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Iris held up one hand and bustled down the hall. We heard the sound of the front door opening, then closing. "He's fine," she said as she returned. "He appears to be taking a little nap on the front lawn."
"We need to find that horn," I said. "That's a priority, because if the demons—or even a vamp or wayward Crypto—gets hold of it, we're screwed. So I guess we'd better go pixie hunting first."
Delilah nodded, her mouth full of pancakes and honey.
"Then on to the rug shop to check out the djinn who was trying to get the lowdown on Menolly." I scribbled another note on my list. "Meanwhile, we try to figure out where the third spirit seal's hiding. That reminds me: time to try Morio again."
I picked up the phone and punched in his number. It rang seven times before the answering machine flipped on. I left a quick message, then dialed his cell. No answer there, either. A squiggle of fear churned in my stomach.
"I'm worried, guys. Morio should have contacted me last night. He was supposed to stay here, and he never showed up. I still can't get hold of him." I replaced the receiver, but it rang almost immediately. Glancing at the caller ID, I snatched it up. "Morio! Where the hell are you?"
His smooth, silken voice echoed over the line. "I'm all right. I'm sorry I didn't get in touch sooner, but I couldn't pick up a signal for my cell phone out where I was."
"What's going on? Why didn't you come over last night?"
"My car had a flat, and I forgot to put the spare back in last time I cleaned out the back. It took me awhile to catch a ride to the nearest service station where I could call AAA. By the time I got everything sorted out, I was just too tired to even think." He sounded distracted. "Besides, I needed to do some research after I got home. I called, but your answering machine didn't pick up."
Electronics often went on the fritz in our house; we'd already blown our way through a couple of microwaves and three phones in the past year. Something to do with all the erratic power, we thought. But then again, the house was old, and the wiring might not be what it ought to be.
"Research? What's going on?" Something was hanging in his voice, like a thundercloud about to break. "What happened?"
"I was talking to Grandmother Coyote, and she told me about a strange man she saw in her crystal ball. A man who claims to have visions of the future, ranting about the end of the world when the demons pour in and take over. She told me where to find him, and I went to pay him a visit in my fox form. He won't talk to humans, but he'll talk to animals."
Great, a psychic Dr. Doolittle. "What did he tell you?"
"He's been having dreams for the past year or so about a great wall of flame and fire, driven across the land by a brilliant, terrible demon. In these dreams, millions are slaughtered, millions more forced into slavery and used for food and breeding purposes. He saw nuclear blasts go off in the attempts to ward off the swarms of Demonkin."
My mouth went dry. "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing. I was in my fox form. Yet. But there's one more thing—he told me about a gem that he saw. Actually saw, not just in a vision. He says it's a brilliant amethyst that swirls with Faerie lights, set into a silver pendant." Morio paused. "I think he's seen the third spirit seal."
"Shit," I said. "Ask the right question, and sometimes, the universe answers. We have to talk to him. You say he won't speak with humans? Is he Earthside Fae?"
"I don't think so. I'm fairly certain he's all human, but he fears and hates his own kind. After he told me about the seal, he wandered off into that la-la land so many fragile, broken people seem to inhabit." Morio cleared his throat. "We need to talk to him, but we can't until tomorrow."
"Where is he? And why can't we go see him now?"
"Because the man is locked up in a mental institution. I met him while I was crossing the grounds, taking a shortcut. I changed into my fox form to attract less attention. The staff didn't notice me, but he did—right away. And he recognized that I'm a magical creature, not just a fox."
I thought for a moment. If the man had recognized Morio as a magical being, then he had to have some sort of second sight. A number of humans had been locked up over the years for being gifted with some psychic or magical abilities. Some had been killed. All too often, the voices in their heads were really there; they weren't figments of the imagination or broken egos.
"What's his name? I can have a go at talking to him, and if that fails, Delilah can always stroll across the grounds as a kitty cat." I picked up a pad of paper that was lying on the counter, along with the felt pen that was sitting beside it.
"Benjamin Welter. The institution is the Mountain Aspen Retreat. It sounds like a resort, but really, it's a high-priced joint where wealthy families bury their problem children. It's down near Normandy Park. You'd better think of a strong cover story. The staff there gets paid good money to keep the outside world out, and the inmates, in."
I let out a long sigh. "We've got a jumble of things going on here. Where are you?"
"At home. Why?"
I glanced over at Delilah and motioned to the piece of paper on the table. "What's the address for the elves who found Mistletoe hiding out in their yard?"
"Mistletoe?" Morio sounded perplexed. "You've got elves with a mistletoe problem?"
"No," I said. "We've got elves with a pixie problem, and we're on our way to take care of it." Delilah handed me the slip of paper. "Okay, here it is. 10226 East Parkland Drive. Meet us there in half an hour. We've got to get our hands on a unicorn horn before the demons sniff it out." Without waiting for an answer, I slid the receiver back on the hook and drained the last of my juice.
"Let's get moving. Iris, talk to Henry, please. Take Maggie with you today. She's safer there than tucked away in Menolly's lair. If Trillian comes back, tell him where we are. If Smoky asks, tell him I'll be out later this evening to speak to Morgaine." I wrapped my capelet around my shoulders.
"Got everything?" Delilah said, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her jacket.
