Borderline (The Arcadia Project, #1)

“Millie who?”


Oh right. She’d never gotten my name in Santa Barbara. Then I remembered why, and panicked. Could she do scary hoodoo with just a first name? I hoped not. It also occurred to me that connecting myself with the resort incident might not be to my advantage anyway.

“I’m a protégée of David’s,” I said instead. “He told me there was some stuff about the studio he wanted you to explain to me, and that we should meet to talk about it.”

“I can’t imagine what he was thinking.”

“You can ask him if you like,” I said. “He just told me he wants me involved and that I have to meet with you.”

Vivian let out a delicate snort. “If he thinks I’m going to bark on command like everyone else in his life, he can think again. I’m not interested in bringing in anyone else.” I could tell she was winding up to a curt good-bye, so I pulled out the stops.

“I’m with the Arcadia Project. We’ve met, actually.”

I held my breath, wondering if the silence on the end of the line indicated that she was taken aback, that she didn’t remember me, or that she’d hung up before I had the chance to blow her mind.

“You were the one with Caryl at Regazo de Lujo,” she finally said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re right. David did mention you. I’m sorry; I’ve been a bit distracted lately.”

An uncanny number of people in my life were saying that right now, and I was beginning to suspect that they were all distracted by the same thing.

“So you’ll meet with me, then?”

“How about tonight? Latish.”

“First, promise you won’t cause me harm.”

“David’s been coaching you, I see. I promise I won’t cause you harm tonight, but that’s all the commitment I’m ready for. Does nine o’clock work for you?”

“So long as you promise you won’t keep me past midnight.”

“Ugh! Fine. I promise I will end the meeting before midnight. Two promises in one phone call! I’m going soft. Meet me at nine o’clock at Gotham Hall.”

“Goth— That weird bar on the Promenade? Didn’t it close ages ago?”

“Did it?” she said with a smile I could hear through the phone. “You may want to check again. Really look hard, and think of me when you do, darling.”





33


When I told Caryl that I intended to meet with Vivian, Elliott turned a flip and fluttered blindly into the wall of Teo’s bedroom.

Caryl had found me there snooping around on the computer, but I was pretty sure she hadn’t seen exactly what I was doing, which was for the best. You’d think that “Gloria Day murders” would have turned up something on Google even without adding in “dwarf” or “midget,” but no matter what combination of keywords I tried, I couldn’t dig up a speck of information on the alleged crime. How was this not plastered all over the Net?

“No,” Caryl said calmly. “You are not going to meet with Vivian Chandler.”

“David pretty much ordered me to,” I said, adjusting my fey glasses farther up the bridge of my nose. They weren’t a great fit.

Caryl folded her arms and leaned back against the wall. “Why would he do that?”

Oh. Right. Probably not a good idea to tell her that part.

“Well, we’re pretty sure she was involved in getting Rivenholt out of the train station, right?”

“Even if she was, it remains ambiguous whether she was helping him or whether she was part of the attack.”

“That’s exactly what I’d like to find out.”

“I will go with you,” she said as Elliott fluttered back to her shoulder.

In my experience, it’s generally a bad idea to take your current boss along on a job interview, so I groped for an objection. “Vivian doesn’t like you.”

“True, but you’ll be defenseless without my magic.”

I started to tell her about Vivian’s promise but hesitated. She might wonder why Vivian would take the meeting seriously enough to offer that promise. “Why would she bother hurting me?” I said instead.

“She owns a pest control company, Millie; she had a large fortune and chose to invest it in wholesale extermination.”

“Killing me would harm Berenbaum, wouldn’t it?”

“Negative emotions do not fall under the fey’s under-standing of ‘harm,’ since humans frequently and demonstrably seek them out.”

“Vivian can’t lay a hand on me without destroying her own facade. What harm could she do?”

“She doesn’t need to lay a hand on you. She can create metaspells.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Her wards can cast their own enchantments. Say Vivian is in Paris and you try to break into her warded house in Los Angeles. The ward casts an enchantment on you when you pass over the windowsill, and the enchantment causes your heart to explode. She has a perfect alibi.”

“Wouldn’t my touch disable the ward, though?”

“Not if she was still powering it.”

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