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"Why do you help us?" I asked, wondering why he would even care. If his job was to record and keep track of what was happening, would our fate real y matter to him?
He smiled then, softly again, and leaned forward. "My dear girl, I care more than you can possibly think. Like the children of my father--the ancient Greeks--I love al things beautiful and wise. I bequeathed my life over to order, to making sense of the present and keeping track of the past so the future may learn. I also know a father's love for his daughter. My feelings for Kim alone fuel me with the desire to keep this world running, as faulty as it is, without interference from my mother's people."
His face lit up, and the look in his eyes made me smile. He cared. He real y gave a damn.
"What do you recommend we do, as far as Stacia's training camp?"
Carter shook his head. "I concur with you, Delilah. Don't seek it out at this time. Not unless you want them to take notice of you. My advice? Locate the next spirit seal." He glanced at his watch. "I hate to rush this, but I have a new client coming in twenty minutes, and I need to prepare for him."
We stood, and he ushered us out. Once we were back in my Jeep, Camil e and I sat there, overwhelmed by what he'd told us.
"So." I final y broke the ice. "Carter's older than the gods."
"Not necessarily, but he's sort of a cousin of the gods," Camil e said. "Can you imagine the wealth of information he has within his grasp?"
"I'd pay one hel of a price to categorize and log it on my database. We need to preserve this sort of information for the future, too." I could devote a lifetime to studying data and organizing it, but I had the feeling Carter wasn't going to be taking me along with him next time he visited the catacombs.
"What next?"
"Home," I said firmly. "I let you have this visit, but you're going home, and you're going to rest. Besides, we need to scour the city for magical shops, and I can best do that over the phone and the Internet. And you wanted to track down Rice in Arizona to see if he's stil there."
"Right." She fished through her purse and pul ed out her cel phone. "I'm going to ask Luke to meet us at the house. Menol y wil understand." She hit speed dial and after a moment, said, "Chrysandra, is Luke there? Can you put him on?"
As I put the Jeep in gear and we headed toward the freeway, Camil e talked Luke into meeting us at the house. Then she cal ed Iris to let her know we'd be there in a few and would she have a good lunch ready. But my mind wasn't on lunch or on the road. It was back in that basement apartment, mul ing over the bombshel Carter had dropped on us. I had a mil ion questions for him, but they'd have to wait.
CHAPTER 8
When we pul ed into the driveway, I noticed right away there was a strange car there. A four-door Volvo . . . it looked familiar, and yet it didn't. As I hustled Camil e up the stairs, helping her as she leaned against the railing, the sound of arguing came blaring from inside.
"What the hel ?" I opened the door to a blast of shouting from the living room. Iris hurried over, and I pushed Camil e toward her. "Get Camil e settled and comfy somewhere, please, and don't let her get out of her chair except to go to the bathroom, please. What the hel 's going on in there? Who's yel ing?"
Iris looked flustered. "I was about to break it up. Nerissa's going at it with . . ." She paused, staring at the wal beside me.
"You don't want to make eye contact. Al right, who is it? Tel me before I go in and find out myself. Forewarned is fore-armed." I wasn't in any mood for shouting fests, arguments, or whining.
"Andy Gambit." Iris blinked.
"Gambit? Gambit? That little weasel is here?" Camil e struggled to push past us toward the living room, but I barred the way.
"I'l take care of this. You--go sit in the rocking chair in the kitchen. Iris, please fix her some tea and strap her down if you have to. Then join me. I'l take care of whatever the heck is going on in there."
Without another word, I strode into the living room. Andy Gambit stood there, and I stared at his back for a moment. Yel ow journalist extraordinaire, purveyor of sleaze, slander, and innuendo, he was an unassuming little prick, making up for his lack of personality with ful -scale assault on anybody belonging to the Supe Community.
My guess is that we'd replaced the blacks, Hispanics, and Asians as his targets. He was also pushing Taggart Jones, a wing nut extremist going head-to-head with Nerissa for the council seat. Jones wanted to revoke al rights that had been extended to the Supe Community and the Fae, and--in his own words--"Drive them freaks right back where they belong. Under a rock."
And if Gambit was arguing with Nerissa, that could only mean . . .
"You fucking freaky cunt," Gambit said as I entered the room, his attention focused on Nerissa. "I knew I'd catch you up. Not only are you one of those damned Weres, you're also a lesbian and into necrophilia. Corpse slut. So, you the D'Artigo freak's blood whore? You might as wel admit it--"
I grabbed him by the shoulder and whirled him around. Sputtering, he fel back a couple of steps. Towering over him, I leaned down to stare him in the eyes.
"How dare you come into our home and assault one of our guests! You looking for trouble? I hope so, because, dude, you found it. You have ten seconds to hit the door before I use you as a battering ram. Get out before I cal the cops and have you arrested for trespassing."
He had more bal s than I gave him credit for. Before I realized what he was doing, he spit in my face. "Bitch. Freaks--al of you are freaks. You drive men wild and then use them to take over our society! I'l show you just who runs this society--men do. Earthborn men! "
Bingo. I glanced at his pants. The man's hard-on was flashing like a tent pole on opening day at the circus. Gambit wanted us, and he was afraid of his desire. I wiped my face and noticed that Nerissa had backed up, her eyes flashing. She wanted to shift, and so did I--into my panther self. And if that happened, we'd both end up ripping out his throat.
I decided to take the lesser of two evils route, and without another word, I dropped him like a used Kleenex. Smacked him dead on center in the nose.
