Magic Burns

Page 95

 

 

 

I unsheathed Slayer. Derek backed away, giving himself room for a leap. If the vamp went berserk, we’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

 

“Ghastek?” I murmured.

 

“Just a second.” His voice sounded muffled.

 

“Are you losing your grip on him?”

 

“What?”

 

The vampire dropped to the floor, regarding me with blood-drenched eyes. “Whatever led you to that conclusion?”

 

“You froze.”

 

“If you must know, an apprentice brought me my espresso and I burned my tongue on it.”

 

Derek grimaced, disgust practically dripping off his face.

 

“Can we enter or not?” Ghastek said.

 

I slid Slayer’s blade into the box of the electronic lock. Like many things in Champion Heights, the lock was magic masquerading as technology.

 

“Anything else we need to know?” Derek asked.

 

“Just don’t stare if he decides to do his thing. He’ll draw it out.” The memory alone made me queasy.

 

“What thing?” Derek asked.

 

“He changes shapes. He’s limited to human only, as far as I know, but within that limitation he can assume almost any form.”

 

“Is he a danger?”

 

His tone had a slightly driven tint to it. His blood oath acting up again. “I met him through the Guild, when I was a merc. On bodyguard detail. I saved his life and now he gives me a discount. Basically, he humors me and tries to get into my pants. He’s harmless.”

 

I put my hand on Slayer’s blade, fed a little power into the blade, and pushed the door with my fingers.

 

It slid open.

 

Beyond the door lay Saiman’s apartment: an ultramodern backdrop of steel and plush cushions, blending into a monochromatic, almost sterile, whole.

 

“Saiman?” I called, crossing the white rug.

 

No answer. A blast of chill air hit me. The enormous floor-to-ceiling window stood open, half of its pane slid aside. Beyond the pane a snow-strewn ledge, barely four feet wide, hugged the building. I stuck my head through the opening. The ledge spiraled to the roof. A trail of footprints led up through the snow.