Ch. 9: Mal's Reasons

August 12 | Night

I peered from the office window as the waxing gibbous moon played hide and seek with fast-moving purple clouds. A spray of stars cast lots on the world. The circular drive of Ashivant Estate boasted a queue of lavish cars, each with the golden disc mirrored city skyline sigil of the Council of Overlay Affairs. It was representative of the maxim, "Quod est superius est sicut inferius," as above, so below.

There was someone standing at the open gate. Cherie. She basked in the silent drizzle, her fair skin, white dress, wind-swept hair floating around a face that was turned away from me. The trees that swallowed the departing road framed her in midnight, and she incandesced like some ephemeral creature, barely there.

With the oversized wolf LouLou by her side, the pair studied the route as if they might escape. But from within the hourglass case at my right hand, the black kingsnake lifted its angular head as if he knew their plan. Then my sister pivoted toward the manor, returning.

I collected what I had come for and hurried from the office.

A hush blanketed the house, broken only by my carmine stilettos connecting with the hardwood floor. Select members of the Council were waiting for me in the smoking room. When I entered, a coiffed and suited delegate ogled me from heels to side-parted hair and smiled the smile of a predator very used to chasing, but unwise in its pursuit. I hardly spared him a glance.

These were guests of Darcy's. Three men and a woman arranged themselves on parallel tufted scarlet davenports in front of the fireplace. With various and sundry spells of obscuration, they appeared to be ordinary people, but they were not. They were Supernaturals. The fifth person, Overlay Affairs President Richter Distefano, had positioned himself in a separate chair.

Darcy took up the center of the room, resplendent in a blue cashmere sweater and gray slacks. He was backlit by mock windows that bracketed the hearth. The neon lights embedded behind the glass mimicked the sunlight he could no longer endure. As I navigated past him, I struggled not to roll my eyes at his posturing. "Ravishing, as usual, poppet," he murmured. I dredged up a faux smile.

Ava beckoned from the edge of the room. I slipped into the seat beside her and resettled the stiff fabric of my dress. Her cool look of appraisal told me I had done well with the claret evening gown she had suggested for me.

"Where's Cherie?" Ava whispered.

"On the way," I replied.

Distefano was speaking: "No evidence, Darcy. You've sworn on all things holy that the property exists, but none of us has been able to account for it. Franky, I don't see the point of your obsession."

The other council members nodded. Distefano's stout frame was crammed into a leather armchair. He had a half-empty bottle of absinthe on the Moorish occasion table at his elbow. A Cuban cigar wafted smoke as he talked with his hands. A delicate onyx scented oil lamp warred with the odor with a melange of vanilla, sandalwood, and amber, undernotes of Turkish rose.

"Trust me. The property exists, and I know its location," Darcy promised. "The Ravanis are painfully aware that the upcoming Battle Royale will snatch the Alpha title and their seat on the council. Yet, they've done everything in their power to keep this parcel of land off the books. They intend to retain it, irrespective of who wins the birthright."

"For what reason?" Distefano scowled.

Darcy rounded on him with a grin and snapped his fingers. "Precisely. Why? Many of you view the matter as a done deal once we rid the council of Ravani influence, but why, oh why, would they be holding onto land if the penalty for losing the Royale is exile for the entire wolfpack?"

"Something nefarious could be afoot, Mr. President. The Ravani matriarch heads the opposition party," our female guest sided with Darcy.

"Bah!" Distefano chuckled and waved his cigar. "It's obvious conspiracies and paranoia are Mr. Cyprian's lifeblood, but Occam's Razor cuts through the bullshit. The most likely conclusion is that the Ravanis want the land so they don't walk away destitute. I'm sure that's a larger concern for the werewolves than plotting my overthrow."

"There are more subtle dangers than an outright coup," someone else countered. "Regardless of who wins the Battle Royale–even if we manage to rig it–should Ravani rally a shadow government and launch a serious propaganda attack from this hidden property, mark my words: It'll take an army to squash their movement."

Unsettled murmurs ruffled the council members.

I half-listened, glancing at the pair of wraithlike vampire pets, pale and wilting on a fainting couch near the door. They were humans willingly giving their lives in service to Darcy Cyprian. At that moment, Cherie drifted past them, and her dreamy gaze carried the same far-away look as the drugged groupies.

When she spotted Ava and me, she brightened. I clicked my tongue at the traces of mud on her bare feet. Ava looked absolutely appalled. The youngest Ashivant sat between us, and I tucked her body close to mine. "How much longer?" she murmured.

"Shh." I wrapped an arm around her and let her rest her head on my shoulder. "They'll be leaving soon."

"We won't need an army." Darcy spoke far too quietly to silence his dissenters. He ran a hand over the oriental tiles on the surface of the fireplace. Banked flames illuminated the geometric kaleidoscope of emeralds, oranges, and scarlets on the ceramic squares. His fingers skated, skated along, enjoying the chaos around him.

"It should've never progressed this far," Distefano complained.

"Yes, the latest polls show the opposition neck-and-neck with us," the woman agreed. "Our pollsters need to determine: How popular is the idea of a coup?"

"There won't be a coup," Darcy sighed.

"There are those who feel it's unjust to force a Battle Royale during election season. People think we should give the title to the next Ravani in line," she said.

"What choice have we had?" the fop who had leered at me asked. "How can we trust that family with Detective Zyr Ravani gone rogue? It was his job to work the human and the occult sides of investigations. These days he does everything in his power to undermine us."

"I wonder why?" Distefano mused dryly. He eyed his host.

"It's the blasted Fae and their social media rabble-rousing. I'm not entirely convinced OASIS, our secret service, is even with us. They haven't done a thing to undermine our detractors."

"There won't be a coup, and we won't need an army!" Darcy raised his voice.

Our guests flinched. The vampire braced a hand against the mantle curio where Supernatural antiquities from far flung places rested. His eyes met mine, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. I stepped forward with the pouch of djinn-dust taken from my office hidden in the folds of my dress.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cyprian's mole has infiltrated Zyr Ravani's inner circle and confirmed the location of the property in question. We also know why the wolfpack wants it off the books.

"My quite gifted sister–" I gestured to Ava, "–has pieced together the political relevance of this covert land. According to a letter buried in the Overlay City Hall archives, purportedly from a twentieth-century Ravani Alpha to an underling, the Ravanis are caretakers of a rare artifact."

Darcy chimed in with a lecherous grin, "An object so powerful, the pack is risking everything to keep it out of the council's hands. Do we have your attention?"

I poured the shifting sands from the pouch into my hand and blew the silica. "Go and wake your luck," I breathed. The luminous particles swirled to life on invisible currents. What took shape in the dust was a roll of parchment, the Map of Destiny, a device that could lead a man to whatever his heart desired. A collective gasp went up in the room. They knew the piece. It bordered on mythic. All eyes took in the simulacrum of the priceless relic.

Distefano broke the spell. "Save the spectacle for the more easily impressed. So you're after the Map, Darcy. Everyone knows you're a collector, and I have no qualms with you finding it. But what on earth can it do for me?"

Bristling at the interruption, I stared into the president's surly heart until I knew what he craved above everything else. My head lifted a fraction when I realized it, and I glanced away, lost in private thought.

Darcy spread his hands. "President Distefano, have I ever lied to you?"

"No, but you've stalled long enough. Years ago, you assured me that you would weaken the opposition by marrying Yalina Ravani."

"You would use my grief against me?" Darcy recoiled.

My eyes darted to a beautifully framed portrait hanging on the wall opposite the fireplace. Darcy's first wife and the absent third partner of our law firm, Delilah Claibourne. She had been missing for nearly a decade. Darcy hadn't cared for Yalina half as much as he cared for her, but politics were politics.

Distefano jabbed his cigar at the vampire. "Another scheme that fell through."

"Gloves off, I see." Darcy sneered.

"Here, tonight," Distefano continued, "you call us together for some harebrained plot to fix the Battle Royale and let your hand-picked champion walk away with the Alpha title, giving you control of the property. Yet, so far, not one of your wild strategies has panned out. I seem to recall you giving me your word at the start of my career that the Ravanis wouldn't be a hindrance to my presidency."

"And I seem to recall sinking millions into your hamstrung presidency throughout the entire considerable course of your term," muttered Darcy.

"Which is reflected in the many laws I've amended to cover your intolerable bad behavior on the human side!" Distefano fired back. "Or should the council pretend it isn't common knowledge that you can't keep your cold, dead hands off young nubile mortals?"

A roomful of eyes volleyed back and forth with each rejoinder.

Darcy uttered a threat with terrifying precision. "Would you prefer these cold, dead hands meddling in your affairs? Never forget, Distefano. I made you, and I can unmake you."

"Heh! One of us has more kompromat than the other," Distefano bluffed.

Darcy smiled darkly. "One of us has several lifetimes to watch the other die a slow and torturous death."

"President Distefano," I waded into the melee. The gold dust map still hovered in the air between us. I extended a hand toward it. "The Map of Destiny is capable of illuminating the route to anything you wish.

"Even without it, Jack Slobodnik has agreed to contest Zyr's claim to the Alpha title, which will clear the Ravani Luna off the council, as you desire. However, with all due respect, Mr. President, your vision is short-sighted if you think the Ravanis and the opposition party are the real problems," I explained.

"The Council of Overlay Affairs governs not just New Orleans, but the entire southeast region of the United States." The djinn-dust reconfigured into regions of North America, labeled with the rulerships of each. "If I may be blunt, Mr. President, I'm aware of the larger issue facing the Coalition of Supernatural Councils... The rising consciousness of the humans."

At this, Distefano sat straighter, face emptying of emotion. The information I had just revealed was classified. I had plucked it from his very heart. I approached him as he set down his cigar with a shaky hand.

I had his undivided attention. "We're at a point in fate where the multiplicity of possible futures has narrowed down, and what is coming is inevitable. The more attuned our human counterparts become to the energies of the wider universe, the more adept they will be at entering and interfering with the business of Supernaturals."

Distefano involuntarily leaned closer. Darcy swirled a glass, watching us with interest.

"Ask yourself, Mr. President," I said for Distefano's ears alone, "knowing what you know about mankind, do you imagine their hunger and bloodthirst for conquest will stop at the border between their world and ours?"

Distefano swallowed with difficulty. "What can this Map of Destiny do?"

"Lead you along the proper course of action to avert disaster," I whispered.

"And your man, Jack Slobodnik? Can he be trusted to see this through and get that property out of Ravani hands so we can get to that map?"

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt."

I glanced over my shoulder as Darcy materialized behind me. The vampire said to the president in a hushed voice, "With Destiny at your disposal, through me, your aspirations can expand much further. Forget campaigning to remain the President of Overlay Affairs. Picture yourself in a seat of power ruling over every region."

There was fear in Distefano's eyes. Fear and ambition. We had him.

"We can't move forward without your assurance that Jack Slobodnik will take over the Alpha title," I drove the point home.

After a beat, Distefano conferred privately with his assistant. Both nodded. Then the president addressed Darcy, "It's done. Keep me informed of your progress."

"Excellent." I faced our curious onlookers with a grin. "Friends, the sun rises in a few short hours. Allow me to extend the Ashivants' renowned hospitality."

"What say you, Mr. President?" asked a loyalist.

Distefano lifted his cigar in salute.

Darcy spun around to his guests with arms outstretched. "Tonight, we celebrate victory!" He hugged me and kissed my cheek. I went stiff. In my ear, he whispered, "Phase two is a go. Contact our man."

I waved a hand to collect the djinn-dust by magic as servants entered with libations, food, and anything else the debauched crowd requested. As the tense atmosphere in the room transformed into revelry, I returned to my sisters.

"One-thousand-four-hundred-thirty-nine..." Ava counted gleefully.

"One-thousand-four-hundred-forty!" Cherie clapped.

I nodded, excitement irrepressible. Ava and Cherie were so unlike me, innocents, not made for the gritty ugliness of Darcy's worldview. But I was willing to do anything for them. With the council on board, Jack Slobodnik was guaranteed to win the Battle Royale. Darcy would gain the Map of Destiny. My sisters and I would finally be free of the house.

The house was the lamp, and we were the djinn.

We had been born here, not allowed to leave, even for court or to run errands, without express permission from Darcy. Ashivants had been under his thumb going back to our great-great-grandfather, each of us cursed to do the vampire's bidding. To buy our freedom, we needed one-thousand-four-hundred-forty souls. It had taken our family generations to come close to that number.

Jack's dark heart would complete the collection. Nothing would get in the way of it. Sunny Cezanne be damned.  

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