“Yes, but I’m not sure she’s that Alice Liddell, not really. Anyhow. She tried to use me to take Edward out so she could be top dog, but it didn’t work. She attacked us and we killed her. Or I thought we had—we left her staked down in a burning building. We assumed she was dust. But I saw her two nights ago in a club in Clerkenwell. It was less than two blocks from St. James’s church and she didn’t look like she was having any trouble with the locals.”
“Are you sure she’s got St. James’s for the Pharaohn?” Marsden questioned. “She could just be playing her game against Edward again on her own.”
I gave some thought before I opened my mouth again. Edward was a common enough name, but Wygan wasn’t, so I’d have to speak with care. Michael didn’t need to know that one of Seattle’s favorite late-night radio personalities and one of its richest citizens were vampires with a deadly grudge that had tangled both himself and his brother in its uncaring coils. “There was an asetem in the club—”
Marsden interrupted me. “‘Asete’ for just one. ‘Asetem’ is the plural.”
I gave him a sharp nod. “Asete. This asete talked to me, taunting me. She knew Alice, knew who I was, and said something about Alice and the Pharaohn’s plans as if I ought to know. She said it would be more fun if I was afraid. Alice is working for the Pharaohn-ankh-astet, and I think it’s safe to assume she now controls St. James’s or they wouldn’t have let her in the place.
“Edward used to have a line on things in St. James’s,” I continued, “but he lost it when Purcell disappeared. Sekhmet said Purcell’s lackey, Jakob, had—” I stopped myself from mentioning the charmed letter that had been sent to Will. “Had got the amphorae for the asetem. I thought she meant the vampires in general then, but now I think she meant the Egyptians. Barnaby said they were the Brothers of St. James, even though they took the jars under the priory of St. John. If anyone would know the difference between the Brotherhoods, I’d imagine it’s him. I think they used the priory basement for whatever ritual they did with the jars of blood to raise the creature Barnaby Smith mentioned, and they chose that location to intimidate the Brotherhood of St. John. The timing’s right for that skullduggery with the amphorae to be connected to Alice’s takeover of St. James’s.”
“One problem with that,” Marsden drawled. “The Brotherhoods both hate the asetem. They’ve had an agreement for ages to divide London up at the river and not interfere with one another. That’s how Edward got hisself run out: He tried to bring the asetem into the Brotherhood of St. James by pulling some jiggery-pokery with the Pharaohn.”
“The same Pharaohn?” I asked.
“Yeah. He and Edward is mortal enemies because of that.”
“Enemies united. Alice, St. James, and the asetem against Edward,” I said, fitting the pieces together. Wygan hated Edward for whatever had happened in London. He was running Alice now as he had when we met. “Alice is denying Edward his control in England. Keeping him trapped in Seattle while the Pharaohn starts his ball rolling. ”
“If you say so.”
“Educated guess. My friend on the phone said things are going nuts back home, and there are asetem stirring the pot.”
“You should pray he exaggerates, girl.”
“I don’t think he does. What’s happening there is connected to what’s happening here. The big players are all in Seattle.”
“Except you,” Marsden reminded me.
“I’m not a player, according to you. I’m a tool waiting to be shaped and used. I think that’s why I was lured to London.”
He shrugged. “You say so. Why is St. John not objecting to the asetem in Clerkenwell?” Marsden demanded.
“I’m not sure, but I’d bet whatever they did with the jars under the priory has something to do with it. Probably some kind of intimidation. If I can get to the Primate of St. John, he might help me get past Alice and get Will out.”
“You’d have to break St. James. That’ll mean breaking this Alice and whatever asetem she’s got with her.”
“I don’t think she’s very popular with them. The asete in the club didn’t like Alice. She acted like she was working under orders with which she disagreed. Once Alice is gone, I don’t think St. James will continue to work with the asetem. But I don’t give a damn what becomes of the Red Brotherhoods. I don’t care if Edward’s empire crumbles and they all kill each other so long as I get Will out alive.” And avoid whatever nasty tricks Alice has in store for me, I thought.
CHAPTER 39
As a result of that conversation, I stood in the basement of a restaurant just off Clerkenwell Road at about ten o’clock that evening. I’d been there for more than ninety minutes. The priory of St. John was a block away and St. James’s church was about five blocks away. I’d walked past the clerk’s well for which the area was named, tucked behind its window in an office block, as I’d come down from Angel Tube station. I hadn’t wanted to run into any guards at Farringdon, even though the walk was a long one and it took me past enemy territory first; a calculated risk. Now deep in the earth, I thought I could hear the water gurgling somewhere nearby and wondered if the well’s source lay below St. John’s. The lines of the grid were a curiously placid blue with an unhealthy tinge of green from the contaminants in the aquifer. The room I was standing in, however, was charged with red and yellow energy that buzzed around the room like a swarm of bees and thick with the shades of medieval plague victims gasping and dying in forgotten corners, cast out from the clean confines of the priory. They didn’t make me feel any better about what I was about to do.
Between us, Marsden and I had concluded that the restaurant housed the nighttime office of Henry Glick, the Primate of the Red Brotherhood of St. John. My unannounced arrival had thrown the local bloodsuckers into a visible tizzy that had so far worked to my advantage. It was the same reason I’d crossed through St. James’s territory on the way: I’d hoped to breed a little confusion and chatter and keep the attention of any snooping vampires on me while Marsden and Michael scouted for the location of Will’s imprisonment. I doubted they’d be able to rescue him on their own, but they’d signal me when they found him and we’d carry on from there, depending on what happened with the Primate of St. John.
So I was standing in the dim cellar among the smells of damp wood and spilled beer, waiting for an audience. It didn’t feel like the first time I’d met with Edward at the After Dark club in Seattle. I’d been naive and lucky then, however scared and ballsy. This time I knew better and I was a lot more frightened. I hoped the delay wasn’t an indication of bad things and I camouflaged my fears in boredom and the discomfort of being in the same clothes I’d been wearing for two days. At least the shower and washer in the boat worked well enough, but I still missed my suitcase and figured I’d never see it again.
Idly staring around the room, I could detect the Grey outline of a door in the stone foundation wall, charmed to appear solid to most people. I pretended not to notice. I sat on a stack of beer kegs and rolled my eyes, yawning for the benefit of my single “escort,” a demi-vamp who seemed to be named Dez and who didn’t quite ignore me but didn’t say much, either. He boiled with unfocused anger and frustration that seemed to have nothing to do with me. Not all demi-vamps are thrilled about their station in life or addicted to the rush I’m told they get from whatever it is that keeps them hovering halfway between one state and the next. The unsure ones, like Dez, don’t survive very long.
The restless energy of the room shifted, steadied, and flushed a bloody crimson, reeking of carnage. The suffering ghosts moaned and flickered out, washed away by the influx. Dez stiffened and turned his attention toward the magic doorway as it sparkled and faded to let someone in.