The Undead Pool

Jenks was a sparkle at my shoulder. “You need to sit down, Rache?” he asked, and I shook my head, hesitated, then nodded, leaning back against the counter and levering myself up. I felt like a kid as I scooted back with my coffee until I hit the cupboards. Edden looked tired, which made me think I must look like hell if we were doing this in my church instead of the FIB building.

Trent helped Edden find me, but he didn’t bother to come out himself, I thought with a flash of disappointment. And that’s a good thing, I added bitterly. Trent was finally seeing how his actions impacted his daughters and his . . . fiancée.

Oh God, I’d actually thought the word, and I tried to find a pleasant expression as the introductions finished.

“So!” Edden said loudly. “I’ve got two more of these things this morning. Let’s get a move on. Who’s going to run it?”

Silence deep enough to bring the mystics to a quiet descended, and I realized everyone was looking at me. “Ah . . .” I hedged, and Ivy sighed, a new spate of typing taking over.

David looked at her screen, then moved to the doorway, effectively bringing all attention to him. “I’ll start since most of you already know what I have to say,” he said. “The threefold increase in wave action we’ve seen hasn’t caused an increase in misfires simply because people aren’t doing magic. Unfortunately the I.S.’s claims that the vampire violence has dropped as well is not true. What’s happened is that it’s shifted focus from vampire/human predation to vampire/vampire stalkings and attacks. As Edden feared, Landon’s idea to blame the Free Vampires has started a schism that is being fought out on the street. The inability to use magic is making it harder to cap the violence. Either Ayer and Landon are getting ready to move as Rachel said”—David lifted his mug to acknowledge me—“or the Goddess is being more aggressive in her search for her missing, ah, mystics and Ayer is capitalizing on it. None of the waves are making it out of Cincinnati.”

My eyes widened, and the influx of mystic thoughts took on an ominous feeling. “Can’t you track them?” I asked. “Find them like you did before?”

Expression solemn, David shook his head. “We can, but the waves quit vanishing early this morning. They’re circling.”

“Cincinnati?” I blurted. Crap on toast, Ayer had all he needed. He wasn’t drawing them out anymore—which meant the Goddess was looking for her lost thoughts. Looking for me.

“It’s anyone’s guess how long we have until they try to break the containment lines,” David finished, and I stifled a shiver, pulling my knees up to my chin, heels on the counter.

Edden scooted his chair a little deeper into the room, arms crossed over his wide chest. “I’ve got some good news, bad news,” he said. “I don’t know how useful it is, but the Free Vampires who gave themselves up last night told us why the masters are sleeping. The high concentrations of mystics in the area are giving the effect of a soul or aura on the undead, which lowers their appetite. They sleep when their true aura levels drop below a threshold. As long as there’re captive mystics anywhere in the city, the undead will not wake up.”

And with the city closed, they couldn’t evacuate the sleeping masters.

“They also confirmed that Landon gave them information and the technology to do this. Rachel, I’m sorry, but the elves are involved. We know for sure now.”

My frown deepened. “Trent wouldn’t do this,” I said, and David shifted from foot to foot.

“Rachel, I know how you feel about Trent—”

“I’m telling you, he wouldn’t sanction anything that resulted in the death of an entire demographic!” I said loudly, then calmed down before I accidentally blew something up. Damn it all to hell, he wouldn’t! Not now. I had to believe that. I did.

“And you’d be right,” came Trent’s voice from Ivy’s laptop, and my head snapped up.

Trent? About a dozen mystics dropped their discussion of the reflective surface of copper pots as a thread of adrenaline pulled through me, and my eyes widened when Ivy spun her monitor to face the room. It was Trent. On the screen. Cool.

Ivy frowned at her computer. “About time,” she muttered.

“Sorry for being late,” Trent said, the picture jerky but riveting. “The software wouldn’t load. Rachel is right. I haven’t heard of any such action being put into place, but I seem to have lost most of my voice in the enclave and I never had it in the dewar.”

He looked tired. Behind him, colorful fish swam in a smaller tank. “Can he see us?” I asked, freezing when Trent seemed to look right at me.

“Yes. I’m glad to see you’re recovered, Rachel.”