Getting Wilde (7 page)

“You all run out of minutes on your data plan or something?”
 

“Under no circumstances can this information be tracked back to my family, Miss Wilde.” The Magician’s tone brooked no argument. “If it ever is, I will lay that crime at your feet.”
 

“Oh, give me a break,” I muttered, squinting at the map, which was filling with images of surprisingly old men in dark robes. SANCTUS’s leadership, I presumed. “Fine. Hit me.”
 

It was over an hour later that Dante finally wound down, and by then I was swimming. I had a pretty good memory for faces and names, but the information the family had gathered was massive. And the overriding truth all the pictures carried was this: SANCTUS was well beyond some kind of nutjob splinter group in the Vatican. These guys were well organized and well funded. Someone was bankrolling the war on magic. And if it wasn’t the pope…
 

“Thank you,” I said, realizing that Dante had stopped talking. “I will try to get this information into the ears of the right people who can do the most good.”
 

“We would be very grateful.” He glanced at Claire, who regarded me haughtily. She sniffed as I looked at her, and I fought the uncharitable desire to strangle her in her sleep. So I’d been a little testy. It’d been a long day!
 

Armaeus stirred from where he had been standing at the hearth. He’d been pointedly silent throughout the long speech, almost disassociated, as if he wasn’t actually in this room, allowing members of his family to give me information that he, via some sort of pinkie-swear ceremony with the council, had promised not to pursue.  He also thanked Dante and helped his grandmother/granddaughter/whatever the hell she was to her feet. Without acknowledging me, he turned to the door with Claire on his arm. Her spirits, not surprisingly, now appeared fully restored. Armaeus could do that to a girl.
 

“Dante, if you can show Miss Wilde to the guest suite,” Armaeus said. “We can continue our discussion there.”
 

“Or, you know, I could just be on my way,” I said brightly. Armaeus didn’t honor that with a response, and Dante moved dutifully to my side. “Claire does not sleep easily,” he said. “If you would like to rest while you wait, you will find the guest accommodations most comfortable. We have prepared our finest set of rooms for you.”
 

Finally, things were looking up.   
 

The walk to the guest suites of the mansion was long enough to make me wished I’d packed a lunch. But with Armaeus distracted by his precious
petite-fille
who wasn’t really his granddaughter at all, I figured this was the optimal time to strike. Unless he reached out and strangled his own family member, Dante should be safe. Or safe enough.
 

“So, the Fourth Crusade?” I asked as Dante stood aside to let me enter the guestroom through the large doorway that looked like it had been carved out of a single block of wood. Show-offs. “Not really a great time to take up the banner for all things magical.”
 

Dante laughed. It was a rich and rolling sound, and I realized I’d never heard the Magician laugh. In fact, the open affection with which he’d gazed at Claire was the closest he’d come to seeming like a human as opposed to some sort of demigod.
 

That wasn’t entirely true, of course. I’d seen him in my dreams and in a few scattered hallucinations, which had generally occurred at the worst possible time for me. He’d definitely not appeared stoic then.
 

We walked into the spacious sitting room. I could see another door, closed, and assumed it led to an equally palatial bedchamber. This room was fancy enough, with its thick carpet over rough stone floors, its tapestry-hung walls—and the imposing chest that stood against the far wall, lined with crystal decanters and gleaming metal tankards. Apparently, the guests of Le Sri were heavy drinkers. Good to know.
 

Dante’s words finally penetrated my brain. He was answering my question. “It is the lore of the family, but I am not surprised he has not told you. We do not often have the chance to share our tales with outsiders.”
 

“And why is he letting you do so now?”
 

“I suspect so that he does not have to tell you himself.”
 

I snorted. “Probably.” Curiosity warred with irritation inside me. I should just wait and make Armaeus tell me, but I could be an old woman by the time he got around to it. Unless…
 

I smiled winningly at Dante; he looked more than willing to be won. “Tell me more about you, instead.”
 

I could almost hear the warning bell sound, somewhere deep in the house. It was clear and light, but apparently on a frequency that wasn’t audible to family members. Instead, Dante looked bemused. “Myself? There is nothing to tell.”
 

“Oh, come on. Do you live full time in this maus—mansion? You and Claire.”
 

“No, not at all. I live in Paris with my family. I only work at the mansion—Grand-mére as well—when we have work for le seigneur. Otherwise we both have our own homes, and the house is given over to other guests.”
 

“Other guests?” The warning bell came more crisply now, urgent. Closer. “You mean, what, like victims of SANCTUS?”
 

“
Mon Dieu
, non,” Dante said, his face aghast. His surprise grated on me more than it should have, and of course he kept talking. “Le seigneur is adamant on that score. There must be no direct connection of aid or assault among the public. That is not within the purview of the council, and he has worked too long for the council to do anything that would run counter to his position there.”
 

“Then who?”
 

“Members of the other families, Mademoiselle Wilde. Other council members as the need arises, but mostly the families.”
 

I frowned. “You mean families like the Mercaults?”
 

“
Miss Wilde.
”
Armaeus sounded more irritated this time. It made my heart happy.
 

Dante shook his head. “
Bien sur, non
. I mean the families of the Arcana Council. Each has their trusted emissaries, who must travel in secret. We simply provide that secrecy as it is needed, the same that it is provided to us whenever our need is great.”
 

“Their…emissaries.” I tried to keep my eyes from flaring, my voice neutral, but this—I’d never heard of this. It was one thing to have a knot of half-baked demigods running around Las Vegas, declaring themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy. But an entire network of non-Connected relatives? “And how does that play with the non-fraternization-with-ordinary-people policy, exactly? That’s got to be one hell of a loophole.”
 

“The families have been a part of the process for thousands of years, perhaps before such rules were made,” Dante said, supremely unconcerned. “And there certainly have been compensations.” He gestured to the building that surrounded us, a veritable castle in the shadows. “When le seigneur committed himself to service, he was a foot soldier, and our family impoverished. Now he is arguably—”
 

Armaeus chose that moment to stride into the sitting room, his face dark with annoyance. “Thank you, Dante. You have been most hospitable.”
 

“Of course, mon seigneur.” Dante bowed, the gesture one of fierce pride more than servitude, then nodded to me. Without another word, he departed the guest suite, shutting the door definitively behind him.
 

“You never fail to surprise me, Miss Wilde.”
 

“
Twenty-one families?
” I stared at him. “You mean to tell me there are twenty-one families like this one in service to the council, and I didn’t know they existed? Families whose entire
job
it is to help a sister out? You don’t think I could have used that help down in Sierra Leone? Or that holding tank in Dubai?” I curled my lip in derision. “And don’t even get me started about Budapest. Surely one of the council Members had some extended roots of the family tree curled around that place. And you didn’t breathe a word.”
 

“You were quite convincing in your desire to express your independence.”
 

“From you, yes. From normal people? Totally different story. Twenty-one families. I’ve probably tripped over a few of them without realizing it. And they never reached out, though I was openly working for you people.” I tried to tamp down my outrage, but it was growing like a living thing inside me. Everything was suddenly too big, too awful. Why did it matter that there were families dedicated to assisting the council? Why did anything with the council matter at all?
 

Armaeus shrugged, apparently unfazed by how close I was to full-on tears.
What is my problem?
“We do not have the full council intact, not anymore,” he said. “And not everyone has a family, Miss Wilde. But if you are finished with your outrage, we have much to discuss. Starting with your next assignment.”
 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You really think I have any interest in working for you right now, after learning all this? I have to get to Father Jerome, warn him. Hell, warn all of them about these crazy SANCTUS people. I don’t see you guys putting out a bulletin anytime soon.”
 

“Then I propose you think a little more broadly.”
 

“Do you now.” I really hated it when Armaeus became sanctimonious.
 

He nodded. “Our interests are not mutually exclusive in this case. As it happens, the greatest amount of assistance you can provide Father Jerome and your compatriots is to assist me in recovering a particular lost item.”
 

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think—”
 

Armaeus continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “One of SANCTUS’s recent acquisitions is an item of great personal value to me, and necessary for the council’s continued work,” he said. “I need you to recover it.”  
 

That did catch my attention. The members of the council were collectors in their own right, and they were as avaricious as any client I’d ever had. But what the Arcanan Council bought, it tended to keep. So far, I’d met the Magician, the Fool, and the High Priestess of their merry little band, though there were rumors of other council members lurking in their hallowed
halls. None of the ones I’d met, however, seemed too likely to give up their toys without a fight. “SANCTUS stole something from you? And you let them?”
 

“Not exactly. But the result is the same. The item is a very old gold-wrought box, a reliquary no larger than the size of your hand. It is unadorned except for the inscription on its seal, which is Aramaic and not important for your purposes. It will be heavy for its size and can grow heavier or lighter as you carry it. But it will not be unmanageable.”
 

I nodded. The longer I was in this business, the less surprised I was by anything I learned. “Why turn to me?” I asked. “Why not tap one of these amazing family members you guys have apparently got scattered around the globe?”
 

“Understand this, and clearly.” Armaeus’s words were clipped with irritation, and I’m not going to lie: that made me feel good. “The families of Council members who are involved in our work do so at enormous personal risk, because they do not, in the main, possess any innate magical ability. The fact that one of their number rose to service in the council does not at all mean that any of the remaining family members could do the same.”
 

“Okay, fine. Then why didn’t you go after this little box yourself?”
 

“My initial attempts to retrieve the reliquary have met with…failure,” Armaeus said with a rare display of candor. “I had hoped not to involve you in this particular mission, but your presence in Paris made it an easy decision. It’s time that we increased your work with the council, and this is an ideal opportunity to do so.”
 

“Increase, huh?” That sounded promising. Lying, backstabbing asshats or not, the council paid well. “So where is this little box? Here in Paris, or are you sending me somewhere more charming?”
 

“Rome,” Armaeus said. “The relic has been temporarily stored in a holding cell for purification. I am given to understand that it will be moved again shortly, however, which makes its retrieval tonight necessary. It’s located in the necropolis beneath Vatican City.”
 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I held up a hand. “The
necropolis
. Under
Vatican City
. As in the home of those whack jobs back in Paris—”
 

“Your compensation will be the full amount for the seal of Ceres you were demanding from Monsieur Mercault, and more.” His golden eyes were flat. “You will also cease any arrangement with the Mercault family, until we have identified who within their walls is providing information to SANCTUS.”