Jason schooled his face to not let the surprise show, but he spotted that Vermillion had noticed something. Kissling was nothing like the converted Jason had encountered in the astral space, at least to his magical senses. Kissling’s followers had the familiar, automaton-like presence, but they were of an entirely different nature, magically speaking. Most importantly, he didn’t sense the presence of any of the Builder’s power. It was something he had been sensitive to ever since the Builder attempted to claim Jason’s soul.
These were clearly augmented through methodology wholly unlike the Builder’s modified clockwork cores. It would appear that the Engineers of Ascension had developed some alternate means to magically enhance people, although not without side effects. As to how harmful that process was and if people were volunteering for it, he would have to look into later. At the very least, Kissling seemed to have gone through the process with his mind intact.
After the deal was struck, Kissling turned to Vermillion.
“Will your organisation stand as guarantor for this compact?”
“It will,” Vermillion said. “We will take on the protection of Hiro Asano and his people, as well as enforce the other stipulations, should either party choose to contravene this agreement.”
“Very well,” Kissling said, standing up. “I’m glad we didn’t have to go through any unpleasantness.”
Vermillion and Jason also got to their feet.
“I would not consider your marching a small army of your drones through one of my places of business to be without unpleasantness,” Vermillion said. “Although you avoided anything drastic, do not expect this to go unanswered.”
Kissling frowned but nodded his acknowledgement. He led his people downstairs and away, while Jason and Vermillion watched through the window.
“How long were you in action?” Vermillion asked.
“In action?” Jason asked.
“I’ve fought in three wars,” Vermillion said. “One as a human, one otherwise, and one half and half. I know what a man fresh from a life of constant battle looks like.”
“Half a year,” Jason said softly.
“Did you win?”
“Yeah. I had to die to get there, but we won.”
“You died?”
“I’m trying to give it up,” Jason said. “I’m worried that dying is becoming habit forming.”
“Habit forming?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. “Coming back from the dead is kind of my thing.”
“You are an odd man, Jason Asano.”
“You’re a vampire,” Jason said.
“It’s a good time to be a vampire,” Vermillion said. “Bram Stoker was a debacle and the less said about Bela Lugosi the better, but Anne Rice and Twilight really turned things around.”
“Really? Twilight?”
“Twilight was fantastic for us.”
They watched Kissling and his people climb into a series of SUVs and drive off.
“So, who do you think sent Kissling our way?” Jason asked. “Why did he approach here instead of the townhouse where I’m staying?”
“My guess would be that they were operating on very limited information.”
“The obvious culprit is our friend Victor,” Jason said. “If he can provoke the EOA into attacking you and me together, it draws two reluctant but powerful allies to his side.”
“Possibly,” Vermillion said, “but perhaps not probably. While Victor likes to amplify his larrikin persona to make others underestimate him, he is, in reality, both careful and deliberate. Setting the EOA on us would be a desperate gamble that could easily alienate the very people he’s trying to ally with. Desperate gambles aren’t the way he does things.”
“Maybe he’s desperate enough,” Jason said.
“I still think not,” Vermillion said. “Kissling won’t be a big shot in the EOA. If he wasn’t hungry to prove himself, he never would have risked this blowing up in his face. Whoever put him onto us most likely knew this and that’s beyond Victor’s knowledge of EOA members.”
“Then who? You think the Network has found out about a rogue new magician?”
“No,” Vermillion said. “That would be Annabeth Tilden’s call and she definitely isn’t stupid enough to provoke the Cabal like that.”
“Then who is?”
“Only low-level idiots with ambitions above their station, like Kissling. No, I think that whoever sent Kissling our way doesn’t fear the Cabal because they’re part of it.”
“Internal strife?”
“The Cabal is like an old, aristocratic family,” Vermillion said. “To outsiders, we present a united front. Within, however, is turmoil, ambition, and backstabbing. We’re the most fractious of the three major factions because we have history enough that some internal squabbling always takes place within a broader context.”
“So you think this wasn’t really about me,” Jason said. “You think it’s about you.”
“Most likely,” Vermillion said. “I’m afraid some of my fellows are looking at you as an opportunity to advance at my expense.”
Two vampires met in a booth, in an upscale basement bar with old wood and dark lighting.
“Kissling was a disappointment,” one of them said. His clothes were as sleek as his youthful features and slick, dark hair.
“It was always less likely to work than not,” the other said. He looked to be a well-preserved middle age, with distinguished salt-and-pepper hair and a grey suit that complemented without being ostentatious. “I’m surprised Kissling even took the bait, to be honest. He’s more hungry than I thought.”
“So, what now?” the younger one asked. “Do we just let it go?”
“Of course not. If that essence magician really is an independent operator, that means there’s a source for new magic outside of Network channels. I’m not willing to let Vermillion take all the credit for bringing that into the Cabal.”
“Then what?”
“I think we need to see what this essence magician is capable of,” the older one said. “Let’s throw something at him and see how he handles it.”
“Like what?”
“The Blood Riders.”
The younger vampire looked askance at the elder.
“I think that is a very bad idea,” he said.
“The Blood Riders are being left to rot,” the older vampire said. “It doesn’t matter what happens to them.”
“My concern isn’t what happens to them,” the younger vampire said. “My concern is what they’ll do. They’re desperate after being cut off from their blood supply.”
“Which is why they’ll do what they’re told, if they think there’s a fresh supply on offer.”
“I don’t think they’re stable,” the younger one said. “Using them is courting disaster.”
Calmly and smoothly, so as not to alarm with sudden movement, the older one drew a pistol and shot the younger in the head.
“I just knew you’d be a tattletale.”
He put two bullets in the heart and two more in the head.
“That should hold you until I can find a saw.”
13
TIME TO RIP OFF THE BAND-AID