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I slid behind Holly and said, "Boo!"
She almost jumped out of her wheelchair. Then she swiped out the white contacts and peered up at me.
"Your mother used to do the same thing," she said. "Cruelty to the disabled apparently runs in the family."
"No, we're just trying to teach you a lesson. If you're going to play a blind woman, spring for the semi-transparent contacts, so you can see if someone's sneaking up on you."
"But if I can see, then I'll look. And if I look, then they'll know I'm not blind." She tugged me over and held me at arm's length. "You look even more like your mother than you did last time I saw you. Prettier eyes, though. Just don't tell her I said that."
There was a noise across the room, and she glanced over to see Adam.
"You must be the Vasic boy," she said. "I've met your father. Can't say it was a pleasant encounter. He wasn't too happy with me." She lowered her voice. "I was causing a bit of trouble at the time."
"Must have been quite a bit of trouble if you managed to get Dad away from his books."
"Oh, I don't mean Robert Vasic. I mean your real father, Asmondai, who appears outside his domain even less often than Robert. And when he does? One really wishes he hadn't."
Holly gestured to her chair. "He's responsible for this. I don't blame him, though. I was young and arrogant, and it was a lesson I needed to learn."
She waved for me to pull another chair up to the table. As we sat, she picked up her tarot deck and shuffled through, fingers discreetly rubbing the edges, looking for the one she wanted. When she found it, she flipped it over.
"The high priestess," she said. "Mystery and duality. Hidden meanings. You've come to me on behalf of a friend with one foot in the world of the dead. Yet I see her addressing masses of the living. She's speaking to them when she's interrupted by"--she flipped another card--"the fool. A man who thinks he speaks the truth, but babbles nonsense."
"News travels fast," I said. "Yes, Jaime's show was interrupted by a crazy man last night. That's not why I'm here, though."
"No?" She arched her brows. "Perhaps you don't think it's why you're here. But the cards never lie."
When I opened my mouth to steer her back on track, Adam cut me off.
"It's not why we came," he said. "But if you know something . . ."
"I know many things. About this . . . not so much. But let's just say that if the council launches an investigation, I won't be unhappy to see it. This kind of nonsense pops up every now and then, and it seems to be coming back into vogue among the young and disaffected."
"So you think it's more than an isolated case?" I asked.
"It usually is. Supernaturals, mostly youths, band together and carry out their little uprisings. If you check your council records, you'll note the last one was in late 2001. Before that, 1990, then 1982 . . . See a pattern?"
"Periods of social and economic unrest," Adam said. "And now we're going through another one, it's starting up again."
"And it will be squelched again, by supernaturals themselves. These youths are like the lone fur protester at a fashion show. No one's interested. They just want him to shut up and sit down. This time, though, they're being a little more aggressive in their approach." She glanced at Adam. "Do you know Walter Alston?"
"I've heard the name," he said.
Holly laughed. "How very circumspect. You should take lessons from your friend, Savannah."
"I don't need to. That's why I bring him along. So this Walter Alston is a nasty guy? Someone Adam's dad knows?"
"He's a demonologist," Adam said.
"But not the same kind as your dad, I take it."
"No, exactly the same kind. He was one of my father's students. Also a former priest and half-demon. Walter Alston takes a more active approach to the study, though."
"Raises demons, rather than just reading about it."
Adam nodded. His expression gave away nothing, and he had chosen his words with care. It was fascinating to watch, especially when I could remember a time when Adam had been just as forthright and volatile as me. In private, I'd still see that side, but put him into a council situation and it was like dumping a vat of ice water on his fire. He became the perfect diplomat, cool and calm. And it was a good thing he'd learned the knack, because I sure as hell hadn't.
"So how bad is Alston?" I asked.
