Clean Sweep

by Ilona Andrews

  "Have any of you ever hired an assassin?" Caldenia raised her teacup to her lips, holding it with her long fingers. Her nails, manicured and carefully shaped, still resembled claws.

  "No," Arland said.

  Sean shook his head.

  "A messy business. If you do hire one for something sensitive, then you have to have him killed, and then you have to get someone else to kill the killer... It's like dominoes. There is no end to it." Caldenia shrugged. "A good assassin always keeps insurance. Some sort of token, some evidence that will permit him to threaten his employer should he find himself in danger of being eliminated, which aforementioned employer, if he is smart, should definitely attempt."

  "It's a Catch-22," Sean said.

  "A dilemma," Caldenia said. "Most employers seek to eliminate the assassin after the job is completed, and most assassins, predictably, wish to remain alive. With that in mind, ask yourself why is the dahaka here?"

  "I don't follow." Arland frowned.

  "Why hasn't he returned to his planet, filled with other dahakas?"

  "We don't know if it's a he," I murmured.

  "Always assign a gender to an adversary," Caldenia said. "It keeps you from thinking you're dealing with a dumb animal. Why does he remain here on a neutral world, risking discovery, when he could be enjoying the fruits of his labor on his own planet where he is untouchable?"

  Good question. "Perhaps he can't go home? Maybe he's banished, but even then, he should be moving on, not hanging around."

  Caldenia nodded and glanced at Arland. "Remind me, what happens when a craft enters the atmosphere of your particular planet?"

  "The procedure is the same for all six planets in the Holy Anocracy," Arland said. "The orbital defenses challenge the craft, which then transmits a passcode by means of a House crest. As the craft descends into the territory of a particular House, the air defenses challenge it in turn. Again, the crest transmits a passcode. For example, we temporarily permitted members of House Gron to enter our atmosphere for the week it took to attend the wedding festivities."

  Oh no. "Can the House crest be duplicated?" I asked.

  "No. It's genetically coded to each ranking member of the House and it evolves with the deeds of the bearer. It's a communication unit, an emergency power supply, and many other things. A vampire would never part with..."

  Caldenia smiled at her tea.

  Arland fell silent. "I'm an idiot."

  "The dahaka has a House crest," Sean guessed.

  "That's the only way he could have passed through the House air defenses. We thought he was smuggled in, but we couldn't find any record of a ship returning or taking off in the specific window of the murder. Of course, if he had a crest, we wouldn't know. The transmissions from House crests work like a key: they unlock the safe passage, but there is no record of which ones are activated when."

  "Seems like a security oversight," Sean said.

  "We don't like to be tracked. If the dahaka has a crest, he could've dropped into the wilderness, walked out, killed my aunt, and taken off again."

  Muscles flexed along Arland's frame. He looked like a cat about to pounce. His eyes shone with red. "To sink so low as to let an outsider have possession of your crest. It is akin to a violation of the House. Whoever did it had to be desperate."

  "That's right," Caldenia said. "You are finally thinking in the right direction."

  "He still has it," Arland snarled. "He still has the crest or he couldn't have left the planet."

  "If you get ahold of it, would you know who it belongs to?" Sean asked.

  "Yes."

  Arland flashed his fangs and I felt an urge to move back. Beast snarled under my chair. There it was, the real vampire. An unstoppable, furious killer. That's what made them so good at war. If they didn't fight between themselves so much, they could've conquered their corner of the galaxy a long time ago.

  "On Earth when we hire contractors, we pay them half up front," I said. "And half later, when the job is done."

  "We have the same practice," Arland said.

  "So if he still has the House crest...," I began.

  "He's waiting for the owner to come and pick it up," Sean said. "The crest is his insurance. He trades it for the rest of the money and departs. That's why he's hanging around here. He can't go home because the vampires won't follow him there and he wants his money."

  "And he can't stay in the Holy Anocracy, because any dahaka sighted would be instantly detained," Arland said. "Whose crest does he have, that is the question. Is it Gron or is it Krahr?"

  Caldenia leaned forward, her face suddenly sharp. "Think. Think about your uncle."

  Arland's eyes narrowed. "The dahaka wanted to kill him. Why...? It couldn't be a kill of conquest. The dahaka had already bested my uncle and had nothing to prove. It couldn't be a trophy hunt, because being an assassin requires discipline beyond collecting trophies and nothing was taken from my aunt's body. The dahaka kills for money."

  The pieces clicked in my head. I glanced at Caldenia. "Bonus."

  She nodded.

  Arland paced. "The dahaka would be paid extra for my uncle. Soren was a specific target. If a third party wanted to drive a wedge between Krahr and Gron, they had already succeeded. Why pay extra for my uncle? For the same reason, if Gron was responsible for the murder, killing Soren makes no sense. He is pro-Gron and he stands firmly with me and the leadership of the House, but he isn't the main policy maker. If someone from Gron wanted Soren eliminated for personal reasons, they would've challenged him directly. There is no honor in assassination."

  Arland stared into space. I could almost feel his brain straining.

  "If Soren is removed, his assets and control of his troops pass to Renadra. She's young and doesn't have the seniority, so under normal circumstances she would likely support whatever decision the leadership of the House makes, but she also adores her father, so if he were killed and Gron were blamed, she would seek retribution. Her maternal grandmother is the Blood Archimandrite of the Crimson Abbey. Before the war between Gron and Krahr could begin, the Pact has to be broken. It takes a dispensation from a high knight of the church to dissolve a Pact of Brotherhood. Renadra's grandmother would qualify. Renadra is the only female grandchild she has and she is very fond of her. She would grant her this favor. The Archimandrite would bless this war."

  "Would Gron know this?" Sean asked.

  "No." Arland's voice was quiet and vicious. "They wouldn't."

  "You know who it is," Caldenia said, her voice confidential, persuasive. "You've avoided the answer because it's painful to contemplate. The person is a relative, a friend. But you've seen the signs, the small things, the whispers of discontent, the wrong expression on someone's face. Let it come to you. You can't prove it, but this isn't about proving it, it's about knowing it."

  Arland stared at her. His eyes glowed with pure, intense red, like the eyes of a nightmarish jungle cat staring from the gloom at the intruder into his territory. The hairs on the back of my neck rose.

  "The dahaka is expecting to be paid," Arland said. "The traitor won't have his crest, but he can send a code that would make the crest respond. So can I. That's how we find our dead."

  Caldenia nodded. "There is hope for you yet, my boy."

  "What if I am wrong?"

  She shrugged. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But do be right."

  "It's still only the two of us against him and his stalkers," Sean said.

  "Three," I told him.

  The vampire and werewolf stared at me with an identical expression on their faces.

  "No," Sean said.

  "Absolutely not," Arland agreed. "You are at your weakest away from the inn."

  "Then don't let him lure you too far from the inn," I said. "You will need me."

  "Dina, it will take the two of us to keep him occupied," Sean said quietly. "The stalkers will be swarming us. Arland's wearing armor and I have enhanced regeneration. You have neither. They will key on you a
nd there is not a lot I can do about it."

  "I might have something that will help with stalkers," I said. "Depending on how much money I can pool together."

  "House Krahr is not without means," Arland said.

  "I'll let you know if I exhaust my own."

  Arland nodded. "If we are to lure the dahaka, we'll need someplace secluded, away from witnesses and with room to move, but not too far from the inn."

  "There's a field behind her orchard." Sean said. "It's secluded and hidden by the trees from all sides."

  "Yes, it used to be a horse pasture a long time ago. The fence is gone, but I keep the grass mowed," I said. "How do you know about it?"

  "I've mapped your entire property," Sean said. "It's in my territory."

  Of course.

  Arland rose. "I would like to examine this pasture."

  "I'll come with you," Sean said.

  Good idea. There was no telling where Arland would end up if left to his own devices.

  The vampire headed to the door. Sean stopped by my chair. "I don't want you to get hurt."

  "I appreciate your concern."

  He frowned. "We need to talk about this. In private."

  "I'm going shopping in half an hour or so. You're welcome to join me."

  He nodded and went after Arland.

  I drank the last of my now-cold tea.

  "Going shopping?" Caldenia asked.

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  "Would you like a few names?"

  "No, thank you." I got up. I'd need to put on something more than just a robe for the trip. If I was lucky, this trip would only wipe out my savings and leave my legs and arms intact.

  "Dina?"

  I turned.

  The older woman smiled. "Why are you helping them?"

  "Because the safety of the inn and its guests is now in jeopardy."

  "And the fact that both of them are heartbreakers has nothing to do with it?"

  "They are very nice to look at. But the dahaka threatened me in my own house. That I will not tolerate." The vicious edge in my voice was kind of surprising.

  Caldenia laughed quietly.

  I went to get dressed. I'd need good boots for this.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was dressed and ready to go when Sean walked through the door of the inn. He saw me and his eyebrows crept up. I wore a dark purple T-shirt, jeans, and heavy boots. I also wore a belt with a large knife on it.

  I picked up my robe and slipped it on over my outfit. It would be hot, but there was no help for it. "Where is Arland?"

  "Rapunzel decided to walk around in the woods to get 'the feel of the battleground.' He won't leave the grounds and he promises to defend the inn with 'all the strength in his body.' I told him if he gets in trouble, he should try singing prettily so his woodland friends will come to the rescue. I don't think he got it."

  "Are you ready to go?" I asked.

  "Sure."

  I picked up a large gray cloak off the chair and held it out for him. He came over.

  "Why?"

  "Because when people don't know exactly what weapons you're carrying or where your money is, they're less likely to assault you."

  "Should I expect to be assaulted?"

  "It's not out of the realm of possibility."

  I draped the cloak over his shoulders and fastened it in the front. It hid him neck to toe.

  I glanced up and saw him looking back at me with amber eyes. That was a mistake. The eyes caught me, mesmerizing, full of some strange wildness, dangerous but so alluring. It was always there, but usually he kept it half-hidden, especially once the vampires showed up. I had caught glimpses of it, like the flash of a wolf darting between the trees, but now, without warning, the wolf turned and stared back at me with amused interest as if daring me to come for a closer look.

  Alarm streaked through me.

  I was standing too close.

  And I was touching him.

  Sean wasn't a tame kind of wolf. I had no business staring into his eyes.

  "Where exactly are we going shopping?" he asked quietly. His lips curled slightly.

  He knew exactly what he was doing, looking at me like that.

  I dropped my hands, stepped back, and smiled. "To Baha-char. Follow me."

  I picked up my broom, swiped my backpack off the floor, and went down the hallway. Beast ran ahead of me. Hair-thin cracks glowing with electric blue formed on the shaft, and the broom flowed, shaping itself into a knobby staff. A razor-sharp crescent blade formed at its top with a fist-sized sphere in the middle. I shouldered my backpack, adjusting its weight on my back.

  "Let me carry that," Sean said.

  "You can't carry it. You're my bodyguard. You might need your hands free."

  "It's not a purse. I'm not going to carry it in my hands." He held his hands up. "I'm going to put it on my back."

  Judging by his face, it would be easier just to let him have it. He wouldn't settle down until he'd taken it from me.

  I passed the bag to him. "Do you have to be difficult about everything?"

  "Only about things that matter." He slung the backpack on his shoulder.

  "Stay close to me. Please don't wander off. Please don't start fights. If someone assaults you, it's okay to kill them, although if you don't have to use maximum force, I would appreciate it if you didn't. "

  The doorway ahead of us swung open. Bright light spilled into the hallway.

  "Ready?"

  "I was born ready."

  I motioned to the door with a sweep of my hand. He stepped through and I followed him into the light.

  * * *

  The heat enveloped me, the dry relentless heat of a savanna in the middle of the dry season. For a moment I could see nothing except the bright sunlight that filled the space, golden yet somehow with a light lavender tint. Then the large, pale yellow tiles that lined the road in front of me came into focus. A moment later and I saw tall buildings rising on both sides of the street. Built with sand-colored stone and decorated with geometric tiles, they stretched toward the sky, fifteen floors high, each equipped with a collection of terraces, balconies, ledges, and bridges decorated with the same geometric tiles and drowning in greenery. Here and there bright burgundy, gold, and turquoise banners flapped in the breeze between odd vines climbing down the walls. We stood in a deserted alley. A hum came from somewhere ahead.

  Sean blinked at the sun and glanced at me. "This is real, right?"

  I closed the door to the inn and started down the alley. "Keep up, Mr. Wolf."

  The alley narrowed, turned, and opened into the street.

  Sean froze.

  A busy thoroughfare the size of a six-lane highway stretched into the distance. The terraced buildings rose high on both sides of it, their textured ledges and balconies filled with plants. Stone bridges spanned the street, dangerously high. Merchant stalls sprouted here and there under bright canvas cloth, offering strange fruits in ornate crates, robotic parts, high-grade cybernetics, perfume, paint, caged creatures, weapons, and jewelry. Open doors under glowing signs invited shoppers, and the merchants waved holographic images of their wares at the crowd in the street.

  A mass of creatures moved through it all, colorful, varied, and loud. Some were human, some furry, some feathered, others wrapped in cloth or armor. The air vibrated with hundreds of haggling voices and sounds of boots, hooves, and claws scraping the tiles. The breeze brought the aroma of cooked meat, tart and bitter spices, and the multilayered, complex scents of the crowd.

  Above it all in the purple sky, a colossal lavender planet rose, ethereal and pale. Huge chunks of it hung motionless, separated from the main mass, as if the planet had been made of clay and someone had shattered its edge with a precise blow of a hammer.

  "What is this?" Sean whispered next to me.

  "The Node. This is Baha-char. The place to buy things."

  He looked shell-shocked. His nostrils flared. He must've been sorting through all the different scen
ts. I'd been coming to the Node since I was five years old. For me it was exciting but familiar. For him, with all the different noises, smells, and creatures, it was probably overwhelming.

  "Come on." I stepped into the traffic. He followed me. We turned right and moved with the flow of the crowd. Beast trotted a few steps ahead of us, clearly in charge of the expedition.

  To the left a small hooded creature darted through the crowd. A tall woman, skeletally thin and wrapped in hundreds of silvery chains, chased after it, yelling. The creature zigzagged and veered right. The woman tried to follow and collided with a large cloaked creature. He whirled around, his face an odd meld of dinosaur and human, and lunged at her. The woman howled and raked him with long claws. They ripped into each other, rolling on the ground. The crowd parted around them and kept moving, leaving them snarling and growling.

  "Fun place," Sean said.

  "Whatever you're looking for, you will find it at Baha-char," I said. "That includes trouble."

  We crossed the street and turned left into one of the side streets, which was only slightly less wide. Here the traffic was lighter. To the left and slightly in front of us, two men walked shoulder to shoulder. The first wore leather pants, a white shirt with wide sleeves, and a leather vest over it. A wide leather bracer enclosed his left forearm. His hair, a rare blond shade, almost gold, hung in a ponytail down his back. He moved with a casual aristocratic elegance, perfectly balanced. Watching him, you had a feeling that if the road suddenly became a tightrope, he would just keep on walking without breaking a stride. My father moved like that. I sped up a little. We drew even and I saw a slender sword on his waist. That's what I thought. An expert swordsman.

  I glanced at his face and blinked. He was remarkably handsome.

  The man to his left was larger, his shoulders broader, his body emanating contained aggression. He didn't walk, he stalked, and you could tell by the way he moved that he would be very strong. His auburn hair looked like he'd rolled out of bed, dragged his hand through it, and gone on about his day. He wore dark pants and a black leather jacket that was more doublet than motorcycle. A ragged scar crossed his left cheek and when he turned his head, his eyes shone with yellow. Interesting.