We dismounted, tied our horses to the rail, and went up the concrete steps to where the entrance used to be. Solid rock. Not even a crevice.
The magic fell.
“Window,” Ghastek said.
Three stories from the ground a pane of glass shone, catching the sun.
The bloodsucker gathered itself like a cat and launched up onto the wall, finding purchase on the sheer cliff with the ease of a fly. It turned around, hanging upside down, and offered me an arm.
“I’ll climb myself, thanks.”
“It will cost us time.”
“That’s fine with me.”
It’d been a long time since I had gone rock climbing. By the time I made it to the window, Derek and the bloodsucker had been waiting for a good minute. Ghastek scooted the vamp to the side to make room for me. “You delayed us. It’s simply not efficient.”
I huffed. “Spare me.”
Derek knocked on the window. No answer. He rammed his fist into the glass. The window pane exploded into the apartment. We climbed into the hole one by one and let ourselves out of the apartment. Neither of us mentioned the illegality of our smooth maneuver.
We made it to the fifteenth floor, and I stole a little break by taking my time to find the right door.
“So what sort of person is this expert?” Derek asked.
“The very intelligent, methodical kind. Somber, even. Saiman enjoys erudite discussions. He’s like Ghastek—” With a sex drive. “He’s like Ghastek except instead of piloting vampires, he indulges in books and late night debate on the virtues of Mongolian folklore.”
“Wonderful.” Derek rolled his eyes.
I nodded to the vamp. “The two of you will probably hit it off.”
The magic flooded us again. This time Derek was ready—his face showed no change. Ghastek, on the other hand, halted in midrise halfway off the ground.
I unsheathed Slayer. Derek backed away, giving himself room for a leap. If the vamp went berserk, we’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble.
“Ghastek?” I murmured.
“Just a second.” His voice sounded muffled.
“Are you losing your grip on him?”
“What?”
The vampire dropped to the floor, regarding me with blood-drenched eyes. “Whatever led you to that conclusion?”
“You froze.”
“If you must know, an apprentice brought me my espresso and I burned my tongue on it.”
Derek grimaced, disgust practically dripping off his face.
“Can we enter or not?” Ghastek said.
I slid Slayer’s blade into the box of the electronic lock. Like many things in Champion Heights, the lock was magic masquerading as technology.
“Anything else we need to know?” Derek asked.
“Just don’t stare if he decides to do his thing. He’ll draw it out.” The memory alone made me queasy.
“What thing?” Derek asked.
“He changes shapes. He’s limited to human only, as far as I know, but within that limitation he can assume almost any form.”
“Is he a danger?”
His tone had a slightly driven tint to it. His blood oath acting up again. “I met him through the Guild, when I was a merc. On bodyguard detail. I saved his life and now he gives me a discount. Basically, he humors me and tries to get into my pants. He’s harmless.”
I put my hand on Slayer’s blade, fed a little power into the blade, and pushed the door with my fingers. It slid open.
Beyond the door lay Saiman’s apartment: an ultramodern backdrop of steel and plush cushions, blending into a monochromatic, almost sterile, whole.
“Saiman?” I called, crossing the white rug.
No answer. A blast of chill air hit me. The enormous floor-to-ceiling window stood open, half of its pane slid aside. Beyond the pane a snow-strewn ledge, barely four feet wide, hugged the building. I stuck my head through the opening. The ledge spiraled to the roof. A trail of footprints led up through the snow.
* * * *
“It appears he took a walk in the snow. Barefoot.” I stepped back into the apartment.
“I’ll go first,” Derek said.
Before I could say anything, he ducked into the opening and headed up the ledge. Damn it. I followed him. Behind me the vamp climbed the cliff. Using ledges and paths was clearly below Ghastek.
Wind slapped me. My feet slid a little and I pressed against the side of the building. I crouched and rubbed the snow with my hand. Under the snowflakes, the ledge was ice. Figured.
The entire city stretched below, so small, it looked almost tidy from this height. Between me and that tidy city lay a dizzying drop. I swallowed. I could do a lot of things but I was pretty sure I couldn’t sprout wings and fly. Right after my father’s death, when I was fifteen, Greg had taken me to his ex-wife’s house in the Smoky Mountains. That was the last time I could remember being this high. It felt a lot different sitting on the edge of a mountain cliff. In fact, compared to crawling up a four-foot ledge made of ice, sitting on a mountain, dangling your feet over the edge, was downright comfy.