"I don't much like the name. But I don't run away from it either. My women aren't just hookers. My mother was Japanese and she trains them as geishas. A lot of them have PhDs. None of them are junkies and when they're tired of the Life they move into some other part of the organization."
"You make it sound very moral."
She was ready to disapprove, but Fortunato wouldn't let himself back away. "No," he said. "You've read Crowley. He had no use for ordinary morality, and neither do I. 'Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.' The more I learn, the more I realize that everything is there, in that one phrase. Its as much a threat as a promise."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I like you and I'm attracted to you and that's not necessarily a good thing for you. I don't want you to get hurt." She put both hands on the wheel and watched the road. "I can take care of myself," she said.
You should have kept your mouth shut, he told himself, but he knew that wasn't true. Better to drive her of now, before he got any more involved.
A few minutes later she broke the silence. "I don't know whether I should tell you this or not. I took that coin around to a couple of places. Occult bookstores, magic shops, that sort of thing. Just to see what I could turn up. I met a guy named Clarke at the Miskatonic Bookstore. He seemed really interested."
"What'd you tell him?"
"I said it was my father's. I said I was curious about it. He started asking me questions like was I interested in the occult, had I ever had any paranormal experiences, that kind of thing. It was pretty easy to feed him what he wanted to hear."
"And?"
"And he wants me to meet some people." A few seconds later she said, "You've gone quiet on me again."
"I don't think you should go. This stuff is dangerous. Maybe you don't believe in the occult. The thing is, the wild card changed everything. People's fantasies and beliefs can turn real now. And they can hurt you. Kill you."
She shook her head. "It's always the same story. But never any proof. You can argue with me all the way back to New York City, and it's not going to convince me. Unless I see it with my own eyes, I just can't take it seriously."
"Suit yourself," Fortunato said. He released his astral body and shot ahead of the car. He stood in the roadway and let himself become visible just as the car was on him. Through the windshield he could see Eileen's eyes go wide. Next to her his physical body sat with a mindless stare. Eileen screamed and the brakes howled and he let himself snap back into the car. They were skidding toward the trees and Fortunato reached over to steer them out of it. The car died and rolled onto the shoulder.
"What… what…"
"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't manage a lot of conviction. "It was you there in the road!" Her hands still held the wheel and tremors shook her arms.
"It was just… a demonstration."
"A demonstration? You scared me to death!"
"It wasn't anything. You understand? Nothing. We're talking about some kind of cult that's a couple of hundred years oid and makes human sacrifices. At the least. It could be worse, a hell of a lot worse. I can't be responsible for you getting involved."
She started the car and pulled onto the road. It was a quarter of an hour later, back on 1-87, before she said, "You're not quite human anymore, are you? That you could scare me that badly. Even though you say you're interested in me. That's what you were trying to warn me about."
"Yes," he said. Her voice was different, more detached.
He waited for her to say something else, but instead she just nodded and put a Mozart tape in the stereo.
He thought that would be the end of it. Instead, a week later, she called and asked if he could meet her for lunch at Aces High.
He was waiting at the table when she came in. She would never, he knew, look like a fashion model or like one of his geishas. But he liked the way she made the most of what she had: narrow gray flannel skirt, white cotton blouse, navy cardigan, amber beads, and a wide tortoiseshell band for her hair. No visible makeup except for mascara and a little lip gloss.
Fortunato got up to hold her chair and nearly bumped into Hiram. There was an awkward pause. Finally she held out her hand and Hiram bent over it, hesitated just a little too long, and then bowed away. Fortunato stared after him for a second or two. He wanted Eileen to say something about Hiram but she didn't take the hint. "It's good to see you," he said.
"It's good to see you too."
"In spite of… what happened last time?"
"What, is that an apology?" The smile again. '
"No," he said. "Though I really am sorry. I'm sorry I got you into this. I'm sorry I couldn't have met you some other way. I'm sorry we have this ugly business between us every time we see each other."
"So am L"
"And I'm afraid for you. I'm up against something like I've never seen before. There's this… thing, this conspiracy, this cult, whatever it is, out there. And I can't find anything out about it." A waiter brought menus and water in crystal goblets. Fortunato nodded him away.
"I've been to see Clarke," Fortunato said. "I asked him some questions, mentioned TIAMAT, and all I got were blank looks. He wasn't faking it. I looked in his brain." He took a breath. "He had no memory of you."
"That's impossible," Eileen said. She shook her head. "It's so strange to see you sitting there talking about reading his mind. There's got to be some kind of mistake, that's all. You're sure?"
Fortunato could see her aura clearly. She was telling the truth. "I'm sure," he said.
"I saw Clarke last night and I can promise you he remembered me. He took me to meet some people. They're members of the cult, or society, or whatever it is. The coins are some kind of recognition thing."
"Did you get their names, or addresses, anything like that?"
She shook her head. "I'd know them again. One of them was called Roman. Very good looking, almost too good looking, if you know what I mean. The other one was very ordinary. Harry, I think his name was."
"Does the group have a name?"
"They haven't mentioned one." She glanced at the menu as the waiter came back. "The veal medallions, I think. And a glass of the chablis."
Fortunato ordered insalata composta and a Beck's. "But I did learn some other things," she said. "I've been trying to trace Balsam's wife and son. I mean, they are a couple of loose ends in the story. First I tried the usual detective routine, birth and death and marriage records. No dice. Then I tried to find occult connections. Do you know the Abramelin Review?"
"No."
"It's a sort of Reader's Guide to occult publications. And that's where the Balsam family turned up. There's a Marc Balsam that's published at least a dozen articles in the last few years. Most of them were in a magazine called Nectanebus. Does that ring any bells?"
Fortunato shook his head. "A demon or something? It sounds like I should know it, but I can't put my finger on it."
"It's a good bet he's involved with the same society that Clarke is."
"Because of the coins."
"Exactly."
"What about those kid gangs that have been running wild up at the Cloisters? I took a coin off one of those kids. Can you see any possible connection?"
"Not yet. The articles might help, but the magazine's pretty obscure. I haven't been able to turn up any copies of it." The food arrived. Over lunch she finally mentioned Hiram. "Fifteen years ago he was more attractive than you might think. A little hefty, but very charming. Knew how to dress, what to say. And of course he always knew fantastic restaurants."