I looked down. The shapeshifter at the end of the left line stepped forward and unfolded a small table. The shapeshifter from the end of the right line placed a tall stack of index cards and three pens on the table. Derek stepped forward and put his wooden box in the center of the table.
“The Guild will now vote,” I announced. “Each of you will write your merc ID on the card, add one word: YES or NO, and drop it into this box. I give you this last chance to save the Guild and your jobs. Don’t blow it.”
Two hours later, two hundred and forty-six mercs voted yes, thirty-two voted no, and sixty-one dropped blank cards with their IDs into the box, abstaining. I made a show of congratulating Bob and Mark and got the hell out of there.
CHAPTER 9
I went to see Immokalee, a Cherokee medicine woman, after leaving the Guild. She spent half an hour making supplies for me and another half an hour trying to convince me that going to see the draugr was a Bad Idea. I knew it was a Bad Idea. I just didn’t see any way around it.
I got to the Cutting Edge office just after noon. The Dude and a cart containing one very sedated deer waited for me in the parking lot. A female shapeshifter I didn’t know sat on the cart with a sour expression on her face. It took me only a moment to figure out why. Next to the cart, hiding in the shade, crouched a vampire. It was thin, wiry, and covered in purple sunblock from head to toe, as if some giant bubble of grape bubblegum had exploded over it.
Jim had done it. I felt like jumping up and down. Instead I gave the vamp my flat stare.
“There are more inside,” the female shapeshifter informed me.
I stepped into the office. Curran sat at my desk, drinking a Corona from my fridge. In front of him, four vampires sat in a neat row in the middle of the floor. Two matched the purple delight outside, one was Grinch green, and the last one blazed with orange.
“I get the sunblock,” I said. “But why do you have to paint them like Skittles?”
The orange vamp unhinged its jaws. “The bright color helps to make sure they’re completely covered,” an unfamiliar female voice explained. “It’s easy to miss a spot. When they’re young, they have a lot of wrinkles.”
Ugh. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Kate,” the green vamp spoke with Ghastek’s voice, “it has come to my attention that you are planning to see a creature in the Viking territory with the purpose of finding a means to remove the necklace from the child. An undead creature. That explicitly violates the terms of our agreement to resolve this matter jointly.”
I looked at Curran. He shrugged.
“And how did you know this?” I asked.
“I have my methods.”
How in the world had Jim pulled this off? I’d have to buy him all the clipboards in the world.
“Ghastek, this is not a pleasure trip,” Curran said.
“You can’t go,” I added.
“Why ever not?”
“Because this undead will murder your vampire hit squad and I have no desire to get that bill,” Curran said. “Do yourself a favor. Sit this one out.”
Wow. He went there.
The vamp’s red eyes bulged, struggling to mirror Ghastek’s expression.
“Kate, perhaps you need to explain to your significant other that he is in no position to give me orders. Last time I checked, his title was Beast Lord, which is a gentle euphemism for a man who strips naked at night and runs around through the woods hunting small woodland creatures. I’m a premier Master of the Dead. I will go where I please.”
Once again I rode The Dude. Curran chose to drive the cart. We traveled side by side. Ghastek took point, while three of his journeymen flanked us. The fourth, the orange vampire, trotted next to me. It was piloted by Ghastek’s top journeywoman. Her name was Tracy and as navigators went, she wasn’t too bad.
Ghastek’s vampire reached Gunnar’s fork, marked by an old birch. Predictably, Gunnar lumbered out. “Come to see Ragnvald again?”
“Going to the glade.” I nodded at the cart. The deer’s moist dark eyes stared at the Viking.
Gunnar’s spine went rigid. “To see him?”
I nodded.
“Don’t go,” he said.
“I have to.”
He shook his head and stepped aside. “It’s been nice knowing you.”
I touched the reins and our small procession rolled on.
Ghastek dropped back, drawing even with The Dude. “Why the secrecy?”
“The Vikings don’t like to say Håkon’s name. The glade isn’t that far from here and he might hear.”
“What is he?”
He and Curran had that in common. Wave a secret in front of them and they would foam at the mouth trying to learn it. “He’s a draugr.”