24.4

Charles left Magnus's house to meet Zyrdicia. She had contacted him telepathically, and she needed him for an errand in Los Angeles.

To him, she seemed almost normal now. Whatever Magnus had done, it seemed to have helped. He glanced at her and noted a slight scowl between her brows.

"Sweetie, I think you should stay with Magnus for a while," he suggested. "Stay close to your friends for a while, you know?"

Zyrdicia nodded slightly, her scowl deepening. She murmured, "Karteia is poison."

"Nah. But you are better off with old friends in Lyr than with those medieval hicks. Those people don't understand you like we do, honey. Whatever comes, you know your friends are there for you, right?

"Not too far," Charles reassured, gesturing absently with one hand while the other gripped the steering wheel loosely. His blue eyes moved to the rearview mirror, checking his own reflection rather than traffic. His short, spiky, blonde hair was perfect.

"Why are you driving this car?"

"Um, it's is borrowed."

"That's not what I meant. I want to drive."

"Nuh-uh. You can't see worth a damn in daylight. The thought of you in traffic scares the shit out of me," he replied. He patted her bare knee reassuringly and added, "No offense."

"Whatever. Drive faster."

Once on the freeway, he revved the car's engine, accelerating to his left across a double-yellow line into a carpool lane, then rocketing past the early-afternoon freeway traffic.

Zyrdicia leaned her head back and watched the world fly by through the dark, tinted windows.

Charles continued to babble, "I'm soooo looking forward to going out with you tonight. You are totally going to level the place with how good you are going to look!"

Zyrdicia shrugged indifferently. A Lyrian immigrant had built the Spider's Web in Geshna to provide night life for the new tourists. She was less than thrilled that the club's owner, Timo, was also the owner of the Cauldron's biggest former competitor. Neverthless, she and Timo were friendly - in an insincere, Lyrian sort of way.

Charles grinned, "Pre-party at Magnus's house before we go to Geshna?"

"No, I've got other plans."

"Um, since when?"

"Since this morning. Telepathic dinner invitation while I was at Magnus's."

"From who?"

"Sindra."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Charles turned to glare, taking his eyes off the road. It was no secret that everyone in Zyrdicia's inner circle disliked Sindra. Sindra, an undead sorceress known for having a nasty and unpredictable temper, had long been ostracized from Zyrdicia's social world. Charles knew that Zyrdicia and Sindra had had a falling out decades ago - he was unclear on the details, but he was very clear on the fact that Sindra and her clan of vamps were not friendly with Zyrdicia's clique.

"She's trying to convince me to support her bid for control of the Magic Guild. She wants to be Guildmistress - and she wants a seat on the Governing Council."

"Why do you care what she wants?"

"It's been a long time since she and I talked. We used to be friends. Really good friends."

"How good?"

"Years ago, we were very close. She had Portia's job as my assistant. I was the one who raised her from the dead."

"Why'd you decide you didn't like her then?"

"She got a little strange after her resurrection. She had always been in love with me, but she just got way too clingy. She was very jealous of my other friends. She even tried to kill Magnus' father once."

Charles glanced sidelong at Zyrdicia, still wondering just how close she had been with Sindra.

Zyrdicia reassured, "She and I will join you in Geshna tonight. If you get to know her, you might decide you like her." She changed the subject and said, "I hope all of Dirk's generals show up tonight to tell me that they want to defect."

"Maybe Dirk will show up himself and beg you to take him back."

"I have Azriok in my life again. It's beneath me to forgive a mortal man."

Charles cocked his head and scolded, "You really need to get off the Azriok crack. That's one addiction you can do without." Charles shook his head in disapproval, but said nothing more. From the corner of his eye, he watched her flip down the visor above her and examine herself in its mirror. "You look beyond perfect, pumpkin."

She shrugged, and her gaze traveled to the car window, becoming thoughtful. Being beautiful used to seem so much more important than it did now. Because of her beauty, men used to beg her for crumbs of affection. Ultimately, it hadn't been of any use.

She flipped the visor down again, confirming that there was no flaw she had overlooked. "I just don't get it. I do not look like a monster," she murmured to herself out loud.

Charles reached out to take her hand, squeezing it lightly. "Dirk was just being an ass that night. He's about to crawl out of his skin missing you. He's been drinking way too much since you left. He's in pretty bad shape. He'd do just about anything to get you to forgive him."

"Let's see if he's willing to die, then. Talk about something else or shut up," Zyrdicia said, frowning. She reached up to hit a button on the dashboard causing music thump out of the speakers surrounding them. She stared out the window, scowling.

Charles pulled the car up to the front of a marble and brass building and left the engine running. Men in red jackets materialized to opened the car doors, letting the unnaturally cool air inside the cabin escape. One offered Zyrdicia a hand as she climbed out into the warm sun.

The young man's eyes widened at the sight. His eyes were about level with her bosom. He looked up at her face and murmured, "Whoa."

She did not even notice. Even with the sunglasses, the sun's glare bothered her. She could hardly see anything at all. Charles came around and took her hand, leading her inside. "You just made that kid's year."

24.4.1

Doctor Hilda Kindmacher was a heavyset, middle-aged woman. Her round, gold-rimmed spectacles gave her plump face a kindly look. Her Beverly Hills office was filled with fresh flowers. She smiled warmly. She was used to eccentric, wealthy women. Scores of vain primadonnas filled her patient roster. This one could be an actress or, judging by her height, a runway model. Then again, given the leather attire and prominent scars visible on her back, probably a rock star. She used a single name just like a rock star, too.

The man who was her handler had insisted on absolute secrecy prior to arranging the meeting. That, too, was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the amount of money he had offered for the doctor's services. He had already transferred a hundred-thousand dollars into an offshore bank account for Kindmacher, with a promise of an equal amount later if the client was satisfied.

"Your husband couldn't join us?" the doctor smiled. She had been told there was a husband, somewhere. Often couples came to her together.

"He's not invited to this party."

"How long have you and your husband been trying unsuccessfully to have a child?"

Zyrdicia frowned, annoyed by the topic of conversation. She said, "A prince of Hell was supposed to have prevented us from trying. But that somehow changed after I stole his magic."

Charles grimaced. If she started talking about demons and magical crap, this doctor would think she was insane. Flustered, he interrupted, "It's a religious thing, where they come from. See?"

"I see," Kindmacher smiled and nodded politely.

"I doubt it," Zyrdicia replied coldly.

24.4.2

A short time later, Zyrdicia and Hilda Kindmacher sat across from one another at the doctor's desk in her private office.

The doctor said, "Although the blood test can detect a pregnancy in as little as eight days after fertilization, you should know that this early, false negatives are a risk. We'll have the blood test's results back tomorrow afternoon. Is there a number I can reach you at?"

Charles interjected, "She's really hard to reach. Just leave voicemail on my cellphone number. I'll get her the message eventually."

Zyrdicia shook her head and said, "Azriok already told me. I couldn't care less whether your science confirms it. For now, I only need to know one thing from you: when exactly does its soul spawn?"

Hilda's brows shot up in surprise. She regarded her patient for a long moment, then answered, "If by that you mean that you want to know when the fetus has a soul, that isn't something we could ever tell you as a medical certainty, dear. No one knows. Maybe at viability. Maybe at birth. Maybe now. Perhaps you may want to discuss this with your clergyman?"

Zyrdicia scowled at the uselessness of the remark. She knew for certain that it was not now. She would have sensed the power, had it already happened.

Zyrdicia lost interest as the doctor began to babble about her being severely underweight and needing to eat more, to avoid over-exerting herself, and to get plenty of rest. Zyrdicia tuned her out, staring out a window instead.

At one point, Charles jabbed her in the side to get her to listen. He whispered, "See! You have to sleep and eat. I told you so!"

"We're done here," Zyrdicia said. She stood up, herr irritation unmistakable.