Owl and the Electric Samurai

by Kristi Charish

  That caught me off guard. Still, I shook my head. “No, it isn’t.”

  “Why is that? Why aren’t things the same between us?”

  I thought about it. “Because things just aren’t the same in real life as they are on the internet. In World Quest you get to be who you want to be, but out here?” I shrugged. “We’re stuck with who we are. Just— I’ll see you tomorrow, Carpe.”

  Without another word I turned back toward the casino. Rynn was still waiting for me outside the elevator.

  I’d hoped he’d had a moment to cool off about my letting Carpe stay.

  “I’m disappointed, Alix,” he said as we stepped in the elevator.

  Well, he wasn’t yelling . . .

  “I fear you’ve made a grave error with that elf,” Rynn finally said to me, after the mirrored doors had closed shut.

  I did not want to fight about Carpe. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “No, you wouldn’t do that.”

  I stopped and really looked at him.

  “You would never do that to someone you consider a friend, so you project that on those you call friends. I admire that about you, more than you could know, but it doesn’t mean that he feels the same.” He reached out for me, brushing my neck with his hands, then my cheek. “Or that he won’t break your heart like so many people you’ve trusted have done before.”

  I felt Rynn’s breath, warm on my face, as he leaned in and rested his cheek against mine.

  I closed my eyes. “He’s my friend,” I said. And it was true. Despite his faults, despite the fact he pissed me the hell off, I considered Carpe my friend, at a time when I could count them on one hand missing a few fingers.

  It might be stupid, but it earned him some leeway.

  Rynn cupped my chin in his hand. “I know. And I’ll be here to help you pick up the pieces when he betrays you, despite how much it hurts us both.”

  He kissed me before I could say anything else, his mouth warm and insistent on mine, more passionate than it had been since the search had begun for the Electric Samurai. He didn’t let go or stop until the elevator announced with the chime that it had reached our floor.

  I had to catch my breath as he took a step back. “I have to give him a chance. Otherwise, I’m no better than everyone who expected the worst from me.”

  “I’d be surprised if you did anything else.”

  We both exited the elevator and headed for our suite, Captain on my heels, though he had the good sense to keep quiet.

  Neither of us said anything until we were inside. The suite looked as good as new, even after the mercenaries had rearranged the place. The wonders of supernaturally inclined house staff.

  Deciding his attention and complaining weren’t required, Captain went straight to scarfing down kibble in the kitchen, leaving Rynn and me alone. “You know, there’s a way to handle someone who screws you over in Tibet,” Rynn said. “Begins with a Y and ends in an I.”

  I snorted, happy for the break in seriousness. “With our luck they’ll likely make the elf their fairy princess.”

  We’d deal with that hurdle when it arrived, though I hoped this trip wouldn’t end up with having to throw Carpe to the yeti-goblins. I dropped my books back on the desk and glanced longingly at the bedroom. Sleep. That was what I needed—wanted—but there were still a few loose ends I needed to check on.

  Rather than berate me, Rynn only came to stand behind me as I took my seat back at the desk. He leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Don’t stay up too late,” he whispered in my ear before disappearing into the bedroom.

  For a moment I rethought joining him. Non-work-related time with Rynn had been in short supply recently.

  In the end, that’s what got me to turn back to my computer. The sooner we had this wrapped up, the sooner things could go to a relative version of normal and Rynn could stop worrying about a supernatural war. I started my computer. Sleep could wait for that.

  There were new emails in my inbox, one a cryptic message from Nadya. Things are getting worse and I still have no idea who is behind the thugs demanding a cut of the clubs.

  As if anticipating the questions that would raise, she’d added, There are at least eight of us being targeted now, probably more who decided to cut their losses and pass the expense on to their patrons. Annoyances—nothing permanent yet, but things have a habit of getting worse before they get better.

  At the very end though was where I stalled. Nadya had added her own brand of personal advice relating to a paragraph I’d sent her regarding Carpe’s eventual help in Vancouver. Make sure you aren’t helping someone throw you under a moving bus. This time I do not think that is what you need.

  She and I both. I sent a quick reply back, then opened up the information I’d collected on the lost Guge Empire in Tibet.

  Let’s hope I’m right about where you left the suit, Jebe. Otherwise you still might end up losing your last battle.

  13

  VIOLENT BUDDHISTS

  12:00 p.m. Tsaparang, The Lost Empire of Guge, Tibet

  I held on as the jeep rounded its way along the rocky mountain path. More desert than arid, there was no vegetation to speak of to soften the dirt roads or keep the dust down. It was hot like a desert as well, though I still wore my heavier cargo jacket and jeans. As soon as we hit the top of the city ruins the temperature would drop despite the sun, and then again once dark settled. The city fortress blended into the pale rocks of the mountain, all except the red monastery, like an imposing block, a beacon, signaling civilization in an otherwise hostile environment. It also completely negated any camouflage. Whether they hadn’t needed it or hadn’t cared . . .

  During Jebe’s lifetime, when the Mongol forces had been ravaging the eastern and western worlds, Tsaparang had been the capital of a small Tibetan kingdom called Guge, a trade point on the silk road linking India and ancient Tibet. For years now the IAA had written Tsaparang off as having no supernatural elements, meaning it was a favorite spot to train undergraduates, despite the remote area. Though lucky for us, the IAA student groups were still a few months away from their research visits.

  Despite its reputation as a “safe” site, Tsaparang and the Guge had long been suspected of inspiring the Shangri-La legend, but no proof had been uncovered in the decades’ worth of research that had followed. That didn’t stop the rumors from persisting. Having an entire population disappear off the face of the planet will do that to a place. Shortly after they were discovered by Portuguese explorers in the 1620s, the entire civilization of Guge vanished. As in no trace. No descendants, no Be Back Soon notes, no bodies.

  Theories abounded. Some historians claimed they were wiped out by disease introduced by the Europeans, while others claimed it was through centuries’ worth of battles over the silk road trade route. Then there were those who thought the Guge had run afoul of the supernatural; cursed with infertility by a minor local deity, fallen prey to vampires or another local monster that decided they were a delicacy.

  Seriously, it happened; look at the legends out of Transylvania.

  None of them were perfect, but they earned you a respectable B to A- on a paper, unlike the remaining theory, which, although plausible, was still the stuff that automatically garnered you a D, C- grade on a paper.

  That when invading forces came, the Guge simply up and left . . .

  . . . through an entrance to Shangri-La. Hidden underneath the massive tunneled depths of the ancient Tsaparang fortress.

  Not a bad theory as far as the hypothetical went, except for one problem; not one archaeologist in two hundred years had found a single mention of Shangri-La anywhere in the mountains or temples of Guge. Not a single magic inscription.

  They also hadn’t found any trace of Jebe’s treasure horde—or at least not that I could find mentioned in the stacks of research.

  What can I say? I liked
a good wild-goose chase.

  And one thing was certain, there was no way Guge was on the IAA’s or the mercenaries’ lists.

  I sat back and watched as the dark clouds continued to ebb over the horizon, about as dark as my mood was going. If there was a secret entrance under Tsaparang for Shangri-La, then I had a much, much bigger problem than trying to outsmart elves and mercenaries.

  If the IAA, with all their influence and power, hadn’t found anything in the entire two hundred years they’d been looking, what hope in hell did I have?

  At least we’d managed to outsmart the Chinese at the airport. Never underestimate an elf with a satellite connection and a penchant for hacking, or an incubus who hates paperwork as much as I do.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  I glanced away from the dark, roiling clouds to find Rynn watching me. “I’m not so much thinking they’re pretty as I am worrying about where and when they’ll start their downpour,” I said. Not that I was against rain—considering the arid mountain range, they could probably use every drop they got. But hiking?

  Though the city might have been abandoned and free of archaeologists at the moment, that didn’t mean we could waltz right in. The IAA frowned on that sort of thing—and so did the Chinese, who happily provided the guns and guards.

  Meaning we’d have to get creative.

  Rynn pulled the jeep up into what passed for a parking lot at the bottom of the white city ruins—a faded red marker in the dirt and a collection of cars arranged in a haphazard ring.

  “Just where are we supposed to meet this tour guide?” Rynn asked.

  “It’s called Adventure Tibet hiking tours,” I said, and fished the confirmation email out of my phone to read it aloud. “ ‘Meet at the bottom of the Tsaparang city steps near the parking lot.’ ” I supposed “parking lot” was a euphemism for any collection of cars numbering more than three. “ ‘Your guide for the Tsaparang city and monastery will be waiting for you in the certified official Adventure Tibet red jacket.’ ”

  “Certified official? What does that even mean?” Carpe asked, peering over my shoulder.

  Carpe was getting as bad as my cat when it came to personal space. I shoved him back. “It means the only way to roam around this city without getting arrested by the Chinese is with an approved guide,” I said, hopping out of the jeep and carefully easing Captain’s backpack over my shoulders. He was taking a nap, and I hoped to keep it that way. The less I had to explain my “medical anxiety pet” on hiking trips, the better—especially considering how much Cat-pain had been chirping at Carpe.

  Carpe struggled getting his own pack out of the jeep. To be sure, Rynn hadn’t packed it light for the slight elf, but I got the impression the only hiking Carpe did outside World Quest was to the local coffee shop for his daily caffeine fix.

  I headed toward the ancient white steps to the city, the red temple even more ominous-looking from this vantage point. Maybe that was why the Guge had forgone their natural camouflage: to instill ominous fear with a single temple painted red.

  Rynn and Carpe fell in behind me. All three of us were dressed in hiking gear; boots, cargo jackets and windbreakers, baseball caps, and loose, Dri-Fit pants. Like I’ve always said, why stand out as thieves breaking in when you can stroll right through the front door?

  I spotted a collection of brightly colored windbreakers gathered on a hill of dried grass. They were standing around what I assumed, due to his height, was a man. He was wearing a bright orange-red windbreaker. “I think I found them,” I said.

  “And how do you expect us to find the armor exactly if we’re supposed to be on a tour?” Carpe whispered.

  “Easy. Once we have our bearings, we get lost. Literally,” I told him. I left out the part where I admitted I had no fucking clue where to start.

  “And that doesn’t strike you at all as reckless?”

  Rynn snorted. I shot him a glare, but he otherwise remained silent. “You got a better idea?” I asked Carpe.

  That caught him off guard. “Well . . . no,” he said.

  If I ever did amass a treasure room, someone, please remind me to at least mention where it’s supposed to be hidden. “Then I’m going to recommend you stop complaining about my methods and start worrying about something much more important. Like how the hell to get us out of jail once the Chinese catch us.” Unlike Rynn, who seemed to think we’d be able to bluff our way out of any misunderstandings, I had no such faith. The Chinese antiquities guards weren’t stupid. Getting lost on a real hiking trail in the wilderness? Okay, sure, they might bite on a good day. Getting lost in an ancient city? They’d do the smart thing and figure we were thieves first and ask questions once we were behind bars.

  “This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?” Carpe said under his breath.

  “Usually is,” Rynn said.

  I tuned Rynn’s and Carpe’s squabbling out and turned my attention back on the hikers. Still no sign of the Zebra outfit or any other mercenaries. I hoped Carpe’s intel was right and they were all still sitting in Vegas.

  I spared another side glance at Carpe, struggling under his pack.

  Friends close, enemies closer.

  We reached the small group of hikers huddled together, and I took silent stock. Eight in total, nine if you included the guide. Fit-looking, all dressed like we were, in hiking gear.

  One of them waved, and the guide turned for the first time to face us. I frowned as I caught sight of bright red hair under a yellow baseball cap. There was something familiar about him; the stance, the bright red hair. . . . I narrowed my eyes. “Oh for the love of— You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  I picked up my pace, Rynn jogging to keep up. “Alix, did you see something?” Rynn asked, on edge again, searching for mercenaries in the sparse landscape.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Yup, I was certain now. Not only the stance and red hair, but also the glint of too-white teeth as his grin spread ear to ear.

  Hermes. Courier extraordinaire for thieves everywhere. I had used Hermes for years to get antiquities to my buyers, but it was only recently I’d met Hermes in person and discovered he was yet another supernatural, a powerful one, who fashioned himself after the patron god of messengers and thieves everywhere. Or, for all I knew, he was the source of the legends. Regardless of reasons, he’d taken a recent interest in me and my involvement in supernatural politics.

  I heard Rynn curse beside me as he caught on. He’d never met Hermes before, but I’d described him well enough, and it wasn’t like Hermes was a recluse. A bit of a wild card if Rynn’s sources were to be believed.

  Not two, but three supernaturals now . . .

  Hermes flashed me a wide grin, but with no outward sign of recognition.

  “And here we have the final three of our group for today’s hike. Did you find the place okay, ah . . . ” Hermes didn’t drop his smile or character as he glanced down at his phone. “. . . ah, Harmony, Greg, and . . .” He made a show of peering at Carpe. “You must be Bob. You can call me Hemey.”

  It took willpower to smile and wave at the group. Hemey. Hilarious. I just hoped he hadn’t done anything drastic to the tour guide who was actually supposed to meet us.

  Best not to think about those kinds of things when it came to supernaturals.

  Rynn and Carpe followed my lead in waving and saying hi to the small group. Well, Rynn did. Carpe just stood there looking mildly ­uncomfortable—but considering it worked for him, I let it go.

  Hermes turned his attention back on the group proper. “Today we’ll be inside Tsaparang, the ancient fortress city of the lost Kingdom of Guge, one of the many Buddhist kingdoms that dotted this region between the eighth and sixteenth centuries. But don’t let modern-day Buddhists fool you; these Buddhist kingdoms warred with each other and their neighbors like any other empire. The bloody and tumultuous reign of the
violent Buddhists.”

  Hermes paused for the good-natured chuckles from the crowd before starting up the steps to the fortress and continuing his introduction. “It’s still debated how Tsaparang, the fortress city, became the capital of the Kingdom of Guge. According to some accounts, it was designated the capital by Namde Wosung around 838–841 CE, right after his father was assassinated. Others claim it wasn’t until around 900 CE . . .”

  I tuned out as Carpe jabbed me in the chest. I glared at him. “What?”

  “Couldn’t you have come up with something a little more original than Harmony? And Bob? Come on, I do not look like a Bob.”

  “He has a point,” Rynn said, joining in. “Considering you just retired Charity.”

  “It’s thematic. It helps me keep in character.” Early lesson learned; it’s real hard to remember whether you’re supposed to be a Claire or Rebecca when you’ve gone through a couple rotations. Thematic names like Harmony, Charity—and my all-time favorite, Temperance—jog the memory on the sly. “And it’s not like Bob is your new name. I was going with bland and generic.”

  “Accurate if nothing else,” Rynn added. I gave him a jab for that one, before tuning back in to Hermes’s lecture as we headed up the roughly cut steps toward the red temple.

  “Regardless of how it came into existence,” Hermes continued, “by the tenth century Guge was a regional power in control of an important trade route between India and Tibet. As you may have noticed, Tsaparang is a fortress city, perched on a pyramid-shaped rock rising about five to six hundred feet out of the sparse landscape. Whereas the commoners lived at its base, the royalty and nobility lived at the top, the only means to reach them this twisting stone staircase.” A roll of thunder cut him off. “Which, weather and time permitting, we will see today. First though, we’ll be stopping at the two public temples—the Lhakhang Marpo, also known as the red temple, and the Lhakhang Karpo, you guessed it; the white temple, which both lead to an extensive underground warren of tunnels.”