"It's not your fault," said Shiraz. "I underestimated this woman. I thought her impetuous enough to keep the relic hidden behind a simple door. The fault is mine alone. Now the only problem we have before us is finding out who we can get to help us through the door."
"But who?" asked Hassan. "Who can we get to help us?"
"An Enchanter," said Shiraz. "I've heard rumors of their existence. But I never thought they might be actively employed by the Council to help protect things like this."
"They won't agree to help us, though, will they?"
Shiraz smiled. "Everyone has a price. Everyone has something they are willing to die for. It's simply a matter of finding out what that something is and then using it to gain leverage over them."
"First we need to find one of these Enchanters," said Hassan. "Do you even know where to look?"
Shiraz nodded. "I would assume right here in Boston would be a safe bet. After all, if this was protected using magic, then the person who cast the spell must be nearby."
"Why so?"
Shiraz cocked his head. "From what I've heard, the spells are stronger if they are cast by someone local to the area. Something about drawing power from the geography of the environment. But then again, I am not well versed in magic. I'm much more at ease dealing with people using a gun."
"Same," said Hassan. "What do you want me to do?"
"Get the men together. We're leaving. I don't want to be anywhere around when Ava returns. She'll know someone was here."
Hassan nodded and turned to head back to the basement before he realized Shiraz wasn't following and stopped. "Are you coming?"
Shiraz waved him off. "I want another minute with the door. Go. I will catch up with you upstairs."
"Very well."
Shiraz turned back to the door and ran his hands over its surface. The wood felt solid. Old. And there, near the top, in script so small he hadn't noticed it earlier, Shiraz saw the Taluk inscriptions.
He tried reading them, but couldn't even make out what the first word was. Taluk was such an ancient language that it had a myriad of variations that no one but the Elders of the vampire society could hope to read.
Shiraz smiled. This only confirmed what he had suspected: that the relic was a truly powerful weapon in the right hands.
Shiraz's hands.
He patted the door once more. "Very soon you will give up what I seek and you will belong to me forever."
Just then the lights went out.
He frowned and turned. He'd given Hassan no such order to kill the power. Unless one of the other men had done it. The fools. He sighed and started back up the corridor toward the basement, stopping to take one final glance at the door with wistful eyes.
"Soon."
He stepped into the basement and then froze.
Something was wrong.
He drew his pistol and slid the safety off.
Blood.
His nostrils flared at the scent that tinged the air. Not close, though. Upstairs? If it had been close, the scent would be more cloying. Heavy.
Tangible.
Shiraz moved into the basement and stopped close to the stairs leading up to the kitchen. He heard the muffled pops and then a loud thud as something dropped to the floor. He resisted the urge to call out for Hassan.
He moved smoothly up the stairs, his senses primed as he brought the pistol up and then swung around the corner of the door into the kitchen.