Owl and the City of Angels

by Kristi Charish

  I bet the only reason he hadn’t brought them along was that he hadn’t been sure I’d taken care of Dr. Sanders. After the golem, I didn’t think Odawaa would react well to a zombie in a tweed suit.

  I started rifling through Cooper’s army-issue cargo jacket pockets as voices echoed nearby.

  “Alix, we don’t have time,” Nadya started.

  I kept going. Wallet, pocketknife, sunglasses . . . where the hell did Cooper keep it?

  Bingo. I found his white plastic access card in his inside pocket. “The gold standard of IAA security clearance everywhere,” I said, holding it up. Not useful now, but definitely once we got out of here.

  Nadya shook her head and pointed down the monastery hall. “Down this way there are tunnels that should lead into the caves in the cliffs. Rynn and the elf will meet us there.”

  No sooner had she said it than we heard yelling in Somali and a door banging nearby. Nadya leading the way, we bolted in the opposite direction, Captain close on my heels.

  “Did you find the Neolithic inscriptions—the ones mentioning the curse?”

  I shook my head. While we now knew who was behind the thefts, as far as saving my own neck, the Syrian City of the Dead had turned out to be nothing more than an epic wild-goose chase. I hadn’t even gotten to setting off traps . . . “Someone moved the knife a few thousand years ago. It’d take me months to find it, if it’s even here.”

  Nadya didn’t say anything more, but there was a hard set to her mouth as we ran for the exit. We had a short, uneventful run through the basement—the monks who built this place didn’t have a need for extensive traps. Go figure. We came out at the caves just outside the camp perimeter, though with the way the IAA was mobilizing, it wouldn’t be outside their perimeter for long. . . .

  I saw a jeep careen around the side of the mountain towards us, Rynn in the front seat and Carpe hanging on for dear life behind him.

  Nadya and I broke into a run as Rynn pulled the jeep up. “You know, for someone who doesn’t steal, this is the second time you’ve hot-wired an IAA jeep,” I said.

  “Not stealing when they give you the keys.”

  Damned incubus . . . “What happened to your pirate fan club?”

  “Sent them back to Odawaa. Caused quite the internal commotion. They weren’t sure who to shoot at for a while there.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the mobilizing groups. “However, I think they’ve figured it out—get in.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Benji said, running up behind us as I tossed Captain in the jeep.

  Nadya and I exchanged a glance. The IAA was regrouping around the city. It was not going to take much time at all for them to figure I was involved, and I knew Cooper would be blaming me. There might be a way for Benji to still get out of this with his career intact. Antiquities thief in training Benji was not—lightly corruptible professor with a soft spot for thieves? OK, that I could see. A hell of a lot more useful in the long run.

  I gave Nadya the nod, and she retrieved a glass bottle from her coat pocket as I grabbed Benji from behind. He began to struggle, and I cut off his protests with an elbow in the ribs.

  Note to self: no grabbing people while cursed . . . “Relax, Benji, we’re doing you a favor,” I said. “The IAA won’t find you until after Cooper and his pirates are long gone.”

  Benji could tell his bosses I’d forced him to help me. If I had my way, by the time I was done with Cooper, anything he said would be worthless.

  Or he’d have an army of the dead. Either way, Benji’s role would be inconsequential.

  “Deniable plausibility,” Nadya said.

  “That’s plausible deniability,” he said.

  Nadya pressed the now damp cloth over his mouth. I shrugged. “Same difference.”

  Benji passed out and Nadya dropped him to the ground—gently. Though to be honest, roughing him up a little might have helped his case.

  Rynn hopped out of the jeep and picked up the bottle Nadya had used. “Where the hell did you two get chloroform?”

  “Emergency bottle. I always keep one on me,” Nadya said.

  “Don’t look at me,” I said. “I use alcohol with just enough GHB to put them to sleep” . . . and only when I had absolutely no other choice.

  Rynn’s frown deepened. “I have an entire arsenal of weaponized pharmaceuticals designed to knock out everything from a human to a vampire, and you two use chloroform and GHB?”

  “Move faster next time.” I tossed my bag in the jeep and hopped in the backseat alongside Captain. “I know where Cooper’s going.”

  That was one silver lining to this—Cooper needed the rest of the artifacts to get his army to work, but he didn’t know we had them in Las Vegas. He’d head to Los Angeles first, where we could cut him off.

  Rynn stepped on the gas, and I felt something warm in my front pocket: Hermes’s card, which I’d forgotten was still there. I flipped it over.

  Doing better, kid, but the odds still aren’t great.

  19

  Best-Laid Plans

  Don’t ask me the time, I can barely see, let alone think straight . . .

  You know, funny difference between humans and supernaturals.

  When supernaturals find something magic, they try to take over the world, subjugate humans and/or other supernaturals . . . that sort of thing.

  Humans get a hold of magic, and what do they do?

  Raise dead things.

  Maybe try for world peace? Save the environment? Build an exclusive paradise for you and five friends?

  Nope. Dead things.

  I mean, come on. As a collective species, isn’t there something better we could come up with? Nope. Over five thousand years, and all we’ve managed are mummies, zombies, and a handful of walking skeletons.

  I’m starting to understand why some supernaturals can’t stand us.

  We’d reached L.A., but we still needed to find Cooper—preferably before he tried to raise a zombie army or figure out the pieces were no longer where he thought.

  Me? I was trying my damnedest not to hurl in the back of the jeep seat I shared with Nadya and Captain. Amazing how much you notice the gas and motor oil when you’re sick, and, considering the world kept spinning, my insides were on fire. Not to mention Captain kept pawing at my face, punctuated with baleful meows. I pushed him away again.

  Ever since we’d landed, I’d been trying to keep how bad my symptoms were to myself. I’d found new and entertaining ways to hide my coughs. Half the time I succeeded—though that could just have been me hallucinating.

  I could hear Carpe clicking away at his laptop in the front seat. Now that he had his damned spell book, he’d decided to help us. I’m not exactly sure that was lucky on our part, but regardless, he was our best bet of picking up Cooper’s digital trail.

  From the driver’s seat, Rynn was speaking supernatural bullshit over his phone to Nomun. The genie had stayed in Syria. There’d been no time or opportunity to close down the monastery before we fled, but now we knew it was effectively one big, ancient garbage pit, so the Jinn could “intervene” without getting supernatural panties in a bunch. Turns out we’d barely touched the surface of the stuff down there.

  Rynn got off his phone and turned to face us at the stoplight. “New IAA showed up at the city. Russian and Turkish.”

  Nadya sat up. “The Russian and the Turkish departments must have gotten through Cooper’s red tape.”

  “It’s next to impossible to revoke permits on a dig without the professor who signed for it,” I added for Rynn’s benefit. And zombie Dr. Sanders wasn’t exactly available for a hearing.

  “The IAA have surrounded it,” Rynn continued, “but Nomun and the Jinn will make sure they don’t get inside.”

  Granted, the city would be safer in this batch of IAA hands than it had been in the last, but considerin
g what still might be down there, I found my fever-addled brain siding with the genies.

  I felt the buzz in my pocket, but it wasn’t until I heard the ’80s ­video-game dragon hiss that I realized my phone was ringing.

  “Lady Siyu,” I said, stifling a cough as I answered. I hoped to hell she’d been able to make use of the pictographs I’d sent before leaving Syria. “Please say you’ve got a way to lift this curse.”

  There was a soft, drawn-out hiss on the other end. “In a manner of speaking,” she said.

  I think I preferred it when she got to the fucking point . . . “That sounds damn close to a ‘yes,’ but—”

  “I believe I have a method to lift it. However, it requires the item that cursed you.”

  That got me to sit up. We already had the bronze sword; Lady Siyu could cure me. For the first time in days, my hopes rose. “I can’t believe you did it,” I said with more energy and enthusiasm than my body had to give right now. Considering I was going to be OK, I could care less. “Grab the sword, get on a plane, and come meet us in L.A. so I don’t die.”

  The silence on the other end curbed my elation. Lady Siyu wasn’t one for dramatic pauses or minced words. After a moment, she offered, “I am already en route to L.A. and will be landing shortly.”

  Why the hell was she already on her way to L.A.? “What are you not telling me?” I said.

  Another pause. “The siren retrieved the items from me a few days ago.”

  “You gave them back to her? Are you out of your mind?” I screamed. Everyone in the jeep looked at me. My headache got worse.

  “If you would allow me to explain,” Lady Siyu said.

  “You had me run all the way to L.A., on pain of death, to retrieve a bunch of cursed artifacts—stolen under my name, I might add—and you gave them back?”

  “She had the proper paperwork.” Lady Siyu’s voice was sharp, with thinly veiled anger.

  I leaned back in my seat and ran a hand through my hair. It was greasy from the on-and-off sweating. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

  “I did not have a choice in the matter. The siren admitted to deliberately misleading us, and clarified that you were not the thief she purchased from and are therefore not responsible for removing cursed artifacts from the city. As the major transgression we were accused of was having a human under our employ acquiring dangerous artifacts for public distribution—”

  I made a derisive noise.

  “She also offered a substantial monetary settlement. My hands were tied,” Lady Siyu added. “The siren is one of us. There are no rules against Daphne possessing cursed artifacts.”

  Only humans acquiring them and selling them . . . a warped version of prohibition. Ever feel like a really expensive doormat? I didn’t say anything. What was I supposed to say—Nice colossal fuckup?

  “If you had completed your task sooner, I would have been able to stall her,” she added at my uncharacteristic silence.

  “Oh that’s just great—blame the human. Real mature.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, if I get the damn knife—again—can you get this curse off me? Yes-or-no answer.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. It is too hard to tell until I attempt it, but I believe so.” Her voice lowered, lending it a threatening tone. “I have yet to fail in one of Mr. Kurosawa’s tasks.”

  Somehow not comforting . . . “All right, I’ll text you when we know where we’re headed. You can meet us there,” I said, and hung up before she could argue.

  I couldn’t believe she’d given them back to Daphne . . . proper ­paperwork my ass. “Lady Siyu’s on her way,” I said when I realized everyone was still staring at me. “She thinks she can lift the curse.” I drew in a big breath to settle my spinning head. “We have a bigger problem though. She gave the items back to Daphne. Cooper still needs to test them out, and he’ll want to try it sooner rather than later.”

  “Where would he take the artifacts then?” Rynn asked.

  I shook my head. “Where Cooper can find a ton of zombies in ­waiting.”

  “That’s all of L.A.,” Rynn said.

  “That’s the point. So we have no idea.”

  “Hollywood Boulevard,” Rynn said after a moment.

  “Too predictable. Maybe he’s headed to the beach—less obvious.”

  “Oh come on—the beach? It’s an army, not a vacation.”

  “Hey, we’re talking about a zombie army. Raising them from a beach-partying crowd isn’t the most far-fetched part of that statement. And how do you know Cooper doesn’t want a beach-themed zombie army? Maybe he figures if he’s got to look at bodies, they might as well be cute and scantily clad—”

  “Stop, both of you,” Nadya said, raising her voice over ours.

  It did the trick. Only Carpe ignored us, staring at his computer.

  As soon as she had our undivided attention, Nadya pushed on. “We are assuming he needs live victims—but the pictures under Deir Mar Musa only show bodies. What if Cooper isn’t after living victims? What if he only thinks he needs a repository of dead? Besides, a large living population would cause too much attention.”

  I pulled out my phone and went over the pictures of the adapted rituals with the three artifacts. Nadya was right. There’d been nothing to indicate living sacrifices. In fact, if the stories Mr. Kurosawa had told me about the ancient Qaraoun stealing the dead of their neighbors had any merit . . .

  “What’s the biggest graveyard in L.A.?”

  “Doesn’t need the biggest, just the closest to Daphne and the artifacts,” Rynn said. “And that still leaves too many to search.”

  “I found him,” Carpe said. “Hollywood Forever—that’s where he’s going.” He flipped his laptop around so Nadya and I could see the purple dot moving across the digital map.

  Somehow, someway, the elf had managed to find Cooper’s airport rental car and was tracking it. Carpe tapped another part of the screen. “Hollywood Forever. It’s the closest cemetery—a bunch of actors from old 1920s Hollywood are buried there—and it’s right on his route.”

  “How do you know about old cemeteries?” Nadya asked him.

  I could have sworn the elf turned his nose up at her. “I like old black-and-white movies,” he said. “And I took a tour. Bugsy Siegel and Mel Blanc are buried there. They have old movie clips and documentaries on kiosks through the park. They even show movies—”

  Yeah, and while they discussed Carpe’s dubious vacation choices, the purple dot was getting closer. “Look, I don’t care if they have rows of dancing bears, he’s getting closer. Rynn, step on it.”

  “We won’t beat Cooper,” Carpe said.

  “Then hope he doesn’t have the artifacts from Daphne yet,” I said as the car peeled off. I texted Lady Siyu.

  On our way to Hollywood Forever Cemetery. We think Cooper’s meeting Daphne and maybe Alexander there, since, you know, you gave her the artifacts back.

  I pictured her hissing—or maybe even throwing something on the other end . . . No. She’d never lose it enough to throw something. Her response flashed in my screen.

  I will arrive shortly. You are ordered not to die before I can attempt to lift the curse—otherwise I will find a way to make your afterlife very unpleasant.

  I wondered exactly how Mr. Kurosawa had worded his orders to cure me. If I liked Lady Siyu—or had an iota of professional respect for her—I might have felt sorry.

  “There’s something I still don’t quite get,” Carpe said, and turned around in the front seat so he could face me. “Why have the vampire and siren involved themselves?” he said.

  I shrugged. “Who can say why the hell Alexander does anything.”

  Carpe frowned. Or I thought he frowned. Bad light, add curse—you get the picture . . . “Yes, but why would they want an army of dead?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think
they have any idea what Cooper’s actually planning—Daphne and Alexander aren’t exactly high up on the supernatural food chain. Alexander knows some antiquities, but the sword and Neolithic objects are beyond him. I should know, I used to work for him. Regardless of what Cooper’s told them, my guess is Alexander figures at the very least this is going to cause one hell of a mess.”

  “But to what purpose?”

  Rynn took that one. “To orchestrate the kind of disaster we can’t possibly cover—not the IAA, not Mr. Kurosawa, not the Jinn, not me. They don’t want to come out in the open, they want license to kill humans at random whenever and however it pleases them.”

  Nadya snorted. “I wonder what Alexander would think if he understood just what was about to happen to his local food supply.”

  I laughed and wished I hadn’t; I had to cover my mouth to stop from puking. Still, what I’d give to see the look on Alexander’s face when he found out he was getting zombies—I was pretty sure vampires need living humans . . .

  Come to think of it, why not ask Alexander himself?

  I still had his number in my phone, so I pulled it out and dialed. Bindi answered the phone again in classic valley girl. “Hello?”

  “Jesus, you’ve been at this what, three months now? I’d at least expect a You’ve reached the phone of dick vampire, who may I ask is calling—”

  “What are you doing?” Rynn yelled from the front.

  I covered the mic. “I’m calling Alexander to see if I can’t throw a wrench in Cooper’s plans.”

  “Owl—” Alexander purred. “You are still alive. I see your old associate has just as much trouble trying to kill you as I have.”

  “Hey there, asshole. Just wanted to know how it feels to be next on the vampire Grand Poobah’s shit list. Oh yeah—and Captain says hello.” I then covered the mic so I could cough.

  “I suppose there is a point to this?” Alexander said. The drawn-out French accent told me he wasn’t thrilled, but he hadn’t hung up yet.

  “You’re making a big mistake. Cooper is using both you and Daphne. That ritual he’s running? All it’s going to do is thin your food supply, unless zombies are some weird vampire delicacy now.”