Page 17 of Dead Heat

“And yet it is, in fact, authentic. Its purpose was secret, and the angles were deliberate. It wasn’t meant to blend with other vases. It was meant to signal an object that was very special and sacred to the emperor.”

“What’s so special about it?”

“It contains ten thousand souls of one of the greatest armies ever known. The Yanmen Army.”

“Never heard of them.”

“According to the legend, they were cursed by an unknown entity and trapped in this very container.”

I examined the vase. “Genies should count their lucky stars they don’t have to share their lamps. Ten thousand.” I whistled. “I guess this is how they were defeated.”

“Not quite. They never actually fought.”

My head snapped toward him. “That explains why I haven’t heard of them. How can they be one of the greatest armies ever known if they’ve never been in battle?”

“Had they fought, experts agree they would have been unstoppable. People believe that was the reason for the curse. To avoid guaranteed war and destruction.”

“Is the curse what drew you to the vase?” The vampire, too, was cursed. The intended outcome was that he could no longer drink human blood. The unintended outcome was blindness. In true Otto fashion, he’d taken both in stride and adapted his lifestyle, although from what I understood, he wasn’t popular with the other vampires in the area. Whether that was due to the curse or his crusty demeanor, I wasn’t sure.

“I suppose the curse was the initial reason, but the more I learned about the legend, the more fascinated I became. Imagine being the most powerful force in the world and suddenly finding yourself reduced to an existence in a household item.”

“From glory to hoary.”

Otto snickered. “Well done. All that Scrabble is paying off.”

“If only I could earn a living from the occasional joke.” I switched my focus back to the vase. “It’s a good thing you gotyour hands on this instead of The Corporation. I can only imagine what their intentions were.”

“They’re collectors, like I am. I suspect they like to amass items of power more than they actually intend to use them. It probably makes them feel more secure to have a warehouse filled with unstoppable weapons.”

“A warehouse? They could probably fill an entire realm with their objects of power.” I knew firsthand they kept offshore accounts in pocket dimensions around the globe. One of them had been accessed through the basement of Bruce Huang’s house, right here in Fairhaven. It had been my very first run-in with their minions. Sadly not my last.

“Among the other gossip I overheard while I was there, a rare item went missing a week before the auction and one of the employees was killed. I wondered whether The Corporation might be responsible.”

“What was the item?”

“A mistletoe arrow.”

“I’m not familiar with that one, but I have no doubt they have plenty of thieves and murderers on the payroll.” Except why bother to bid on items at all when they were clearly willing to kill and steal?

Otto tilted his head. “Have you heard any more from them? I imagine they’ll be curious to know what became of their missing avatar.”

“I haven’t, but I expect it’s only a matter of time.” All this talk of The Corporation would make me lose my appetite if it continued. “Now that I’ve seen the reason for my visit, can we eat?”

“The vase isn’t actually the reason, but yes. Let’s adjourn to the study for dinner, and I’ll tell you the rest.”

The rest. So therewasan ulterior motive. Damn my good instincts. A knot formed in my stomach that I sure as hellhoped didn’t interfere with my ability to eat Otto’s delicious food.

The console table in the study was loaded with dishes—chicken salad, tuna salad, assorted fruit, a choice of bread or sliced croissants, and a variety of cheese and crackers. The piece de resistance was a tiered plate stand filled with small individual cakes.

“You’ll have to forgive the lunch-style options. The meat had spoiled, so the kitchen made do with what we had.”

I loved that he considered a spread like this ‘making do,’ as though everybody had fresh croissants lying around, begging to be used. Well, maybe they did in France, but this was Pennsylvania.

“Is that carrot cake?” I asked.

“With cream cheese frosting, yes.”

“Thank the gods. If it had lemon frosting, I might have to rethink our friendship.” With my appetite restored, I loaded a plate with food, trying to calculate in advance how many individual cakes I’d be able to manage afterward.

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