by Martha Carr
“It makes for fewer variables.”
Durand nodded. “Exactly, and the kind of men you can get on short notice with money aren’t always the most trustworthy.”
“Says the mercenary.”
“I’m not a mercenary, I’m a retrieval specialist. We’re no different, Aletheia. You work for clients who pay you. I do the same thing.”
“Bullshit. I have standards, and I’m not all about burying the truth, unlike your asshole bosses.”
Durand shrugged. “The truth always comes out eventually, doesn’t it? Oriceran is proof of that. Anything you or I do with regards to artifacts doesn’t matter in the long run.”
“You’re such a cheerful guy.”
“I consider myself a realist.”
“I’m more of a pessimist, myself.”
Shay appropriated his glass of water, took a sip, and set the glass down. “Now it’s half empty.” She frowned. “You don’t seem surprised to see me, Durand.”
“Disappointed?”
“A little, but I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“I see. What you have to understand is that when I arrived few took notice of me, but this morning many local scum started shadowing me. It was too obvious. The local criminals aren’t very good at staying out of sight. It inconvenienced me since I had to lose several tails, but it was minor, I assure you.” He sighed. “If that was your grand revenge, it’s pathetic.”
“Maybe they tagged you as a rich asshole they could rob. You have to admit you have a very punchable face.”
“No. It was as if they had all learned who I was, which made me think.” Durand tapped his temple. “There are very few people who know who and what I am. There are even fewer who seek the same types of artifacts. It wasn’t difficult after that to figure out that you were looking for me, Aletheia.” He swirled his spoon in his soup bowl. “Rookie mistake. Too bad.”
Shay snorted. “I’ll give you this… You might piss me off, but you’re not a complete fucking moron. That’s more than I can say for a lot of the assholes I’ve run into in this job.”
The Frenchman barked a laugh. “Ah, such sweet words from such a beautiful woman. We don’t have to be enemies, you know. We could…be something far more pleasurable.” His eyebrows lifted suggestively.
If we weren’t on a patio in Ecuador, I’d so lay your ass out.
Shay rolled her eyes. “Don’t ruin the compliment by trying to be slick, asshole. I’d sooner swim through a muck-infested pool and fight lizardmen than do anything with you.”
Durand pushed his bowl of soup to the side. “Then, what now? Did you come to threaten me away from the artifact? Was that your brilliant plan?”
“You know, I’m glad you’re here, actually. I would have been sad if you hadn’t shown up.”
“Oh? You made your personal feelings clear already.” He frowned. “If you’re going to offer some feeble professional alliance, don’t bother. I don’t need the help of a rookie, Aletheia. I haven’t killed you out of professional courtesy, but don’t assume my charity is infinite.”
Shay shook her head and leaned forward, her voice dropping as she spoke. “Listen to you…so full of yourself. No, I didn’t come here to ask for an alliance, and I’m glad you’re here because it confirms the artifact is some alien shit and not just a neat little golden toy. It makes a lot of what I’ve gone through worth it. Well, the million dollars will, too.”
Durand’s smile faltered for a second. “Leave Quito now. If you go after the artifact, I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Shay flipped him off. “Guess what, asshole? I already got it. You were too damned slow.”
His mouth twitched. “You think you can fool me with such obvious lies?”
The tomb raider lifted her bright orange purse and set it on the table. She pulled it open, revealing the Bomber comfortably stowed in a vacuum-sealed bag.
Durand snorted. “Your arrogance is impressive. You really think I won’t kill you and take this?”
“You’re gonna kill me in public?”
“Most people are weak. They’ll scatter the minute I go for my gun.”
“And you don’t think I’ll go for mine?”
“I’ve already proven that you can’t surprise me in DC, and now here.”
Oh, this is gonna be good.
“Really?” Shay nodded to one side and then the other. Two pairs of large men in jeans and T-shirts sat a few tables down, their hands and guns hidden underneath the table. They frowned at Durand.
“Guess you were wrong about the quality of our local creepers,” Shay suggested. “Yeah, sometimes it’s good to work alone, but sometimes it’s good to hire a little local help. The kind of guys who really know the streets, you know?” She closed the purse and pulled it over her shoulder. “Here’s how this is gonna go, Durand. I’m gonna get up and walk away. If you try to do anything, the nice gentlemen I paid a large sum of money to for protection will shoot you, or at a minimum, distract you long enough that I can shoot you. I might end up dead, but there’s no way this doesn’t end with you dead if you try something. Mutually-assured destruction, asshole.”
Durand sneered. “Why bother with this farce? Why didn’t you pay them to kill me in my room?”
“You’re too good to get taken out by local thugs if you’re on your game. I knew this would only work if I gave you something shiny to focus on.” Shay pointed to her chest. “Like me.” She scooted her chair back and stood. “It’s been fun, Durand, but I’ve got an artifact to deliver to a client.” Her smile vanished. “Who’s the fucking rookie now, douchebag?”
Shay waved and stepped away from the table.
23
Two days later, Shay hummed as she reclined on a love seat in her living room. The delivery had gone smoothly, and she’d made sure to take pictures from various angles.
Look at me, humming? Satisfied and happy. Definitely gonna make James take me to a nice Italian place soon. Have a real date.
The tomb raider was now a million dollars richer and had gotten a nice boost to her reputation. She might not be willing to admit it to Peyton, but he’d been right. The job had soothed her ego after Russia, and her only regret was that she hadn’t taken a picture of the look on Durand’s face when he realized she’d outsmarted him.
So, what to do with some of my time off?
A little routine might not be bad. Going out running with Free-to-Move, maybe weekly dancing nights with the girls between tomb raids.
A life. When Shay had burned down her house she’d been running from what she thought was a life, but it had been an empty shell, devoid of real relationships or connections. That was why it’d been so easy to fake her death and walk away without ever looking back.
Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it, expecting Peyton or James. The text was from neither man.
NOT UNDERWOOD: I need to speak to you about a matter of mutual interest. I need you to come to me, but I won’t make you run all the way to DC.
Time and address followed in a separate text.
“What the fuck? That’s in an hour.”
Shay groaned and scrubbed a hand over her face. Correk might be the Fixer, but he wasn’t her boss. She didn’t like the idea of jumping whenever he snapped his fingers.
“Shit,” she murmured. “If he’s contacting me, it’s not gonna be for a friendly chat.”
Shay rose from the couch and grumbled.
“This is why I shouldn’t even bother trying to establish a routine.”
Shay pulled her Spider into an open parking spot on the street. This was the right address, but she didn’t see Correk. Several small restaurants and bars lined the street, and chatting people walked the sidewalks.
“Which damned building is it?”
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and clicked on her text messages to review Correk’s. There’d been a date, time, and address when the message was sent, but it’d disappeared. Apparently
, in Correk’s Fixer library, there was a spell to make any text chat appear in an updated version of Snapchat.
“Cute, Correk.” She texted him.
I’m here. Where am I supposed to go?
Keep looking and you’ll find it.
“Thanks for the cryptic comment.” She gritted her teeth. “Elves.”
Shay stepped out of her car and looked around for anything obvious. She spotted an elf walking by himself. While not the only elf in the streams of pedestrians, he was the only one not dressed for a night on the town.
He turned a corner and slipped between two buildings. She sprinted across the street when it was clear and headed toward the elf’s last location.
When Shay turned the corner, she didn’t see anything but windows and a few stray wrappers lying on the ground.
“Disappeared?”
She spun around, half-expecting the elf to show up behind her like Durand in DC, but there was no one. The tomb raider turned slowly as she sought evidence of a hidden door.
Something was wrong. Shay shook her head and turned back and forth again, this time counting as she moved her eyes.
1…2…3…Wait.
Her eyes moved too quickly on one side. She focused where she’d been looking, and after a few seconds and a blink there was a narrow door.
Fucking magic.
Shay narrowed her eyes as she stared at the nondescript door. It took all her concentration for her gaze not to slide away and ignore it.
Fucking hate that type of spell. I swear, Correk, if this thing ends up wiping my memory, I will find you and kick your Fixer ass.
Shay took a few deep breaths and marched straight toward the door. The more she let her thoughts stray, the harder it was to keep her gaze on the entrance, but finally she pulled it open and stepped inside.
Darkness reigned, and strange smells floated through the air, some acrid, others fruity or herbal. Floating orbs provided light near the tables and the bar.
Magical light. Magical defensive spell. Huh.
A light-colored wooden bar ran along the back of the room. A Light Elf bartender dressed in a black silk shirt, and tie stood behind the bar with a smile on his face. Shelves containing dozens of bottles were behind him. Most appeared to be Earth alcohol, but others were labeled in Oriceran languages or glowing concoctions that obviously hadn’t been distilled in Kentucky. A row of stoppered and differently-colored small glass bottles, most likely potions, were on the top shelf.
A few people glanced her way before returning to their conversations and drinks.
Definitely not your average sports bar.
Numerous elves sat in the bar, and a few dwarves huddled in a corner. One of the dwarves puffed on a long pipe, eyeing her for a moment.
A gnome sat at the bar pounding back an opaque green drink. Judging by the wands hanging from belts or peeking out of coats, most of the people who looked human were witches or wizards.
Two women with wings were at a table in a corner giggling over some video they were watching on a phone. Shay assumed they were Arpaks, but she’d never seen one up close.
Correk waved from a table in the center of the room. A wine glass sat in front of him.
At least he’s not drinking some weird glowing Oriceran thing.
Shay wasn’t happy that the Fixer had taken the least defensible seat in the entire room, but given the magical nature of the place, she doubted she had to worry about some rogue cartel survivor kicking in the door and shooting her in the back.
That would be kind of fun to see, but I’m not here for that.
The tomb raider slid into a seat with a grunt.
Been spending too much time around James. She snickered.
“Maybe next time you can give me a little more lead time for the meeting,” Shay suggested.
Correk shrugged. “I apologize. I don’t always have…a predictable schedule, so I meet with people when I can.” He offered her a faint pained smile.
“Whatever. I’m assuming it’s important. I’m guessing you didn’t call me out here to drink gnome grog.”
“Yes, and let me thank you for being on time, Miz Carson,” Correk told her. He took a sip of his wine. “That makes the rest of my night far less stressful. I’m glad you were able to find the place.”
“You didn’t tell me about the spell.”
“I did tell you to keep looking.”
“But you didn’t tell me about the spell to begin with.”
Correk’s eyes narrowed. “Consider it another test of your abilities. If you couldn’t find this place, you probably wouldn’t be worth working with.”
“Ouch. You still don’t think I have what it takes?”
“I think it didn’t hurt to check. We’re swimming together in mysterious waters. I need to be assured that you have a flexible mind.”
Shay rolled her eyes.
Correk put his wine glass down after taking another sip. “I’ve spent a long time dealing with dangerous magic and dangerous people. I’ve gained valuable allies along the way, such as Smite-Williams and Lei—” He sucked in a breath. “Other people, but I’m still deciding whether you’re a valuable ally or someone who’ll cause trouble because you know just enough to be dangerous.”
“Maybe I’m a dangerous ally.”
The elf chuckled. “Always a possibility, but I trust you’re satisfied with how I’ve tested you.”
“Maybe I’ll test you next time.”
Correk smirked. “Trust me, I can make it through the As Seen on TV aisle without trouble.”
Shay blinked, not following the elf’s logic but decided to let it drop. She wasn’t there to trade jokes anyway. “So, what’s the deal with this place? Some secret magic bar? I don’t get it. It’s not like Oricerans can’t drink in human bars.”
“Sure, but human bars are filled with humans.”
“That they are.” Shay pointed to herself. “I’m human, you know.”
“Let me be very clear. I’m not anti-human, it’s just that the bulk of humanity is still coming to terms with the full return of magic, and that can cause complications in my duties as the Fixer.” Correk gestured around the bar. “As for this place, in addition to the spells the owners put on the bar, I know I can use certain spells here without a problem. I wanted to make sure that no other humans overheard our conversation. As you’ve noted, you’re human, but you already are deep into the investigation. I’m more concerned about the government people looking into this matter. I don’t trust them, and I’ve had bad experiences with human governments before when it comes to sensitive matters.”
Shay snorted. “Not like most humans trust our governments either. You don’t have to convince me. I barely trust myself, and…” She furrowed her brow, wondering how much she should share.
“What is it?”
“I ran into a man working for the US government in Ecuador just a few days ago. They’ve got this specialist, Francois Durand. He’s been running all over grabbing alien-related shit. He’s probably the guy who got them their stone. He was in Ecuador to grab something that might have been alien-related.”
Correk arched a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah. I was recovering an artifact down there for a client. It was a little golden airplane-looking thing, but it was six hundred years old. Ancient airplanes, allegedly, or models of them, anyway.”
He nodded. “I’m familiar with them.”
“I took a bunch of pictures in different spectral ranges, but I couldn’t find anything unusual about it. No symbols, nothing. If it’s related to the aliens, it might be indirect. Or maybe it’s what people think it is: just something the Incas made after seeing alien aircraft.”
“Where is it now?”
“With the client.”
Correk frowned. “I see.”
“Hey, the guy paid a million dollars for it, and it wasn’t covered with alien glyphs or anything.”
“I have ways of recovering information that go beyond simple reading
and translation. In the future, it could be helpful to our investigation if I could gain access to an artifact like that, if only for a short while.”
“Understood.” Shay stared at the Light Elf, wondering how much information she should offer.
Have to give a little to get a little. I’m not gonna get better help than the Fixer.
Shay sighed. “This Durand asshole beat me to an artifact in Russia. An aluminum tooth-wheel that may be three hundred million years old, so it’s got to be alien.”
“I see.” Correk picked up his wine and downed the rest of it. “I presume this item is now under the control of the American government?”
Shay shrugged. “As far as I know. This Durand guy might not be a Fixer, but he’s damned good for a human with no special magic. He’s gonna be a problem, but I’ll deal with him when he pops up.”
Correk set his glass down and folded his hands in front of him. “I thank you for being so honest about the information you’ve uncovered, Miz Carson. Since you’ve been so forthright, I will be as well.”
“Oh, you didn’t call me here to hit on me?”
Correk gave a soft snort. “Don’t think so highly of yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun.”
“No, I’m not—not when it comes to my duties.” Correk made a few precise movements with his hand while he sang, or at least that was the closest word that Shay could use to describe it. What emerged from his mouth wasn’t a simple voice, but a complex, layered sound that should have required instruments.
A full-color three-dimensional image of a pitted and cracked rock winked into existence above the table. It rotated slowly.
“Do you know what this is?” Correk inquired.
“Looks like a rock to me.”
“Close enough. It’s a meteorite.”
“You mean, it’s a space rock.”
Correk chuckled. “Yes.”
Shay nodded. “Something special about meteorites? Sky iron or something like that for powerful magical metal-working?”
“More to the point, there’s something special about this particular meteorite. A magical gentleman I helped out of a difficult situation gave it to me recently. He’d had it in his family for thousands of years, along with a family legend about it being a blessing stone from an ancient god.”
