeared and I realized this was, indeed, a staircase leading down. So probably to the basement. But something stopped me before I stepped into the passage.

Get out. Get out now.

“Did anyone hear that besides me?”

“I did,” Camille and Delilah said simultaneously.

“Oh fuck. Please, please don’t tell me we’re dealing with ghosts here.” But at that moment, my plea went unanswered because a whooshing sound erupted from the open door as something rushed by on a gust of air.

The next thing I knew, Rozurial was struggling as something was yanking on his coat. He tried to shake it off, but the material was flapping in some astral wind and then—before any of us could do anything—one of those damned magical bombs he carried exploded and the hall was filled with ice crystals, a hail of sleet raining down on us.

Camille let out a shout as Morio stumbled and his foxfire vanished. Behind them, Smoky let loose with a blue streak of cursing.

But before any of us had the thought or time to move, another explosion from Roz’s magical bomb stash rocked the air. This time fire ripped through the passage, the magical flames lighting up the corridor with an unnatural glow. The explosion sent me reeling, almost deafening me, but through the ringing in my ears I made out one other sound—the sound of Rozurial screaming as flames consumed him and the hallway filled with smoke.