Your Money's Worth: Seattle Elementals, Book 1

by Connie Suttle

  "I understand that," Mort agreed. "But what if whoever killed Ray comes looking for you?"

  "I'm not sure Ray's dead. Remember, he disappeared before—successfully, I might add. I think he found our package, left it where we could get it and then torched the place himself, just to get away again. He sure doesn't want the new Chancellor chasing his ass."

  "Yeah. It would take somebody tough to kill Ray, now that you mention it. It sounds like him, too, to get rid of the rest of it and skip town."

  "Just like I said," I agreed. "Are you supervising that shipment coming in tomorrow?"

  "Yeah. Good thing they got the Panama Canal widened when they did, huh? You can hide more stuff on the supertankers than those older class ships."

  "That's for damn sure. Plus, if half of it comes in as parts and certain people are open to bribes, you're home free."

  Chapter 5

  Cassie

  "Huh?" I blinked at Rob, who stood outside my apartment door. He held large, takeout bags in both hands. Behind him stood Cliff and Gina. Gina wore a loose, black sweater with the hood up, to hide her spots from humans.

  Her eyes glowed like a cat's within the depths of the hood, which she'd pulled forward as far as it would go.

  It was Saturday evening, I'd been studying all day and recently realized that I'd skipped lunch and was now hungry.

  "We brought dinner," Rob held up the bags. "Hope you like barbecue."

  "I love barbecue," I stuttered as Rob shouldered his way past me. I remembered my manners and stepped aside so Gina and Cliff could follow Rob. I shut the door behind them, too, and locked it.

  "Gina said she wanted to check on you and I owed her barbecue, so here we are," Rob said. He and Gina were now occupied with setting containers from the bags on my small table.

  It smelled heavenly—like the best barbecue ever.

  "Beef, pork, turkey and hot links," Rob grinned. "Got anything to drink?"

  "Uh, wine?" I asked, recalling that I'd bought two bottles and shoved them into the bottom of the fridge so I could have a glass or two now and then. I missed my glasses of wine with Kate in the evenings, and that had precipitated the purchase.

  "Good enough," Rob shrugged. I pulled the bottles of my favorite white from the fridge and set them on the table.

  "This is a good choice," Rob lifted a bottle to study the label, "although a red would have gone better with the meal."

  "Parke's mother stocked it—I liked it so I bought it," I said. I was no wine aficionado; before I met Parke, I seldom drank anything other than water, tea or soda.

  "What is he?" Rob asked, searching my gadget drawer for a corkscrew.

  "Huh?"

  "What sort of elemental," Gina grinned. At least she'd removed the hooded sweater once she was inside the house. Her spots covered the sides of her face and neck, then disappeared below the collar of her button-down oxford.

  "You don't know?" I blinked at her. I thought everybody knew. At least the rock demon part; that had been present at the Christmas war.

  "I'm not sure when the Chancellor last visited Alabama," Cliff said. "I'm talking about Parke's father," he added.

  "Oh. Wow. I thought everybody knew, because he scares the bejeezus out of some people," I said.

  "Sit and eat," Rob said, grabbing wineglasses from the cabinet and pouring wine for all of us. "Tell us about your husband, too," he chuckled. "Why does he scare the bejeezus out of people?"

  "Because he's a truth demon," I sighed and studied the barbecued beef on my plate before lifting a plastic fork.

  Everything went quiet as I stuffed a forkful of barbecue in my mouth. My eyes went from one to the other around the table while I chewed uncomfortably. They were watching me intently as I swallowed.

  "Well, that would scare the bejeezus out of most people," Rob sighed and lifted his glass. He emptied half of it before setting it down. I watched as he placed sliced pork on his plate and added barbecue sauce, his mouth set in a grim line. "What else is he? Truth demons usually have another form, just like the others."

  "Rock." I blew out a sigh. "He and I—we killed Ross between us during the Christmas war. I burned down half a mountain, too, while we were at it." I pushed barbecue around my plate; my appetite had fled.

  "Understandable," Cliff interjected. "Look, I can see this upsets you," he said. "Let's eat and we'll talk about that stuff later. Where are you going on the full moon? It's next week," he added.

  "I don't know. I never changed before—well, before Christmas," I confessed. "I always kept it under control. I guess that'll change now, huh?"

  "That's mind-boggling, that you could force yourself not to change," Gina breathed.

  "It kept Ross away from me," I whispered. "He wanted to use me—that part of me."

  "That's not frightening," Rob said, sounding indignant. "If you'd fought on his side during the—what did you call it—the Christmas war, how do you think it would have turned out?"

  "I don't know."

  I did know. Ross had enough of an army that Parke could have fallen. I'd come from behind Ross' army, killing or knocking everyone out of my way (including a few water demons), to reach Ross, who'd held Destiny captive.

  I'd been running toward Parke, too, to fight beside him.

  He'd said he loved me.

  Was it to keep me at his side, because he needed the fire demon, too?

  I felt used.

  Cheated.

  Foolish.

  I wasn't a truth demon, like Parke. I didn't know that he hadn't spoken the truth to me. I was poor, stupid, Cassie King-Worth, who'd fallen for a line and a handsome face.

  "I didn't ask that question to cause trouble," Rob said.

  "I heard there weren't any more fire demons," Cliff said quietly when I didn't respond to Rob's words.

  "Surely that's wrong," my eyes locked with his.

  "Maybe you should ask your husband," Cliff said and cut into his barbecued hotlink. "A lot of them were killed or so I hear, in the last century or two."

  "How?" I asked.

  "I don't know. Records don't show that."

  "Then how can you be sure they're dead? Ray Diablo sure wasn't, but the records showed he was."

  "Jasper Bridges, the Prince of Alabama at the time, recorded Ray's death, after Ross reported it," Rob said. "In the case of the fire demons, humanoid bodies were actually found and catalogued before burial."

  "That sounds so comforting. Were the murderers ever found?"

  "There were ah, wet spots around several of the bodies."

  "Water demons. Great. Were they brought to justice?"

  "The ah, amount of water suggests that both demons died."

  "Seriously? They had a death wish after accomplishing a murder? That sounds weirdly stupid. Maybe insane."

  "Stranger things have happened," Rob shrugged.

  "Such as?" I turned my gaze on him.

  "Too much to go into," he wriggled away from the question.

  "You brought it up," I waved my fork between him and Cliff. "Gina, what do you think? Which side of the family is your demon side?"

  "My mother's and she was a water demon."

  "Well, that's not awkward or anything," I glared at Rob, who frowned and turned away from my look.

  "She was killed by an ice demon," Gina continued. "Frozen and then broken. You don't come back after that."

  "That's—sorry. Sorry for your loss." I tossed my plastic fork onto my plate and stood. I had absolutely no appetite, now.

  "That's really not what we came here to discuss," Cliff admitted. "Sit down. Please. We want to present a theory to your husband, and we need your help to do it."

  "What theory?" I didn't sit, choosing to stare at Cliff until the werewolf felt uncomfortable.

  "The theory that Shakkor Agdah has returned," Cliff breathed and turned his head away.

  * * *

  "Shakkor Agdah means Black Myth, as closely as you can translate it, and it isn't tied to their skin color, whi
ch could be any color," Parke added. "It refers to their arcane practices, none of which were reportedly good or fair. They're mostly a fairy tale, Cassie."

  "Rob says they're not a fairy tale," I said. Yes, Parke and I were having another conversation.

  Yes, I'd called him.

  Again.

  At least I wasn't crying this time. "Rob knows this how?" Parke demanded.

  "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me."

  "You have to see this from my perspective," Parke said, as if he were practicing his utmost patience with me. "Unless I have solid proof, there's nothing I'm willing to do. This could serve to spook every Prince and Princess, merely because two paranormals think the world is about to end."

  He had a point, and I felt like a fool.

  Again.

  "All right. If proof crops up, I'll be sure to let you know." I hung up on him.

  Again.

  * * *

  Sunday I studied. At least I ate lunch while reading, then crunched into an apple for an afternoon snack. I planned to have dinner at the 'shroom, just like I had the week before. I also needed to scope out places where it would be safe to turn on the full moon the following Saturday.

  Monday went without a hitch; Tuesday rolled around and I was on time for my four-hour stint as an intern, which turned into nine hours, doing research and digging through prior decisions to help our cases.

  "Figured out where you're going Saturday night?" Rob pulled a chair beside my desk and sat on it after the rest of the office cleared out.

  "No. Got any places that won't burn like loose hay in a barn fire if I show up?" I asked, making notes on a legal pad before closing the text and looking up at him. "Parke thinks I'm an idiot and that you and Cliff are alarmists who will spook the whole country, at the very least," I added.

  "I figured he'd say that," Rob raked fingers through his hair.

  "You wanted me to be your errand girl, so I'd be the one he yelled at," I accused. I slammed the bottom drawer of the desk harder than I'd intended after pulling my purse out of it.

  "He yelled at you?"

  "Practically. Mostly he made me feel like a gullible fool. It wasn't a nice feeling," I snapped.

  "No wonder you didn't come see Cliff or me when you came in today."

  "Right. How's the investigation into the judge's death coming along?" I steered Rob away from the current subject, much like a tugboat steering a barge through rough current.

  "They found footprints beneath the tree, and scraped places where the shooter's boots scrubbed bark to climb up, but that's about it so far."

  "What kind of gun was used?" I pulled keys from my purse.

  "Rifle. Semiautomatic. Probably with a powerful scope, to shoot from that distance."

  "Nice," I grumped my sarcastic response.

  "Yeah. Cliff says there's a huge hole in the back of the head."

  "Ugh. Why did you tell me that?" I whined. My imagination offered a picture of it, which was neither pleasant nor planted in the shortest of short-term memory.

  "You're squeamish?"

  "When it comes to humans. They're fragile."

  "True. That's not what I came here to tell you. There's a dry creek bed on Cliff's property, if you're interested. No rain predicted between now and Saturday, so it could be an option."

  "Where and what time should I arrive before things get—hairy?"

  "I'll give you the address on Thursday. Cliff says to be there around four, before the yips set in with him."

  "Yips. Right."

  "You haven't heard him yip. I have."

  "You sound so serious."

  "I am serious. Like a heart attack."

  "I don't know whether to laugh or be concerned," I pulled the purse strap over my shoulder and stood.

  "Either would be appropriate. Perhaps both. You choose. I'll walk you out. I have to lock up anyway."

  "What happens with Gina? On a full moon?" I asked as I walked toward the door.

  "She hates for people to know."

  "Then I'll shut up. Maybe I'll stop at Guppy's for a burger on the way home."

  "Guppy's is good." Rob shooed me through the door before turning to lock it behind him.

  * * *

  Parke

  "I don't know, Daniel," I said. "It looks like they're filling her head with crap, and because I'm not there to quash it, she believes it."

  "Go back to the part about Ray Diablo showing up and Cassie having to kill him," Daniel said.

  "I've asked for more information and images of the burned property, but Blake hasn't sent them, yet. I have no idea if he believes this crap, too."

  "Did you quiz Cassie on what happened, exactly? I'm interested in this."

  "I was waiting on the images before I asked questions, and you know I can't keep her on the phone long, in case she starts asking questions about what's going on. I can't tell her a thing about tracking her father. She was already upset when she was forced to take care of Ray. This could make things a lot worse, and I'd prefer to do this without her knowledge."

  Daniel didn't say anything for several seconds. I thought the call had dropped when he finally spoke. "You know, my dad always said to be careful around rumors of Shakkor Agdah. As if they were listening whenever their name was called."

  "Oh, please. Not you, too," I muttered.

  "Listen, bro, I don't think this is something to fool around with."

  "You think we should investigate?"

  "We? Send somebody else to investigate. I want no part of Black Myth." He'd given their common name—I knew that much, at least.

  Daniel's words forced me to scramble for a reply. I had no idea he was afraid of anything. "I don't have anybody to send, and wouldn't know where to start anyway."

  "Start with that burned-down mansion outside Birmingham," Daniel snapped. "If they're rising again, you can bet Ross was in it up to his eyebrows."

  Daniel actually believed in Shakkor Agdah. I had no idea why or how he'd become so superstitious; the whole thing sounded like a crock to me. Before Daniel's reluctance to investigate what he believed in, I was ready to dismiss the entire thing as complete nonsense.

  Making a mental note to ask my mother about it, I told Daniel to keep me updated on his pursuit of Morton King and ended the call. I had an appointment with Frank Hillman in the morning, and we would discuss an amendment to the lawsuit, asking for more money.

  That's what you did, after all, when you discovered that your stolen software was being used for a government contract worth billions.

  * * *

  Cliff Young

  "They're already building the facilities; that's how confident they are," I slid a folder of photographs across the table to Blake Donovan, Prince of Alabama.

  "I had no idea they would move on this so quickly," Blake opened the folder to study the top photograph. "I know they bought plenty of unoccupied ground, but to start building so fast? That's foolish."

  "I think they intend to buy their way into privatization this year," I said. "There's more information at the back of the folder—they're doing the same thing all across the South and into the Midwest. Some of those states are already on board, but they're building more. I think they intend to move all prisoners into their facilities before this is over. While their cost of housing a prisoner sounds reasonable at today's prices, wait until they have all of them and the state prisons are shut down. They'll raise their rates and we won't have a ready place to take all those felons back."

  "I see they're already digging deep holes—figure that's for solitary?" He pointed to a large, concrete-lined square at least fifteen feet deep, lying two hundred yards away from the prison wall construction.

  "Or storage, or storm shelters," I shook my head. "Who knows or cares what the deep holes are for? The prison walls are already halfway up in the State of Alabama, while proposed legislation isn't out of committee yet. In my estimation, that bill, when it hits the senate floor, won't contain provisions for health care or psych
iatric treatment. Those things will be extra, if they ever determine it's necessary."

  "You know how some people feel about that," Blake set aside the first photograph to look at the second. "Cells look to be narrower."

  "Yeah. I know how some people see that," I agreed. "For them, they see a prisoner getting free health care. A part of me understands that. Another part understands how horrible it would be to allow a prisoner to die, when they're in there for their inability to pay a fine."

  "The entire prison system is broken, and the legislative system is broken, too. Nobody can agree on anything, anymore."

  "I know. Look, I'll leave those copies with you," I said, rising to stretch. I'd had a long day in court, followed by a drive to Birmingham to meet with Blake at a restaurant. I had another long day in court tomorrow.

  Time to go home and sleep.

  "Did you hear anything from Cassie? Has she spoken with the Chancellor, yet about—you know?"

  "I haven't heard anything. When I do, I'll let you know."

  "Thanks for this," Blake shut the folder and tapped it with an index finger. "I'll do some digging into this—metaphorically speaking."

  "I'd appreciate hearing what you find, if anything," I said and shrugged into my suitcoat. "What do you think they'll do with those massive buildings, if the legislation isn't passed?"

  "They're not planning to open malls. Not with this stuff," Blake lifted the folder. "They're serious, and as you said, may pay their way into it."

  "My question is this," I mused. "Where's all that money coming from?"

  "Good question. Let's find out, shall we?" Blake offered a grim smile. I nodded to him and made my way out of the restaurant.

  * * *

  Parke

  "It started out as gaming software—for friendly drones to hit enemy drones in the game," Frank gripped the arms of the chair where he sat. I'd offered him coffee when he came in; he'd refused. "We designed it to be proactive—in a way that could project which way the target would move, just to make it easier for the player to hit it. I never realized that if left on its own, the program would solve the movements without help. With only slight adjustments, you can allow the program to shoot the drones on its own, without human interaction."