"I need to meet with Edward. Can you help me do that?"

Carlos sat back, his face blank, just glowering for a while. At last he said, "Yes."

"When and where?"

"On Wednesdays, he holds court at the After Dark."

"That's in Pioneer Square, isn't it? I've never been there."

A cruel humor flickered in the blackness of his eyes. "Not many daylighters have. He'll see you. I'll take care of it."

"What time?"

"Never before ten."

"I need as many of Edward's enemies, malcontents, or neutrals there as possible. Can you accomplish that?"

"My pleasure."

"Thank you. I have an unrelated, professional favor to ask you also."

Again the silent gaze pierced me. I sympathized with Jason.

"There is an object I'd like you to look at, as a specialist."

He raised an eyebrow. "A specialist in what, do you believe?"

"Necromancy."

His brows drew down and the force of his personality bore on me like a toppled column. He growled deep in his throat and my body began to quake, the vibration of his fury beating against me. I swallowed hard and began to talk fast through my constricted throat.

"I need the services of a necromancer and you're the only one I know of. No one told your secrets. I guessed from what you told me before. I swear it."

He drew back a little. "And you need one for what?"

"I need to know the history and source of a dark artifact—necromantic, probably. Interested?"

He sat back and withdrew his fury, though a press of darkness remained. "You're a fool."

"I have no choice," I confessed, and hoped I had not made a bad guess about the Byzantine workings of his mind.

"Are you desperate enough to submit to me? I might demand a price you would prefer not to pay."

I was shivering. "You might. Do you intend to?"

He fell silent and stared into me. Streamers of light and darkness wove between us and brushed over me and I let them, though my insides clutched in fear. They slid over the knot with a chill pang of curiosity and withdrew.

He narrowed his eyes with the specter of a curious smile. "Not this time. When and where?"

"Tomorrow, at the Madison Forrest Historical House. We'll need to discuss your information with a friend, too. A witch."

He raised an eyebrow. "A true witch? Not one of those soft, powerless, New Age idiots?"

"A real witch."

"It's been a long time."

I said nothing.

He lowered his head in a half nod. "After sunset, tomorrow.". I stood up and so did he. I didn't offer my hand. "Thank you."

He stepped closer. I wanted to recoil, but didn't dare. He leaned over me. "Something of power is turning in you. Yet you seem ill." He reached out and swept something from my hair and shoulder, drew his hand down the line of my sternum without touching me. He brought a writhing piece of darkness to his face and breathed in the scent of it. "You reek of dark powers mixed with light. Have you touched the artifact?"

"No, but you could say it touched me."

He rubbed the slip of shadow between his fingers. "Disturbing. This can't be as it is." Then he wadded the shadow up and tucked it into his pocket, as before.

"I'm not pleased with it myself," I answered.

"Be wary, Blaine."

I lifted a cynical eyebrow. "And trust you at the same time?" I turned the topic. "How will we find you tomorrow?"

"I'll find you." His eyes glittered. He grinned at me and I felt as if those savage white teeth tore into my flesh. "I'll always know the smell of you now." I shuddered.

I was glad to leave his presence. I walked through the night, straight toward Alice.

She narrowed her eyes as I approached across the bar and smiled furious hunger. Sparks of violent yellow and red danced around her. "You have played far too close. I've had to expose myself in covering you. I had better not come to regret it."

"I'm too tired to fence with you. If you want to exploit the opportunity, be in the After Dark Wednesday night about nine thirty."

"Who told you about After Dark?"

I smiled with all the cold in my heart and didn't answer. Her icy acid hate slashed a storm against me, ringing off the beating Grey thing within. My knees trembled, but I stood it, somehow.

"When I'm done," I said at last, "you'll have your chance. If you move too early, you'll tip your hand, so be patient."

"Patient? I have been nothing but. And if you are double-crossing me—"

"What good would that do? I won't have a single friend in the room. In fact, you'll be the only one there who doesn't already have reason to take my head off."

I paused and turned a bit away. "Maybe I shouldn't bother. I can probably stay far enough away from you to live to a reasonable age. And I can't trust you, anyhow. You'll probably be first in line to exercise all those threats you've made."

I started to walk. Alice snagged my arm, sending heat and black ice through me. "Are you backing out now?"

I wrenched my arm from her grip, surprising us both. "Why not? What's to stop you?"

"I've said I wouldn't harm you if you did as I instructed."

"And I have, but all you've done is complain about how I haven't. So I'm screwed, aren't I? Forget it."

Alice growled.

I turned back to her and stared her in the eye, pushing against the Grey as hard as I could, hoping I had it right. "All right. Then promise-that you won't harm me if I help you get to Edward. So long as I stay out of your way, you leave me alone. Promise me that."

Infinite cold bore through me as she stared. When she spoke, her voice had dropped low and resonant. "I promise I won't harm you so long as you help me get to Edward, and stand aside."

I smiled at her and turned away again before she could reconsider.

She stared at me as I left, and I felt it all the way down my spine.

Chapter 28

Tuesday started out raining. Even though I felt weak and calcified, I ran until my chest hurt from something purely physical for the first time in days. My body was fine but I was falling apart in all other ways. I ran on, amazed that I could, considering how often I had thought of simply stopping over the past few days. And I got furious with myself for my self-pity and self-doubt. I was still afraid, still weak and unsure and in the midst of the unknown, but if I stood still, there was only one possible end. At least, going forward, I stood a chance, however small.

I ran. Sweat and rain washed away my stupidity and despair. I wanted to stay in the clean downpour until everything washed away, but I had made a choice and I would stick to it.

From the office, I called the curator of the Madison Forrest House and persuaded her I needed to see the organ that night. She agreed to let us in at nine, though she was not pleased. With another phone call, Mara agreed to come, too.

I chased down some more prosaic business, keeping my mind busy, and was interrupted by a call from Will.

He sounded tired. "Hey, Harper. I checked up on that Tracher organ some more." "That was quick." "A lot of the records have been computerized over the last few years and I know the right people to call in Europe. Anyhow, I don't know what your client wants it for, but that organ is a fake-up."

"Totally fake? It looked old."

"Parts of it are too old, actually. The frame and action numbers didn't match. There's some additional paneling behind the mirror and over the pipes which is older than the case and shouldn't be there at all. According to Tracher, the frame came from an instrument that was damaged in a fire in Amsterdam in 1923. The case was written off by the insurance company and sold to a furniture jobber. He probably installed the action, which came from another organ built in 1902. But there's no way to tell."