“Have you always been a mage?”
“That’s kind of a personal question, ain’t it?”
I glared.
“Okay, okay,” he said, putting his hands up. “Yeah, was born a mage. Not common for my people, I know.”
“You seem pretty powerful.”
“That was part of the deal,” he mused. “Guessing that’s gonna be going away along with the cash, though, ain’t it?”
“Quite.”
I turned to find Rachel and Jasmine standing behind me. Their faces held as much disdain as mine.
Whoever it was we were dealing with was really making life fun for us. First a djinn that could make me hallucinate, next I got infused with vampire venom so that my genetics started to activate, and now we had a goblin mage with boosted powers who was sent up here by some unnamed jizz canary to take over a casino. My assumption was this person was also the guy who’d brought the djinn on board, giving him the promise of stronger powers, too.
“You’ll be stripped of your powers and sent to jail,” Rachel stated over my shoulder. “I would imagine you’ll be locked away for quite some time.”
“Perfect,” Spanx said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together while holding a big grin. “It’ll be good to see the wife and kids again.”
Chapter 12
I purposely avoided Paula and Portman as I made my way out with Rachel by my side. There wasn’t much choice for me but to head back to the office. The Directors were going to want to know what had happened.
“What are you going to say?” Rachel asked, breaking the silence as we drove in.
“I’ll just tell them what happened with the goblins,” I answered. “Not going to say a damn thing about whatever is happening to me.”
“Don’t you think they’ll notice? You’ll be seated in front of a mage, a werewolf, a vampire, and a pixie, Ian.”
“I’ve been doing this for a long time, Rachel,” I ranted. “I’m well aware of who the Directors are.” Damn it. I’d done it again. “Gah! I’m sorry. This sucks and you should just stay away from me for a while.”
“For better or worse, remember?”
I gave her a look that included a squint, a furrowed brow, and a grimace.
“We’re not married, Rachel.”
“Obviously, dipshit,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “but the rule still applies.”
Well, at least she called me a “dipshit” this time instead of fawning all over me for being a douche banana.
“Anyway,” I said more gently, “the Directors aren’t technically in the room with me. They’re viewing remotely, so I don’t think it’ll be the same thing as when I’m physically present with someone.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she mused. “Just in case, though, I would do my best to channel a fae or a non-tatted djinn.”
She had a point, but I wasn’t sure if I could channel either of those races. I hadn’t come in contact with any of them.
Wait, I also hadn’t come in contact with a werewolf and that little genetic gem was flaring. On top of that, I hadn’t come in contact with a mage either, unless you considered my boning Rachel before the incident with the djinn.
I had to suppose that djinn or fae were active in me somehow, too. But how do you go about bringing out either of those living in your genetic code? And what about werebear? I would have thought it would jump up just like the wolf, but so far I had no desire to eat honey or salmon.
The vampire in my DNA was easy to bring forth because it just required angst. Same with the werewolf and pixie, actually. The mage probably happened because we were attacked by magic.
But a fae? Did I just have to try and look really, really, really good-looking? Maybe I needed to be a trickster? I honestly didn’t know the first thing about being overly sneaky. In fact, I was the guy who got the giggles when I knew a secret that Rachel didn’t.
I ran my fingers through my hair as I glanced in the mirror, winking at myself.
“What are you doing?” Rachel asked.
“Trying to turn into a fae,” I answered after giving my reflection a smoochie. “They think they’re hot, so I’m trying to bring up the fae from deep inside.”
“First off, you are hot,” Rachel stated. “Secondly, how did you get the others to surface?”
“I didn’t do anything, Rachel. They just…happened.”
“Hmmm.” She began tapping her chin. I loved it when she did that. It was cute. “Okay, so go for the djinn, then.”
“And how, pray tell, would you recommend I do that?”
She had no immediate answer to that question. Nor did I. If it were only as simple as saying “I want to be a djinn now,” that would rock the house.
“Whoa,” Rachel whispered an instant later. “Look at your neck.”
I did.
Tats.
Just thinking “I want to be a djinn” worked?
Unreal.
Rachel reached out and touched me, running her fingers along the lines of my newfound ink.
“That is so hot.”
“You’re weird,” I rebuffed. “This won’t work anyway, unless I wear a turtleneck sweater.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Rachel,” I laughed, “the Directors know I don’t have any tattoos on my neck.”
“Oh, right.”
I refrained from calling her an idiot, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I sincerely wanted to. She was letting her libido get in the way of duty and that was…exactly what I had done on more occasions than I cared to admit.
“I don’t suppose you can do the djinn thing with my dreams, can you?”
“Seriously, Rachel?” I grunted. “That’s what you want to be discussing right now?”
She nodded. “Kind of, yeah.”
This honestly wasn’t fair. Rachel was always horny, just like any PPD cop—except Warren and Turbo…and probably countless others, now that I think about it. Anyway, Rachel was one of the officers who stayed horny all the time. I was the worst of them all, usually. But there was a time and a place for that sort of thing and right now, right here wasn’t it.
“I think we should roll with it, dude,” The Admiral suggested. “We could do all sorts of freaky shit with her at the moment.”
“Remember that she can hear you,” I pointed out.
“I know,” he said back like he was proud of it.
I peered over and found Rachel was almost imperceptibly grinning. Her face was flushed, too. Great. That meant I was going to have to play a game where I went about tweaking with my girlfriend’s dreams.
“Why are you thinking that like it’s a bad thing?”
True.
As long as she was into it and I was into it, who should care? I wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do, after all. That wasn’t my modus operandi. Besides, I’d make sure she had a safe word.
We continued the rest of the way in silence, but once we turned in to the main area, I opened a broadcast and doled out commands.
“Listen up, gang. I’m going in to meet with the Directors about the goblins. While I’m in there, I want everyone scouring for information regarding the guy who put the goblins up to this little show.” I gave a quick nod at Rachel. “Report whatever you find to Rachel. If you need any details about the final encounter I had with the main goblin, Rachel will give it to you. Ian, out.”
Since when did I say “Ian out?” That was just strange.
Thankfully, Rachel didn’t say a word about it. She merely got out of the Aston Martin, walked in beside me, gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and then headed toward the conference room.
If nothing else, I knew I could count on her to get the job done. That was good because I needed to keep to my office as much as possible.
After dealing with the Directors, anyway.
Chapter 13
Everyone was present and accounted for. Silver, the vampire chief, sat on the left; Zack, the head of the werewolves, was next; then cam
e O, the lead mage; and last, and most definitely least, was the chief of the pixies, EQK.
The last few times we’d met, it hadn’t gone so well. I was always tight-lipped and so were they.
There was once a time when these meetings were almost beneficial. They’d ask how things were going, I’d tell them we had a couple of werewolves defiling public property or maybe a fae scalping hockey tickets, and that’d be that. But then the ubers arrived. Once that happened, our dynamic changed a fair bit. Instead of a relatively decent discourse, I’d get grilled on the ubers, get talked down to a lot, and get the runaround whenever I asked for help.
It got worse after I’d defeated Rot the pixie, though.
EQK had freaked out, spouting off about how Rot was supposed to have been dead. “Killed during the raids,” whatever that meant. I never got any further information because the Directors started yelling at each other until O finally cut communications completely, leaving me sitting alone in the room and wondering what the hell was going on.
Since then, we hadn’t discussed anything besides the mundane. Of course, there really wasn’t much to talk about since Rot’s appearance. Without ubers around, things tended to get a bit boring.
“Mr. Dex,” said O, taking lead as he always did, “we heard there was a ruckus down at New York-New York. Anything to report?”
I had to keep myself in check here, especially if EQK blurted something out like he usually did. Technically, I was allowed to call him names ever since I claimed that it was a cultural thing for me. They’d argued the point, but seeing that I’m the only amalgamite in existence, my “culture” is pretty much self-determined.
Still, I opted to go pedantic.
“Sir,” I said robotically, “there were a number of goblins topside, wearing gangster gear from the early twentieth century. They carried tommy guns and they intended to take over the casino. We stopped them and they are now being processed and will be sent to the Tribunal for sentencing.”
“Any fatalities?” Zack asked.
“Goblins only, sir.”
“How many?”
“Last count was eleven,” I answered, thinking it was probably more like eighteen. “I can have a final tally sent to you once we have completed our paperwork.”
The air in the room felt stale to me. Like it was barely moving. This probably had to do with the fact that I didn’t like this part of my job, especially since information flow seemed like a one-way street with these guys.
“Were any normals affected adversely?” asked Silver in his smooth voice.
“None that I’m aware of, sir,” I replied, keeping my eyes straight ahead. Seeing that I knew there’d be a follow-up question, I quickly added, “The Spin was called to the scene, though, and this one should be relatively easy for them to manage. Goblins wearing mobster suits and carrying tommy guns in New York-New York is almost dying to be a show, after all.”
Silver grunted.
If nothing else, the ubers had brought some very interesting elements that could be exploited on the Strip. The wizard battles at Excalibur, pixie dust beast showdowns, and the zombie hunt out in the desert were just three ideas. Actually, Paula did make the zombie hunting one a reality. But now we had a new wrinkle in the form of gangster goblins. It was silly, but the normals would eat it up.
“You’re fucking hiding something, you dickless wonder,” EQK chirped out of the blue. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s off about you.”
“Whatever do you mean, EQK?” I replied with an innocent look. “I have told you all I know.”
“Don’t try to play me, ass nugget,” he shot back. “I practically invented bullshit.”
“Technically, EQK,” Silver countered, “it’s well documented that bulls invented it.”
“Fuck you, fang face. He knows what I mean.”
Obviously, EQK was picking up on my demeanor. Everyone else in the room was too self-involved to notice that I was acting any differently. Or, more likely, they didn’t care. But EQK was a pixie, and pixies were known for seeking out weak spots in a person. They watched you, studied you, and kept tabs on any changes in your behavior so they could pounce at the tiniest sign of weakness. This was something I should have taken into account when I decided to go stone-faced in this meeting.
“I’m fine,” I replied without changing my voice or posture. “I just woke up with a headache and it’s not improved any.”
“Sorry to hear that,” said O, sounding genuine. “You should request one of your mages to remedy it.”
“I hadn’t considered that, sir,” I acknowledged. “I’ll do so after this meeting.”
“You guys can cure headaches?” Zack asked. “I get migraines all the time.”
“Cure? No. But we can help alleviate symptoms from time to time.”
“So can ibuprofen,” Silver said with a sigh.
“Doesn’t work for migraines,” Zack argued.
“Fine, then take an aspirin or get a prescription,” Silver groaned. “The point is that you don’t need to resort to magic over every little thing.”
“Magic is just as worthwhile as—”
“He’s lying,” EQK said loudly enough to be heard but quietly enough to make everyone listen. You see, when EQK usually spoke, it was at a volume that makes you want to ignore him. Well, that and the content was usually vulgar and unhelpful. But when he spoke at a reasonable decibel, people paid attention. “I know he’s lying.”
“Who?” said Zack.
“Eaten Dix, of course,” grumbled EQK. “For fuck’s sake, Zackhole, where have you been?”
“Watch it, pixie,” Zack growled back. “I don’t like being called names.”
EQK snorted. “So?”
Fine. The pixie was on to me, but I was going to continue playing it aloof. He couldn’t prove anything as long as I kept my mouth shut. EQK had nothing to stand on, unless I tripped up.
“Is there something more you wish to tell us, Mr. Dex?” O asked.
“No, sir,” I replied with a shrug. “I have no idea what Director EQK is talking about.”
“There!” EQK said. “Did you not hear that, you mentally deranged pecker sniffers?”
The other Directors collectively sighed.
“Hear what?” Silver asked after a moment.
“That one-balled foreskin feeler didn’t call me any names.”
I felt all eyes turn back to me. I couldn’t see them, but I sensed it as plain as if there were no mist separating us.
“I’m merely trying to be more respectful, sir,” I defended myself. “Things have gotten a little out of hand over the last few weeks and I can’t help but feel like I’m partially to blame.”
“Admirable,” announced Zack.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re full of shit, sphincter lips,” EQK jeered. “A person doesn’t just go from winning a Joke-Off against an uber pixie to suddenly being nice. Doesn’t happen.”
“It doesn’t for pixies, maybe,” I debated. “But I’m not a pixie.” I then held up my hand before he could retaliate. “However, if it will make you feel better, I do find you to be a taint-meandering, odoriferously leathered clit.”
“Mr. Dex!” shouted O.
“Shut up, mage quiff,” EQK barked at O. “Dex just called me a pixie-worthy name right there. Proves to me that he’s not completely lost his marbles.” He then leaned forward enough to break the mist, before it covered his face and drowned my memory of what he looked like. “But I’m watching you, Dexless.”
That name didn’t even make any sense, which told me I had him unbalanced.
Good.
“Stay behind, Mr. Dex,” O commanded via a direct connection. “I wish to speak with you privately.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, feeling kind of shocked since I’d never been direct-connected before by any of the Directors.
“If there is nothing else for Mr. Dex,” O announced, “I suggest we call it a day so that he may get his headache
attended to.”
One by one, everyone left the meeting until only O and I remained. Was a reprimand in my immediate future? For O’s sake, I hoped not because I was already on the brink of telling him and the rest of the world to fuck off.
“How are you doing, Mr. Dex?” he asked, sounding sincere.
I shifted uncomfortably, not expecting this type of question.
“I’m okay,” I answered, feeling somewhat dubious. “Uh…how are you?”
O chuckled. “I’m not asking to establish pleasantries here. I’m asking out of genuine concern for the well-being of an officer who works for me.”
Okay, now I was really confused.
Did he sense something was off with me, too? He was a mage, after all. Maybe they could pick up on things from a distance? No, Rachel would have warned me about that.
“Ah,” I said, trying to play it aloof. “A little anxiety, I suppose. Playing with ubers over these last number of months has taken its toll.” I shrugged. “Seems like it has on everyone.”
“Indeed.” He let out a long breath. “I trust that you have been keeping the outburst from EQK a few meetings back confidential?”
“You would need to narrow that down, sir.”
Another chuckle. “Fair enough, fair enough. I’m speaking about the meeting when you told us about Rot.”
“Ah, yes.” I hadn’t really been overly quiet about it, but why tell him that? “I only share information with my crew that will help them to effectively do their jobs, sir.”
“That’s a cryptic response, Mr. Dex.”
“Yes, sir.”
I got the feeling he was nodding.
“Sir,” I asked suddenly, “did you ever walk the beat?”
“Of course,” he answered, sounding distant. “A long time ago.”
“Where were you stationed?”
“A few places, actually. New York, Tucson, Bangkok, and London. I even did a couple of years in the Netherworld PPD.”
“Cool,” I said. “I kind of liked London.”
“Same here,” he answered. “That’s where I met Tristan Montague, in fact.” He paused. “I believe you know him?”
“We’ve run into each other before.”
Curse of Fangs: An Ian Dex Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (Las Vegas Paranormal Police Department) Page 5
