Our drinks arrive and I hold up my glass to toast the group – “Here’s to you two and for a safe homecoming. New Orleans here we come.”
The spicy warm goodness has barely coated my throat when I almost spit it back up due to the voice behind me.
“In a hurry to leave Merry Old London?” is a voice that can’t be anyone other than Clyde Smith’s. He steps around to face me. Shey is bowing up. Vets appears relaxed, but I know her – it’s a front, she’s ready to pounce.
“You sure make a mess wherever you go, Mr. MacInerny – that little business in Nottingham will go down in the annals, I’m sure.”
His smile is disarming. His tone is calm. I’m totally on edge, trying to scan for others.
“What are you drinking,” he inquires.
“Glenlivet”
“We can do better. I’ll get us a round of something more befitting the circumstances and myself a chair.”
Clyde walks off towards the bar. Vets nods to me to let me know she’s ready. “This is our time!” is Shey’s position on the matter.
Clyde scoots a chair around and our waiter delivers four golden glasses to us. Clyde takes bead on Vets. “Now, you’re one of those Cats-a-gars? Right?”
Vets corrects him. "It’s Vetisghar."
“No offense. I assume your sense of smell and taste is pretty evolved. Smell the Glenlivet Arthur ordered. Then smell the Lagavulin. Taste each the same way. Compare. You’ll get a good understanding of what good scotch is all about.”
I have to add my two cents, “Whichever one is better for you, is the one better for you.”
“How’s about my pen-wand Arthur?” He holds his hand out.
Crap.
“Well, uh...”
“Ah, left it in the room… probably in the safe given how valuable it is. Why don’t you go fetch it, I’ll keep the fine ladies here company and in drinks.”
Double crap.
“Well, uh Clyde, uh… the lady kind of took it. She said she was going to get it back to you.”
Clyde lets loose with a wicked little laugh, “So I heard. She’s not really happy with me, but then – when is she?”
“Stringing me on. Nice.” I put down my Glenlivet and raise the glass of Lagavulin to him.
“Thank you” he says “You really do squirm well.”
“So is this circumstance we meet again Clyde?”
Clyde takes a sip of the scotch whiskey. “No, I’m here to recruit you - and Karen. So, food and drinks on the Grace.” He nods his head and takes another sip, “Speaking of the red one, I hear they treated her in a most atrocious manner. I would sure like to have a few words with her.”
“She’s sleeping. Sil’s guarding her. Might check with her over morning breakfast, unless you want to deal with Sil in guard dog mode.”
Heck, we’re being recruited and it’s not involving being kidnapped or vaguely threatened – might as well return the courtesy. It must be the scotch… “Try her in the morning” I offer.
He nods acknowledgement then shifts the subject masterfully. “So, Vets isn’t it? Which do you prefer?”
“The first one.”
“Then we must try another.” He holds up his hand and asks the waiter to bring a round of Talisker, then he trains his eye back on me. “You know it’s funny that the Destroyer of Hope and Devourer of Souls hasn’t been leaving a trail of sucked dry dead human husks lying about. Or that he hasn’t brought about the disease, pestilence and hell fire he was so famous for. Why is that you think?”
Fishing. I know it. And I’m not falling for it either.
“Two answers,” I tell him. “Either it’s not him or he’s Maldy’s puppet and only doing as he’s told.”
We enjoy a quiet pause, which means Shey has to pipe up. “He’s trying to get us drunk.”
“Yes I am. Recruitment is one the part of my job I truly enjoy” says Clyde toasting her.
The next round arrives. I think I’ll let Clyde do his job. That would be the civilized thing after all. And we can use the break.
"So, Clyde, we should have something to nosh on too, don't you think?"
"Indeed sir, let us get a menu," he says back to me lifting his glass.
Chapter 64
One of the many good things about my summonlings is how their energies help me heal, so hangovers aren’t usually that bad. Thank God after all the rounds we put away. I called Karen’s room to make sure they were up – and they were. The plan is to grab our bags, meet downstairs for breakfast and catch that plane.
I call Shey and Vets as I talked Shey into allowing me my own space for the night. We meet down in the lobby. To his credit, Clyde is waiting in the lobby, with a newspaper – presumably waiting for his turn with Karen. I can only imagine his headache.
He gives me a kindly wave. Good luck there Clyde, I think to myself.
We grab seats in the restaurant, plus two, and wait for Sil and Karen. Finally, they arrive – Karen looking much like her old self, red curly hair bouncing about and decked out in all red. Sil was in her fatigues, but with a blouse over her spaghetti strap tee.
“Clyde find you,” I ask.
Karen gives me a smile, “Yes, he did. We spoke briefly – quite an offer he made. I understand you spoke at length last night.”
“More drinking than talking really.”
Sil giggles.
“Yea,” chimes a hurting Shey.
Breakfast comes and we all enjoy, chatting about this and that. It’s nice. Then there’s the feeling of a small elbow in ribs.
“Look at them all nicey nice” Shey whispers “Sil’s had her”
“I can hear you Sheyliene” is Karen’s much louder response.
The rest of breakfast goes without incident, thankfully. Now we need to get all the luggage, meet downstairs and head to Heathrow. Seems simple. Of course it can’t be. Sil has to take me aside.
“I don’t want to go to the white. I want to see London.”
I remind her I can call her into the airplane once we’ve passed security. She makes a good point in return.
“I’ve got maybe 10 hours before you get back home,” she says. “I can see a lot of London in that time. I can get stuff for the great greats too. Don’t you forget about them. I can stuff my pockets with all sorts of stuff for the family.”
I wrinkle my nose. “It doesn’t matter what you stuff in your pockets. When I return you and call for you it will all be left behind.”
If Sil’s smile was any bigger, it would swallow the whole hotel. “You know how Pffiferil is always just miraculously pulling his pipe weed and bottles of liquor out of nowhere? He told me how he does it – his thief bag. It’s some kind of dimension within a dimension kind of loophole. My leather skirt has three dimensional pouches in it. I just cram what I buy in there and when you re-summon me – there they are.”
Leave it to Pffiferil to figure that one out. What a smuggler, what a thief. What a buddy. He could have told me.
“Of course, you’ll need to send me away, then re-summon me. My skirt is long since gone,” she continues. “But I can deal with a little visit to the white. Just imagine, in the future we can put a gun in my skirt, you summon me in the airport and you’re past security, armed.”
The mistress of manipulation is at work, singing a pleasant tune of firearms in my ear.
I have to relent. She wants to be a tourist - I say that’s not a bad thing. She wants to get the family chotchkes, I say even better.
We head up to my room and I send her away, watching as her pants, tee and shirt fall to the ground. No panties of course. I immediately summon her back. Demon girl is standing there in corset and pleated leather skirt, wings, horns, pale white skin and purplish lips.
“Thanks.”
She reaches down and grabs the blouse, then shifts back to her human form. The blouse goes on over the corset and she buttons the bottom few buttons. “See… fashionable.”
We separate and I meet everyone downstairs –
luggage in tow. Again I am baggage boy. I should just accept my role.
After we pack up the van and settle in for the ride, Vets makes a proclamation. “I am staying with Silithes to see this town, London.”
No problem here, but it did take Shey back a step.
“They’re what?”
“I think she said they are staying back to see the sites,” Karen answers to Shey.
“More like to eat the boys.”
“I do not eat the boys,” Vets responds most seriously.
“Come with us Sheyliene,” Sil says. “It might be years and years until we get to see London again.”
To Shey’s credit, she actually seems to ponder that offer with a few tell-tale blinks. “Will we see those guards with the big furry hats?”
“First thing,” Sil shoots back to her.
“No eating boys or stuff like that?”
“Just touristy stuff.”
After what feels like a lengthy negotiation, Shey agrees to take in the sites. I explain the whole dimensional pocket thing to her and promise to give her one of the throwaway phones to take pictures with. Sil would store it in her skirt so she could share them later. That made Shey very excited – she loves to share.
We drop the van off at the rental center, and get some looks due to the lipstick marks on the top of the van’s ceiling. I am paying for that – well worth it though.
We clear the van, and find ourselves heading towards the personal airlines area via rental shuttle. Once we arrive I turn the bags over and am again accosted by my succubus.
“ATM time!” she sings at me. “You can’t have us running around London broke.”
Chapter 65
After withdrawing a small fortune we part ways - me with a huge cart of luggage and them with all my money. Well not all of it – it just feels that way. But hey, if Shey and Sil are going to play nice I’m not going to get in the way. I can only hope it translates to life after London.
We make our way through customs and to the tarmac where Edgar and a few of his bowler hatted gents await us. The jet is as sleek and modern as I would expect.
Edgar bellows out greetings to Karen and crushes her in a huge hug with kisses on the cheek and forehead. He turns, releasing her and reaches out to shake my hand.
“This will be much better than commercial,” he says. “Let us get inside.”
We follow our enthusiastic host into the plane, greet the pilot and make our way to the rear cabin. “You two sit down, make yourselves comfy and I’ll be back with you. There’s always a little business to attend to.”
Karen nods at him, “Hurry back Uncle Edgar.” Then she pulls a newspaper out of her carry-bag.
I forget sometimes how close Edgar and Grey were. And I forget that Edgar’s basically a part of Karen’s adoptive family too. Taking his hospitality and this flight feels even better to me. It’s like I can relax for a bit. If we’re not safe on this plane with this entourage, we’ll never be.
“Bloody hell, the world is coming apart at the seams,” Karen interjects.
I guess the news in the paper isn’t good. That’s no surprise.
“It’s not enough we have holy wars breaking out all over,” she says, “even the crime lords have to be at it – forty one dead in a St. Petersburg gang war.”
That stops me. St. Petersburg? I jog my memory - didn’t the Lady Jxsiga say something about a bloodbath in St. Petersburg if things didn’t go her way? She did. Absently I say something like, “yea.”
“What?” Karen asks me picking up on my tone.
I bring her up to speed with my run in with the Lady and the whole St. Petersburg thing. She lets me know that Sil told her a bit about our run in. But I hadn’t shared that little tid-bit about St. Petersburg with anyone.
“Well apparently the authorities claim that at least twenty highly trained persons laid waste to this club and the gang in it after hours. Wonder how many blow jobs that took?" Karen asks with a giggle.
I chuckle at her statement, but at the same time question it, as Jxsiga really didn’t come off that way. She seemed more like the kind that would have people doing her, not vice versa. But then again, the Cubati – they are a squirrely breed. So quote the one and only Znuul.
Karen settles into her newspaper and me my thoughts. One of those thoughts is transportation from the airport and luckily I have a driver of sorts – and his number in my memory. I call up my limo man and let him know that transportation will be needed and when.
Edgar joins us again, buckles up and advises us we should do same. Karen brings him up to speed with my comments about the potential involvement of the Lady Jxsiga in the St. Petersburg incident.
“I hate take-off, can we discuss the matter after?” Edgar asks “You know 90% of all airplane incidents occur on take-off or landing.”
Now I’m feeling uncomfortable. Karen just smiles. She’s probably been through this before. We’re all quiet as the plane moves, accelerates and takes off. Edgar’s eyes are closed and he is white-knuckling his chair’s arms. I’m feeding off his unease.
After we’re in the air and the pilot announces, “We are officially out of the 90% window,” Edgar relaxes, so I do too. “Sorry about that Arthur,” he tells me, “the odds bother me.”
“I think it’s cute, uncle,” Karen adds from behind her paper, “Every time.”
“On your observation of the St. Petersburg incident Arthur,” says Edgar changing the subject, “Percy emailed me an interesting bit of intelligence. Apparently, security camera feeds were hacked and it looks like there was only one assailant. That assailant may not be of human origin according to Percy. The Russian authorities are apparently choosing to not tell the truth stating that an attack squad assaulted the club.”
That gets Karen to put down her paper. “Are you saying she did that herself – that’s not how Cubati operate.”
Edgar looks at her seriously, “I know. Perhaps she seduced someone or summoned something to do her bidding, there is no telling. But according to Percy, one assailant is all the cameras show. “
Not how normal Cubati operate, I think to myself – she’s a sister of that dammed order. Another reminder that Silithes isn’t just your normal succubus. Another reminder that I have trouble on my hands, maybe more so than I thought.
“You guys ever hear of the Order of Nilisarna?”
They tell me “no.” I tell them what little I’ve learned. They seem very interested.
“Well, that little she-bitch may have taken matters into her own hands,” offers Edgar.
“Is the assailant on the video a five foot nothing waif of a girl,” I ask.
This gets a chuckle from Edgar, “Haven’t seen the video. I leave that to Percy. It’s true, she’s not very assuming, but let me tell you she’s deadly to the core. Her brother moreso.”
“She and her damned brother almost killed you and Grey, isn’t that so?” interjects Karen.
“They are cunning and unorthodox,” he replies “And yes, both Grey and I came to the conclusion that hunting them, means being hunted yourself.” He holds his arm out showing a jagged scar. “Compound fracture thanks to that little bitch. Her brother almost cut out Grey’s heart. We barely escaped. Of course we left them hurting just as bad, if not worse. We decided there were better ways to earn a reputation. Albeit - we were just pups then.”
I take that in. Edgar and Grey bested – or at least stalemated by those two. Sil’s advice to avoid Jxsiga at all costs seems to take on a deeper color and meaning now.
“Still,” says Karen, “That’s not how Cubati operate – they manipulate, have others do things for them. And as sensitive as their skin is, I can’t see one going full on into a firefight. They hate pain – with passion. Fighting is a last resort.”
Znuul’s words ring through my mind, “Special forces succubus.” I understand what Karen is saying, but I also know that Sil and Jxsiga aren’t garden variety Cubati either.
“So Arthur, where are you
and Karen going after New Orleans,” Edgar asks, changing the subject.
I do not want to lie to Edgar. But I can’t tell him where we are going or who we’re going to see. I’d love to, really – but that would compromise him and potentially Znuul too. So, I tell him what I can. “To catch up with Pffif and Arix. I can’t tell you where.”
Edgar smiles at me and leans in. “Well, why not Arthur?”
My eyes plead at him. “Edgar, sometimes stealth is required.”
“You are a trustworthy one, Arthur. Let me set you both at ease.”
He unbuckles his seat belt, walks over to the door, and leans into the next cabin. “I’m enacting the silence measures. Please knock first if you need me.”
He closes the door and touches a panel with his thumb. “Okay, we are secure now.” He sits back down and looks me straight in the eyes. Then he turns to Karen.
“Who do you think was the first person Ahtsag called after the destruction of the manor? When you called me about Karen, Arthur, I thought it was him again laying yet another potential nuclear incident on my shoulders.”
I relax in relief. “My, my Edgar”
“When Ahtsag called me after the leveling of the Chateau, he told me two things with great emotion. First that he was innocent and second to watch over Karen.” Edgar turns to Karen, “My dear, I apologize - I failed you in that regard. I tried to get you to the Americas, away from Alistair. I am so sorry. Really, I am.”
Karen smiles and looks at him sympathetically, “I understand Uncle Edgar. I do. Things are just so wrong now.”
Edgar turns back to me, “So, I know and now you know I do. In fact, my organization has been supplying your Pffiferil with parts for his 'world finding machine' he’s building. I know Ahtsag doesn’t want us knowing of each other, but, he’ll just have to understand. Grey was more than just a friend to me too – he was like a brother.”
I look at Edgar and then at Karen, who doesn’t seem nearly as surprised as me, and tell them, “Well don’t worry, that asshole Maldgorath is going to meet a very grisly death.”
The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series) Page 25
