Even Vampires Get The Blues

I raised my head to glare at her.

"Which is not like you at all," she added quickly. "Perhaps someone has cast a spell or cursed you?"

"We'd see a curse, and surely Sam would be able to tell if someone cast a spell on her? Elves are notoriously hard to enchant," Finn said, taking his place next to Clare, and giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze.

As if her shoulder needed the reassurance that it was cherished… I dropped my forehead to the desk again. "I'm not cursed, and not enchanted. I'm just suddenly… ineffective. But that's going to change."

"You have another plan," Clare said, clapping her hands with delight. "I knew you'd come up with something, Sam. It's best not to put too much reliance on what a demon says. What are you going to do?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," I told the desk.

"I told you she wouldn't give up," Clare said to Finn. He started to protest that he never doubted me, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"I don't trust that demon who spoke to Paen," I said thoughtfully. "Not Caspar, the other one."

He half turned toward me. "Is there any particular reason why, or do you just have a general distrust of demons?"

"The latter." I pushed Clare's hip off the desk and replaced the phone where I wanted it. "It's too pat, too convenient. It smacks too much of trying to divide and conquer."

Everyone looked at me.

"Don't you see?" I asked, waving my hands around in a vague gesture intended to convey coherence. "The demon wants to confuse us, throw us off the track by sending us on a wild-goose chase. And who does it want us to chase? Our other client. No, it just seems too coincidental."

"She has a point," Clare said. Finn nodded. Paen frowned.

I took a deep breath. "Since I can't seem to locate either object we were hired to find—nor hang on to a simple bird statue—I've decided that I'm going to engage the services of someone who can."

"Who is that?" Clare asked, blinking. "Brother Jacob?"

I shook my head.

"Another Diviner?" Finn asked.

I shook my head again, avoiding looking at the silent man whose presence behind me registered on every molecule in my body. "No. I'm going to have to bring in some big help. I'm going to consult a seer."

I thought for a moment that Clare was going to choke. "You're… you're… no, you can't! Finn, tell her she can't! Seers are bad!"

"They're not bad, they're just a bit… pricey. And Finn has nothing to do with the matter, so don't try to drag him into it," I said. "We were hired to do a job, Clare, and we're going to do it by one means or another."

"But… a seer, Sam? That's even worse than a Guardian or a theurgist!" Clare, distraught, ran for her flower vase.

"I accepted the job. I don't have a choice in the matter."

"Paen?" Clare turned to him. "Don't you have something to say about Sam's plan to use a seer?"

"No," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. His eyes, normally so bright, were dulled like tarnished silver plate. "But only because the idea is so ridiculous it doesn't merit an answer."

"Ridiculous!" I gasped, sitting up straight.

"That's what I said. Anyone who deludes themselves into believing that they can consult a seer without paying an unthinkable price deserves the label of ridiculous." My gasp changed into an outraged huff. "You are not going to turn this over to a seer," he added, walking around the client's chair in front of my desk where his coat and hat lay. "I want to find this statue more than anyone, but not at the cost of others' lives. You're hungry and exhausted. You need food. I believe we can spare an hour to feed you and Clare while we discuss the next step."

"Correction—you can talk about it all you like over dinner, dessert, and the swivel hips of a troop of dancing girls. I, however, have work to do, and I intend to do it before the night ages any more."

"Sam!" Clare looked scandalized.

I sighed. She was right. Just because Paen had all but ripped my heart out and stomped it into nothing but a smear on the ground didn't mean I had to be rude. He was a client. A professional, rather than personal, demeanor was clearly called for. Henceforth, I would be the personification of investigative professionalism.

"My apologies, gentlemen. I didn't mean to sound so brusque. I'm sure you'll all have a lovely dinner, but I'm afraid I'm going to be a bit busy."

Sam, why are you doing this?

I glanced at Paen. "If you have something to say to me, please say it out loud. The mental broadcasting station has been closed due to FCC conflicts."

"You're not going to use a seer. I forbid it."

I gathered up my coat and purse. "You're my client, Paen, not my father." I was unable to keep from sliding him a hurt look. "Or my lover anymore, for that matter. Therefore, I'll do as I please. I'll see you all later. Enjoy dinner."

Paen blocked the way to the door. "Very well, since you insist on playing this game—if you will not respect my wishes with regards to the seer, I will fire you."