Divinity Circuit (Senyaza Series Book 5)

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

  After only a moment, Marley leaned back, crossed her legs and said in a loud whisper to Branwyn, “Most of those plans are catastrophic. Do you think I should tell them that? It might hurry things along.”

  Branwyn smiled. “They probably wouldn’t pay attention. You could tell me, though.”

  The monster hunters quieted suddenly. Ice wheeled around to look at the two of them, his chrome-colored eyes glinting under tousled pale hair. “You can do that? What are you doing working as a babysitter?”

  Marley stretched casually and then looked at her hands, shaking them as if they’d fallen asleep. “He made me a good offer. But right now I’ll make you an offer. Tell me what’s going on with Corbin these days, right now, and I’ll tell you which of your plans was the bloodless one.”

  The five men glanced at each other and then shrugged. Grendel rumbled, “I’m going to go get a pop. Anybody want something?”

  Mack said, “Simon can tell you what we know. Want to go another round on the track, Finn?”

  Less than a minute later, the room had emptied except for Ice loitering near the door. Simon sank into a swivel chair, running a hand through his spiky hair. “Should have thought to give you a call, Marley. I knew you were useful like this. What’s going on with Corbin?”

  Alone among all the nephilim Branwyn had met, there was something comforting about Simon. He was the shortest of all the monster hunters, although average by human standards, with light brown hair and eyes, and Japanese features. He was about thirty-five decades old and didn’t seem a day over thirty-five years most of the time. He could spit lightning from his fingertips, courtesy of a Japanese storm god for a father, and his favorite knife was the very first thing she’d enchanted. He drank most of his calories and he always gave the impression of just barely scraping by, and Branwyn loved him for it. He was a living, breathing reminder that being over three centuries old didn’t automatically confer the ability to get it together, and that everybody found their own ways of coping.

  “I was hoping you could tell me that,” said Marley, frustration edging her voice. “Has he contacted you at all?”

  “Not for months,” said Simon cautiously, looking between Marley and Branwyn as if trying to decipher a riddle.

  “Well, what was he doing when you heard from him?”

  “On a mission for upstairs,” said Simon vaguely. “They wanted him to take a look at something, figure something out.”

  “Come on, Simon,” begged Marley. “That’s what you’ve been saying since he left. You’ve got to know more than that.”

  Simon threw an unreadable glance at Ice, who shrugged. Then he rubbed his forehead and said, “Gimme a minute. Did either of you bring anything to drink?”

  “No,” said Branwyn and promised, “I’ll remember next time, though.”

  “Fine, fine,” mumbled Simon, and fumbled in a drawer before pulling out a plastic bottle full of amber liquid.

  The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees and Simon gave Ice another look, this time an angry one. “They asked and I need to think. As usual, everybody else runs away and I have to handle things. So don’t you go telling anybody.”

  “It’s not me you have to worry about, buddy,” said Ice.

  Appalled, Branwyn said, “You guys aren’t really trying to stop Simon from drinking, are you? He’ll die.”

  “Woman knows what she’s talking about,” said Simon approvingly and poured some of the Scotch down his throat.

  Once again Ice’s odd chrome eyes turned toward Branwyn. “You haven’t seen him much the past few months, have you? Most of the time he’s been passed out in the lounge. His life, of course, but if he wants to keep his job, Mr. Black says he’s got to get himself under control. We’re helping.”

  Branwyn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re all Corbin’s friends, too. I bet you could tell me everything Simon could, without him taking this risk. As a way of helping.”

  In response, Ice turned his back and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Pathetic cowards,” Branwyn snarled.

  “It’s information of a sort,” Marley said and sighed.

  Simon set the bottle down. “Right. Corbin. It’s July? To be honest, we expected him back before now.”

  Marley’s face went carefully blank. “Ah. And he hasn’t contacted you?”

  “Not a word, not for months. Though you know, I’ll check. Totally possible I missed something.” He pulled out his phone and worked at it a moment. “Nope.”

  “What was the something he was supposed to look at?”

  Hesitantly, Simon said, “A box? I think? It had something to do with that disaster in Europe last year.” He looked between them and then helpfully added, “A bunch of nephilim got killed by a kaiju who wandered into the big European thing. I know Corbin’s parents were there.”

  Shocked, Marley said, “Oh my God. I heard something but… I didn’t know. Were they—?”

  “Nah, they’re fine. In LA at the moment, I think. But it was personal for him, some.” He glanced at his phone again for a moment.

  Impatiently, Branwyn asked, “Is this mission of his the sort of information that would be in the Nakotus system?” When Marley threw her an inscrutable glance, she added, with self-conscious dignity, “I’m just asking. It’s all right to ask.”

  “Doubt it,” said Simon. “Nobody sensible writes that kind of thing down. Right? I wouldn’t. Hey, why are you asking, Marley?” He studied her face. “Did Corbin contact you? What’s wrong with him?”

  Marley shook her head, her lips tight and her face flushed. “Why’d they send Corbin on this secret mission?”

  “Oh, well. That.” He took another, absent-minded swig from his bottle. “Have you ever been around him when that thing with his eyes gets going?” Slowly, Marley nodded and Simon nodded back. “Yeah, that. He ain’t just a kid who’s good with black birds. His family’s got this power, it’s a weird one because it gets passed down. Like, his dad had it until Corbin was born and now—“

  The phone still in Simon’s hand rang shrilly, the ringtone the invasive, unavoidable beeping of an alarm. Time’s up, thought Branwyn.

  He looked at it for a long moment, his already pale face becoming ashen. Then, slowly, like a man facing an executioner, he lifted it to his ear. “Hi, Mr. Black. Oh! Uh, I’ll tell them. Yeah. I’ll send her along.”

  Branwyn stood. “Mr. Black wants to see us? You’re right, Marley, this worked much better than making an appointment.”

  Marley put her hand to her head. “What? Oh…”

  “Uh,” said Simon cautiously. “He wants to see Marley. Just Marley.”

  “To hell with that,” said Branwyn pleasantly. “We’re a team on this one. Thank you, Simon. I owe you dinner.”

  “More than one,” he muttered. “Don’t make him mad, Bran? I hate it when he asks me to hunt you down like a dog.”

  “Hey, he’s paying me. Would I do something to make an employer mad?” Branwyn said easily.

  “Um,” said Marley. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  Branwyn grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room. Ice was leaning against the wall outside the room, drinking a soda. Grendel, giant-sized and hairy, was against the other wall.

  “You guys are scum,” Branwyn told them both.

  Grendel laughed. “No lie, that. Good luck, lady.”

  Ice only shrugged, though. “Simon’s already in trouble with upstairs. It was the best way.” His eyes narrowed as he looked them over, focusing on Marley. “Is she okay? She still owes us notes on our operation.”

  Branwyn frowned, looking at Marley. Her face was flushed and she still had her hand against her head like she was worried it was going to fall off if she let go. It was clear her headache was worse.

  “She has a fever,” Ice added.

  “Right,” said Marley, bright-eyed. “Go in through the front door. I don’t know why, but nobody gets hurt that way. Well. Grendel gets a l
ittle hurt but I know he likes that.” She peered between the two nephilim. “You’re both going to get hurt soon anyhow. Everybody’s getting hurt soon. I wish I knew how.”

  “The front door?” asked Ice incredulously. “Well… if you say so, kid.”

  Marley let go of her head to wave her hand. “You don’t have to listen to me. It’s your lives.” She pulled her hand from Branwyn’s and said, “I’ve got to go get some painkiller for this headache before I see Mr. Black.” She vanished back into the room, heading toward the team medicine chest.

  Ice watched her go, and then called, “Finn, Marley needs some water. Could you get her some?”

  Finn’s white-blond head poked around the edge of the lounge. “Eh? I can.” A moment later he came down the hall holding a paper cup of water. “Come out, my darling. I’ve got something much nicer for you.”

  “What?” said Marley blearily, peering through the doorway.

  Ice hooked her elbow, guiding her out and taking the bottle of painkiller from her hand. “That stuff takes a while and Mr. Black doesn’t like to wait.”

  Finn gave Branwyn a lazy smile. “Pour the water into my hands for your friend?”

  Bemused, Branwyn took the paper cup. Finn cupped his hands together, Branwyn poured the water in, and he brought his hands to Marley’s mouth. “Drink it up.”

  Just as confused, Marley lowered her head to his hands and let him tip some of the water into her mouth. After a sip, she opened her mouth wider and swallowed everything he had with an odd urgency.

  Finn shook his hands to scatter the remaining droplets and cocked his head, studying Marley. “Feeling better?”

  Marley looked flushed, and Branwyn wondered if it was from the fever or Finn’s proximity. He was a very attractive man and Marley was easily flustered by those. “My head doesn’t hurt,” she said wonderingly. “Neither do my hands.”

  “She’s still got a fever, though. You’re slipping, old man,” noted Ice.

  His brow furrowed, Finn shook his head. “Strange, that.”

  Simon appeared behind Marley and said, “If you two don’t get upstairs, I’m going to really regret it, so can we get a move on here? Please?”

  “Right,” said Marley. “Let’s do this. Thanks for the pick-me-up, Finn.” She wiped her mouth, straightened her shoulders and walked to the elevators. Branwyn watched her, and then moved to catch up.

  “Upstairs” wasn’t that far up, at least in this case. They took the elevator to the fourth floor above the ground level. Mr. Black’s office was on the corner, overlooking the street below and quite close to the public part of Titan One. The door was partially open. As Marley and Branwyn stopped outside, Mr. Black called, “Come in, Marley.”

  Branwyn scowled and went in with her. The office was large, with a living room set near the door and a desk at the window. A man and a woman sat on the couch, while Mr. Black leaned on the desk, dressed as always in an elegant suit with a tie patterned with the Milky Way.

  She narrowed her eyes as the slender bald man held up a hand. “Not you, Miss Lennox. You’ll have to wait outside. There’s some seating down the hall.”

  Flatly, Branwyn said, “You’ve been teaching Titanone to spy on people. Between that and the way Marley is my best friend, do you really think I’m not going to learn what you talk about?”

  Mr. Black smiled. “Not at all. But you won’t be here to insert yourself into a discussion that has nothing to do with you, as you are so prone to doing. By all means, listen in, if you find that appropriate behavior.”

  Branwyn cherished her memory of the single time that she’d frustrated Mr. Black. It kept her warm and helped her through all her other interactions with the elder nephil. Every time she had to behave while he acted like a superior being, she reminded herself he could be as frustrated as she was right now. That was important.

  She stared at him, wondering what he’d do if she refused to leave. “Marley’s not feeling well. I’d rather not leave her.”

  “Isn’t she?” He gave Marley a curious glance. “By all means, sit down, child. You can trust that we’ll take care of her, Miss Lennox. She’s one of our own.” When Branwyn didn’t move, he sighed and said, “You were asking Alejandro about our current relationship with the American government. Do you find yourself with a conflict of interest? We’re aware of your sister’s affiliation.”

  Branwyn crossed her arms. “Did you steal something from them recently?”

  Mr. Black blinked in surprise. It was beautiful, and also disappointing. “No. Now, please leave before things become awkward for Marley.”

  Branwyn glanced at Marley. Her face had become pale, with spots of color high in her cheeks, but she seemed steady on her feet and she nodded at Branwyn. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Fine. I want to go to the Repository.”

  “Be my guest, Miss Lennox,” said Mr. Black patiently. “Just go away.”

  Branwyn did so, back to the elevator and the Repository of celestial Machine fragments, where she settled in to listen in on the conversation going on over her head and find out as best she could from the fragments if Mr. Black was lying to her.

  Chapter Six

  Marley

  “I can see why you felt the need to get rid of her,” murmured the man sitting on the couch. Both he and the woman sitting beside him were dark haired. They sat close enough together that Marley assumed they were a couple. “What a brash young woman.” He gave Marley a faint smile, as if sharing some secret with her.

  “A very good artisan, but temperamental,” agreed Mr. Black. He reached behind him and pushed a button on the conference phone system on his desk. “We have her here now, ladies and gentlemen.”

  “I’m coming in on the screen,” said a woman’s voice immediately, and the big screen on the wall flickered to life. Another woman appeared, and Marley wondered uncomfortably where the camera in Mr. Black’s office was.

  “Thank you, Mr. Black,” said a dry male voice from the phone. “Please carry on; we’re listening avidly.”

  “What’s going on?” Marley asked. The water from Finn’s magic hands had made her head stop hurting, but she kept seeing odd flickers at the edge of her vision. Her desire to learn more about what was going on with Corbin was now in competition with her desire to crawl into a bed somewhere until the lightheadedness and fever went away.

  Mr. Black’s smile was grandfatherly. “We were having a little meeting, Marley, and your name came up. Then we heard you were in the building asking about Corbin and it seemed natural to invite you to join us since that was exactly what we were speaking of.”

  “Who’s ‘us?’ ”

  “Ah, let me introduce you to my daughter, Elizabeth, and her husband Aedrian.” He gestured at the couple on the couch. Mr. Black was Corbin’s grandfather, which probably meant… “Corbin’s parents?”

  Elizabeth nodded once, and Marley gave her a closer look. There was a resemblance, but it was subtle. She had a solemn, elfin face and sleek black hair tucked behind her ears. She didn’t look more than thirty-five. Her husband had short dark brown hair and the same long, angular face as Corbin. The same eyes, too, Marley realized.

  Pain spiked through her skull, and blackness passed over her vision. She fought it down and tried to focus despite her spinning head.

  “Something is going on with Corbin,” she breathed.

  Mr. Black and his daughter exchanged looks. The nephil elder said, “We’d like to assign your annual service, Marley. Find Corbin for us and convince him to come home.”

  Her annual service. The bargain she’d made with Senyaza, the standard deal they offered all nephilim in exchange for support both financial and informational. Zachariah had tried to talk her out of accepting it, and Corbin had tried to talk her into it. She’d listened to Corbin, and now she was glad.

  She was also too unsteady to stay on her feet any longer, and found her way to a chair. Sinking into it, she asked, “Why does he need convincing?”

&nbs
p; “We have no idea,” snapped the woman on the screen.

  “I’m sorry, I missed who you were,” Marley confessed. If Mr. Black had introduced any of the listeners on the phone, she’d missed that too.

  “My name is Miriam Hadara,” said the woman crisply.

  Marley thought, She’s angry, and wondered if she’d done something wrong. How was Miriam connected to Corbin? Why were people listening on a speakerphone? Then she remembered that Corbin had been on a mission for Senyaza.

  “And why does he need convincing?” Marley repeated, trying to remember if she’d been given a useful answer. Her head throbbed and once again her danger-sight self activated.

  Blood, blood everywhere, blood and broken bodies. Maybe her magic had gotten messed up. It hadn’t activated unconsciously like this for months, ever since she’d learned to control Corbin’s Sight charm. Better her magic was broken than this ugly future was true.

  The woman on the screen, Miriam, had pain in her future too. But it wasn’t flavored with blood and shattered bone. It was the salty pain of tears and bitter grief, of a love that left only ashes and scars in its wake. And it wasn’t the future. It was now.

  She pushed the vision down again. It wasn’t the time to troubleshoot her magic. She needed to not be surrounded by nephilim elders, and not have such a headache. Right now, they were talking about Corbin, who needed to be convinced to come home again. For some reason.

  Miriam threw an annoyed glance at Mr. Black and he said calmly, “Something has happened to him. We’re not sure what, but he’s currently acting antagonistically toward Senyaza. Toward his family. We suspect an external influence. We’d like to understand but we can’t do that if he won’t talk to us.”

  “What was the mission you sent him on before this happened? Could it be related?”

  Corbin’s father picked up a magazine from beside the love seat and started flipping through it absently. Corbin’s mother sat with her hands clenched in her lap.