“Then if we can’t find out what it is they plan to do with it, we do the next best thing. They said they wanted the suit but didn’t specify what condition it had to be in, correct?”
He gave me a wary nod.
“We figure out a way to make the suit unusable.”
He wasn’t convinced. “If we find the suit, if we find a way to disarm it—that’s a lot of ifs, Alix.” His eyes drifted to something behind me, on the screen. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” I searched the lists, but I didn’t see anything beyond the war trail accounts.
“Not there. The thumbnail, on the side.” He reached over my shoulder and tapped one of the comments made by a previous grad student. Sure enough, attached to the notes was an embedded icon—a link to a longer set of notes contained in the folder . . . and it was directly related to a passage about the suit.
I clicked on it and waited for the second window to open. It was a brief two-page analysis on a section of the records I hadn’t gotten to yet—the records of a later campaign into what’s now Poland. But as opposed to discussing the locations or items looted, the grad student entry talked about something else entirely. It was only two lines, but it was about a possessed suit of armor that drove Jebe to madness . . . and it cross-referenced Jebe’s journal.
Son of a bitch, Jebe kept a journal while he had the suit. Jackpot. I needed that journal. I searched the computer for the journal file and found it. . . .
There was nothing inside. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Someone had erased the fucking soft copies. I opened up another window to see when the files had been removed; maybe if I was lucky they were still in the trash.
“What?”
“Jebe’s journal. The entire entry is gone—photos, the documentation . . . everything!” I frowned at the screen. “That can’t be right.” I turned to look at Rynn. “This says the files were erased from the hard drive twenty minutes ago.” Right before we got here.
Rynn and I both clued in at the same time. “Someone knew we were coming—someone who doesn’t want us finding that suit. They must have been watching us, or had an informant from the casino.”
Goddamn son of a . . . “They must have found out about Mr. Kurosawa signing a deal with the elves.” If the other side of the supernatural war figured the tide was about to turn in Mr. Kurosawa’s favor . . .
“Whoever it is, they do not wish us to find it.”
Or worse, they wanted it for themselves. I went back to the hard copy and started to search the inventory list. Twenty minutes—that meant they might not have had time to track down the journal itself. It might still be here. “Rynn, I need you to check box 3A.” Please, please say they didn’t make off with the original . . .
“Alix, if I were them I’d make sure you didn’t have enough time to find it . . .” He trailed off as an alarm began to sound elsewhere in the building—not the fire alarm, which was designed to get people to leave as fast as possible, but the other kind, the one that says a door’s been left open, or broken . . .
“Time’s up,” Rynn said.
I swore and turned back to the computer screen. The files were almost finished copying. There was something in Jebe’s journal; there had to be, and I very much planned on finding out what it was. “Find that journal.”
“Is this it?” Rynn held up a leather-bound book that had been wrapped in a set of packing cloths. I took a quick look through it and shook my head. “No—this is the account keeping, not the journal. Keep looking.” Maybe they hid it in the room. That wouldn’t be stealing, just misplacing, and if the journal got left behind when the crates moved . . .
The files finished copying, so I pulled out my thumb drive and shoved it back into my pocket.
“Well what is it I’m supposed to be looking for then?” Rynn said.
“How am I supposed to know? They deleted all the pictures and descriptions!”
I grabbed the inventory list and rifled through to the packing sheets. Box 3A . . . 3A . . . there it was . . . I found Jebe’s journal halfway down the page. “Ah, should be packed in the bottom drawer, a metal box labeled ‘journal’ and decorated with yellow tape. Look underneath the tray of arrows. No, not that one,” I said as Rynn pulled out a metal box labeled with yellow and white tape. “The other one, should be . . . ah . . .” I consulted the packing slip again. “Underneath where you found that one.”
Rynn pulled the right one out and tried to replace it with the other. “No! Don’t put them back in the wrong order!”
Rynn glared at me as he put the right metal box on the table.
“It’s important—you have no idea how easily that stuff gets lost.” The incredulous look didn’t dissipate. “Look, you’ve never opened a box only to find the thing you needed went missing. Oh, for . . . I don’t need to explain proper artifact curation to you, just open the damn box so I can steal the book.” I realized there was a large dose of hypocrisy in that statement, but we were getting short on time.
Rynn popped open the metal latches and I heard the air seal break. He frowned and held it up. “Empty,” he said, and showed it to me.
No, no, no . . . I ran over to check the box. It should have been in a wrapped plastic bag; maybe someone’s idiot grad student hadn’t bothered to put it back in the case.
There was nothing loose in the crate. Everything, including the dusting kits, was immaculately tucked in their places.
“Son of a bitch!” I slammed the top of the crate down. “They took it. They beat us here and took the journal.”
I couldn’t believe it. So close again. A dark black pit settled inside me, and for the first time in a while I wanted to throw something, break something. I deserved to find that journal. I saw red as my eyes fell on the computer. I bet they made a great shattering sound—and who knows? Maybe I’d find the missing files inside . . .
I thought I heard Rynn call my name over the alarm, but I was so furious, so angry . . .
I might have gone through with breaking the computer if Captain hadn’t started to bleat . . .
Even through my anger I saw he had his nose pressed in the space between a bench and the wall. Normally I wouldn’t make anything of it—there were plenty of bugs and rodents to keep Captain’s interest—but the way he was twitching his nose and his tail, and sniffing at the air as if he was trying to figure out what it was . . .
There was no way I was that lucky.
“Rynn, get me something thin,” I said as I ran over to the bench. Captain let out a bleat, the same noise he made around any supernatural who wasn’t a vampire.
“Why would they hide it?”
“Who cares? We can worry about that later, after we have Jebe’s journal.”
Rynn passed me a broom handle and I lost no time shoving it between the benches. Something was definitely back there—it moved as soon as I touched it with the handle.
I swore as I heard multiple footsteps coming down the hall. They should have spent way more time clearing the exhibits. Whoever had sounded the alarms must have also included a helpful call to security.
“Alix, we’re out of time—and a hallway. We’ll need to find another way out.”
“Gimme a second.” The book moved a few more inches. I pushed Captain away as he tried to wiggle in and help.
Come on, come on . . . don’t tear, not now . . .
I heard the electronic lock click open as someone swiped their card, followed by the rattle as they tried the handle, which I’d manually locked.
The wonders of light-sensitive experiments: they’d had to design the manual locks to override the electronic in all the labs.
“You don’t have a second,” Rynn whispered.
I reached my hand in up to my shoulder. The tips of my fingers brushed it. “Then make me one!”
Rynn swore, ran to the door as the
y tried swiping the card again, and relocked the door. The card was swiped again, and yet again Rynn reset the lock. I heard the chime as the key card was swiped a third time, this time followed by “Is anyone in there? Campus security.”
Maybe I got lucky and they’d left their manual keys in their office?
I heard the muffled jingle of keys.
Nope. Why wouldn’t the goddamned book come out—there!
“Got it!” I whispered as the book slid into my fingers. I dragged it out of its hiding spot and started flipping through the old pages carefully, ever so carefully. . . .
Medieval Mongolian dialects weren’t my forte, but I could make out enough of the characters to read, “ ‘I am Zurgadai of the Besud Clan, also known as Jebe, the Arrow of Ghengis Khan.’ ” I closed it shut and fit it into my backpack. I then held it open for Captain. He mewed at me. “Inside. You’ll get a treat after,” I whispered.
He sat on his haunches and curled his tail around his legs, sniffing at me. Yeah, I got it; he’d had bad luck getting into carriers of late. “Listen, unless you want to end up back with Lady Siyu—I promise, treats. After!”
He sniffed at me again, but whether he decided my tone meant business or he was just bored with the lack of a food dish and litter box, he caved and crawled in.
Finally. I zipped up the bag and tossed him on my back as carefully as speed allowed. Normally I wouldn’t put something like the journal in there with him; Captain had spent most of his life as a wild cat out by the Egyptian pyramids, so he tended to stake out territory—places, people, things. I just hoped he didn’t decide to take any residual anger out on the book.
I turned to Rynn as the banging on the door intensified.
“You’re the thief,” he whispered. “Do something.”
I took a quick perusal of the room for alternative exits. Windows were too suspicious to any bystanders. Now, the loading bay door, that was another matter entirely.
I ran to the cargo bay door and found the latch. Wonder of wonders, it was only locked shut by a set of bolts.
I undid both of them and used my back to get the door open enough to crawl under while Rynn played lock footsies with the security guards.
I checked under the metal loading bay door to make sure the coast was clear. Our luck held out. No one was waiting for us—or even looking our way.
I waved to Rynn. He waited until the guards had unlocked the door, locked it for a last time, then ran. He baseball-slid under the garage door lip, and both of us dropped the four feet to the cracked concrete below. Rynn crouched down and turned his head to the side, listening for something. Satisfied it was safe, he nodded that the coast was clear. “Wait,” I hissed as Rynn started away from the building.
“They’ll be in the lab any minute, Alix. They were rebooting the system.”
Which meant the locks would reset and open. “Just trust me.” I slid my hands under the door, and carefully, as quietly as was humanly possible, I eased the loading door back down.
The bolts would give it away, but if luck held they wouldn’t notice for a while.
I started backing away, Rynn beside me. Running would attract attention on a university campus, but we needed to walk away quickly before the guards figured to check around back or get a buddy in the office to do it.
I turned to Rynn. He was the one with mercenary tendencies, after all, and navigating security and getting away were his specialties. “What now?”
He inclined his head. “Head to the jeep. With any luck no one will spot us.”
“With any luck?”
He frowned at me. “This is a university—a little out of my experience. It’s not like they follow any real best practices when it comes to security—it’s a bit like dealing with a two-year-old. With that much inexperience and incompetence comes unpredictability.”
I shook my head and grabbed his arm. “Come on. This way,” I said, and started out of the loading bay. We kept an even pace until we turned the corner. Free and clear . . . so far so good. I crossed my fingers inside my pocket that that was in fact the case.
As we headed down the empty promenade, I checked a couple times to see if anyone was following behind. No one was.
We were halfway to the car lot where we’d left the jeep. We were passing by a copse of maple trees left to grow in a ring in the center of the road when there was a piercing howl in my ear, followed by hissing and scuffing at the inside of my backpack.
Shit. Both Rynn and I scanned the area as Captain tried to claw his way out of my bag. When that didn’t work, he let out another ear-piercing howl. Damn it, his claws were going to destroy the journal.
“No, Captain. You’re not getting out of there to eat vamp—Ow!” I yelped, and madly tried to get my bag off my back as Captain dug his claws into my spine.
While I tried to pry Captain off, Rynn found the source of his fury—a pink-hoodie-clad woman in beige cargo pants, wearing a pair of heavy sunglasses. A shock of blond hair peeked out from under the hood, which was pulled up high and covered most of her face.
And she was not happy at having been found. “Hey!” came a high Valley Girl voice as she struggled against Rynn. “Let go of me!”
If I hadn’t recognized the voice, the scent of rotting lily of the valley that wafted my way and the surfer girl getup would have given it away.
Rynn pulled the hood down, exposing her face, and dragged her to the edge of the shade from the trees, just short of the sunlight. I did my best to wrangle Captain.
Bindi. Alexander’s most recent lackey acquisition.
“What are you doing here and why shouldn’t I kill you?” Rynn asked, leaning in and using his more menacing voice.
“That’s two questions,” Bindi whined. “Which one do you want me to answer first?”
“I guess you’ll have to guess which answer is least likely to convince me to kill you.”
Bindi made a sound halfway between an exasperated sigh and a whine. “Look, I’m not here to do anything. Okay, okay!” she said as Rynn’s hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Fine. I was thinking about it, but come on— Vampire? What do you expect?”
I closed my eyes. I’d managed to finally get my backpack off my back, but Captain was still trying to get out, though now that he could see Bindi his howls had quieted to a continuous growl.
“I’m here for a reason other than trying to kill Owl. Promise!”
“What are you here for then?”
“Alexander sent me!” she whined.
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? Alexander has tried to kill Alix not once, not twice, but three times now.”
“But not this time. I promise.”
And closing my eyes wasn’t going to make Bindi go away. Goddamn it, why did vampires have to squeeze themselves in everywhere? I opened them back up to find Rynn looking at me, eyebrows raised. “Well?” he said, and I realized he’d asked me something while I’d been lost in my musings on the problems with vampires. “Do you want to hear what she has to say or not?”
One thing was certain as I gave Bindi a once-over. She looked scared more than murderous, though that might have been Rynn. From the way Captain had focused himself on her, pressing his face as far as it would go against the mesh, he didn’t think there were any other vampires around.
“Alix?” Rynn asked again.
And we sure as hell couldn’t stand around here forever.
I nodded. Rynn let her go. “Finally!” Bindi said, and stumbled back away from the sunlight further under the protection of the shade of the trees. She pulled her hood back up, tucking her surfer blond hair underneath. “Seriously—” she started, but I cut her off.
“Your message. And whatever it is Alexander wants better be good, otherwise I’m going to rethink this whole chat real fast.”
“Okay, okay.” She took
a breath and tried to compose herself. Not easy to do with my cat making his feelings well and vocally known. Bindi shot the carrier a concerned look before saying, “Alexander says that you have a common interest and he wants to help you. He wants to call a truce. A real one this time.”
Fat chance Alexander was going to help anyone, especially me. Not after the fiasco in Ephesus, or Bali, and especially not after L.A.
I sighed and turned to Rynn. “It might just be easier to give her to Captain. I mean, it’ll shut him up—”
“No not the cat!” Bindi shrieked. “Honest, I’m telling the truth. Alexander really does want to help you. Look, if you let me reach into my pocket, I’ll get his message out!”
I nodded at Rynn. He was the one who approached to take the message from her, while I took a step back further out of range of the lily-of-the-valley-scented pheromones that acted like a narcotic. It weakened humans and made vampires look pretty. It was also more addictive than heroin. I had a gas mask, but it would draw too much attention if anyone walked by.
Rynn took the note and, after sniffing it for the pheromones, brought it to me.
It was an off-white card, addressed to me with flowery gold script. Definitely Alexander’s style.
I opened it.
Dear Owl,
Though I’m certain this proposed truce will come as a shock to you as much as it has to my superiors, it is—suffice it to say—necessary. Though you may find this hard to believe, we vampires rather enjoy not being hunted, nor do we appreciate the idiots after a source of immortality. Much as I enjoy her work, the famous vampire writer did not do us any favors.
I have information that you need, but I am not trusting it to Bindi. Suffice it to say it is information that you will most certainly want concerning a number of supernaturals we’ve both had dealings with recently and the humans who are currently under their sway. Call me at the number below and I will explain more.
Owl and the Electric Samurai Page 14
