Owl and the Electric Samurai

by Kristi Charish

  “Watch it. Captain is now showing an interest in incubi,” I said. Come on, tequila bottle, where’d you go?

  “More likely he smells a trace of Lady Siyu on me.”

  Ah! There it was. One of the nymphs had hidden it behind a tray of glasses. Must be new. They usually did a better job.

  “Tequila?” Rynn asked, taking the bottle unceremoniously from my hands.

  I shrugged. “I ran out of beer, and this seemed like as good a substitution as any.” Rynn didn’t say anything; smart man—or incubus—that he was, he simply handed me back my tequila.

  “You left,” Rynn said as I poured myself a shot.

  “Yup,” I said. I stared at it, then at my empty beer bottle. I held up the bottle to Rynn and arched my eyebrows.

  He sighed but stepped behind the bar to retrieve a new one for me.

  The beer the nymphs always managed to hide.

  I waited until Rynn placed the new bottle in front of me. I took a generous sip before adding a shot of tequila and taking another large swig.

  Only then did I look up at Rynn.

  The interrogation hadn’t gone well—or maybe it had and I just didn’t have the right perspective or stomach for it. I’d left as soon as Lady Siyu had broken out the fangs in front of the five mercenaries she’d tied to chairs while the three more Rynn had found in the lobby had waited, trussed up, in the corner.

  Based out of Paraguay, they were a newer company of mercenaries who’d decided to branch out into the supernatural. They were still trying to establish themselves, which is why they’d decided to jump in on the lack of action at the casino. Or that was as much as I’d gotten before one of them had started to pray to Jesus . . . or maybe it had been to Lady Siyu. The gag had made it hard to tell.

  “I am not cut out for mercenary work,” I said, and took another swig of my tequila-laced beer.

  When Rynn didn’t answer, I added, “What happened to them?”

  Rynn poured himself his own shot and passed me a second one. He even managed to retrieve a couple limes and salt. “We wiped their memories and deposited them outside the hotel. Or I wiped their memories. Lady Siyu wanted to castrate them and do something creative with their—”

  “Don’t want to know.”

  Rynn paused to shoot his tequila, and I joined him. “The Zebras are playing dirty. They were the ones who gave them the bright idea to try the casino—through indirect means, but it was them. They wanted to see how good our defenses were.”

  “Do you think they got what they wanted?”

  Rynn seemed to consider that. “More than I’d like, but considering we didn’t have to use any of our real defenses—”

  “They made it to my floor.” That was pretty damned effective if you asked me.

  “Only because I let them.”

  I glared at Rynn, but he wasn’t looking at me. I felt my own anger rise. “Seriously? You let them in and you didn’t think to warn me?”

  He did make eye contact, but his expression was anything less than apologetic. “You weren’t in any real danger,” he said, “but a far sight better the Zebras think our defenses are weak than to have any real idea of what we can do. Consider this one of those judgment calls that you make.”

  I didn’t say anything. I was fuming too much.

  “It wasn’t a decision I enjoyed,” he added.

  I took another sip from my tequila-laced beer. “I think I preferred it when people were just pissed about me taking artifacts. Somehow, this just feels . . .” More serious I was going to say, but that didn’t quite cover it. “. . . not the direction I would have gone,” I said, and left it at that.

  “In all honesty, neither would I, though the fact that there is one less mercenary group on our trail will make the other ones more cautious.”

  This was the second time now the South African mercenaries had almost caused disaster, directly or not. “At least Nadya got out before things hit the fan. That’s a bonus.”

  Rynn snorted. “I just spoke to Nadya—said your phone was off.” He hesitated before adding, “She said things are heating up, not cooling down as we’d hoped. There were break-ins at both our clubs. Minor damage, but the fact they managed to gain entry is the more troubling part, especially where Gaijin Cloud is concerned.”

  Rynn’s club, and one I suspected had its fair share of supernaturals on staff. “Not what I needed to hear,” I said.

  “No, but if I didn’t tell you now, you’d be more pissed off later.”

  I begrudgingly lifted my glass. He had a point.

  “Whoever is behind the Tokyo mess, they’re like a ghost,” he said, and shook his head. “Things are strange, and let’s leave it at that.”

  Not dangerous yet, but I held no illusions that that wasn’t the direction things were going . . .

  Rynn let out a sigh and brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face. “What about you? How are things on the treasure raiding end?”

  “I’m not going to lie, I’m a little out of my league here, Rynn. I mean, mercenaries? That’s you, not me. If I was a worse person I’d be tempted to leave the suit to the elves and World Quest to the IAA.” I related my partial discussion with Michigan and Texas before the mercenaries had interrupted us.

  “So Shangri-La is more than it seems,” Rynn mused. “Leave the IAA problem to me for now. I can keep the mercenaries at bay a while longer. Meanwhile, you worry about finding Jebe’s suit.”

  And that was part of the problem. “They’re linked, Rynn. I’m not certain of the why but there is no way the IAA’s search for Neil and Frank isn’t connected to the elves bid for the Electric Samurai. And I think I might know the how.” Rynn arched an eyebrow, and I pulled up the file on Jebe I’d been reading before I’d decided to drown my conscience in tequila and beer.

  I showed him my laptop. “This is the original manifest we found in Vancouver—the household and campaign accounts for Jebe. This comment, written in the margins at the end?”

  “You dismissed this before. Household goods, textiles, foods—hardly seems worth mentioning.”

  “Originally that’s what I thought too, and so did the researchers who added their own translations over the years, but look here—” I showed him a section from a later academic paper that examined the Mongolian dialect used at the time. It had brought into question the use of some of the terms associated with households, and suggested they’d been much more inclusive than previously supposed. “According to this, ‘household goods’ refers not just to textiles and dry food goods but anything associated with Jebe—his army, textiles, slaves, horses, weapons.”

  Rynn peered over my shoulder and scrolled down the screen. “It says a large portion of household goods were donated to a monastery in the Guge Empire. That’s in modern Tibet,” he said.

  I nodded and pulled the message that Neil and Frank had sent to both Carpe and me, along with directions to a location where they wanted to meet us. “Look what else is in Tibet,” I said, and showed him the location the World Quest duo had forwarded me and Carpe only half an hour before.

  He read the message before looking back up, a disquieted look on his face. “I don’t like coincidences like this.”

  I inclined my head. “Coincidence or not, looks like we’ll be hitting two birds with one stone.”

  Rynn started to pour himself another shot of tequila but then seemed to think better of it.

  “Technically Tibet’s in China.” I winced as Rynn said something ­unpleasant-sounding in supernatural.

  “You don’t make things easy,” he said.

  “Maybe Carpe can wipe my photo off their recognition software.”

  Rynn started to say something, but Captain chose that moment to lift his head out of the garden he was destroying and chirp at the doors.

  I spun, half expecting to see Lady Siyu stride out of th
e double glass doors. It wasn’t Lady Siyu though, but someone shorter and lankier in build who stepped out into the Garden Café area.

  I narrowed my eyes . . . slim build, dressed in jeans and a World Quest hoodie pulled down over his face. Even though he was standing, he was hunched at the shoulders the way I often see computer programmers and gamers stand. There was a bright green backpack thrown over his shoulders.

  Showing more interest than he usually did with people, Captain chirped again and wandered over, sniffing at his shoes. The man tried to shoo him away, but to no avail.

  It couldn’t be him. . . .

  “. . . we’ll figure out a way around the Chinese without the elf’s help.”

  I was listening to Rynn, really I was, as I watched the slight figure try to repel my curious cat. The hood fell back as Captain went for a shoelace, revealing the long brown hair and pointed ears.

  Oh, hell no . . .

  “. . . we’re on the edge of a supernatural civil war, and all anyone can think about is moving their chess pieces,” Rynn said, oblivious to the person at the door. “Politics is what they’re all worried about. I wonder why I even bother—”

  I grabbed Rynn’s arm and nodded at the door. ”Don’t look now, but I think your bad mood is about to get much worse.”

  Rynn turned, his face twisting into a snarl at the sight of Carpe. “You,” he said, not bothering to hide his distaste. “I thought I told you never to come back.”

  “Um, yeah. Hi there, Alix, incubus—” Carpe started. Captain had hold of his shoelaces now and had decided they were his. Possession was 90 percent ownership . . . at least as far as cats were concerned.

  “In those exact words,” Rynn said, his voice rising to levels I rarely heard . . . if ever.

  Carpe held up his hands. “I’m not here for your help this time, I’m here to help.”

  Rynn snorted. “That doesn’t make me feel at all comforted. And the answer is still no.”

  I don’t know what Carpe had expected his reception would be—especially from Rynn—but the way it flustered him, he hadn’t expected this. “You need me,” Carpe started.

  Rynn stalked toward Carpe. Elf or not, Carpe had the good sense to step back. “The last time you accompanied us anywhere, you stole the plane, crashed it in the middle of nowhere, and almost got Alix killed crawling into a tomb.”

  “Now, that’s not entirely true. I almost got Alix and her friend Nadya killed. You and me would have survived—but that’s not the point.” Carpe’s voice shot up with the last part as Rynn gripped him by the front of his jacket and lifted him onto his toes.

  I should probably have intervened. Then again, I was still pissed at Carpe for throwing me under the bus with the World Quest developers, among other things. And Rynn wouldn’t kill him—at least I didn’t think he would.

  “I helped,” Carpe said, straining to get the words out. Apparently incubus beat elf in strength.

  “After I threatened to shoot you,” Rynn said.

  “Unfair.” Carpe tried to say something else, but it was a losing battle against Rynn’s grip.

  “And I suppose the mercenaries let you stroll right in from the airport?”

  “I think . . . they’re all frightened of Lady Siyu . . . now,” Carpe managed, and turned his brown eyes on me. “Look, Alix, let me help. At the very least I can monitor their communications. That has to be worth something.”

  Rynn looked to me. I had my misgivings about Carpe, but even I had to concede we could use the help—if only to monitor their communications.

  “And last time I checked, you were down a delinquent archaeologist.”

  “You aren’t a delinquent archaeologist, Carpe. And the last time I asked you for help, you told me to screw off.”

  “That’s not—”

  Rynn didn’t let him finish. “What’s to say you aren’t here as their spy? That would be in their repertoire—send a friendly spy.”

  “I’m not!”

  “And I don’t believe you!” Rynn said, giving Carpe another shake as he struggled to wrench Rynn’s hands off his jacket.

  Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have been so sure about Rynn’s intentions toward Carpe. I realized both of them were looking at me. A pit formed in my stomach as I turned my options over in my head. I didn’t trust Carpe—not completely—but he was my friend. He wasn’t malicious, just selfish and single-minded when he thought he was right.

  And prone to throwing me under the bus . . .

  And he’d also found us a way out of the hostel . . .

  “Why help?” I asked Carpe.

  He gave me a confused stare—though that could have been the oxygen being cut off to his brain from the way Rynn had cinched his jacket.

  I sighed. “Why offer to help? Clearly the elves don’t want you involved, and the last time I checked, you were on their payroll. What’s the incentive, Carpe?”

  “Because I don’t like the idea of World Quest being ruined by you or the IAA.”

  Rynn snorted, and Carpe turned his attention back on him. “And despite what you seem to think, I don’t want to see a supernatural war spill out either.”

  The question was, how much did I believe that?

  Enough.

  I motioned for Rynn to put him down. He did, dropping Carpe in a heap before taking me off to the side of the bar.

  “It’s too much coincidence him appearing here now, Alix. I can’t read elves like I can humans, but he’s got an ulterior motive.”

  I glanced over to where Carpe was still slumped by the casino doors, rubbing his neck. Captain stood curious guard, sniffing and pawing at intervals. “He’s never been malicious,” I said carefully.

  “Because being kind or helpful hasn’t gone against whatever his orders have been. Yet. Mark my words, if he thinks for one moment that screwing you over will help the greater good or whatever agenda his higher-ups have given him, he’ll be as malicious as he needs to be.”

  I chewed my lip and watched Carpe. I didn’t want to think what he might be capable of—not after our fiasco in Egypt. I knew the kinds of lengths he was willing to go to when he thought he was in the right. That was part of the problem.

  “He’s right. We need him to keep tabs on the IAA and mercenaries,” I said to Rynn.

  He stared at me, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

  “If he’s going to screw us over— Call me a sucker for punishment, but I’d rather have him in our sights . . . or yours.” What was that saying? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?

  Rynn looked far from convinced though. He shot Carpe a sideways glance. “This isn’t play time in a computer game, Alix.”

  I felt my own irritation creep up the back of my neck. “Well, let’s hear your idea for keeping tabs on the mercenaries, because I’m all out.”

  For a moment I thought Rynn was going to argue. But instead, he sighed and said, “All right, Alix. I’ll go along, but at the first sign, and I mean the first, that he is working for the elves . . .”

  “At the first sign that Carpe is here to screw us over, then you can deal with him,” I said.

  “By whatever means I deem necessary?”

  I hesitated. That covered an awful lot of ground, considering the beef Rynn had with the elves in general.

  “I’m sorry, Alix, but that’s my hard line. Either you trust me to deal with him if it becomes necessary, or he’s out.”

  I glanced over one last time at Carpe. Captain had gone back to battling over the shoelaces and the two were in a tug of war, but Captain didn’t seem to think Carpe was a danger. I just hoped Captain’s faith in Carpe was founded. And mine in Rynn. I nodded. “We’ll do it your way.”

  “Thank you,” Rynn said, squeezing my shoulder. He meant it.

  I looked him in the eyes. “And I’m trusting you’re not g
oing to kill or maim Carpe outright.”

  Rynn nodded as he started back for the casino doors and Carpe, who was watching us, wary. “Now you just have to hope that he shares the same sentiment.”

  Thinking how close Carpe had cut it when warning us about the mercenaries and how easily he’d lied to me before . . . coincidences, close calls, and Carpe. Right now those were three Cs I could do without.

  Rynn stopped just short of Carpe, who flinched. “We leave tomorrow morning,” Rynn told him.

  Carpe looked up from his tug of war with Captain with a mix of surprise and, I daresay, gratefulness. Maybe he really did just want to help. “Great. Where do I stay?” Carpe asked, pushing himself up and grabbing his green backpack.

  “Pay for a room and make certain it isn’t on our floor. Otherwise I don’t care,” Rynn said as he made his way through the sliding glass doors, a little less friendly than was maybe productive, but under the circumstances . . .

  “Alix?” Carpe said, pulling my attention off Rynn’s retreat into the casino.

  I shook my head. I wasn’t interested in pushing Rynn any more tonight. “Talk to the front desk, Carpe.” I whistled for Captain, who hesitated over relinquishing Carpe’s laces. Deciding there was a greater chance of food with me, he gave a last chirp and followed me into the casino.

  So did Carpe. “Look, I was hoping we could talk without the incubus around—friend-like?”

  “His name is Rynn.”

  “I’m pretty sure he prefers it if I don’t use his name.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, ready to snap at Carpe, and stopped myself. He looked dejected. Rynn was at the elevators, watching as well, decidedly more hostile.

  I shook my head at Carpe. “Not right now, Carpe. Tomorrow, okay? Go check in and get some sleep.”

  He opened his mouth to argue. Then, thinking better of pushing his luck any further than he already had, he drew in a breath. “Right,” he said, nodding.

  I started for the elevator, where Rynn was still waiting for me, watching Carpe.

  “Alix?”

  I turned to see what Carpe wanted. He was standing there, looking awkward and uncomfortable. “It’s not the same, is it? Like when we’re online.”