Music to My Sorrow Page 18

  He suspected that Gabriel knew that as well.

  It was already dark when he walked out of the building. When he'd walked in that afternoon, he'd never expected to be so purely grateful to leave. He threw the bag onto the passenger seat of the pink Cadillac and drove quickly away from the building, unable to repress a shudder of relief as he did so.

  * * *

  "So that is Sieur Eric of Misthold's apprentice?" Jormin ap Galever said, after Hosea had left. "Unimpressive. Yet odd." He shrugged elegantly, dismissing the anomalies he had sensed in Hosea's magick. The mortal was hardly beginning his training; as a Bard, he was inconsequential. He probably could not work magic without actually playing or singing, and that, for a Bard, marked him as the merest tyro. Insignificant. "A pity for him that he has not chosen to make his manners to Prince Arvin and accept the protection of Elfhame Misthold—or is it that Bard Eric did not think to extend such protection?"

  "It will not matter soon," Prince Gabrevys said, dismissively. "I will be rid of him, of course; he stands between me and my rightful prey, Fairchild's Fair Child. He thwarted me once; he shall not do so again. His death will not be laid to my door—indeed, it cannot be, at least, not by the Bright Court; they have no agents that are practiced enough to trace back my movements here in the World Above. Nor indeed by any other of the Sidhe, not even the High King himself. There will be a terrible accident here on Friday, one that will claim the lives of a number of people. I'm afraid Sieur Eric's inconvenient apprentice will be just another tragic casualty. Pity, that."

  "Not that Sieur Eric will either know or care," Jormin gloated, still delighted with his own cleverness. Though the boy Magnus had somehow sensed the presence of the Hunt and run, he hadn't gotten far, and had been easily taken by Abidan, Coz, and Jakan. And the fury, fear, and despair on the Bard's face when he had seen Jormin's hostage had been wine of a heady vintage indeed. "By the time I take the stage, he and his brother will be well on the road back to Boston. His parents will be lucky if they don't drool on themselves. As for this Hosea Songmaker, I can play him in circles for as long as I please. He'll be no trouble to you, my Prince."

  "I will hold you to that, Jormin," Gabrevys said softly. "He may be untutored, but he surely will have recognized you for a Bard, if not as Unseleighe. I wish him to stay here and keep Heavenly Grace at his side until she hears word of her father's tragic death. She will have to return to her mother's house, then, to comfort her in her bereavement. Once there, I can move the Apprentice into position to eliminate him, and once the Apprentice Bard is gone, I may move to take the maiden at my leisure."

  Jormin cocked his head to the side, his hair falling over his shoulder like a spill of blood. "So you mean to move at last! To be the butt of mortal's japes suited you ill, my Prince. This is happy news. I shall ready my most subtle enchantments . . . against two Gifted mortals, you will have a day, perhaps two, before they become suspicious at their own delay—after that, I can still hold them as long as pleases you, but they will begin to wonder at their own behavior, and perhaps might suspect and ready their own crude magic to counter me."

  "It will not be so long as that, my Bard," Gabrevys told him, dark pleasure in his voice. "Only keep them here until the day of the concert. After that, it will be too late. Now here is where you must go. . . ."

  * * *

  Once Hosea left for the business park, Ace checked her watch and phoned Magnus. Although it was lunchtime by now, his phone returned an "Out of Service" message.

  She made a face. She knew he wouldn't have forgotten to turn it on—it was more likely he'd been caught trying to use it between classes and gotten it confiscated again.

  She tried Eric next, but she got the same message from his cell, and nobody picked up at the apartment. She sighed in annoyance. He was probably off giving a music lesson and had his phone turned off, and she had no idea when he'd be back to pick up his messages at the apartment.

  She called Ria next to give her the bad news, not that Ria didn't already have most of it, courtesy of Mr. Tilford.

  "So when are you coming back to New York?" Ria said. "I can't say this thrills me—especially the part about your father having an Unseleighe Magus somewhere on the payroll, whether he knows it or not—but having Parker Wheatley launching a demon-hunting crusade under the aegis of Fairchild Ministries does give us a bit more ammunition to pry you loose. As soon as Derek gets back, I'm going to have him put together a short précis of Mr. Wheatley's recent career—kidnapping, torture, subversion—to present to Judge Springsteen. An environment containing a man like that is no place for an impressionable young girl like you. Not to mention what kind of unpleasant experiences he might expose you to, nor the kinds of unwanted attention he'd bring in the way of people who might be looking for revenge. He hurt a great many people, and no few of them hold grudges." She paused a moment, and Ace could practically hear her thinking. "I might be able to shade enough of what I've got to make it look as if he has mob connections—and you know, the three places that deal in a lot of untraceable cash are organized crime, legalized gambling, and churches. A church is a logical place to use to launder money—make that a church running a casino . . . I think I can throw out enough red herrings to make the judge start feeling a bit alarmed. I'd like you back here, though."

  Despite herself, Ace managed a smile. "Well, it's a little too far to walk. I thought I'd wait until Hosea got back from his interview, and see what he's found out."

  "Call me then," Ria said. "And be careful."

  "I will," Ace promised.

  * * *

  After that there was nothing to do but watch television, pace, and wait for Hosea to return from interviewing Billy. She used up all the coffee in both the in-room coffeemakers—hers and Hosea's—and began to think about going out to get coffee and maybe something more appetizing than the leftover Chinese food in the refrigerator, but no matter how much she tried to convince herself it was perfectly safe, she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She called Eric's apartment several more times, but nobody ever picked up the phone, and by the time she made the last call, it was well after the time Magnus should have been home, even if Eric wasn't.

  Something was wrong.

  She started to worry in earnest.

  Magnus knew her hearing was today. He was mad to find out how it had come out. Even if Coenties & Arundel had taken his phone, he would have called her from another one as soon as he could.

  Unless something had happened to him.

  She knew their parents were fighting Eric over custody . . . had something happened? Were they tied up in court somewhere? Or stuck in a lawyer's office? Had the parents somehow managed to get them arrested?

  She thought hard, gnawing at her lip. There had to be somebody she could ask. Not Ria. For one thing, she didn't want to wind Ria up about Magnus and Eric's parents any more than she already was, and for another, she hated to keep going to Ria with every little thing, and she'd already promised to call her as soon as Hosea got back. And there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation for what was going on that she just couldn't think of right now.

  Kayla. Kayla lived in the same building. She and Eric had been friends for years, and Ace suspected that Magnus kind of liked Kayla too. Besides, Kayla knew things about people. If there was something funny going on, Kayla would know. And if there wasn't, she'd tell Ace to stop being a jerk and then Ace could go take a cold shower or something.

  She dug around in her bag for Kayla's number. Her phone was a new one, and she hadn't gotten around to completely programming it yet.

  The phone rang, and there was a connection. For a moment Ace heard nothing but wild barking, then: "Molly—Molly—Molly, I don't know who it is, but trust me, they ain't callin' for you!"

  "Kayla?" Ace said doubtfully. The barking subsided—or rather, became stifled, as if its source had been wrapped in something.

  "Yeah. Ace? Are you okay?" Kayla said. "Good girl!" This last did not seem to be directed
to Ace.

  "Why shouldn't I be okay?" Ace demanded suspiciously.

  "Well, this morning Eric took off like the proverbial bat, and Greystone told Toni he'd gotten some kind of vague mumbo-jumbo warning, like only Bards get—and I guess Too-Tall didn't get one, or you would have called earlier and you wouldn't be nearly this calm now—so when I got back from walking Molly, everybody jumped on me just in case I'd got kidnapped by space aliens, which I hadn't, thank you very much. Drop that, Molly! Sheesh! If this is what having kids is like, I'm becoming a monk."

  "I haven't been able to get through to Magnus on his cellphone all day," Ace said flatly. "And Eric isn't answering the phone in the apartment."

  Kayla let out a long breath. "Actually, we were all sort of hoping you wouldn't notice that."

  "What happened?" All the apprehension that Ace had felt all day spiraled up into a sudden flash of terror, and suddenly her hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold onto the phone. Something was wrong, something horrible had happened to Eric, Magnus, or both!

  "Breathe," Kayla told her firmly. "There's nothing you and Too-Tall can do from down there. The big guns are on it and we didn't want you worryin' about somethin' you couldn't fix. All I know is what Toni told me that Greystone told her. He didn't sense anything directly, either. Whatever it was came straight through to Eric, and all he got was a warning of trouble. He took off on his bike for Gussie's school, and about half an hour later, the bike was back. Empty. When it showed up, Toni called Ria, and Ria called the school. They checked, but Magnus wasn't there—his history teacher said he'd been called down to the office. That was about the same time somebody turned a pack of wolves loose in Midtown, according to the news reports."

  "Wolves?" Ace said faintly.

  "Or something that looked like wolves to most of the people that saw them," Kayla said grimly. "Odds are they weren't. Paul's trying to get a line on what they were and where they came from right now, and Ria's looking for Eric and Gus."

  Wolves in Manhattan—that had to be magic. Lady Day coming back alone. Eric and Magnus missing—Ace felt paralyzed and helpless—she didn't know anything about this magic stuff, only what she'd seen since she met Eric, and that was hardly anything—

  "Look, I know it sounds stupid, but—try not to worry. Eric's survived a lot of weird stuff. Hell, he's even been dead, and it didn't slow him down much. Wherever he and Gus are, he'll make sure they both get back safe. Right now, you've just got to make sure that the two of you stay safe too. It's only been a couple of hours."

  "Yeah," Ace said faintly. She could feel tears building in the back of her throat, and gulped them down. She wasn't going to cry in front of Kayla. Kayla was counting on her to keep herself under control. If she lost it, she'd just be a liability, not a help. She took a deep breath. "Okay. Call me if you hear anything, okay?"

  "Sure," Kayla said. "I just wish I didn't have to give you more bad news on a day like this."

  "Oh, you know how it is," Ace said, trying to feign cheer, "bad things happen in threes."

  Once she'd disconnected, she wondered why she'd said it. So far today, only two awful things had happened.

  Hosea arrived very soon after that, and though she managed to keep her vow not to burst into tears, the sight of his face nearly made her break it.

  He looked frightened.

  She'd never seen Hosea afraid—not even when he'd been facing down Jaycie's Protector with nothing more than a banjo and the wild guess that he'd solved the riddle of her true identity rightly. If he'd been wrong then, Rionne would have torn him to pieces, but he hadn't looked the least bit scared.

  "You don't look like you've had a better day than Ah've had," Hosea said, with the ghost of a ragged smile.

  "Eric and Magnus are missing," Ace said, struggling to keep her voice even. "And from what Kayla says, it wasn't natural."

  Hosea sighed deeply, and bowed his head. "That might not be the best news Ah've ever gotten," he said. "Ah did want to ask Eric about a few things." He shook his head. "Cain't be helped, though. What exactly did Kayla say?"

  Frowning in concentration, Ace recited back everything she could remember from her conversation with Kayla. The more she said, the less good it sounded.

  Hosea ran a hand through his pale blond hair, making himself look a bit like a scarecrow in a cornfield. "Well, Paul's the best at sorting things like this out, and there isn't much that gets past him. Something that went right for Eric and Magnus, though, Ah'm bound to say, odds are it's the Good Neighbors, and vexin' as it is, even something like this, it could be their way o' askin' for help—or givin' help—or payin' a social call as much as bein' unmannerly. Cain't be sure until we can ask Eric. Last time one o' the Good Neighbors set out to do him a kindness, they kidnapped him out of a hospital and bespelled the whole place to think he'd never been there in the first place, which gave the rest of us quite a turn until he showed up again," Hosea added with a crooked smile.

  * * *

  Oh yes, mortal fools, set your fears to slumbering, Jormin thought to himself. His fingers moved over the strings of his harp, weaving a subtle spell of Misdirection. His shields were strong; they would neither see nor sense him, and the spell was the sort that even the most canny Magus Major would have difficulty detecting, for it was not something imposed from without. No, the beauty of this spell was that the chains of its binding were forged within the hearts of its victims.

  Jormin's silent music plucked up every strand of their own desire to stay here and investigate further, every desire to believe that all was well with their friends, and strengthened them, while suppressing those urges that would lead them to seek outside help, or leave.

  In the end, they would be sure they had made up their own minds.

  Freely.

  * * *

  "So he could be all right? Both of them could?" Ace asked hopefully.

  "And probably are," Hosea said reassuringly. "And as soon as they get things sorted out Underhill—which is where they probably are right now—they'll be back. Count on it."

  Ace took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. Hosea was right. She was sure he was. He had to be.

  "So . . . what happened to you today?" Ace asked. "How did the interview go?"

  "Well, that prayer casino is a pretty piece of work," Hosea said thoughtfully. "And that's one slick operation. Ah expect it could give LlewellCo a run for its money, in its own way."

  Briefly, he described what he'd seen of the casino, and his interview with Billy Fairchild.

  "He seems pretty convinced you're comin' back—o' course, that could just be moonshine for a dumb reporter," Hosea said. "Ah met Gabriel Horn, too. Nasty piece o' work, but Ah jest cain't put my finger on what bothers me there. Doesn't quite seem to fit in with the rest of the folks. And surely isn't fond of Parker Wheatley, either, though there could be a lot of reasons for that. He was happy to tell me all about his new record label, and the free concert they've got comin' up on Friday. Gave me a whole batch of free samples, too. Pity this place don't run to a VCR, or we could look at some o' them tonight."

  "I'm not sure I want to," Ace said, and Hosea shrugged in agreement. He sighed, and Ace got the sense he'd saved the worst news for last.

  "His star turn is a band called Pure Blood, and while I was there, their lead singer, a feller called Judah Galilee, dropped in. And I guess I know why Mr. Horn is so sure that Pure Blood is going to be a success, because Galilee is a Bard."

  It took a moment for the words to sink in.

  "A Bard?" Ace said. "A magic Bard? Like you and Eric?"

  "That's the trouble," Hosea said, looking even more weary than he had when he'd come in. "Not like me and Eric. This Judah Galilee is all meanness and twisted up inside. Ah don't know what his music's like, but it's sure to hurt people. What Ah do think Ah know is that Mr. Horn knows exactly what he's got by the tail."

  Ace took a deep shaky breath. "What are we going to do?"

  Hosea grimaced. "Ah'd be
en going to ask Eric that, until you told me he'd upped an' vanished. Now . . ." There was a long pause. "Ah'm not sure Ah want to bother the folks in New York with our problems down here until they've found Eric. Or he's turned up by himself."

  Ace nodded. That made sense. Magnus might be in trouble, and right now, they weren't. "But you told Ria you'd call. She'll worry if you don't."

  "Well, Ah 'spect Ah can tell Miz Ria about my day without tellin' her too many stretchers. And maybe Eric and Magnus are already back, and we're frettin' for nothing."

  But when Hosea made his call to Ria, and gave her a very carefully worded account of the day's events—yes, he'd seen Billy Fairchild and Gabriel Horn; yes, he'd gotten a tour of the casino; no, he hadn't seen any Unseleighe, nor did he have any better idea of who it was who'd crafted the charm that Billy had carried into court—the two of them found that Eric and Magnus were still missing. Nothing that Ria or the three Guardians had been able to do had enabled them to trace their whereabouts.

  Ace had to admire Hosea's performance. Absolutely nothing he said was a lie—in fact, everything he said was absolutely true. But the impression he managed to give with all that truth-telling was 180 degrees from the actual truth of the situation, and he left out the Black Bard entirely. He created an impression that the two of them were quite secure where they were, and that they could get far more done if they stayed put and out of the way of the search for Eric and Magnus.

  "Actually, Ah'd like to poke around for another day. Ah've got an interview with Parker Wheatley set up for tomorrow, and maybe Ah can find out a little more about this demon-busting crusade o' his. And Ah guess Miss Ace is just as safe here as anywhere, don't you think?" Hosea said into the phone.

  "She's agreed—and she'll skin me alive if anything happens to you," he added unnecessarily, as he folded up the phone.