by Amy Sumida
Nagas with their cobra hoods drawn down just like the hood of a cloak passed by wrapped in flowing swaths of fabric. Kitsune clicked their way around the weresnakes on delicate, enameled heels with their long hair done up in elaborate styles. Loups prowled in packs, sniffing around the fox-shifters' skirts and occasionally getting smacked on the nose with a painted fan for their insolence. Gorgons wore their snake hair hidden under vibrant scarves, shifting and hissing against the restraint, and several types of bird-shifters used the elevation to launch themselves into flight. The only ones who didn't make an appearance on the walkways were the Trolls and Dwarves. Neither race enjoyed sunlight, but Trolls also had the limitation of simply being too damn big to get up the stairs.
“Here we are,” I announced as I ducked around a family of Ryū—Eastern Dragon-Shifters—and opened the solid wooden door standing beneath a faded, hand-painted sign done in block letters.
“Cerberus Security,” Luke read. “How original.”
“Hey, it has a nice ring to it,” I shot over my shoulder before I went inside.
The office hadn't changed much since the last time I'd seen the place. A reception area with a minuscule waiting room greeted us. Bland beige rug, worn cotton upholstery on the chairs, and a painting of the Gates of Hades hung on one wall. I remembered buying that awful piece of art with Cer in the Bazaar. The harpy dealer wanted way too much for it, thinking that the ex-Hound of Hades would pay extra for an image of his old workplace. I suggested that we find another dealer who was smart enough not to fleece a hellhound, and she had come around. After we lugged it back here, I advised Cer not to hang it out in the waiting room, but he insisted that it was a visual resume for potential customers to admire.
“Hey, Mike,” I greeted Cer's assistant.
The Vanara hated being called a secretary even though his work was primarily secretarial. He sat at his tiny desk, answered the phone, greeted customers, and guarded the door to Cer's office as vigilantly as Cerberus used to guard the Gates of Hades. He also handled scheduling and payroll when Cer was out of the Bazaar.
Mike beamed at me, his wide, white teeth making his walnut skin seem darker. His cap of dark curls was in its usual disarray—something he blamed on his weremonkey genes—and his chocolate eyes sparkled with affection. He stood up, setting aside a stack of papers, and came around the desk to hug me.
“El, it's been forever,” Mike exclaimed as he wrapped his wiry arms around me.
“It's been awhile,” I agreed. “How's Jara and your boys?”
“Good, we're all good.” He nodded rapidly. “And you? I heard you got married... four times.”
“That's right.” I waved my husbands forward. “This is Torin and Darcraxis, two of my husbands.”
“Congratulations,” Mike said brightly as he shook their hands. “You're very lucky men.”
“Thank you,” Torin murmured.
“We're well aware,” Darc added.
“And this is Luke, he's a friend of ours.” I waved toward Lucifer.
“Nice to meet you.” Mike shook Luke's hand next. “Your other men are in back with the boss, El. Go on in; there should be room now that the last security team left to make the rounds.”
“Thanks, Mike.” I headed into Cer's office without knocking.
Cerberus, Slate, Declan, and Gage all looked up at my entrance, their eyes going wide in surprise. They'd been hunkered down around a map of the Bazaar. Half-eaten sandwiches and bottles of Tengu beer sat discarded around the edges of Cer's heavy, wooden, riksha desk. No art hung on the walls in there, just a dry erase board with a few markers on its shelf and a calendar of naked Gorgon women, their snake hair on full display along with their other attributes. In one corner, a metal filing cabinet stood proud and shiny; the newest thing in the room.
“What are you doing here?” Cer asked as he brushed crumbs off his shirt.
“She's finished her training,” Darc announced as he slid me a smile. “In the most dramatic way.”
“I've finally learned what I need to do to control the goddess magic,” I added. “I have to focus on intent and emotion.”
“That's wonderful, El,” Gage got up to hug me then pulled back in surprise and stared down at my pendant. “What's this? It feels warm.”
“That is the drama.” Torin lifted his pendant to show the others. “Elaria used her spellsinging to unite her magic but then she united ours as well, and we created something together.”
“You united and created something?” Declan came over to inspect the stone. “Something magical?”
“It seems to have all the power of Onyx along with Darkness, Light, Fire, and possibly Spellsong,” Darc said.
“I joined Darcraxis' darkness and Torin's grounding to me with spellsong and blended my fire with Rathlin's and my light with Lucifer's.” I waved a hand at Luke.
“Who the fuck are you?” Gage narrowed his eyes at Luke.
“It's me; Lucifer,” Luke said in his real voice. “I'm undercover.”
“Lucifer?” Gage took a deep sniff. “Yep, that's you all right.”
“Hold on,” Declan waved Gage off. “You merged their magic and created a jewel? Do you realize how amazing that is? Even I cannot manifest a jewel, at least not one with its own magic.”
“We did it together,” I corrected. “Torin's magic formed the onyx base and the rest of us put a little piece of our power inside it. Then Lucifer split the stone into these pendants so we could all have a piece.”
“So, you can unite magic now?” Gage asked.
“I...” I hesitated. “I don't know.”
You were able to unite them because Rathlin and Lucifer have the same magic as you while Torin and Darc are bound to you through the RS, Kyanite explained.
“You don't know?” Lucifer asked with amusement. “You just did it.”
“Kyanite says that I must have a connection in place first,” I relayed the information. “Rathlin, Lucifer, and I have the same kind of magic, and the RS binds Torin and Darc to me.”
“That makes sense.” Torin nodded. “I felt our connection drawing my magic into you.”
“What does it do?” Slate asked with a sharp look at my newest piece of jewelry.
“We don't know yet,” Darc answered for us. “We're not even sure how to activate it or if it will act on its own.”
“Then maybe you shouldn't be wearing it,” Slate suggested.
The gargoyle makes a good point, RS agreed.
It's a jewel, it won't hurt its master, Ky argued. Its power will reveal itself when needed. Trust me on this, Elaria. Wear the stone.
“Kyanite says that jewels don't hurt their masters and that its power will reveal itself when it's needed,” I relayed. “He wants me to keep it on.”
“I feel good about it,” Torin said as he touched his piece. “I think Kyanite's right.”
“I'll be damned if I take it off,” Luke announced with a grin that said he'd fully intended the humor in that statement.
“Creation magic,” Declan said wistfully. “Imagine what we could have made if I'd been involved.”
“Manifestation added to Creation; that could be spectacular or dangerous,” Darc noted.
“Yeah, that's great, El. I'm happy that you're better and made something shiny. Maybe you can use that jewel to help with the nymphs,” Cer said pointedly.
“We're getting to you, Hellhound,” I shot back. “Keep your pants on.”
Cerberus snorted while Luke made a choking sound. I glanced over at the god askance.
“Keep your pants on?” Lucifer asked. “Why would you say that? Is Cerberus prone to removing his clothing when he gets upset?”
“It's a figure of speech,” I explained while the other men snickered.
“Actually, I have been known to remove my pants when I'm upset,” Cerberus gleefully announced. “Right before I shift.”
“Ah, that makes sense now.” Luke visibly relaxed.
“Hold on. Why are you here?”
Slate asked Luke.
“I've offered my assistance.” Luke swept by me and peered down at the map. “Where are the villains we're after?”
Cerberus looked at me and started to laugh. “You got the God of the Angels to help us? And he can shapeshift? Well done, El.”
“He offered.” I shrugged as I took the seat Slate offered me. “It wasn't until Lucifer showed us his party trick that we decided to take him up on it.”
“Party trick indeed,” Declan drawled. “I can alter an entire room.”
“Yeah, but we already have you,” Cer said flippantly.
Declan sputtered.
“Can you look like anyone?” Cerberus asked Lucifer.
“Of course,” Luke said. “Is that helpful?”
“It could definitely come in handy.” Cerberus smirked.
Declan rolled his eyes.
“Excellent!” Lucifer grinned, showing off his werewolf canines. “This is going to be so much fun.”
I glanced up at Slate and found him giving me a sardonic look. Yes, I suppose there was a certain grim humor in Lucifer helping us bring down a crime family. But I had a feeling that we were going to need all the help we could get, which wasn't funny at all.
Chapter Seven
“I have my guys posted around the Bazaar,” Cerberus filled us in on what they'd accomplished so far. “Banning is contacting some people he knows within the Falca and having them monitor the Demos Family around the world. So, that takes care of pretty much everywhere on Earth.”
“The Falca,” I whispered. “Of course.”
I'd completely forgotten that the Blooders have the most widespread intelligence network in the Beneath. The Falca has direct access to it, but Banning's relationship with the governing council of Blooders—including the European, Asian, North and South American, Australian, African, and Antarctic branches—was questionable. Some of them loved Bann for all he'd done to save Blooders as a whole, and some of them hated him for going against the wishes of his blood sire and refusing to take the throne.
The Blooder Throne is sort of like the English one—more prestige and wealth than power—but it also comes with a lot of responsibility and a whole string of issues. King Sorin—the man who had made Banning a blooder—had gotten tired of it all and asked Banning to replace him. Banning refused. Most Blooders sided with Banning now that Sorin's cowardly, selfish nature had been revealed, but there are those traditionalists who think that Banning should have accepted the throne simply because his king desired it. Too bad Banning didn't respect his blood father enough to care what he desired.
“I can have the Host look into this family as well,” Luke offered.
“Perhaps a few of them,” Cerberus suggested. “Keep the rest of your angels in reserve; we may have other uses for them.”
“I have a legion of Angels and just as many Demons,” Lucifer reminded Cer. “There will be enough to accomplish any task I set them to.”
“Okay then.” Cer chuckled then looked over at me. “My informants have brought in reports of this operation going back several months.”
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“Yeah.” Cerberus grimaced as he leaned forward on his meaty forearms to glare at the map. “They're holding the nymphs in a Demos house on the Satyr Stretch but no one's been able to tell me which house exactly. Kosmos is out prowling the area as we speak. Hopefully, he can find it.”
“He's alone?” I asked in concern.
Cer shook his head. “He's got some cats with him.”
A knock interrupted us.
“Yeah?” Cerberus shifted his dark-brown glare to the door.
“It's me,” Grace called through the wood.
“Come in.”
The swan-shifter entered hesitantly then paused in the doorway when she saw how full the room was.
“Just come in, Grace,” Cerberus grumbled. “No one's buying your frightened bird act.”
Grace grimaced, stepped in with a confident swagger, and shut the door behind her. “You work your hellhound thing, and I work the swan thing. Lay off.”
Cerberus chuckled. “Fair enough. Whatchu got for me?”
“I've got something good.” Grace grinned, showing a glimpse of the true woman within; a shark in swan's clothing. “It's worth twice the usual. At least.”
“I'll decide that,” Cerberus growled. “Tell me.”
“The Demos Family is having a party,” she announced gleefully.
“What kind of party?” Luke asked, leaning forward eagerly.
“The kind where they get to pretend that they're classy,” Grace snickered. “Put on their expensive clothes and strut around with their horns and fur hidden. Oooo look at me, I'm a gentleman. Did you see my Rolex?”
“It's a clientele party,” Cerberus concluded smugly.
“That's right.” Grace set her hands on her hips proudly. “They're inviting all of their shady friends to mingle with the richest people in the Beneath. Word is they'll be giving a preview of upcoming auctions.”
“They're going to parade the nymphs before potential buyers,” Gage sneered. “Lowlife motherfuckers.”
“They won't do it in the open,” Grace warned us. “They'll have a private room or something that you'll have to be specifically invited into. Not all of their customers will be into that kinda shit.”
“Yeah, drugs, booze, prostitutes, and killers for hire are okay but not sex slaves,” Cer said derisively.
“You enjoy two out of four of those,” I teased him. “And I was a killer for hire not too long ago... working for you. We hardly have room to judge.”
“And don't forget the gambling,” Cer added with a wink my way. “I like that too. Just not the drugs. Especially not their drugs; that shit is nasty.”
“So, how do we get invited to the party?” I asked.
“Invited?” Cerberus huffed. “I thought we'd just sneak in.”
“You and I would be recognized in a heartbeat,” I pointed out. “We can't just crash the party. We need to stroll in with an invitation.”
“Can't you just make us invisible or something?” Cerberus asked me.
“I could, but how are we going to maneuver through a crowded party like that without getting bumped into? And by 'we' I mean; your big hellhound ass.”
Cerberus huffed air out his nose irritably.
“Hold on.” I started to smile. “Isn't Samedi in good with the Demos Family?”
“Yeah. So?” Cerberus growled.
Cer hated my old employer. He held Sam responsible for my near-rape. I didn't much like Baron Samedi myself, but I didn't hold a grudge about one of his patrons trying to assault me either. It was done outside of Sam's cigar shop, not beneath his nose; the guy had nothing to do with it. Plus, it had led to my friendship with Cerberus. As far as I was concerned, nearly being raped was one of the best things that has ever happened to me.
“Samedi said that he owes Slate, remember?” I asked Cerberus as I looked over at Slate.
Slate's face went blank before his expression cleared. “Right. Because I caught the kitsune who killed his friends.”
“Do you mind calling in that favor?” I asked him.
“Not in the least.” Slate started to smile. “Let's go pay Samedi a visit.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Grace added as she held her hand out to Cerberus for her payment. “The party's on a yacht.”
“Of course, it is.” Cerberus rolled his eyes as he smacked a thick wad of cash into Grace's palm.
Chapter Eight
It had been a long time since I'd been inside Smoke and Mirrors, Sam's cigar shop and gentlemen's club. The refined smell of dried tobacco rode the cool air like a siren, beckoning customers further in, and the hardwood floor creaked and moaned as we stepped over the threshold. A long counter stretched horizontally through the room, directly across from us, with a walk-in humidor to its right, full of angled shelves showcasing cigars. A few patrons perused the offerings in the humidor while a clerk
in a smart suit waited behind a display of the more expensive cigars. His manicured hand rested on a velvet pad like the kind you show jewelry on.
“Welcome to Smoke and Mirrors,” the clerk—a slim, dark-skinned man—exclaimed with a bit too much gaiety. Then he recognized me. “Oh, um... it's an honor, Ms. Tanager. What can we do for you today?”
“I've got this, Bill,” Samedi said as he came through a door behind the counter.
