Owl and the Electric Samurai
Page 16
“Perhaps I’m willing to bury our differences. Maybe I have simply bored of our game.”
“Game? Trying to assassinate me is not a fucking game, you toothless French dandy!”
“Just a minute, Alexander,” Rynn said, interrupting me before I could do any more damage. He then reached across the table and muted the phone. I knew Alexander would bait me, and I knew I should have kept my cool. It’s always harder to follow advice than give it. A game trying to kill me and Captain.
Rynn arched an eyebrow, asking if I was ready.
I took a deep breath and counted to five—long counts—before nodding. Rynn took it off mute.
“All right, Alexander,” Rynn said. “You’ve had your fun. You have five seconds to tell us what it is you want before I hang up the phone.”
Alexander sighed. “For a species who feeds off lust, you incubi are as boring—”
Didn’t get to hear what Alexander was going to compare incubi to. Rynn hung up.
A moment later the phone rang. This time I picked it up.
Alexander didn’t bother with the niceties or insults this time. “I want a truce.”
Yeah, not falling for that bait again. “We have a truce, one you interpret as provided you or one of your minions doesn’t get caught—”
“And I acknowledge that I am fully the party at fault for said transgressions and offer my sincere apologies.”
I pressed Mute and glanced up at Rynn, whose expression I couldn’t quite read. To actually get Alexander and the Paris boys off my case, not just pretending to not be trying to kill me in public, but actually not trying to kill me . . . Or torture my cat . . . But there’s a saying about three times and a fool.
It was Rynn who unmuted the phone. “Vampires don’t need to keep their word, Alexander,” he said. “Nothing that starts off human does,” he said in an even, neutral voice—no confrontation, simply stating a fact.
“Ahhh” came Alexander’s smooth voice. “But there are other ways.”
Rynn muted the phone again and glanced up at me. “He’s not lying,” he said grudgingly. “There are types of magic that can force all parties to keep to the deal. They’re expensive though.”
Expensive. “In other words, Alexander is going to want something awful good out of this.”
Rynn gave me a single nod.
I thought about it. What the hell, I had nothing to lose from listening. I unmuted the phone. “All right, supreme cockroach, you’ve piqued my curiosity. Hypothetically, suppose I’m entertaining the idea of believing you. What do you want?”
To his credit, Alexander ignored my jibe. “It is really not so complicated an arrangement. I wish you to make sure certain parties do not succeed in upsetting our current . . . status quo.”
Alexander had said as much in his letter. “Would have pegged you as the kind of vampire who’d like being out in the open. Munch on whoever you want, lacing entire cities with that god-awful pheromone, star on a reality TV show.”
“Those of us who have survived a few hundred years have no interest in becoming the outlet for righteous human vengeance. It is a simple equation: we’re high enough up on the supernatural food chain to prove a challenge, with enough weaknesses to exploit. We like the supernatural community, but . . . Do not let your incubus take offense, but . . . how do you say? We don’t like them that much.”
I couldn’t help it—I snorted at that. Selfish preservation and looking out for number one. Sounded like Alexander and every other vampire I’d met. Still . . .
“I don’t know, Alexander. I have the utmost faith in your ability to crawl back into the woodwork when the need arises.”
“Ahh, you wound me,” Alexander said, adding his brand of false drama in. “Though I suppose some vampires might adapt, what with the current cultural predisposition to violence and technology. Some may do quite well and run over the cities. The food supply would become a concern, ‘dry up,’ so to speak. Then we’d turn on each other; as I’m certain you’ve ascertained, we are not the most altruistic bunch. I suppose it would be no time until a vampire got hungry enough to feed on another, then well— Oh, my goodness, I forgot!” he said with feigned surprise. “My apologies, Owl. You know exactly what happens when we begin to feed off each other. You do remember how well that went last time, with the vampire Sabine.”
Yeah . . . a new vampire that had become incredibly powerful a lot faster than she should have been able to. And gone crazy. Not a good combination.
“Trust me, Owl, despite our many differences and mutual dislike, we have a mutual goal. Being killed by a self-made vampire hunter while I sleep or having to fend off my own crazed starving kind does not appeal to me. I like the world the way it is,” he said, dropping the thin veneer of civility he usually used with me.
“Alexander,” Rynn warned. “You’ve told us why you want to help us, but not the how.”
“No fun,” Alexander tsked. “Suppose, Owl, you are starting to walk in your namesakes’ footsteps and philosophize—or whatever your foul-mouthed brain calls it—apologies,” Alexander said. “Old habits die hard, even for vampires.”
“No shit.”
“The question you need to ask yourself, little Owl and decidedly dour companion, is what the elves who do not wish this current status quo want. And, to show how sincere I am in this venture, I will offer you a clue. They were the same ones behind those artifacts emerging from the City of the Dead.”
I frowned at Rynn and muted the call—again. “For a group of supernaturals who feign neutrality, these guys suck. Or don’t care whether they’re caught anymore.”
His eyes narrowed. “I hate to say it, but in some ways it makes sense; they are the ones with the archives. If there was any mention of that place and what it held, it would have been kept there.”
And Alexander had been screwed over by whoever had been behind the attempt to raise a zombie army in L.A.—and kill me with an ancient curse. If it had been the elves . . .
Rynn took the phone and unmuted it. “An accusation like that, Alexander, would need proof.”
“And I am willing to bargain it—and so much more—if you accept my truce.”
Rynn gave a reluctant shrug. Not the most ideal scenario, working with Alexander, but it wasn’t like we had a lot of options—or supernaturals—offering help. There was one more thing I needed to ask though. “Why? Why me, Alexander? You hate me.”
“Because begrudgingly I have to admit that you have a bad habit of following a code of ethics the opposition has no intention or interest in observing. Sometimes it’s better to side with an honest enemy than entertain a camaraderie with parties who may or may not stab you in the back.”
While I was still processing that answer, I heard a click on the other end.
“Goddamn it.” He’d hung up on me. Fantastic. I didn’t know if I was more concerned that Alexander got the last word in or that I was seriously considering striking a deal with the homicidal cockroach. I finished off my beer while I mulled it over a little more. “What do you think?” I asked Rynn once I’d put the empty glass down.
Rynn opened his mouth to offer his insight, but he didn’t get the chance to say anything before my own phone began to ring. I pulled it out of my pocket; probably Lady Siyu to yell at me again, damn it.
I frowned as I got a look at the screen. Instead of the hissing cobra icon I expected, there was a number I didn’t recognize. I turned the phone around and showed it to Rynn. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
Shit, what now? “Hello?” I said.
“Alix Hiboux” came the clipped female voice.
I recognized the voice, and it definitely wasn’t a pleasant memory. It was a female IAA agent, the same one who’d been waiting for me at my apartment in Seattle a month ago. The one who’d pulled a gun on me and tried to recruit me to go after World Quest
with the promise of a blood money pardon.
“I take it your trip to India and Nepal was productive?”
She’d also never given me a name.
“Why hello, Black Suit Number 31, and how might you be hoping to ruin my day today?” I mouthed, “IAA” at Rynn. He took another swig of his beer and swore. I agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment, and if I’d still had a beer, I might have joined him.
We were having enough trouble with elves and vampires; the last thing I needed was to toss the IAA into the mix right now.
If the IAA suit was at all rattled by my less than respectful tone, she didn’t let on.
“You can call me Agent Dennings, Ms. Hiboux.”
Rynn gestured for me to hurry it up. Probably worried about them tracing my phone. I’d be ditching it after this. “Your name doesn’t answer my question, like, at all.”
“It’s quite simple. This is a progress update call, you’ll remember those from your PhD?”
Oh, that was a whole new level of reminiscing anxiety. “I think I’d rather deal with the vampires.”
“My superiors have decided you’re not moving quickly enough on the World Quest project.”
I snorted. Rynn once again made the gesture for me to wrap it up. I held up my hand, placed the phone on the table, and set it on speakerphone. “Ummm, apparently there’s been a huge fucking misunderstanding,” I said.
“I assure you, there isn’t.”
“Yet you just spoke to me as if I was your employee. Let me clear that up for you real fast. On no planet, in no universe, on no deserted island where the IAA is the only source of clean water and I’d be sentenced to a slow dehydrating death, could you convince me to work for the IAA.” Rynn was checking the rest of the bar now.
Dennings was stalling.
Even so, I needed to know what it was she thought she had on me. She was many unpalatable things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. If she was acting like I was back in the IAA fold, she—or the IAA—figured they had leverage. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t take your job—because, you know, your organization has an abysmal track record of paying the fuck up.”
“We prefer the term contractor in this case, not employee.”
“No benefits and crap pay? Yeah, that sounds like the IAA.” Rynn was scanning the windows now. He’d seen something. “Ah, let me think about that. No. Besides, I already have an employer. A Japanese red dragon who won’t be very happy with your assumptions. Neither will the Naga dressed in a suit. You might think you have teeth, but let me assure you, she does. And they’re actually poisonous.”
“Be that as it may.” She cleared her throat, and I detected a nervous hitch in her breath. “We wish to see more results.”
“Well, sometimes I wish I had a pink unicorn and free rein of the British museum, but as neither of those are likely to happen—”
“The terms and our conditions are nonnegotiable,” she said.
Rynn got my attention and shook his head at me, brow furrowed. Time was up, we needed to move.
I cleared my throat. “Apparently, Agent Dennings, you are under the impression that I am your bitch. Let me assure you, I am not.”
Dennings let out a dramatic, exasperated breath. “Yes, well, I told my supervisors you would say something along those lines. Good thing we have backups.”
I snorted. “I saw your mercenaries. A little rough round the edges, definitely not into preserving archaeological sites, but then again, they actually think you might pay.” For all I knew the IAA did pay them, what with their being small and heavily armed private armies.
“Funny you should say that. And you’re right. I don’t think they can find the World Quest designers either.” And with that, Dennings hung up.
I stared at the phone, then at Rynn. “Am I missing something?”
Then it occurred to me. The IAA made no bones about their displeasure with my motivation, and they’d admitted they weren’t thrilled with the skill set of the motivated folks . . .
If you were a soulless, evil organization that wanted things to move faster, what would you do? Shit.
I grabbed Captain’s carrier and strapped it on fast. “We need to go—now,” I said. I could feel my hands shaking. Captain, either hearing something in my voice or sensing something was wrong, let out a soft, inquisitive mew.
“Alix, what do you know that I don’t? You’re terrified,” Rynn asked, but he also threw his jacket on and once again scanned our surroundings.
I checked the door and the open garage windows. There was no sign of the zebras, but then again, this is what they did. “Rynn, I think the IAA sent the mercenaries to find—”
I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence, on account of the pinging clink of something metal striking the floor. Both of us turned in time to see a round metal ball roll through the doorway. The bar was quiet enough that everyone heard, and for a moment deadening silence filled the floor as everyone fixated on the tennis-ball-sized silver canister. The vortex of the storm, where nothing moves or happens.
It didn’t last long.
The first shouts sounded as the metal canister hissed. Smoke billowed out the sides, filling the bar. The violent scrape of chairs and tables followed as people clamored for the two exits, managing to block both of them. A few bright people squeezed out the open windows.
I started that way, but Rynn grabbed me and pulled me back, pushing me under a table as two more smoke grenades landed in the bar, further obscuring the scene of panic unraveling. I pulled the blue windbreaker hood down over my face and rifled through my bag. Good thing I came prepared for this sort of thing. I pulled out my goggles and gas mask, usually for dealing with vampires, and fixed them to my face.
The chaos intensified as folks from upstairs got wind of the smoke. Convinced there was a fire, they began flooding the stairs, putting more pressure on the exits, limbs and shouts mixing with the thick smoke coiling through the room.
A few people tripped over tables and chairs. It wasn’t an attack. It was exactly what it seemed like—a smoke screen. Which begged the question; where were the mercenaries?
Problem with a smoke screen was the prey could use it too.
I turned to Rynn under our still-standing table. “Well, if there was ever a good time to see how well my hide-in-plain-sight plan works—”
Rynn stopped me. “It’s a trap, Alix. They’ll be waiting outside.”
“And they can take their chances spotting me amongst all the other backpackers.”
But Rynn gave another shake of his head and nodded toward the windows, where people were scrambling out now. I still saw no sign of the mercenaries, or whoever had lobbed the smoke grenades.
I spotted a group of students moving in a herd and holding hands so as not to get lost in the smoke as they moved toward the back door. I was sure they wouldn’t mind another fellow backpacker joining in. Again I started for them but Rynn stopped me, more forcefully than he had the first time.
“Come on, I see our opening,” I told him and nodded toward the students. In a few moments they’d be out.
But Rynn only shook his head. “They won’t be looking for you. They’ll be looking for me. They probably already have an idea where I am depending on the range of the equipment they’re carrying.”
I swore. “What about splitting up and meeting at a rendezvous?”
Another more insistent shake of his head. “If the IAA gave them halfway decent intelligence on you—” He gave me a hard look. “These are professionals, Alix, they won’t give you a chance to escape. If you think the IAA is bad, these people really won’t take no for an answer.”
Well, regardless of chances, we were fast losing our window of opportunity. Against all odds the bar and hostel had emptied, and soon the smoke would clear enough for anyone waiting to come inside.
“Shit. Rynn, it’s them—the firemen across the road, the Zebras. I recognize the big one from Nepal,” I whispered. The one who’d passed me on the stairs.
Rynn swore. “I figured as much. I think I have a better way,” he said, and pulled me behind him as he started for the stairs that led up into the old hostel.
When there’s smoke, typically people don’t run up into a burning building, they run down; we could use it for cover. Not a bad idea, all things considered. I checked to make sure Captain was still okay. He was not happy with the smoke, but otherwise . . . well . . . himself.
When we reached the first landing I hazarded a glance back. Whether they’d seen us run or it was a matter of timing, the fireman-dressed mercenaries entered the bar. It looked like five, but with the smoke still filling the room, I couldn’t be sure.
Regardless, the smoke had no effect on my ears. I heard orders—not in English but in Afrikaans—being barked out as we disappeared around the corner. Rynn tried the first door we came across on the windowed side of the hostel. “Locked,” he said, and moved on to the next. I followed his lead. The first three I tried were locked as well. Locking your door in the middle of a fire—shows how trusting the hostelling world is. . . .
I heard the lock break as Rynn lost his patience and forced one of the doors open.
The room had been abandoned quickly, clothes left in piles and bags upended as people scrambled to grab their valuables and electronics before leaving. The window to the dorm room was bolted down to prevent exactly what we planned to do, but Rynn made short work of the latches before I could reach for my lock picks. Benefits to being an incubus with inhuman strength.
The window opened up to an alley—not droppable, but then again, that’s what rope is for, which Rynn had had the forethought to pack for just such an emergency.
“I think it’s clear,” Rynn said after taking a quick survey out the window. “Regardless, even if they are watching, they won’t be able to maneuver in the alley.”