“Yes,” he agreed blandly. “Now let’s go figure out what can go surprisingly poorly.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, as the elevator doors closed. “I’m sure we can find something.”
Six
“We aren’t exiles from the Covenant of St. George. We’re natives in our own country, and when that country is endangered, it’s our duty to dig in our heels and fight. If we aren’t willing to save ourselves, how can we expect anyone else to save us?”
—Alice Healy
The Freakshow, a highly specialized nightclub somewhere in Manhattan
“SO THIS IS WHAT the street-level entrance looks like these days,” I said, as Dominic and I approached the front door of the Freakshow.
It was painted to look like the mouth of a tent, with old-fashioned “carnival posters” pasted to the wall all around the ticket booth. I recognized myself in the middle of a cancan lineup, one painted leg eternally cocked at a come-hither angle that I hoped never to have to explain to my father. Sometimes I think the dangers of my mundane career outweigh the dangers of the career that’s more likely to get me actually killed. Vivisection hurts, but it can’t hold a candle to parental disapproval.
Dominic followed my gaze to the poster in question, quirking an eyebrow before he said, “Surely this can’t be the first time you’ve approached from the ground.”
“I hate taxis, subways freak me right the hell out, I don’t have a car, and no one who isn’t a bike messenger, certifiable, or both tries to ride a bike in Manhattan.” I shrugged. “I stick to the rooftops. It’s worked out pretty well for me so far.”
“You mean you haven’t reduced yourself to a street pancake due to a misjudged leap.”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? It’s worked out pretty well so far.” I flashed my ID at the girl in the ticket booth, another dragon I didn’t recognize. She looked up from filing her nails only long enough to confirm that I didn’t need to pay admission—and that, by extension, Dominic didn’t either—before rolling her eyes in disgust and pointing toward the door.
“One day you will have to tell me where you acquired this aversion to walking on solid ground,” said Dominic.
“Try having a baby sister whose idea of a good time involves pit traps and land mines,” I advised. The bouncer on duty opened the club door for us, and I smiled at him as we walked on through. “It’s amazing how fast that sort of thing will make you think it’s time for a return to the trees.”
The entry hall was decorated to match the door: green canvas tent fabric draped with strings of Christmas lights and little triangular banners obscured the walls and ceiling, making it seem like we were heading into the big top. Even the floor was covered in a layer of sweet-scented sawdust, reinforcing the carnival theme. I had to admire it as a cost-cutting measure. The cedar shavings were probably saving Kitty a fortune in air fresheners, and she could buy them from the Abatwa who lived under Broadway, which would save her even more. If you need a corner cut, talk to a bogeyman.
Ryan was on duty at the interior door, less to check the work of the first two gatekeepers and more to make it clear to any drunk businessmen looking for a little grab-ass that we were a respectable establishment that would kick your nuts into your nasal cavity if you so much as looked at one of the girls wrong. He blinked when he saw me come walking down the hall. He blinked again when he saw Dominic walking behind me.
“Verity?” he said, an uncertain note in his voice. “You’re on the ground. Are you okay?” His eyes flicked to my feet, not-too-subtly checking for a limp.
Dominic snorted. “You really were serious.” He stepped up next to me, offering Ryan a nod. “Hello again.”
“Twice in one night,” Ryan said, with a nod of his own. “You’re becoming a bad habit, De Luca. Very? Is this guy bothering you?” From his tone, he was hoping I’d say yes, giving him the excuse he wanted to kick Dominic’s ass.
I didn’t have the heart to tell Ryan that in a fight between him and Dominic, he was probably going to lose. Sure, he was a shapeshifting badass who could turn into a giant raccoon-dog-monster-thing and render his flesh practically impermeable, but Dominic was a heavily armed monster hunter. And when it’s supernatural powers versus cold, hard steel, I vote for the knives every time.
“He’s not bothering me, but we’re here to bother Kitty,” I said. “Do you think you could get somebody to take the door for you? I’d sort of like you to be there for this.”
Ryan blinked again. Then he nodded. “Sure. Why don’t you head on back, and I’ll see if I can get one of the other bouncers to come take over. Can Istas come, too, or is this a private party?”
“Istas should be in on this meeting, I think.” Istas and Ryan represented most of the club’s serious physical defenses. There was no reason not to include them as early as we could.
“Okay. We’ll be right there.”
I reached out to squeeze his elbow, offering a small smile, and led Dominic past him into the Freakshow proper.
The entry put us onto a low catwalk about five feet above the floor, providing a brief but panoramic view of the chaos below. I must have spent half my waking hours in the Freakshow, but that was as an employee. Now I was seeing it the way that a patron would, and that changed everything.
Girls in circus-themed outfits slithered through the crowd, in some cases literally, their cryptid attributes out in the open for everyone to see. Maybe some people thought the wings on the gargoyle girls were prosthetics, or that the sirens were into dyeing their hair, but the harpies? The bogeymen? It took an incredibly charitable—and potentially intoxicated—mind to mistake them for human women. On the stage, Jahi the wadjet was involved in a complicated dance with his snake dancer, Maibe. She gyrated her hips to the beat, seeming entirely unconcerned by the fact that she wasn’t wearing much beyond a fourteen-foot cobra.
Humans mixed freely with cryptids everywhere I looked. It was exactly the sort of scene the Covenant of St. George was dedicated to preventing. “We are so screwed,” I said, in a hushed tone.
“Almost certainly,” Dominic agreed. “This will trigger a purge of Biblical proportions.”
I shot him a look. “Way to be encouraging there, buddy.”
“I’m not here to be encouraging, Verity. I’m here to make sure you get through this alive. If that means a few more lives are preserved in the bargain, then so be it.” Dominic shrugged. “I am learning to accept your idiosyncrasies.”
“What’s sad is that for you, that’s really sweet.” Istas was passing through the crowd, heading back to the bar with an empty tray. I trotted quickly down the stairs, moving to intercept her before I could lose sight of her. “Istas!”
Istas turned at the sound of her name, a quizzical look on her face. The impression of utter confusion was assisted by her hair, which was up in two carefully curled pigtails, with clips of bright blue artificial hair wound through her natural glossy black. “Verity? I thought your shift ended.”
“It did.” I jerked a thumb toward Dominic. “He came to get me. It’s been an interesting night. Think you can take your break and come back to Kitty’s office? Ryan’s going to be there in a minute.”
Istas’ confusion faded, replaced by guarded hope. “Is this meeting a prelude to carnage?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid it probably is.”
“I will be right there,” Istas assured me, and turned to finish heading for the bar, a definite spring in her step. I sighed, shaking my head, and motioned for Dominic to follow me to the employee door on the far wall.
“She seems excited about the prospect of a slaughter,” murmured Dominic as we walked. His voice was barely audible above the thudding music coming from the club speakers.
“Yeah, well, that’s a waheela for you. She likes introducing people to their insides. Only when they deserve it,” I hastened to add. “I’ve never seen her actually get violent with someone who didn’t, you know, try to sacrifice me to a snake cult. Or grab her tits whil
e she was bussing tables.”
“Absolutely equal crimes,” said Dominic, with the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“They are if you ask most cocktail waitresses,” I said. The employee door at the Freakshow was never locked, since most people, even drunk, weren’t stupid enough to follow the monsters into their lair. I pushed it open, holding it for Dominic. “After you.”
* * *
Kitty was still using her uncle’s old office, since it was well located and already had a desk and a functioning computer. Bogeymen aren’t as inclined toward penny-pinching as dragons are, but there was really no point in remodeling if it wasn’t necessary. That wasn’t all that she’d kept of her uncle’s. I stopped in the hall, sighing as I saw the solid bank of darkness that blocked the office door.
“She has the darks on,” I said.
Dominic frowned. “The what?”
I glanced at him. “Have you ever noticed how some cryptids manage to live shrouded in eternal darkness, even in the middle of the day in Alaska? Caves with pools of unexplainable shadow, houses where the lights never seem to come all the way on, that sort of thing?”
“Yes . . .”
“Darks. Diurnal species turn on lights, and nocturnal species turn on darks. Witches make a lot of money off these things.” I pitched my voice a little louder as I added, “And if Kitty thinks I’m coming in there while she has the darks on, she’s as crazy as her uncle.”
“Oh, come on, Verity,” said Kitty’s voice. It came from somewhere barely inside the door. I didn’t jump. It was a close thing. “I’ve never knocked you out and sold you as a human sacrifice. Have a little faith, why don’t you?”
“You make me wear a corset. It’s almost as bad.”
The darks clicked off, replaced by normal overhead lighting. Kitty looked at us impassively. “Your concept of scale never fails to astonish me.” She turned her attention on Dominic. “Covenant. You’re on private property, you know.”
“I will endeavor to behave myself,” Dominic informed her.
I bit my lip to keep from grinning. “Kitty, I know you’re trying to be all intimidating and stuff, but that might work a little bit better if you weren’t wearing fuzzy Elmo slippers. Just as a tip.”
Kitty paused, her gaze following mine to her feet, which were encased in effigies of a particular red-furred Muppet. The slippers matched her flannel pajamas in theme, if not in specific character, and I had to wonder (somewhat enviously) where she’d been able to find Super Grover jammies in an adult size. “Okay,” she said finally. “Maybe that does undermine my authority a little bit. But, Verity, you know I don’t like him. What the hell would have possessed you to bring him here on purpose?”
“Ryan and Istas are going to be joining us in a minute, and then I’ll be happy to explain everything,” I said. “I don’t want to start without them.”
Kitty paused again, this time for substantially longer. She looked from me to Dominic and back to me before she asked, “How bad?”
“Bad enough that I’m standing in front of your office an hour before closing time with a man from the Covenant of St. George in tow,” I said. “Seriously, it would be best if we could go inside and shut the door. I’m trying not to start a panic.”
“I remember a time when your boyfriend could start a panic by breathing,” said Ryan, walking up behind us. Istas was with him. The only sign that she’d gone off duty was her apron, which was now frilly lace, rather than industrial canvas. “I guess you’re a bad influence.”
“I know she’s a bad influence,” said Dominic. Now that it was him, me, and three cryptids, he was starting to look less sure about what he was doing.
I grabbed his wrist before he could change his mind. “Into the office. It’s conference time.”
* * *
It took Dominic less than ten minutes to explain what was going on, and what was important enough to bring us back to the Freakshow. It took me another twenty minutes to get everyone to stop yelling. Kitty was demanding answers. Ryan was demanding someone’s head on a platter. Istas was just yelling because everyone else was yelling, and it seemed like the thing to do.
Eventually, everyone calmed down. A few questions were asked. A few answers were given. And things proceeded to take a turn for the weird, which is like taking a turn for the worse, but doesn’t necessarily involve cleaning your knives afterward.
See, the Covenant of St. George did get one major thing right when they wrote their files on the world’s cryptids: all cryptids are essentially different from humans, because they’re entirely different species. We may be similar enough to work in the same places, watch the same TV shows, and complain about the same tax increases, but we’re not the same. We can’t be.
So it only goes to reason that cryptids will occasionally have reactions that any reasonable human would view as completely and unequivocally batshit crazy. “You can’t be serious,” said Dominic, staring at Kitty.
“I’m dead serious,” said Kitty.
“Possible stress on the ‘dead’ there,” said Ryan.
Kitty ignored him. “Look. You say the Covenant is sending people to check on you, and that when they find out how little progress you’ve made, they’re probably going to purge Manhattan. Great. Do you have any idea what kind of cryptid population this city has?”
“No, he doesn’t, and you’re not going to tell him,” I said hurriedly. Dominic raised an eyebrow. I patted him on the arm. “You’re earning a lot of points tonight, but there are still some things I don’t think we should be sharing just yet.”
Dominic sighed. “Much as I’d like to argue, with my fellows coming to town, I’m afraid that Verity is correct. If they suspect that I’ve been . . . compromised . . . they have ways of getting me to reveal any information that they desire.”
“You know where the club is located,” noted Istas. “We should kill you to preserve that information.” She smiled. Somehow, that didn’t help.
“There will be no killing of my boyfriend,” I said firmly. “I’m not killing yours, you’re not allowed to kill mine.”
Istas considered this for a moment before allowing, “That seems fair.”
“If we could get back to the point here?” said Kitty. “I meant what I said. There are too many cryptids in this city for even the Covenant to kill. I will not run. I will not let them win. And the Freakshow will not be closing its doors.”
“Kitty—” I began.
“Boss—” Ryan began.
“Surely—” Dominic began.
“QUIET!” Kitty’s time as a wanna-be rock star served her well; when she shouted in an enclosed space, you knew damn well and good that somebody was shouting at you. “Everybody who doesn’t own this club, shut the hell up and listen to me. You,” she thrust a finger at Dominic, “had no trouble finding this place even before you started fooling around with Verity. You know why? Because my uncle wouldn’t know discretion if it bit him on the ass. He advertised too widely, and we got a reputation for having freaky girls. All I’ve done is build on that reputation.”
“Which is why you need to close for the duration,” said Dominic.
“Which is exactly why I don’t need to close for the duration,” said Kitty. “Too many people know we’re here. If we close, we might as well be putting up a big sign that says, ‘Oh, hey, that club that had the fake monsters? They were real monsters.’ We’ll become the all-you-can-kill cryptid buffet. But if we stay open . . .”
“Hiding in plain sight,” I said, finally grasping what she was trying to say. “I’m an idiot. You want to do exactly what I did on TV.”
Kitty tapped the side of her nose with one over-long finger. “At last, Miss Verity Price decides to join the party!”
“It’s been a long night.” Before I came to New York, I went to Los Angeles. Not to study the local cryptids: to appear on reality television. I was a contestant on the nation’s highest-rated dance competition show, Dance or Die, under the name “Valerie P
ryor.” I put on a red wig and green contact lenses, and I cha-cha’d my way into America’s hearts. Far enough into their hearts to take second place anyway, and while that wasn’t as good as winning, it was pretty decent.
“May I have an invitation to this ‘party’ that you’re talking about?” asked Dominic.
“It’s important that you guys—the Covenant, I mean—continue thinking that my family died out two generations ago,” I said. “That’s why when you’ve seen me at dance competitions, I’ve been wearing a wig and using a fake name. It’s hiding in plain sight.”
“We slap some latex on the girls who look mostly human, and we give the girls who look too inhuman to pass a few weeks off,” said Kitty. “More importantly, we give people a place to run if they need to.”
“And if the Covenant comes looking for cryptids in a place where they have been known to gather?”
“They’ll find a bunch of humans in prosthetics and stage makeup.” Kitty looked at him calmly. “Bogeymen have a reputation. I’d have to be blind not to see that you expect me to cut and run because my uncle did. But the thing most people forget is that we run from your homes. We run from your places. We don’t run from our own. We stay.”
“Perhaps there will be the opportunity for carnage,” said Istas.
I sighed. “See, that’s what I was hoping to avoid. Carnage is bad for business.”
“My business,” said Kitty. “If they want to bring the carnage to us, let them. We’ll be ready.”
Judging by the looks on their faces—Istas anticipatory, Ryan grim, and Kitty just determined, like there was nothing in the world that could sway her—if the Covenant decided to come to the Freakshow, they were going to get a lot more than they had bargained for. I just hoped that the right people would be the ones standing at the end of it all.
Seven
“When everything else fails, smile big, shoot sharp, and remember that a lady never needs to say she’s sorry.”
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