Owl and the Electric Samurai

by Kristi Charish

  I leaned over the bar. Killian lifted a fresh beer with something resembling a questioning gaze. I nodded. This was turning into a three-beer night. “You don’t know them like I do, Rynn. They don’t make stupid mistakes.”

  “There’s a lesson I learned years ago from a general who used to abuse his commanders: take credit for their wins, blame them for their losses. This applied especially when he lost his battalions using them as cannon fodder.”

  “Don’t those people usually win?”

  “For a time,” he admitted. “This one became a minor emperor.”

  “Not convincing me of the bad strategy here.”

  “The point is, eventually every monster like that needs his army one day. This minor emperor used and abused them so much that he didn’t have a commander left who could—or was willing to—command what was left of his troops. The smart ones had seen the writing on the wall and deserted—while the going was still good, as you like to say.”

  “What happened to him—the emperor?”

  “The invading army won and stuck his head on a pike—or maybe it was an anthill. The point was that well before his head was severed from his neck, the minor emperor realized that he was the sole source of his own crumbling empire.”

  “The IAA isn’t an empire.”

  “No, but the analogy still stands. They’ve sown so much discord in their own ranks that now, when they need people, they realize they’ve burned all their bridges.”

  I shook my head. “That doesn’t make them any less dangerous.”

  “No,” Rynn agreed. “If anything it makes them more dangerous and less predictable. But when the other side doesn’t have a plan, it makes it easier for us to stay a step ahead.”

  There was some truth to that, I had to give Rynn that.

  “Rynn, I can’t let the IAA get to them. This, all of this,” I said, meaning the TV news coverage, “just proves it. If they get hold of human magic—real magic that they could use . . .” I let the thought trail off. I didn’t want to add that every time someone in the world of archaeology tried to explore magic with a more hands-on approach, regardless of whether they were a student or academic, the results were always disastrous. Humans using supernatural magic? They were lucky if all it did was blow up a building. But human magic . . . The IAA was dangerous and abusive enough as it was, but with magic they could access . . . ?

  I heard the phone muffle as he spoke to someone else. “I’m going to double-check security, make sure all the surveillance is secure one last time before it’s time to meet Lady Siyu,” he said.

  Right. I checked the time. It was fast approaching the hour mark before our audience with the dragon lady. So pervasive was my dislike of any time I had to waste in the monster’s presence that I was imagining the click of her heels everywhere I went. Only that wasn’t my imagination. . . .

  Shit. I swiveled in my chair only to make out Lady Siyu, immaculate black suit and all, weaving her way along the cement garden tiles, her heels clicking with a less-expensive-sounding clack than they did against the more expensive marble floors.

  “Speak of the devil, looks like she brought the meeting to me,” I said as I watched Lady Siyu make her way down the cement path. Her suit and heels just seemed wrong in the more natural setting.

  I eyed beer number three. Normally I kept the drinking to a minimum before having to deal with Lady Siyu or Mr. Kurosawa. I took a generous swallow.

  Rynn swore. “Try not to pick a fight before I get there.”

  “No promises,” I said, before I heard the click of Rynn hanging up.

  Lady Siyu stopped a few paces away from me, hands on her hips and sunglasses firmly in place, even though there was no one else in the Garden Café. “Do you have the elve’s artifact yet?” Lady Siyu said. I noticed Killian had vamoosed. Smart nymph.

  I watched as Captain stopped his rooting in the garden and shot his nose in the air, sniffing madly. His eyes fixated on Lady Siyu and he began to creep forward, letting out a tentative growl.

  Damn it . . . I scrambled off my chair and around Lady Siyu to grab him before he could launch himself. He wasn’t impressed; he squirmed against my grip, but I held on—at arm’s length so he couldn’t eviscerate me.

  “No,” I whispered as Captain twisted and tried to push his way out, keeping his eyes on Siyu the whole time.

  Lady Siyu’s sunglasses turned down, and I got the distinct impression she was examining my cat.

  Captain, sensing the same thing, bellowed at her in all his muddy glory.

  Lady Siyu took a step back—but not from Captain’s bellow. Lady Siyu didn’t scare nearly as easily as the vampires. It was the mess. Lady Siyu’s crisp white shirt, expensive skirt, and shoes did not look like they would take well to an angry Mau’s mess.

  Captain wasn’t stupid. He’d hit her where it hurt.

  Lady Siyu offered a fanged sneer to Captain before turning her yellow gaze on me. “If you do not retrieve that artifact soon, the deal with the incubus will be null and void. Then I will wish my cat returned.”

  “Whoever gets Captain gets to clean him,” I said. “Here, be my guest.” It was a bluff; being passed back and forth as a bargaining chip would give Captain more of a complex than he already had, but Lady Siyu didn’t need to know that.

  Captain bared his teeth, set his ears back, and let out a hiss from behind my arms.

  Lady Siyu hissed right back, her jaw protruding to fit the elongated fangs. Captain huddled closer to my chest. He was still growling, but the hissing stopped.

  “Seriously? Hissing at a cat?”

  Her lip curled, exposing a single upper fang. “I prefer the animals of any species around me to know their place. Come, you and the incubus are being summoned.”

  “Now?” I’d hoped to at least clean up.

  “And I thought if you didn’t bring me back an artifact, I’d get to kill you. It appears Mr. Kurosawa’s whim is to watch as we live out our disappointments, over and over. Though,” she said, her head tilting in a pensive gesture, “if you do ignore this summons, perhaps Mr. Kurosawa will allow me to kill you.” She glanced around the garden. “On second thought, stay and drown what’s left of your pitiful life in vice.” And with that, she spun on her heels and headed back into the Japanese Circus.

  Captain didn’t come out from behind my legs until the doors had slid shut. Fantastic. I downed the remainder of my beer and placed the carrier in front of Captain. Of all the people on the planet for him to pick a fight with . . . “As if the vampires weren’t bad enough. You realize I can’t actually protect you from her?” I told him.

  He mewed at me before settling inside, if for no reason other than to get the last arguing noise in. I shook my head and pulled my phone out to text Rynn the change in plans, then hefted Captain over my shoulder and headed back inside the Japanese Circus’s immaculate lobby. We were garnering stares this time—not that there were many people lingering, but still, it was enough to make even me self-conscious.

  “Paintball,” I said to one couple who looked a little too long for my liking as we stood outside the elevator doors. “They added mud in the arena for realism.”

  They nodded as if in understanding but picked up the pace.

  A woman dressed in a light pastel blue suit who had also been waiting for the elevator ahead of me gave me a long once-over and quickly took a few steps back.

  “Must be my winning smile,” I whispered to Captain under my breath.

  Then again, I doubted any of these people would know a winning smile unless it was packaged in a wrapper they could digest and understand.

  Three months ago that would have bothered me. Now? Their loss. I had people who went out of their way to see past my shell. People who couldn’t be bothered to actually see the world around them? Like Rynn and Nadya said, they should be pitied.

  As I watche
d the couple and woman retreat, it occurred to me again that even if the supernaturals did manage to crawl their way out of the proverbial closet, it might be that the people at large would decide as a collective that they didn’t want to see any of it.

  The elevator door opened. “Time to face the dragon, cat,” I said before stepping inside the mirrored and decorated car.

  Rynn was waiting for me outside the massive black-and-gold doors. So was Lady Siyu. In contrast to me and Captain, somehow, somewhere between checking security and arriving here, Rynn had managed to clean up.

  I hadn’t, and decided I wasn’t going to bother apologizing for the bits of crumbling, stagnant mud my shoes left with each step.

  Lady Siyu glared at me, then turned her attention to Rynn. “I expected an incubi to at least attempt to keep your pets cleaner than the humans do theirs.”

  Rynn gave me a once-over and shrugged. I just stood there, Captain slung over my shoulder, rumbling in his carrier—whether at the fact that he could smell Lady Siyu or that he wasn’t out on his leash, I couldn’t be sure and frankly didn’t care.

  Lady Siyu flared her nostrils. Apparently neither of us was rising to the bait on that one today.

  She turned her back on us to push the massive doors open, the plumes of gray smoke billowing out into the hall, curling around my feet. I shivered. Despite the heat, this room always gave me the chills.

  Rynn followed her in first. “I assume there is a point to this appearance besides threatening Alix and her house cat?” he asked.

  “There is business to be discussed with Mr. Kurosawa. You and the thief,” she added, nodding toward me.

  “What about?” I asked.

  “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask.” After a moment of only the slot machines chiming around us and the click of Lady Siyu’s heels against the marble floor, she added, “Mr. Kurosawa is in a mood.”

  Fantastic. Assuming that Mr. Kurosawa had been in good moods whenever I’d dealt with him before, I was pretty damn sure I didn’t want to see his bad mood.

  “If they want the artifact so badly, they’d let me get back to the damn job,” I said to Rynn.

  “I know,” he replied. He sounded tired—something that almost never happened. And distracted.

  “Are you—okay?” I hesitated over the “okay” part. I was not usually the one on the asking end of that.

  He shook his head, and it occurred to me we were keeping a very respectable distance behind Lady Siyu.

  “Just worn out from the political infighting. Between the elves and the IAA.” He trailed off and let Lady Siyu turn a corner ahead of us before giving me a pointed stare. “I’m starting to think the two are connected. There’s too much coincidence,” he said, lowering his voice to the point where I didn’t think even Lady Siyu would be able to detect it.

  “Now you’re starting to sound like me with the paranoia and conspiracy theories.” Elves involved in the IAA’s current witch hunt for World Quest—to what end?

  Rynn took my arm gently and steered me down a corridor I hadn’t realized was there, hidden from my human eyes. “To hinder us or coincide with our search? It’s questionable whether they know behind their own machinations. I left this work for a reason, Alix,” he added. “I wanted to avoid being dragged into supernatural plots and games.”

  “Do you think they’d have left you alone if you had stayed in Tokyo?” I don’t know why I asked it exactly, but I did.

  He inclined his head, considering, then sighed. “No. As tempting as it is to blame leaving Tokyo, it wouldn’t be true. They’d have found another way to involve me—the elves, Mr. Kurosawa, or whoever else might have a stake in this game. No, I prefer this. This way at least they haven’t blindsided me completely. You aren’t the only one trouble has a habit of finding.”

  A slot machine went off beside us, and I had to do some fancy footwork to avoid touching the stream of gold coins that shot out. I swear the ghosts in a few of those things had a twisted sense of humor. Probably from being locked up in a slot machine for so long.

  I caught Rynn watching me as I avoided the coins. “And there’s you,” he said. “If I had stayed in Tokyo, I might have avoided being dragged into the confrontation a few more months, but I wouldn’t have you.”

  I felt the same way, though I didn’t always express it eloquently. I might have said something to that effect, but we’d cleared the last corner of the maze.

  Mr. Kurosawa was waiting for us on the black leather couches facing away from us. I probably would have missed him if it hadn’t been for the billowing smoke—and the red, emberlike glow emanating from his skin.

  I held Captain’s carrier a little tighter and drew in a deep breath to calm my nerves. All right, Alix, gird your loins and let’s see what’s got Mr. Kurosawa in a mood.

  “I hear you have yet to find the artifact,” Mr. Kurosawa said, still facing away from us.

  If there was one thing I’d learned about working with supernaturals like Mr. Kurosawa over the past few months, it was to make sure expectations were managed.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s not that simple,” I said. “First, the IAA decided to involve themselves—”

  “In other words, no,” Lady Siyu offered.

  I stuffed my temper and started again. “Look, finding the suit the elves want so desperately while the IAA breathes down my throat is a significant mitigating factor.” It would have helped if he’d turned around so I could see his face. You could tell a lot about a dragon’s temper by how well they were holding their human form. I didn’t think it was my imagination that the room’s temperature went up a fraction.

  Lady Siyu arched one of her perfect black eyebrows. “And taking out jobs for third parties is in direct violation of your contract with Mr. Kurosawa.”

  I stopped myself swearing. Outright denying Lady Siyu’s well-worded accusations rarely went my way. I was always better off with the facts.

  “Actually,” I said, “they seem to be under the impression I work for them. I tried to explain I work for a dragon and wasn’t interested in their job, but they don’t seem to give a flying fu—”

  Lady Siyu didn’t give me a chance to finish. “And you expect us to believe that you, a thief, refused their prize?” She gave a derisive sniff.

  Oh, hell, screw diplomacy. Never had a talent for it anyway.

  “You think I’m a greedy thief? Then why the hell would I accept a job from an organization that I know won’t pay the fuck up. And speaking of getting screwed over, the situation with this artifact the elves oh so want me to find isn’t nearly as straightforward as you seem to think.”

  Lady Siyu frowned at that, and I caught the movement of Mr. Kurosawa’s head as he turned to watch me with his black, white-less eyes. Whether with feigned or genuine indifference, I couldn’t be sure.

  “Look, I realize I’m not as familiar with elven politics as you—”

  “Then maybe you should hold your tongue. Unless you’d like me to take it,” Lady Siyu started, but she was silenced by a hiss of breath from Mr. Kurosawa. I took that as my signal to continue.

  “But something is very wrong.”

  “Are you suggesting the elves are being dishonest?” Mr. Kurosawa said, deliberate with his words, no trace of his Japanese accent over his cultivated American.

  It always paid to be very careful with how I worded answers to Mr. Kurosawa. “Depends what you mean by dishonest. Have they lied? Probably not, but they most definitely didn’t give me all the information they have on the Lightning Armor, and—”

  “Which you have no proof of,” Lady Siyu snapped.

  Deep breath . . . “Like I said, it depends what you consider dishonest.” I shrugged and took a gamble. “Despite what the elves claim, I don’t think they necessarily all agree on whether they really want it. I think the elves are fighting about it, and it’s spil
ling onto this job.

  “The last record of the armor was in the early 1200s, when Jebe had it. It disappeared after that. Jebe is the last known link, yet the elves went out of their way to try and keep any information he or the Mongols recorded out of my grasp. Why? Why go to all the trouble of negotiating a deal, then crippling my efforts to actually find it? That’s the question you should be asking.”

  “And while you’re at it,” Rynn added, “ask yourself why the IAA has taken such a sudden interest in Alix with an army of mercenaries. It reeks of the elves—”

  Lady Siyu turned on him. “And I am sick and tired of listening to your heavily prejudiced objections to the elves’ business practices—”

  “Because I’m the only one in this room who has ever worked with them!”

  “Enough,” Mr. Kurosawa’s voice echoed through the casino with a preternatural amplification. Both Rynn and Lady Siyu fell silent.

  Silence settled in the air, only interrupted by the buzz of the electric slot machines and the odd chimes of a winning hand.

  “An interesting hypothesis,” Mr. Kurosawa finally said.

  I took that as permission to continue. “First they don’t give us nearly enough information to really track the suit down—a few descriptions, piecemeal bits. From what I gather, the elves have the best supernatural archives around. They have more on the suit; I mean, some of the diagrams are so off kilter that the only way they could suspect the suits were the same is that if they had other text to go with it.”

  “And the IAA?” Lady Siyu asked, her voice poisonous.

  “Like Rynn said. I think it’s an awfully big coincidence that the IAA only pulled out their big threats right after we managed to find the book the elves tried to hide.”

  Silence fell across the room again as plumes of smoke flowed out across the casino floor from where Mr. Kurosawa sat perfectly still. This time not even the slot machines ventured a sound.

  Mr. Kurosawa finally stood and faced us. He was dressed in one of his expensive suits, but his skin was bright red and his teeth were black and serrated. Smoke trailed freely out of his nostrils as he strode to where Lady Siyu was holding a folder.