by Amy Sumida
“You're very welcome.” Icarus grinned broadly. “And I'll let Cerberus know if I discover anything else.”
“We appreciate it,” I added.
“Oh!” Icarus blinked as he moved back from Darc. “One more thing. I forgot to tell you; most of the sightings of that new fire race have been in California, the Bay Area.”
“California?” I glanced at the others. “What's in California?”
“Besides awesome theme parks, movie stars, beautiful beaches, and great music?” Cerberus asked and then shrugged. “Nothing much.”
“I think she means; what attracted this new race to California?” Torin said with a sigh.
“Maybe they were already there,” Icarus offhandedly suggested as he swept up the ruby and slipped it into his pocket.
We all looked at him in surprise and then at each other.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Well, look what the dog dragged in,” a caramel voice wafted out to us with a curl of cigar smoke from the threshold of a shop.
We were headed to Yolanda's place in the Lwa Stretch, across the Bazaar from Pick Your Poison, and I knew exactly whose shop we had to pass to get there, but I'd been hoping that our passage would go unnoticed. I should have known better, and I should have suggested that we use the overhead walkways.
“Hey, Baron; can't talk, gotta run.” I waved at him.
Before I took another step, he was standing before me; one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket and the other holding a cigar to his smirking lips. He leaned back on his heels as if he'd been lounging in the street the entire time.
“Aw, now, cherie, don't you have a moment to spare for your old employer?” The Baron puffed on his cigar and let the smoke roll over his full lips.
“Hey, Sam, how are you?” I asked with impatience.
“Good. Good.” He nodded at Cerberus. “Skylos.”
“Samedi,” Cerberus snarled back.
When I'd first showed up at the Bazaar, I went looking for work, and the Baron found me. He had sidled up to me as I exited a curry house and offered me a job. Nothing nefarious; Sam owns a cigar shop with a room in the back that he likes to call a Gentleman's Bar. He offers a luxurious place to smoke his cigars and drink high-class liquor in fancy glasses, served by pretty girls. I had been one of those girls. It paid good money—the Baron treats his employees right and has discerning taste; it was considered the highest praise to be chosen—but it had also been a bit demeaning. I wore a skimpy dress and got hit on by men who had enough money to pretend to be high society but not enough class to be allowed into any truly elite establishment.
One night after work, one of the cretins followed me out and waited for me to turn down an empty lane before he attacked. He knew enough to gag me first, and I was well on my way to being raped on a dirty street when a howl split the night, and the Hound of Hades saved my ass; quite literally. It was how Cerberus and I met.
We've been together ever since.
Cer holds Samedi responsible for the attack. He isn't responsible; obviously. The Baron would hardly want one of his waitresses raped. He would have taken his own vengeance on the man if Cer hadn't torn him into kibble first. Directly after shaking the blood off his doggy jowls, Cer had shifted into man form, lifted me in his arms, and carried me back to Smoke and Mirrors—Baron's shop/bar—and confronted Samedi about his pathetic security and the weakness of both his character and his manhood. Not in those words, of course. I believe Cer said something like; You fucking twat; you have beautiful women walking around wearing next to nothing and you don't think to escort them home after dangling them in front of salivating scumbags like meat on a stick? Fix this shit or I will light all of these fucking cigars at once and burn this moronic display of masculinity to the fucking ground! Then he told Sam that I was no longer his employee and carried me off like a knight in shining armor. Well, a knight in no armor. No clothes at all, actually; they'd been torn away when he shifted. The attack, combined with Cer's impressive nudity, had kept me from protesting Cer's highhandedness, and I'm glad it did. Cerberus changed my life for the better. In a way, everything I have is due to that hellhound.
And vice versa. My near-rape was what eventually gave Cer the idea to open his own security firm. He realized that not only was he good at protecting people, but he also enjoyed it. He loved playing the hero and being a general badass. And with the nature of Beneathers and their volatile interactions with each other, Cerberus Security became an overnight success. Baron even tried to hire Cer at one point, but my bestie told him to clean up his own mess. I love that hellhound.
“Now who is this?” Torin asked with exasperation.
“I lived here for awhile, honey.” I gave Torin's arm a pat. “I know everyone. Relax.”
“Yes, honey,” Samedi continued with his slow, sexy speech, “relax. We're all friends here. Your girl used to be my girl.”
Torin eyed the Baron; taking in his full lips, twisted in a sardonic smile, his smug pose, his blacker than black eyes full of sensual suggestion, and the deep V of gleaming walnut skin shown off by his unbuttoned shirt. The only thing holding the sides of that shirt together was Baron's slacks; he had tucked the ends down his waistband.
“She was never yours,” Torin declared confidently. “She would sooner sleep with Cerberus than a man like you.”
Samedi's eyes widened as Cerberus chortled.
“I wasn't his; I worked for him,” I explained. “I served drinks in his bar.”
“My Gentleman's Bar,” Sam clarified.
“Oh, what the fuck ever. No gentleman has ever stepped foot in your bar,” Cerberus growled, back to being irritated. “Now, move aside, Samedi, before I forget that you haven't done anything worth the effort of killing you.”
“I grow weary of your threats, Dog.” Baron's eyes flashed with crimson pinpricks. “You need to learn your place.”
“Look, I get it that you two—or three, rather—have an interesting past, but we don't have time for this bullshit,” Slate inserted himself between the men. “So, take your pretentious cigar and go smoke it in your equally pretentious bar or even shove it up your ass, for all I care. Just get the fuck out of our way.”
The Baron looked Slate over and then narrowed his eyes at my gargoyle. “You're Slate Devon, aren't you?”
That made me blink. I didn't know that Slate had a reputation outside of his zone.
“Do I know you?” Slate shot back with a derisive look that indicated extreme doubt over the possibility.
“No; we've never met. But I know you.” Samedi stepped aside and inclined his head as if in acknowledgment of something. “You picked up a kitsune that murdered a few friends of mine. I heard that you put her in your arena.”
“Oh, I remember that one.” Cerberus snickered. “Crazy, sexy, cruel.”
“That's her,” Sam said soberly.
“That bitch tried to kill Elaria,” Cerberus added. “Big emphasis on the tried.”
“When did you come into contact with her?” Sam asked me in surprise.
“In his arena.” I laughed and then thought about it. “Actually, no; it was in the training yard.”
Yet another kitsune who had given me grief. I forgot about her. No wonder I have an issue with the Fox-Shifters.
“Well, anyway” Samedi gave me a strange look and then focused back on Slate—“thank you for that. You do good work, Mr. Devon. The Lwas owe you; if you ever need our help, let me know.”
“Glad to hear someone appreciates it.” Slate glanced at me with a smirk. “And I just might take you up on that offer.”
Samedi inclined his head and extended a business card.
“I appreciate it,” I snapped as Slate slid the business card into his jacket. “I just didn't appreciate it so much when you thought I was a crazy, sexy, cruel criminal who needed to be imprisoned.”
Samedi started to say something, but I was already headed away. If I had known I'd be wasting so much time fending off old acquaint
ances, I would have sent Cerberus to the Bazaar with some of my men and stayed home. Oh, who am I kidding? No, I wouldn't have.
“Are you guys coming?” I shot over my shoulder.
Our group hurried after me, but we didn't make it far. Only a few buildings down, we were stopped again. This time, it was Cer's fault.
“Cerberus!” A female voice drifted down to us. “Hey, you devil dog.”
Cerberus stopped and angled his head up. “Felicia! Hey, baby.”
I followed his stare and sighed. In addition to the numerous wares you could buy in the Bazaar, there were also services for sale. Respectable services such as the protection Cerberus offered, otherworldly beauty treatments, deep tissue massage, and the like. Then there were the not so respectable services such as assassination, abduction, or prostitution. None of those are illegal in the Bazaar. As I mentioned, there is no law here. And Cerberus had made use of one particular service frequently.
More prostitutes joined Felicia on the iron balcony above us, their bodies displayed to their full potential. Some, beyond that. I cringed when I saw the brightly dyed pubic hair of a succubus, glaring lipstick red through her sheer chemise.
“Hound of Hades, come up here and start a fire with me,” the Succubus called as she pulled up her skirt and flashed him the goods that had already been on display. “It's been boring without you, baby.”
“This kitty needs your doggy dick; I'll give you the first ride free,” a cat-shifter offered. “I swear; that cock of yours should be cast and made into a vibrator.”
“Yeah, Paula over at Deeper-Harder-Faster made me an offer once, but I like being a one-of-a-kind, you feel me?”
“No, we don't feel you; that's the problem!”
“I can't partake of your charms anymore, ladies,” Cerberus said mournfully. “I'm in a relationship.”
“No!” Another woman shrieked. “Not the R word!”
“I've got the cure for that.” Felicia pulled down her top and jiggled her ample breasts at Cerberus.
“Sweet fire of Hades,” Cerberus whispered. Then he shouted up to her, “That you do, darlin', but I love my girl. Thanks for the peek, though. I'll treasure the memory.”
“Not the L word!” The other woman cried again.
At least I wasn't the only one fending off old acquaintances.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Big man,” Cerberus had been teasing Slate ever since we left Samedi. “Even the Baron knows Slate Devon. Well, lah-dee-da.”
“Will you shut up, Cerberus?” Slate grimaced.
“Nobody else in your cock collective got recognized, but you got a nod from the Baron,” Cerberus never shuts up when you tell him to.
“And you got flashed by whores,” Slate shot back.
Yes; it had occurred to me as well that if anyone should be getting teased, it should be Cerberus. But unless you know him as well as I do, teasing him is nearly impossible. He has no shame. Especially about sex. So, as soon as Slate said those words, I knew what was coming.
“Yeah, but that shit happens all the time to me.” Cer smirked. “Women love the Hellhound.”
“Women you pay to love you.” Slate gave Cer a look that said he'd never paid for a woman's affections in his entire life.
“You pay a woman and you don't have to worry about her stalking you and weeping about you not calling her.” Cer shrugged. “It's just easier.”
“We're here.” I gave Cer my own meaningful look; say another chauvinistic word, and I'll knock you on your furry ass. “Which you'd know if you weren't so damn busy demeaning women and tormenting my boyfriend for being awesome.”
Slate smirked at Cerberus, and Cer grimaced.
“You don't have to give me shit, El. I love women; you know that better than anyone,” Cer muttered. “And I'll bet no one's ever offered to cast his cock to make it into a sex toy.”
“Actually, they have,” Slate used his indifferent, zone lord tone. “Twice.”
“Bullshit,” Cerberus snapped.
Slate stared him down.
“Whatever; they probably offered because you're Mr. Big Time Zone Lord who everyone knows,” Cerberus circled right back to his original taunting as he shoved open Yolanda's front door. “It's just a marketing trick; Fuck your own zone lord dick.”
Slate chuckled under his breath and then winked at me before he followed the smack-talking Hellhound in.
Unlike Pick Your Poison, Spice of Life is bright and welcoming. The front windows display ritual daggers, wands, and amulets draped over crystal pedestals; as shiny as any classy, human boutique. Inside, herbs hung from the ceiling, drying in bunches, and those that were already prepared waited in bottles on shelves among other common spell components. The rarer items lounged in a glass case beside the register and on shelves behind it. Between the case and shelves of rarities, a woman perched on a wooden stool. She had dark hair pulled back from her sharply-angled face by a bone pick. It looked like a finger bone but it was too long to be human. Her chocolate gaze flicked over my group with interest, a flush blooming over her olive skin when she spotted Shavalina.
Yolanda stood up, bells and baubles clinking, and whisked around the counter in a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and frothy gypsy skirts. “A firebird in my shop; what a fascinating day this is turning into.”
“Hello, Yolanda,” I got the greeting and introductions out of the way first. “This is Shavalina. We're hunting people who are murdering her kind. Know anything about that?”
“Murder?” Yolanda lifted a thick brow as she looked my men over. “How delicious. Tell me more.”
“No, Yola, we're here for you to tell us more,” Cerberus took over. “You had a customer in earlier today; the Witch Leader of Fire.”
She frowned and blinked. “Yes; Osamu was here. So what?”
“What did he buy?” I asked.
“That's none of your—”
“Yolanda!” Cerberus growled.
“He bought some spell components,” Yolanda said in an obvious tone.”
“Don't make me ask again,” Cerberus' voice went into a truly dangerous zone; all the more dangerous for the lack of obscenities.
Yolanda paled, swallowed roughly, and whispered, “He bought basilisk venom; that was the only item of note.”
“Fuck!” I cursed.
“What's so terrible about basilisk venom?” Banning asked warily.
“It renders a victim immobile,” Yolanda explained.
“And it can interfere with free will,” I added.
“We need to speak to Osamu immediately,” Darcraxis announced.
“Thank you, Yolanda.” I handed her some cash. “Sorry about Cerberus.”
“It's fine, Elaria,” Yolanda drawled. “I know this dog won't actually bite; not as long as I pet him right.”
“Why does everyone always have to use dog euphemisms with me?” Cerberus grumbled as he stomped out. “And it's so much worse when they rhyme. What am I; a toddler? Is this playtime with Cerberus?”
Yolanda beamed at me as I giggled. She didn't realize that Cer's ire had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Slate upping him in the vibrator department. But I sobered quickly as I thought about Osamu. Why would he do this? Witch Leaders are known for their integrity. If I had been a witch, I never would have allowed the possibility of Osamu's betrayal to enter my mind. And if someone had brought it up to me, I would have reacted like Odin had; with horror and outrage.
Now, I was going to have to tell Odin that our suspicions were looking more and more like facts.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Odin wasn't offended by our insinuations anymore. When we found him, he was in the middle of the manor's entry hall, snapping at an earth witch while a group of other witches huddled nearby. He spotted us and waved the witches away. They went rapidly and with obvious relief.
“Osamu is missing,” Odin said immediately. “Him and several of our most powerful fire witches. He won't respond to phone calls or text, and
I haven't been able to pin down his location.”
I sighed and shared a look with Cerberus.
“What is it?” Odin looked back and forth between us. “What did you discover?”
“We just came from the Grand Bazaar,” I reported. “Osamu was there today as well; buying basilisk venom.”
“Fuck me sideways up a hill!” Odin shouted.
Cerberus made a small snicker, but I sent him a dark look, and he choked it down.
“I looked into those locations Banning gave me,” Odin added. “Osamu has visited areas near several. This isn't looking good, Elaria.”
