Owl and the Electric Samurai

by Kristi Charish

  Lady Siyu did a good job keeping up her human guise, but she had a tendency to drop it around me. I have that effect on a lot of supernaturals.

  “Alix,” Rynn whispered. I realized I was clutching my hands, digging my nails into the palms. I stopped and stuffed my rising temper.

  New leaf, Owl. Do not pick a fight.

  Lady Siyu turned her attention on Rynn, not bothering to hide her apathy toward him but also not willing to drop her manners like she did with me.

  “Incubus,” she said.

  He gave the slightest nod. “Lady Siyu.” Not quite a slight, but close.

  And he was the one warning me about baiting her. . . .

  “Here,” I said, and held out the wrapped bowl. The best way I’d found to avoid a fight with Lady Siyu was to keep the meeting as short as possible. I’d found through trial and error that the best course of action was to keep talking to a minimum. Explanations—make that any speaking—she didn’t specifically ask for were dissuaded. She glanced at me, then began unwrapping the bowl, gingerly, careful not to tear the paper or even let her red nails brush the bowl.

  She examined the outlines. It wasn’t particularly impressive—dull brown colors, shallow etching.

  Finished with her examination, she glanced back up at me. “You were tasked with retrieving a Peruvian artifact, not this,” she said, holding up the bowl between two fingers.

  If she had any idea how much easier the Peruvian job was compared to lifting that from a sewer full of rats and the remaining undead priests . . .

  “Don’t look at me if you don’t like the bowl, go glare at Mr. Kurosawa, he’s the one who sent me to retrieve it.”

  Confusion flickered across her face for a moment until she realized I meant the clay bowl. “This? This is exquisite in ways your simple human eyes can’t begin to comprehend. My disgust is at your inability to deal with the IAA.” Her lip curled, exposing the tip of both her fangs this time.

  I bristled at the insinuation and the open, yet still subtle, threat. Lady Siyu was a Naga, and a poisonous one at that. “I’m dealing with them as best I can,” I said.

  The lip curled higher, exposing more fang. I thought I saw the glint of yellow venom. “Clearly not efficiently enough,” she said, and handed me a tablet.“I suppose the disaster we had to supress in New Delhi was another of your careless accidents?”

  I took the tablet from her and checked the news articles—mostly video clips covering the sewer fire that had raged through part of the New Delhi downtown. Damn it. I’d hoped my antics hadn’t warranted making the 6:00 p.m. New Delhi news, with no mention of the upside blow I’d dealt to their sewer rat problem. “Yeah, about that—I ran into some undead cultists in the tunnel.” I wasn’t certain if they’d counted as zombified or mummified. I hadn’t stuck around long enough to ask.

  “A fire and a collapsed section of the road?” Lady Siyu continued.

  I winced. “Better than undead walking the streets of New Delhi looking for new victims.” And if I’d known the undead monks’ hearing was that good; their ear canals should have decayed decades ago . . .

  But Lady Siyu only nodded at the tablet.

  I glanced back down at it and frowned. As opposed to giving the usual reason—gas line, electrical fire, spontaneous combustion of a rat—that the IAA typically employed to cover a supernatural mishap, the article instead cited a robbery gone wrong.

  “ ‘An internationally infamous antiquities thief, known only to insiders as The Owl, is credited by sources in law enforcement as having been responsible for the fire and all attributed damage,’ ” I read. Although the article didn’t provide a picture, it went on to describe me accurately. It was when I got to the last part that my temper flared. “ ‘Individuals are warned not to engage The Owl. She has a long-standing reputation for property damage and has little regard for people’s safety.’ ”

  “Oh come on!” I said as I handed back the tablet to Lady Siyu’s outstretched hand. “This is a smear campaign,” I protested.

  “Clearly,” Lady Siyu said, her lip curling into a sneer.

  I closed my eyes and counted to three. “The IAA contacted me a month ago. They wanted me to track down two archaeology dropouts who run a video game.” I thought about mentioning the Shangri-La connection and evidence of human magic, but decided against it. It would confuse the issue, and it wasn’t relevant. “I told them no, and this is their attempt to not take no for an answer.”

  “It keeps speaking,” Lady Siyu mused, “yet it offers no contradicting evidence to my original statement that it has failed to manage the IAA.”

  Oh for crying out loud. “And I would argue that you and Mr. Kurosawa are incapable of preventing other organizations from coercing me into working for them instead of you! And this is what? The second time? First the elves and their book, now the IAA. Why don’t you stick a tattoo on my forehead, Pimp Our Ride?”

  “It is your responsibility to manage disagreements with other organizations. Not ours. And for your information, we have dealt with the elf’s transgression interfering directly with Mr. Kurosawa’s workings.” She was referring to Carpe’s sidetracking my last job for the dragon, trying to stop a thief stealing cursed artifacts from the Syrian City of the Dead . . . something that had almost gotten me killed. “This,” she said, holding up the tablet, “is not interference, it is an accurate report of your activities in New Delhi.”

  Of all the warped, twisted— What the hell was the point of having a contract thief if you let everyone else push them around?

  Instead of saying that though I took in a long breath and forced myself to calm down and employ something resembling a filter. Anything I said in my defense would just be used against me.

  On top of that, I was going to have to deal with the IAA anyway. And once they realized I wasn’t just a reluctant thief but was actively trying to screw them over . . .

  Time to switch to a much more productive topic—solving the other result of Lady Siyu’s supernatural streak of stubbornness. “When can I get my cat back?” I asked.

  Lady Siyu’s lips quirked up, once more exposing the thin fangs.

  “What do you want? Ancient artifacts? Something from my collection?”

  “I am not able to discuss the return of the Mau with you.”

  I ground my teeth. That’s what she’d said last time, and the time before that.

  Yelling won’t get you anywhere, Alix, not with her. “All right. When will you be ready to discuss the terms of return of my Mau?”

  She inclined her head down at me like a predator. “When I feel like it,” she said, pronouncing each word oh so carefully.

  From what Housekeeping had told me, Captain had already destroyed two Louis XIV chairs, one antique coffee table, and a number of vases. The vases he’d crashed into chasing an errant pen, as he was wont to do. Oh yeah, and he’d taken offense to the red soles on Lady Siyu’s Louboutin designer shoes and chewed through half of two pairs. I didn’t think mismatching shoes were in Lady Siyu’s fashion repertoire.

  She wasn’t happy, clearly Captain sure as hell wasn’t happy, and it was only a matter of time before he really started to exact his vengeance.

  My nails dug into my palms. “Look, just tell me what I need to do before my cat chews through one of your designer suits.”

  Her usually stony expression cracked, a tic escaping through her carefully controlled veneer. “He wouldn’t,” Lady Siyu said, the words tinged with the telltale hiss.

  “Don’t leave your closet open,” I warned. “You think the shoes were bad? Warning shots.”

  Her face paled as her yellow snake eyes narrowed and glistened in anger. Rynn, who’d been silent up until this point, squeezed my shoulder. “Alix,” he warned.

  I didn’t take my eyes off the Naga. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  She mad
e a noise that might have been a snort if it hadn’t been for the fact that I figured those kinds of sounds were beneath Lady Siyu’s immaculate appearance—minus the venom dripping fangs. “How dare you. I enjoy so very few things in this human-dominated world, and believe me, being caretaker for your barbaric, untrained cat is not one of them.”

  Yeah, yeah. Be nice, Owl. Baiting her into a fight isn’t going to help at all.

  “Just tell me what you want so I can buy my cat back, or so help me—”

  “Or you’ll what?” Lady Siyu said, baring her fangs at me. “Come on little thief, what will you do?”

  Whether in warning or anticipation, one of the nearby slot machines began to whistle. Its friends joined in, bathing the casino in a veritable cacophony of bells and lights. I heard the clink and sputter of tokens and coins as they were ejected onto the marble floor.

  I’d tried, God help me, I’d tried . . . not even a saint could keep polite with the likes of Lady Siyu.

  “You no good piece of . . . of . . .” I sputtered as I tried to come up with something that might serve as an insult to a Naga. “. . . of rattle snake.” Not one of my shining moments, but there you have it; I can’t always be a genius on the fly. “You have no intention of giving him back!”

  It had the desired effect as she bared her fangs at me and hissed.

  Rynn stepped between us, putting his back to Lady Siyu and holding me back. “Let it go, Alix. Lady Siyu is baiting you. And you?” he said, turning to Lady Siyu, his eyes flaring blue, though I wasn’t sure if his powers of persuasion worked on other supernaturals.

  She let out a long hiss. Her jaw had extended to accommodate the Naga teeth, and her red fingernails had elongated into sharp claws.

  Rynn didn’t take the bait. Instead he turned back to me and arched a single blond eyebrow. “See? Nagas do that, bait their prey. Like snakes with mice.”

  Lady Siyu let out a shriek. “I will not deal with your insubordination today, incubus,” Lady Siyu said. “I did not invite you to this meeting.”

  Rynn tsked. “Yet as Mr. Kurosawa’s security, I figured I should stop in and at least say hi. Before you accidently killed his archaeologist.”

  “Thief,” she said, with more venom dripping off the word than I’d heard from her in a long while. “She’s Mr. Kurosawa’s hired thief.”

  Rynn’s face turned serious. “You have a bad habit of forgetting the job at hand when it comes to dealing with the thief, so . . .” He let the thought and open threat trail off.

  Considering the way Lady Siyu was glaring daggers at Rynn, I expected her to launch herself at him, claws and fangs first. She didn’t though. Her fangs retracted and she closed her eyes, her nose flaring as she composed herself. When she opened her eyes back up, they were a human-looking brown.

  Now that was a changed dynamic. Usually she was more than happy to push Rynn’s buttons, though not today, for whatever reason.

  I didn’t have a chance to ponder it more as Rynn turned to me. “Lady Siyu can’t bargain the cat with you, Alix, as much as she’d love to, because we’ve already set a price.”

  “What?” I grabbed him by the arm and steered him a few feet away from Lady Siyu, hoping she wouldn’t hear. “When did you arrange a trade for Captain?” I said, keeping my voice low.

  He frowned at me. “I told you at Artemis’s that I would get your cat back. Please, can we discuss this later?”

  I wanted to push things, but not in front of Lady Siyu. “This isn’t over,” I said before heading back to the Naga.

  Lady Siyu glared daggers at me but continued. “I’ve brought you back to the casino for a purpose beyond collecting the bowl and discussing your atrocious cat. Mr. Kurosawa has a new task we wish for you to expedite.”

  “We wish.” Interesting choice of words. Supernaturals never used words lightly. “Let me guess, you want me to drop everything and head to Peru?”

  “Hardly.” Lady Siyu turned on her heels and clicked her way past the slot machines to the empty casino’s bar—a long slab of black ­marble set into the back wall and stocked with a variety of liquors, all very top shelf. Off to the side was a set of black leather couches that had replaced the white ones after the fire that had gutted the room four months ago. The color scheme had changed drastically after the top of the casino had almost burned down. The marble on the floor and the bar itself had even been replaced with duskier versions. I suppose stone burns much less easily than wood counters and floorboards. . . . Again, long story that can be summed up as supernatural bullshit.

  Lady Siyu retrieved a manila folder tucked away behind the marble bar. I’d noticed in my dealings with her that whereas everyone else used email, a tool designed for circumventing people you have to deal with but hate, Lady Siyu still preferred using the analog copy. Or maybe she was aware how easily Carpe, my World Quest partner and elf, could get in and look around. Now that was a thought.

  She held the folder out.

  Keeping an eye on her, I undid the heavy string. Inside were ­documents—copies of very old documents, to be precise. A cursory glance told me they were from a variety of periods and locations—­ancient Japan, India, Rome, Greece, Eastern Europe, medieval Mongolia. It was like a who’s who of ancient civilizations throughout history. And the only thing they had in common was that they all depicted a suit of armor, each different and unique.

  But the documents were sparse to the point of omitting what it was exactly I was supposed to do with them.

  I held them up. “What’s this?”

  “Your next job.”

  “Fantastic. Ready to get started. Only problem is there is no job in here. Only a handful of half-complete documents and pictures from around the world.”

  Lady Siyu made a face. “That is the package the elves requested I deliver to you.”

  “The elves? What the hell do the elves want with me?” I knew how these things went. Sparse envelope filled with pictures of a bunch of artifacts . . . “Whoa, okay, I don’t know what the elves have said I’ve taken from them, but I haven’t—”

  Lady Siyu hissed. “Unlike the vampires and every other supernatural you seem to cross, the elves do not want your head, nor are they accusing you of anything except your proffered profession, which you readily admit. They have requested your professional services.”

  “No.”

  We both looked over at Rynn, who’d said it with more force and determination than I expected in one of these meetings. He was staring at Lady Siyu with bright blue eyes and an expression I had difficulty reading, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was verging on hostile.

  Lady Siyu didn’t quite seem to know what to do either. She opened her mouth, but Rynn beat her to it.

  “Out of the question. She’s not working for the elves.”

  It did not surprise me one bit that Rynn had a problem. He was not a fan of the elves. For that matter, neither was I. I believe his more colorful description of the elves was that “their version of planning a fight is sending everyone else off as cannon fodder” and “they couldn’t plan their way out of a locked dungeon without a committee meeting and census.”

  “Why wasn’t I apprised of this first?” he continued, advancing on Lady Siyu. I took a step back. Good rule to follow? Try not to get in between a couple supernaturals facing off.

  I also now knew why Lady Siyu had requested that Rynn not be here for the meeting. His dislike of the elves was legendary at the casino. I certainly had my own issues with them after Carpe had almost gotten me dead over some stupid book.

  Oh hell no . . .

  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that spell book?” I said. Carpe had at one point threatened to go through Mr. Kurosawa on his quest for the spell book. It hadn’t come to that; Carpe had stolen our cargo plane and crashed it near the dig site he’d wanted me to infiltrate, but the threat meant the channels we
re there and open.

  I could see Lady Siyu hedging her answer. “It might have come up.”

  Great. Get coerced into doing one favor for a friend, and the rest of his little buddies figure they can strong-arm me too. Carpe was going to get one hell of an earful for not giving me a heads-up on this. I waved the folder. “What is it they want, exactly?”

  “I couldn’t say what the elves want at the best of times,” she sneered, “even when they manage to deliver memos that are half legible through their clauses and conditions. But in this case they want you to find an ancient suit of armor. That one, to be precise.”

  I held up the collection of copied documents. “There isn’t one suit here, there are ten, and next to no descriptions. There isn’t enough in here to even start looking.” Don’t get me wrong. Things went wrong all the time on jobs, but that didn’t mean I invited blind spots. I went into every job as prepared as possible, especially when there was the chance of the supernatural. “How the hell do they expect me to start finding it?”

  She arched one of her perfectly painted black eyebrows. “I haven’t the faintest idea. All I know is they wish you to retrieve.”

  “What about that little clause in our contract? The one that says I work for Mr. Kurosawa exclusively?”

  Another hedged answer was coming; I could tell by the way her eyes flicked left. “While not accepting responsibility,” she said carefully, “they have offered to recompense Mr. Kurosawa for one of their ilk circumventing his permission. They are offering him a great deal for your services.”

  I couldn’t believe this. “So what? Coerce the thief into stealing something and they get rewarded with another job? How the hell does that make any sense?”

  Lady Siyu’s jaw clenched. “They claim it is a routine artifact.”

  The last run-of-the-mill retrieval I’d done for an elf had involved taking a spell book from a mummy who’d still been using it. And that had just been Carpe’s wild-goose chase. Looking for something the lot of them wanted? I was really thinking Rynn had the right idea on this one.