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Oh, but I could solve that problem. "You leave that to me.
Just get to the House when you can."
If there was one thing I had in ful supply, it was books. And somewhere, in our stacks and stacks of them, had to be the answers we were looking for.
Chapter Eleven
LOST AND FOUND
If there was murder to be solved, might as wel make the best of it. It was logical to presume that I'd be spending the remainder of the evening at work - either in the Ops Room or in the library.
Caling in takeout for the crew was the least I could do.
Fortunately, the House's foxy chef, with tiger brown eyes and a bob of dark hair that curved into a point across her forehead, was a friend of mine. Margot was pinup curvy and a lot of fun, and as head of the House's culinary department, the one to ask for food-related favors.
She was also responsible for stocking the kitchens with Malocakes. How could you not like a girl who did that?
The kitchen was located at the back of the House's first floor, just past Ethan's office. I found Margot leaning against a commercial-sized stainless-steel refrigerator, arms crossed over her white chef's jacket as she watched the activities in her kitchen with amusement.
The gril and prep areas were alight with activity, as the rest of the staff cheered on a man and woman who were sweating over saute pans filed with what looked like asparagus.
I sidled up to Margot. "What's going on?"
She smiled. "We're having an entree competition. T.J. and Alice get two ingredients, and they have to make an edible entree we could actualy serve in the cafeteria. Edible," she repeated, slowly and loudly, so the staff and contestants could hear.
She glanced at me. "What can I do for you?"
"Darius is here. Are you making a big dinner for him and Ethan?"
Margot grinned at me. "Wouldn't you know better than anyone what Ethan's plans are?"
Not tonight, I thought. "Actualy, I don't, but this isn't about Ethan. It's for the guard crew. I was thinking we might cater in, if you're not whipping up something exotic for Darius."
She snorted. "When it comes to food, he doesn't want exotic.
He wants simple and very, very specific." She reached out and grabbed a clipboard that hung from a wal peg. "Charlie faxed this over last night. It's Darius's hospitality rider."
Charlie was Darius's majordomo, and a hospitality rider was a list of demands and snacks a band required at a concert venue.
"How long is Darius going to be here that he needs a hospitality rider?"
"Too long if you ask me." She handed over the clipboard and I scanned through the rider. Some of the stuff was innocuous - type A blood, bottled water, mint gum, Earl Grey tea. (He was British, after al.)
But the list was two single-spaced pages long. Darius was particular about everything from the thread count of his sheets (six hundred) to the content of his meals (preferring raw foods and green juices).
I handed back the clipboard. "Did he do this the last time he was here?"
"He did not," Margot said, hanging it up again. "It's no skin off my back - I can cook anything. It just doesn't bode wel if he's setting up house, you know? Anyway, he's going to Navarre House tonight."
More power to Morgan Greer, the Master of Navarre House.
Morgan threw tantrums that would impress a two-year-old, but I stil wouldn't wish a GP dinner on him.
"In that case, how many favors would I need to owe you for a good Chicago-style meal for the Ops Room? Is that something you can whip up?"
"I can whip up anything," she said with a cocky expression.
"I'l send it down when it's ready."
I thanked Margot and left her to her refereeing. I could admit dinner was a distraction, something to keep me occupied while I let my subconscious rol around the status of my relationship with Ethan and Tate's recent rampage. But I stil had to function - including eating - even with Tates on the loose. Besides, it wasn't like I had any better idea where to look for them. I walked back through what we did know.
1. Seth Tate was a magical being of unknown origin. He was possibly an old creature and smeled like lemon and sugar.
2. He'd split into two "things" when he touched the Maleficium and Malory triggered the spel.
3. One of those two "things" kiled a former accomplice and those unfortunate enough to be around him, but not with magic.
I stopped. If the spel had triggered his split into two creatures, maybe learning more about the spel would give us some clue to his identity and how he could be stopped. I ducked into the back staircase and puled out my cel phone. I wasn't sure if Malory had even been alowed a phone or anything else from the outside, but I knew one person who had.
"Catcher Bel," he gruffly, but quietly, answered.
"It's Merit. You heard about Paulie?"
"I did. Jeff texted me."
"Listen, we're at a dead end. I need to know what kind of spel Malory used to trigger the Maleficium this time. Can you find out?"
"She's actualy not supposed to be talking about it. She's supposed to be focused on the here and now, not the magic that went down."
I took a seat on the stairs. "I get that. But Tate's already shown a wilingness to kil, and I don't know who he'l go after next."
Silence, then, "I'l find out what I can."
"Thank you. Catcher, are you doing okay?"
That question took him longer to answer. "I'm coping. With her failures. With mine."
When he didn't elaborate, I assumed we were at the end of our conversation. "Okay. Cal me when you know something."
He grunted, then hung up.
I put my phone away and rubbed my hands over my face, then sat in my self-made darkness for a few moments. Vamps didn't use the back stairwel often, so it was quiet and empty, a bit of solitude from the rest of the House. It wasn't much to look at - warm beige wals and neutral carpet - but I could take a moment to myself and just be. I didn't get a chance to do that very often.
With the place to myself, I gave myself another little break. I let my guards down - the mental and emotional blocks I erected against al the random noise in the world. Sights. Smels. Sounds.
My improved vampire senses made it al accessible to me, but the sheer volume of information became quickly overpowering.
But here, in the dark and silence, I could risk a bit of a slip.
Eyes closed, I blew out a slow breath and let the world envelop me. Smels from the kitchen - hot oil and acidic green vegetables. The feel of carpet fiber under my fingers, each discrete knot of yarn meticulously wound together.
And sounds...coming from Ethan's office next door.
