Fae:Generations (Heirs of the Vegas Fae Book 1)

by Tom Keller

  "Message received, Nik," I replied, watching her walk back to her car.

  "What was that about?" Jesse asked.

  "Just being the overprotective big sister," I said, walking back to our ride. "But she also just offered up her resources should we need them."

  "Too bad we can't take her up on that," Jazzy interjected. "We could use a few of those Fae resources now and then. Especially when it comes to getting more equipment. But the office would have a fit if we started doing that."

  "Yes, they would," I said, agreeing with her. "But fortunately, equipment isn’t going to be a problem anymore."

  "What are you up to, Jefe?" Jesse asked, glancing up from his phone. "Or do I even want to know why I just got a text from my father that says, Booty? LOL."

  I gave Jazzy an address on Paradise as we pulled away from the curb.

  "I'm almost afraid to ask," Jazzy confessed, then continued in a suggestive tone. "But what kind of booty are we talking about here?"

  "Whoa? What?" Jesse retorted. "I never said I said booty! Why do I get the feeling I'm being blamed for something I don’t even know about?"

  "Oh, ye of little faith," I replied, as Jazzy began to laugh. "I don’t think your father was being critical. Surprised maybe, but not critical."

  I let him drone on for a bit. When we were about 5 minutes away, I decided I'd let him go on long enough.

  "Jesse, you were the one that told me about the 55's Witch and Demon hunter days before technology kicked in. Did you dig any deeper, or was that all you learned?"

  "I'm not sure what you're getting at," he confessed. "I've read some of the history. How else would I know about the weapons part? Why?"

  "Because you got me thinking on that one," I admitted. "I did some research on my own, with a little help. Like you said, it was an earlier time and they did things differently in those days. You'd be amazed at what kind of things are forgotten over the years. Forgotten, but still applicable in the current circumstances."

  "Uh huh," he said, confused. "Are you letting us in on this revelation any time soon, or are you keeping it as a surprise?"

  "Okay," I said, suppressing a laugh. "It seems that back in the early days, Witch hunters weren't paid a salary. Instead, they got a share of the booty, hence the text from your father. 50%, to be exact, minus taxes and expenses. So, last night, I filed a claim for our cut of the booty for one Demon sent to Hell. Then I called my attorney to set up a corporation, for our own protection, of course. There's still a few odds and ends to clean up. Some paperwork to sign, that kind of thing. But it's all legal and proper. So, equipment isn’t going to be a problem anymore."

  "You did all this last night?" Jazzy asked, pulling into Cromwell's parking lot. "And where did you find out that Syrach had a hoard stashed away? I never saw anything like that."

  "Yeah," Jesse said. "How did that come up? And where were we when all this was going on?

  "It wasn’t Syrach," I said, as Jazzy pulled into a space. "You guys were doing research of your own, and remember, time works differently in Fae. I did most of it from there. Anyway, to make a long story short, I cut cards with a Demon from Hades. Well, she's technically a Demon, although she's actually a Cyclops. But she and Hades both qualify under the rules. I checked to make sure. Anyway, I won, she lost, and since we're a team, we all split the booty."

  "I am totally confused," Jazzy said. "How do you kill a Cyclops cutting cards?"

  "The exact verbiage is, sent back to the hellfire from whence they spawned, so killing her wasn't necessary. Hold that thought," I said, getting out of the Jeep and walking up to the Fae attorney, Gerry Cornwall, who had just come out of the building. I'd sent him a text when we arrived. We had a short conversation, then walked back to the Jeep together. Jesse and Jazzy got out when we approached.

  "Mr. Ordunez, Miss Chibeaux, a pleasure to meet you," he said, handing each a black leather portfolio. "You'll find everything in order. Please sign the documents where indicated. I will handle the rest."

  "What exactly am I signing here?" Jesse asked, looking confused as he thumbed through the papers.

  "You didn't tell them?" Cornwall asked, looking over his shoulder at me.

  "I thought I'd keep it as a surprise," I replied, a mischievous grin on my face.

  "You are definitely your father's son," he said, shaking his head before turning back to the others. He began pointing to the papers. "What we have here are corporate formation and banking records, as well as distribution of funds notifications, and a few other documents related to your positon at the EAB. All perfectly legal. I've also included confirmation of such from your agency, as well as a breakdown of costs and taxes, plus my fees, all paid in advance, of course."

  They both looked confused.

  "Let me assure you," he continued. "This is all standard documentation. I handle quite a lot of these types of matters for persons of your lineage. Including all three of your parents, not to mention contract work for the EAB. Trust me, everything is correct."

  Jesse didn’t seem convinced. He scrolled through the papers, finally stopping, and pointing at something on one of the pages.

  "Wait, wait, wait, wait," Jesse stammered. "This says we're giving up our salary. I can’t give up my salary. What am I gonna live on? How am I going to pay my insurance?"

  "That's not entirely accurate," Cornwall observed, clearing his throat. "While you are indeed forfeiting the salary paid by the government in lieu of a percentage of profits, you'll note that it, as well as insurance and retirement benefits, will continue to be paid into their respective funds on an annual basis. In advance, I might add. Don't worry, my office will handle all the details."

  "What does that mean? Who pays in to it?"

  "The corporation does," he continued, pointing to the page. "As you can see here, on line 13, these figures represent the funds already transferred to those accounts. If you are concerned, there is an addendum that notes that should you return to a regular assignment, you will once again be eligible to receive the standard salary amount from your employer, as listed on the federal wage scale, something your corporation will do for now. But the truth is, it hardly matters at this point."

  "What do you mean it hardly matters?" he insisted. "It matters to me!"

  "Mr. Ordunez," Cornwall replied. "You are what? A GS-14? That is indicative of a base salary of approximately $125.000.00. There are of course, other additional amounts, such as prepaid overtime, etc. Let's just call it $150,000, shall we? After taxes and other deductions, you'll be lucky if you pocket a million dollars in the next 10 years. Would that be a fair assessment?"

  "I guess," he admitted. "Why?"

  "Please look at the last page," he said. "Addendum eight, I believe it is. Entitled Disposition of… ahem… Booty. The figures are estimates based on current values. The appraisals are attached should you wish a more complete review. We won’t actually dispose of individual items for sale until needed, but they do accurately reflect the corporation's net worth as of this morning. As an owner of the company, you do indeed draw a salary. However, you are also entitled to your percentage of the corporation's assets. Which, by the way, is 33%."

  "I've never heard of taaffeite, and what's a red diamond?" Jesse asked, reviewing the list of assets. "Some of these are listed at close to a million dollars a carat!

  "Who cares," Jazzy said, having patiently listened to the entire exchange. "It says here we have over 26 million, after expenses. That's good enough for me. Just sign the damn thing, will you?"

  "26 mil…" He began to say, then Jazzy slapped him upside the head. "Pinche! Fine!" He picked up the pen. "I'll sign it!"

  "Thank you," Cornwall said, collecting the notebooks. He handed each of us an envelope. "You'll find bank cards and other assorted items in these. Petty cash has already been placed into your safe, as directed by Mr. Hoskins. I suggest you change the combination when you take possession. Wards wouldn't be a bad idea either, but I leave that to you. If there is nothin
g else, I bid you good day."

  "What just happened?" Jesse asked, as I pulled the Jeep behind the RV that was parked in the lot a few spaces down from us.

  "Let's talk inside," I said, not completely done with the surprises yet. I walked up to the 36-foot Bounder and met Michael's guy, who was waiting by the open door. Receiving the keys, and a list of items and instructions, I thanked him, and waved the two of them over to meet me inside.

  "You had time to go out and buy a motorhome last night, too?" Jazzy asked.

  "Not exactly," I replied, stepping up into the RV. "I called in a favor. I found it on the Internet and had one of Michael's guys pick it up this morning. Same way I got the Jeep and the other SUV that's being delivered to Nikki's house. You can get whatever you want if you're not happy with what you're driving. Anyway, the corporation owns it now. I had it fully stocked, so we just need to grab our gear and head up to Ashton when we're ready. It's got a queen size bed, two bunks, and a bath and a half. That way, sleeping and other accommodations won’t be an issue. We can fight over the bed if you want."

  "Like hell!" Jazzy said, glancing into the bedroom. "I'm claiming that as mine." She looked over at me and grinned. "At least when we're using this thing together."

  I closed the door and sat down at the table, gesturing for Jesse to do the same. He was still reeling from information overload, so I figured we needed to get this conversation behind us. Now.

  "What's the problem, Jesse? I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

  "Carnal? Are you kidding me?" He replied, sounding frustrated. "You just kill a Demon on your own time and suddenly we're all rich? How does that happen? How is that even legal? Shit like that doesn’t happen in the real world."

  "Excuse me?" Jazzy said, butting in. "The real world? Give me a break. You're a Wizard and you fight fucking Demons for a living. Which real world are you talking about?"

  "Okay, Jess," I replied, calmly. "But Jazzy's right. You've got to stop and remember exactly what kind of world we live in. Let me put it all on the table. One time, and then we're done with it. If you're not convinced, you can bow out and transfer to another unit. Hell… we'll buy you out… full price, or for a dollar. Whatever makes you happy. Deal?"

  "You can't understand," he continued.

  "Bullshit, man," I replied. "You know I can. You know my history. I thought I was just a human until not too long ago. Remember?

  "Yeah," I guess."

  "Okay. First off. I didn’t kill the Demon. I simply took advantage of the rules to send a Cyclops back to Hades, and it was voluntary. As for the money? Five pounds of rare gemstones and assorted platinum and gold she left behind. All of it was impounded according to the rules of the 55, and the EAB.

  "Okay, I admit, it sounds like cheating. But I ran it all by Cornwall, and a few others before I did it, and the EAB signed off on it as well. Stop thinking like a human. That money don’t mean shit to them or any of the other Fae; and the EAB certainly didn't squawk when they accepted the check. They are self-funded, in case you didn't know."

  "What does that mean, anyway? How can nobody not care about thirty million dollars?"

  "Closer to 80, actually. The 26 is after taxes and the EAB's cut, plus a few mil to Slater as our control agent. But that's not the point. Jazzy?" I asked, looking over at the Were. "What's the pack worth?"

  "My dad's? Beats me. But I'm sure it's more than 26 mil. I got 15 when my mother died. But that's in a trust fund back in New Orleans. I don’t touch it if I can help it. Except to pay taxes on the family land."

  "You're a millionaire?" he asked, skeptically. "But you drive a piece of crap car half the time."

  "Not anymore…. and why do you give a shit about what I drive?" she answered. "I don’t! I'm not trying to impress anybody. Hell, I've got a '78 pick-up too. I'm a Werewolf, Jesse. Money and fancy cars don’t mean anything to me. It's just a means to an end. I'd rather be running through the woods than driving, any day of the week."

  "I'm not even going to start with my father," I said. "He's a High Fae of the Dryad and the heir of Hades. That money didn't come from any of his Fae accounts; or mine, for that matter. That five pounds is just a bag of rocks as far as he's concerned. And what about your father? Last I checked, he's got at least twelve patents under his name, and you didn't grow up in no barrio in East LA. I've seen you parent's house, man. Money doesn't mean the same thing to us as it does to humans. Don’t get me wrong, I know it equals power in this world, but Jazzy's right. It's just a means to an end. Your dad knows that as well, otherwise he wouldn't have added that LOL at the end of his text."

  "Maybe," he said, reluctantly. "But it's a little overwhelming."

  "You're right," I agreed. "But we're not using money that's earmarked for any of our families or kind. That would be against the rules. You're still drawing a salary just like you did before. We just use the corporation to fund it, and our ops, as well. Which is the way it used to be." I pulled out a slip of paper I had my pocket and slid it across the table. Then spoke the part I had memorized.

  "For services rendered, for each band of Witch hunters shall be set aside ½ of the booty recovered, after tariffs and tribute, for each vampire, daemon, or corrupt being sent back to the hellfire from whence they spawned. Said treasure to be used as wages and to purchase their own equipment and rations…

  "There you have it," I said. "All legal and proper, and now, I'm done with this shit. We got a Witch and a Grimoire to track down. Are you in, or out?"

  "Fine," he said. "I'm in, although I'll probably regret it later. I'm still going to have to talk to my father about this to keep it straight."

  "No problem. Help me hook up the Jeep to the tow bar. We've still got 100 miles to go before we can call it a night."

  Chapter 7

  "What's the deal with the RV, anyway?" Jazzy asked, as I handed her a cup of coffee. "I'm not complaining, mind you. But what made you think of it?"

  "I'm getting tired of hotel rooms," I said, grabbing the bread from the toaster. I flipped the eggs I was cooking and pulled the bacon out of the oven, then set some plates down on the table in front of her. "Here we have clean sheets, home cooked food, and our own bathrooms. Plus, RV parks are pretty low key. That means we don’t have to worry as much when we're away from the place, even with Jesse's wards. I figured between that, and the fact that we can go anywhere and drag all our tools with us, it'd be the perfect base of operations. We don’t have to use it all the time, but, I like sleeping in my own bed, even if he did keep me up all night snoring."

  "I do not snore," Jesse said, finally getting up from his bunk.

  "Keep telling yourself that," I said with a laugh. "Eat up. I've got one more surprise for you after we've finished. Then we've got to head out and search what's left of this Carmel in the Desert. Maybe we can find a lead, or at least something that might tell us if this codex was really here."

  I cleared the table a few minutes later and set the bundle down. Fashioned of leather, I untied the string that bound it and rolled it open, allowing the weapons inside to come into view.

  "Where did these come from?" Jesse asked, eyeing the assorted implements.

  "Hand forged in the river of fire by the Cyclops themselves," I replied. "One Demon slaying kit, courtesy of Walter Ferrer, descendant of Vulcanus. Pick up the daggers first, if you will." They grabbed a knife in each hand, almost dropping them as a magic circle of red fire blazed briefly, before shrinking back into the hilt.

  "What the hell was that?" Jazzy asked, almost dropping them.

  "They're bound to you now," I replied. "Do the same with the swords and shackles, then trade them with each other. After that, no one can use them against us," I said, watching as they repeated the process.

  "I don’t recognize this material," Jesse said, examining one of the daggers. "It's not metal like the swords. What is it?"

  "The blades are made from adamantine taken from the walls of Tartarus. Same stuff Gaea's sickle was made from.
The one Cronus used to castrate Ouranos. Walter says they should pierce just about anything. They won’t make you invincible, but like the swords, they'll give you an edge. The shackles are similar to those used to bind Prometheus. I don’t know how they'd handle a Demon of locks, but they should work for anything else. I also had them throw in a few arrows for good measure. My Fae bow's in the safe with the long guns, just in case we need it."

  "Adamantine?" Jesse exclaimed. "I'll be damned. I know more than a few Wizards that would love to get their hands on some of this. This is the stuff of legend."

  "Hey," Jazzy remarked. "There're only two swords here. Where's yours?"

  "My Fae sword is all I need," I replied. "I've still got the Egyptian dagger as well. But you two needed decent weapons. Even you Jazzy. You might not always be fighting as a wolf. All right, pack em up. Let's see what we can find out there."

  I'd parked us on the other side of Steve's Pass, a popular geocaching site a couple of miles north of the 95. The highway was hidden behind the mountains. Ashton was south of us, but there was nothing left of it but a marker in the middle of two dirt roads. This was as good a place as any to spend the night, and it was hidden from regular traffic by the mountains and hills. I threw Jazzy the keys and locked up, then waited for Jesse to complete the wards of protection so only we could get back in. When he was finished, we piled into the Jeep and headed back up the dirt road that led to the highway.

  Our destination was about 5 miles southeast of where Ashton once stood, not far from a place called Big Dune. The Mission had once stood nestled in the shade of a larger hill just southwest of there.

  Big Dune was exactly what the name implied, a giant sand dune some 500 feet high, smack dab in the middle of the desert. Located on the Northern edge of the Amargosa Valley, it wasn't as well-known as some of the more popular dunes. But like Jazzy's pack, locals from Vegas did come out here. Usually to ride dirt bikes and ATV's. Even today, a few campers could be seen here and there, scattered across the desert. It was also known for its unique wildlife, including its own species of scarab beetle.