High Steaks (Freelance Familiars Book 3)

by Daniel Potter

  My mind conjured up Feather. I laughed. My mind was a cheeky bastard; those eyes would require far less than a can of tuna to claw my backside.

  Too many people. Oric alone would be too many. Say I let him put this tack in my tail, maybe it'd be okay for a bit. But then perhaps down the line Veronica wants to call in a favor I don't want to do and uses the whole dragon thing as a stick. I'd been shown this road before with the technomagi. I told them to jump in a lake. Trick was, how to do that without the entire society of magi jumping down my throat and setting me on fire?

  I walked and pondered. Two options occurred to me. One, prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that my abilities were imbued by Archmagus Archibald, whose death finally kicked me over into the world of felinedom. Or convince the magus world that the dragon would strenuously object if something actually happened to me. The last option appealed, but it did run counter to me allowing Oric to air juggle me for several minutes.

  Also, I had to guard against Oric dropping very real anvils on my head.

  A rock landed twenty feet in front of me, and for the briefest moment, the sun's heat on my back disappeared.

  I stopped. My third eyelids peeled back, and I looked up to see something hurtling downward, riding four columns of flame. As I scrabbled backward, it hit the ground with a thud I felt through my front paws. A wave of dust close on the heels of the shockwave enveloped me. My heat-baked brain reacted to this with little more than an "uh" until a familiar bulk charged out of the dust cloud and tackled me. "Thomas!"

  The poncho sounded like an entire box of dry Cap'n Crunch cereal being crushed as O'Meara's arms closed around my midsection and hauled me up into a hug. Our bond reformed, and a babble of worried thoughts flooded into my head like a cooling stream.

  Are you all right? We couldn't find you!

  She set me down, and her hands pushed under my poncho, seeking out the painful bits, checking for injuries deeper than my pride.

  "You nut-brained dummy!" Rudy appeared on the end of my nose, yanking painfully on my whiskers. "You fell for the oldest trick in the book! That wasn't even O'Meara!"

  Instinctively, I attempted to backpedal but couldn't on account of the squirrel was attached and O'Meara held me firm. "Ow, Rudy! Lay off!" My brain clicked as to what Rudy was talking about a moment later.

  "Look, it's no big deal. Oric wanted to have a heart to heart." I shook my head, attempting to dislodge the squirrel, but he dug the little needles he called claws into my nose. "Ow! Dammit, Rudy! Leggo!"

  "Dude! I saw you in the sky! That didn't look like a conversation to me!" Rudy chittered, his tail dancing with rage. "I thought he was going to impale you on the point of the Luxor!"

  "And that's precisely what he wanted you to see!" I reached a paw up under my muzzle, and the squirrel allowed me to pry him off without taking my nose as a trophy. Meanwhile, O'Meara was reaching for my memories of the fall. I gently pushed her back from it. She acceded, but I felt her possessive anger, hot as molten rock beneath the surface of her happiness that I was okay. Oric had hurt her familiar, and images of crispy-fried owl danced in her thoughts.

  "Did you have a different view? Nut butter in a tire tread, Thomas! You gotta be more careful! He could have killed you!" Rudy bounded back and forth on the hot sand before O'Meara scooped him up. He gratefully climbed up onto her shoulder.

  "He didn't kill me, Rudy. He was simply demonstrating a benefit of TAU membership. Not dying due to sudden-onset gravity is a member benefit that isn't in the brochure," I said, briefly curling around O'Meara's legs and then leaning more heavily on her for support. Through the now-fading cloud, I saw that the object hurtling from the sky had been O'Meara's car - a car with a back seat big enough to nap on.

  A safe place to nap. I stumbled towards it like a cat dying of thirst towards an oasis.

  Rudy still berated me as I hauled myself into the back and wedged my body into the available space. Safe, I thought, gratefully inhaling the scent of the worn leather.

  "Are you even listening?" Rudy chittered at me from a perch on the passenger seat.

  "No, he's not." O'Meara leaned over from the driver's side and gave my ears a scratch before strapping me to the seat with multiple seat belts. "Let him nap."

  Rudy flung his paws in the air and waved them around above his head. "He's not gunna nap the way you fling this thing through the air.”

  O'Meara got in. "Oh, but he'll try." She placed her hand over a spot on the console where there'd once been a crystal that allowed her to channel flames out the back of the car. Now there was a gaping hole.

  Her green eyes studied me in the rearview mirror for a moment before her aura lit up brighter than a Vegas spotlight. A wave of heat hit my nose as white fire poured from her hand down into the car. Gravity grabbed my spine and forced me down into the seat.

  There was no gliding; just periods of intense thrust that attempted to make me one with the leather seat. Following that, much longer periods of falling would have had me floating out of my seat had I not been buckled in. Rudy clung to the underside of the passenger seat and whooped. Had Oric not emptied my stomach earlier, I'm pretty sure that O'Meara's car would have rechristened the world's tiniest vomit comet.

  Fortunately, we didn't try to make it all the way back to Vegas by bouncing through the sky. Tiredness licked at O'Meara's own eyeballs, and I had no strength to lend her. Instead, she set us down on a two-lane highway behind a huge RV, which we followed back into town. At least, I think we did. As soon as the rubber hit the road, I fell into slumber like a house into a sinkhole.

  I dreamed of a grocery store meat counter, laden with every delectable cut of beef imaginable, but they were all labeled "Alice.” Ground Alice, London Alice, Prime Alice, Alice eyes, Alice flank, and Alice sausages. I was so hungry I didn't care. I waited with my ticket clenched in my mouth, watching the "Now Serving" sign slowly tick upwards.

  15

  A Pretty Scent

  I woke up both hungry and guilty, which kind of spiraled in on itself since I tend to eat more when guilty. Then again, I'm always feeling guilty about something or other. I devoured an entire spiral-cut ham and avoided the beef we had in our fridge, then drank enough water that my belly made sloshing sounds as I staggered to my bed.

  O'Meara had initially planned on driving home, but once she sat down next to me on the beanbag bed, she became quite mired in its comfortableness. Her mind drifted off with the rhythms of sleep before mine could do the same. Once I placed my head on her stomach, the afternoon became evening within the span of a single eye-blink.

  Rudy stood on the desk, surrounded by small jars containing grey dust of various shades. Directly in front of him sat a digital scale. In his paws he held a tiny metal spatula over a red paper casing, carefully adding a few grains of the glowing powder to the firework-to-be.

  My breath stilled, and I clawed back the yawn that had been creeping up my throat. While I had gotten used to Rudy's love of pyrotechnics and usually laughed it off as an adorable quirk of his character, I'd never get used to seeing him make his bombs. Mostly because he had enough explosives on my desk to take out the entire block we lived on.

  This, though - this was far more dangerous. That firecracker there had some of the tass we had gotten from Ceres, which meant it would not just be releasing heat and force when it blew but assailing reality itself.

  Burning had begun to fill my lungs by the time Rudy swung his spatula away from the casing and dumped the remainder of its cargo into a small metal canister beside him. I let out my breath with an audible huff.

  Rudy looked over and smirked. "Morning, sleeping beastly!"

  "What—" I started to say and then realized that the weight around my neck was the arm of a still-slumbering O'Meara.

  "Because you sure ain't no beauty. The whole place stinks of desert now." Rudy scooped up what looked like a metal mushroom and set it neatly into the firework. "You should have your familiar there give you a good brushing."

&
nbsp; O'Meara, my familiar?! The surprise in my head made the thought so loud that I felt O'Meara begin to stir. Slamming the link closed, I licked my nose and tried to keep it a whisper. "What are you talking about?"

  "Dude, you should have seen it after she realized Oric grabbed you for a flying lesson." Rudy hefted up a tube of superglue and began to make sure that the mushroom would not be detaching from the firework. I saw no fuse, so it must have been a detonator of some type.

  I attempted to change the subject. "Rudy, what are—"

  "Wow. Talk about singed tail feathers. She threatened to turn the entire TAU into a funeral pyre if Oric hurt you." Glue set, Rudy started setting lids on the little jars, hopping up on top of them to make sure they sealed. "Went pure canine."

  "Pure canine?" I knew Rudy was trying to distract me from what he was making, but it worked. Carefully slipping out from under O'Meara's arm, I gently probed her mind and found a deep pool of exhaustion that was only starting to melt away after at least four hours of rest. She lay on her back, red hair radiating out from her head across the black beanbag. Six months in the blistering sun of Vegas had given her a light tan. Her beauty was solid and dangerous, despite the snoring.

  "Yeah, she—" Rudy stopped mid-sentence and stood up on his hind legs. "Oh, empty peanut shells! Not now!"

  Rudy burst into activity, shoving everything into a drawer of the desk. I didn't need to ask what he heard because I saw it a half second later.

  Feather.

  The amount of foci the cat carried in her collar shone like a beacon through the wall of the store front. The golden glow of protective wards concealed barely contained nodules of raw elemental wrath. A bolt of terror slammed down my spine, and I started grooming furiously, trying in vain to dig the awful-tasting desert out of my fur. I hadn't even gotten a single paw clean when the buzzer rang.

  "Dude! Get rid of her!" Rudy cried.

  "Why?"

  "Cause I'm working on saving your tail, and this stuff only works if nobody sees it coming!" Rudy ripped off a piece of newspaper that he had covered his workspace with and started fanning the air around him. Did he not want Feather to smell the gunpowder? Or would she know what he was doing?

  Regardless, I lurched toward the door and pushed my head out of it. Feather waited not two steps back from it, projecting an aura of false patience. A single eye popped open mid-groom to regard me.

  "Why, hello—" My brain reached for a formal mode of address for familiars but found nothing. I'd never found a familiar that had been addressed as anything more than their first name, so after a moment's pause, I concluded the sentence with, "Feather." Which made it appear that I had either forgotten her name or was very distracted by her beauty. "What brings you out of the neon forest?"

  She gave me a level look. "I came to see you, hon. It's been damn near forty years since I've had the opportunity to talk with a member of my own species. And since you've gone and pissed off a certain little birdie, I figured I'd better find out whether you suffer from a terminal lack of brains or elephant balls."

  I chuffed with amusement, letting the feline mannerism push through. "And which of those conditions do you prefer?"

  "Honey, this city is full to bursting with useful idiots." Those eyes were not subtle. I stood and took a step towards the parking lot, letting her see what she wanted to.

  "Care to stroll with me? I was about to go visit some friends, but I can detour if the conversation goes long."

  Her head tilted. "You're not going to invite me in?"

  "It's crowded in there. Unless you'd really like to listen to O'Meara snore. We had... a rather exhausting day," I said, scanning the street. No limos in sight. Had she walked? I hadn't seen a teleport flash. I had the sneaking suspicion that Feather was laying some sort of trap, but for whom? Although if she had just come to flirt, I'd be happy to do that all night... away from Rudy.

  "So you and Oric came to an agreement, then?" A note of disappointment in her voice.

  "I'm not worried about him swooping down on me tonight." I walked out into the parking lot and then paused to look back at her, waiting.

  After a moment's hesitation, she followed, bringing a smile to my face and a stiffness to my tail. "Not worried about it tonight? Planning on enraging him again tomorrow, purr-haps?"

  Swallowing a groan at the pun drop, I sought to switch the subject. "Do you interact with the casino employees much?"

  "Ha! No, it's best to leave the human management to humans unless someone threatens my bond." A hint of teeth flashed between her lips. "Then I get to have some fun."

  "Does that happen often?" I asked.

  "When you have more tass than the Council of Merlins, the eyes of your fellows get a bit green. Between the casino owners jockeying for position and idiot outsiders," her eyes flicked towards me, "I keep my claws sharp."

  "Is that a threat?"

  "Only if you're an idiot." She shoulder-checked me, hard enough that I stumbled. Smaller than me, certainly, but just as strong. Maybe stronger. I recovered, but she didn't retreat, instead leaning into my side so I could feel the slightest tremor of a purr. "But you've got no need to be an idiot if you can do what they say."

  "If they say that I can form and break my bond at will, then that's true. Other rumors I won't comment on." We continued to walk, albeit slowly. Both our tails lashed, occasionally brushing past the other.

  "Can it be taught?" she asked, very quietly.

  The truth leapt out of my mouth before I could compose a lie. "No."

  Instantly, the warmth of her against me disappeared. "That is — for the best." Her voice had gone hard.

  "I hope that, given enough time, it can be replicated. But it's not an easy thing. If we had Archibald's notes..." I let that lie trail off.

  "Which were carried off in the attack on the council." She hissed in agitation and smacked an innocent beer bottle that had strayed into our path. It shattered with a pop against a telephone pole.

  "You and Lansky not getting along?" I asked.

  "Eighty years together. If you spent that long with someone else, you would understand." Her eyes stared inward.

  I opened the grate that led to the tunnels, expecting Feather to bid me goodbye since I couldn't help her with her request. Instead, she leapt down into the dark without a care. A hot breeze threaded through my fur, and I realized that I had left my harness back at the office. No harness, no bullet ward. Not that it had really helped me all that much lately. With a wary glance at the sky, I followed her down.

  "We're going to see the refugee camp?" she asked as my four paws settled on the concrete.

  "That's where I was heading. I need to check on a friend of mine," I said.

  "All right. I haven't been there yet. Be good to see how House Hermes funds have been put to use."

  With that, we walked to Grantsville in a companionable silence. I would have peppered her with more questions, but something about the way she held herself cautioned me against it. Our conversation and flirtation had ended, but she seemed to be in no hurry to leave my presence.

  I might have broken the silence, but my own thoughts meandered, back to Trevor and his notebooks full of nonsensical plans. What was I doing? I should be looking for him. In the wet dimness of the tunnels, I saw that candle spinning, searching for him. He's there, but not there. Vampires. Taken by vampires - but what were they? The candle in my mind flared to life.

  "Thomas?" Feather's voice.

  The flame guttered out, and the candle fell from the chain into pure blackness. I opened my eyes and found myself leaning against the wall of the tunnel, the air tasting thick on my tongue. Swallowing, I pushed off the wall.

  Trevor's gone. Totally gone.

  Grief clawed at my heart. I'd never get a chance to teach through his thick head. "I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth, pushing away the sorrow and finding that its surface was studded with harpoons that shot through my brain. I might have screamed, but as the sorrow pushed against me
, I fought back. Whatever this thing was, it didn't belong in my head. Ignoring the pain, I seized on the parasite and twisted, feeling its shape beyond its spiny defenses. Behind it I felt a line, a connection. Imagining great silver claws into existence, I sliced through the cord.

  Thomas, wait! O'Meara's thoughts flooded through the link.

  The thing screamed and died, the thoughts that composed it bubbling away to inconsequential worries and natterings.

  No no no! O'Meara shot through my mindscape, trying to grasp the severed thread, but it had long sprung back to the void beyond my mind. We could have tracked it by that!

  I groaned. "Tracked what?"

  The thing! The vampire. I've felt that before! I could feel her reach into the depths of her own mind, grasping for a memory. A giant dog rose up from her subconscious and snatched the memory away before it could be retrieved. O'Meara's mind sagged.

  We'll deal with it later, I soothed the still-groggy O'Meara. I have an insanely rich cougar who's looking at me funny. Feather stared down at me with her head cocked to the side, apparently caught between expressing concern and putting me out of my misery. "I'm fine," I told her.

  "Cats who are fine don't nose-plant on concrete," she said.

  "Remembering someone who disappeared." I gave her a weak smile. "Probably due to the heatstroke."

  Her left ear gave an odd twitch. "Heatstroke?" she asked.

  Eager for a switch in topics, I regaled her with my long wandering in the desert at high noon. I left out the bit with the thermal blanket and the flying car, as one was ridiculous and the other you don't tell the woman you're attracted to. Back at the office, O'Meara was ransacking our kitchen for coffee and pondering vampires.

  We were almost at the Stables when the sweet scent of cow blood rolled over me like a thick fog. Alice's blood.

  16

  Not a Good Time to Crave Burgers