Industrial Magic

Stand-in Mother-in-law



WE RETURNED TO OUR HOTEL ROOM. JAIME HEARD US COME in and zipped over for an update.

“So my spook wasn’t trying to get you to contact Cassandra,” Jaime said, popping the top off a Diet Pepsi. “It just wanted to tell us that we’re looking for a vampire.”

“Probably,” I said. “Salem’s Lot is about vampires, and Cassandra would be the vampire I know best. So that fits the theory. This does change the possible motivation, though. It doesn’t take nearly as much to send a vamp on a killing spree. They’re already expert killers—it’s not as big a deal for them. I’d say we now have two more likely motivations. One, a vampire tried signing up with the Cabals or cutting a deal with them, got rebuffed, and decided to show them why you don’t mess with the undead. Two, a vampire is just pissed off in general at the Cabal no-vampire policy and is making a statement.”

“A crusading vampire?” Jaime said. “The only vamps I’ve ever met aren’t exactly the altruistic type.” She glanced at Cassandra. “Exhibit one.”

Cassandra gave her a cool stare. “Ah, yes. And remind me again why you’re here? More to do with a nagging spirit than a nagging conscience, if I recall correctly.”

Jaime flushed. “Well, I’ve solved that problem and I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“So your ghost is still being quiet?” I asked.

“So far, so good.”

“Cassandra,” Lucas said. “If we are dealing with a vampire, then this is your area of expertise. Given Paige’s two possible motivations, should we consider both equally or concentrate on a revenge scenario?”

“Vampires are capable of crusading for a cause,” she said, easing onto the sofa. “Though typically only one that benefits vampires, as this one would. You’d be looking for a young vampire. As with any race, the youngest are the most idealistic, the most likely to work for change. The older ones know their energies are better spent pursuing more realistic, individualistic causes.” She slanted a look at Lucas and me. “You’ll learn that soon enough.”

“Not if I can help it,” I murmured.

“The pursuit of righteousness is romantic, immature, and, ultimately, self-destructive, Paige. One would think you’d have learned that lesson this spring with Samantha.”

“Savannah,” I said. “And the only thing I learned was that the purest form of evil isn’t something like a Cabal. It’s the person who’s willing to sacrifice another to save herself.”

Jaime’s gaze followed our exchange with interest. Before she could comment, Lucas spoke.

“So, having decided that both avenues are equally likely, may I suggest we pursue both? The fact that we are likely now dealing with a vampire explains why none of my contacts heard of such a situation, since vampires have little contact with other supernaturals. That means I’ll have to go directly to the Cabals for information or, more accurately, through my father, who can ask about specific instances where a vampire may have had Cabal contact. Meanwhile, perhaps Cassandra could help Paige contact the vampire community, assess the general mood and any Cabal-related rumors.”

“I don’t believe I offered to help,” Cassandra said. “This isn’t my problem.”

“No?” Jaime said. “Isn’t that why you serve on the interracial council? So if a vamp goes rogue, you can take him out? Every race does it, monitors their own. We have to.”

“This isn’t the same. You’re asking me to betray my own. To sneak Paige into their midst and gather information to be used against us.”

“No,” I said. “We’re asking you to sneak me in to gather info that can be used to help you—all of you. Cabals don’t like vamps now. How do you think they’re going to react when they find out it’s a vampire who has been killing their kids?”

“I’m not concerned about retaliation.”

“Good. Then you can go home, Cassandra. I can get what Lucas wants without you.”

Cassandra’s lips curved as she reclined against the cushions. “You need to work on your bluffing, Paige. Your technique is far too obvious.”

I grabbed my purse and headed for the bedroom.

“It won’t work, Paige,” Cassandra called after me. “Your only other vampire contact is Lawrence and he’s been in Europe for two years. You’ll be lucky if he remembers your name. He certainly won’t rush back here to help you.”

As my fingers grazed the bedroom door handle, I stopped. I knew I should take the high road, phone my contact, and ignore her taunts. But I couldn’t, not with Cassandra. I flipped open my Palm, clicked on my phone book, found an entry, strode back, and held it up for Cassandra.

She read it and blinked. And, in that small reaction, I took more pleasure than I liked to admit.

“Aaron?” she said. “When did he give you—”

“After we rescued him from the compound. He told Jeremy and me that anytime we needed something vampire-related, we could call him.”

“Jeremy might not appreciate your calling in a joint favor that doesn’t benefit werewolves.”

“Which is why I’ll phone him first. But we both know he’ll tell me to go ahead.”

“Werewolves rescuing vampires?” Jaime murmured. “Someday, you have got to tell me this story. Well, Cass, looks like she’s trumped you. Time to lay down your cards and go home.”

“Is she here for a reason?” Cassandra said.

“I don’t want to bicker with you, Cassandra,” I said. “I appreciate what you did this morning, helping us hunt for Stephen, but please, go on home. We can handle this.”

As my tone softened, the fire leached from her eyes. She sighed and reached for my Palm.

“Let me call Aaron,” she said. “Save your marker for another time.”

I hesitated. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea. Unless I seriously misread things, Aaron seemed pretty miffed with you back at the compound.”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“The last time he saw you, you turned him over to an angry Romanian mob and fled for your life. Call me crazy, but I don’t think there’s much wiggle room for misunderstanding there.”

Across the room, Jaime snorted a laugh. Cassandra glared at her, then turned back to me.

“I didn’t hand him over to the mob,” she said. “I simply left him there. I knew he could handle himself. Anyway, none of that matters now. We’re back on good terms.”

“Such good terms that you don’t have his phone number?”

She plucked the Palm from my hand, marched into the bedroom, and closed the door.



Two hours later I was boarding a plane for Atlanta, to meet with Aaron. Unfortunately, I was not alone, having been unable to convince Cassandra that she had better things to do. I tried to be gracious by saying I’d understand if she preferred to fly first class. My kindness, though, only provoked a similar outpouring of generosity, and she treated me to a first-class seat next to hers.

I’d brought my laptop and, as soon as we were seated, set to work catching up on my business e-mail. Cassandra stayed quiet until the plane lifted off.

“I hear from Kenneth that you’re trying to start a new Coven,” she began.

“Not really,” I mumbled, and typed faster.

“Well, that’s good.”

I stopped, fingers poised above the keyboard. Then, with great effort, I forced them back to the keys and resumed typing. Do not rise to the bait. Do not rise—

“I told him I couldn’t imagine you’d do anything so foolish.”

Type faster. Harder. Do not stop.

“I can understand why you’d want to. It must be very hard on your ego. Getting kicked out of your Coven. And as Leader, no less.”

I willed my fingers back to the keyboard, but they ignored my brain’s command, and kept clenching into fists instead.

“I suppose it was very satisfying for you, those few months as Coven Leader. You’d obviously want to recapture that sense of importance.”

“It was never about being important. I just wanted to—”

I stopped and resumed typing.

“You just wanted to do what, Paige?”

The flight attendant stopped by. I ordered a coffee. Cassandra took wine.

“You wanted to do what, Paige?” Cassandra repeated when the server was gone.

I turned to look at her. “Don’t needle me. You always do this. You’re like one of those sitcom mothers-in-law, poking and prodding, feigning interest, but only looking for a soft spot, someplace to sneak in an insinuation, an insult.”

“Isn’t it possible that I’m not feigning interest? That I really do want to know more about you?”

“You’ve never been interested in me before.”

“You’ve never been interesting before. But you’re finally growing up, and I don’t just mean getting older. In the last year or so, you’ve matured into an intriguing individual. Not necessarily someone I’d choose to be stranded on a desert island with, but conflict of opinion can make for more interesting relationships than common interests. If I challenge your opinions, it’s because I’m curious to hear how you defend them.”

“I don’t want to defend them,” I said. “Not now. Your questions feel like insults, Cassandra, and I don’t want to deal with them.”

To my surprise, she didn’t say another word. Just sipped her wine, reclined her seat, and rested for the remainder of the flight.