“One of Management’s properties. We have a few hours to prepare before the event begins. I have an RSVP for myself and one guest.”
“They’re going to recognize me.”
“Perhaps not.” He reached in his briefcase and brought out what looked like one of those carnival masks from Venice and passed it over to me. It would cover the entire top half of my face including the nose, leaving only eyes, mouth and chin free. “You will wear this.”
It was a delicate concoction, a piece of jewelry clearly wrought by master craftsmen: the base was gold, but there was an ornamentation of silver filigree emphasizing the cheeks, a delicate inlay of reddish gold running a tracery-like brocade over all of it. The eyes were outlined in what I was fairly sure were real diamonds, and whose glitter would make it harder to see the eyes clearly. The whole was attached to a sort of veil, or cowl, of gold fabric, with tiny butterflies of ruby and diamond attached all over. It was a beautiful piece, it was embedded with magic, and it would be noticed.
“My employer said you are to have this. It has certain minor enchantments which will help conceal your nature.”
“Won’t people think—”
“That a disguise is strange? The other bidders? Or Brother Death and his servants who will be managing the auction?” An ironic smile twisted his lips, lifting them up more on one side than the other. “You come from a more innocent world.”
“Management told you what I do for a living, right?”
“Yes, you’ve witnessed monsters and mayhem your whole life, but even a vampire pit is cleaner than what you are about to see. Most of the mortal beings there will be hiding their faces. You must understand that these people have no honor, and that some of them are very prominent in the human world. Some of them have reputations as philanthropists.”
“And what about your honor, Mr. Hansel?”
“I merely do what my clients ask me to do. This child? It is not the sort of thing my employer would normally bid on —”
“He.” My correction was sharp. This might just be a business transaction for him, but I wasn’t going to let him dehumanize my son. “His name is Ray.”
“Pardon. He is not the type of thing Management collects, and the dark magic human sacrifice enables is not something he partakes in. They will think, however, that he’s obliging someone who is prominent in the human world who doesn’t want to be known, who is paying him in currency he will accept. I started that rumor myself. You will play that part. I let slip that you are a rich and famous woman who can’t afford a hint of scandal, but who wishes for a piece of this action.”
“They’ll buy that?”
“Yes. I am allowed to bring a guest; in this case, the famous woman who has struck a deal with my employer. It will be assumed you insisted on being present to keep an eye on me—there is, after all, no honor among evildoers—or, since you are a newcomer, you wish to witness the spectacle for yourself and to have the chance to rub shoulders with the supernatural set. I’m afraid you don’t realize how common this sort of thing is.”
“It sounds like you’ve worked with some real assholes.” I’d noticed there was even a clause in his contract about how his clients weren’t allowed to lay their eggs in him.
“Indeed, Mrs. Pitt, but I do not judge. More than likely some of my former, inhuman clients may be there tonight.”
“If Management can send a proxy bidder, why don’t all the supernatural players? Why risk the exposure?”
“Some would not trust a servant to retrieve something so valuable. Others? Pride. Hubris. I believe many of them enjoy the spectacle, displaying their riches and having their peers and rivals marvel at them. They really aren’t so different from humanity in that respect. Now, our drive will take a bit, so we should discuss strategy. Our problem is that Management cannot field that many assets ideal for this type of transaction. Rich and powerful as he is, he is still shaken by the recent disturbance and his power is not what it once was.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Well, let’s say that the assets we will be bidding with are not precisely…money.”
“I got that part.”
“Anything can be traded for money, even in the underworld, but the bids presented tonight will be in the form of things the bidders believe will be most pleasing to Brother Death, who is a notorious connoisseur of all things malicious. Management is many things, but he does not rejoice in evil or suffering, and much of his collection was destroyed in Las Vegas, so his offerings may be insufficient. Once the bidding is over, my work is done. If you take action outside the rules of the auction, you are on your own. I cannot be seen as aiding you. If your identity is revealed, I will deny that I knew who you really were and say that I was manipulated.”
I was tired and emotional. I wanted to call him a coward… But no. That wouldn’t work. “I understand. Your livelihood is at stake.”
“Not my livelihood, my life. A secret society does not have many rules, but bringing a Hunter to a gathering like this is certainly among them. What their rules lack in number, they more than make up for with the quality of punishments. The only other help I can give you will be behind the scenes. If someone else wins, and you wish to trace the buyer and recover your child, I can perhaps do some research and arrange meetings.”
I couldn’t let that happen. This needed to end tonight. If someone else won this auction, it wasn’t a job for lawyers or venture capital dragons. I’d have to make sure the winning creature didn’t leave the place alive so I could go home with my son…though I didn’t know how I was going to do that yet. Hansel wasn’t kidding about being on my own. If we lost the bidding, it would be me versus a party full of monsters and cultists.
“I need to come up with a strategy. I don’t suppose that you’d be willing to tell me more about what currency these supernatural underworld lords deal in?”
He frowned. “I don’t see any reason to do so.”
“Maybe I can bring some? Perhaps it could make the difference?”
Hansel shook his head. “It would not. In this, Management is moderately wealthy and you’re a pauper.”
“It’s like this though. We Shacklefords pay our way and carry our weight. If Management is willing to exchange something very valuable for my son’s freedom, I should know so I can repay him. This transaction is on my behalf. If the transaction’s that dirty, I need to know.”
“If you are certain, it’s one of those things that once learned can’t be unlearned. It’s a world you Hunters know nothing of. Something that maybe even your government knows nothing of.”
“Tell me,” I said and was surprised at how firm my voice was.
“Very well.” He touched the tips of his fingers together as he held his hands above the briefcase. “Here it is. What these creatures deal in is power and…well, humans.”
“You mean like slavery?”
He sighed. “There is some of that, though perhaps not in the sense you mean. Not so much owning humans’ bodies. That comes along with what they really own, which is their freedom and autonomy, their minds and, though the word is inadequate, souls.” He continued, unaware—probably unaware—of the chill running up my spine. “But those aren’t as valuable as you would think. After all, anyone likely to trade away his soul was probably already going to lose it anyway.”
I thought about poor dumb Benno getting dragged off to whatever weird realm that had been. Then I looked down at the lawyer’s contract in my hand and shuddered.
“There are other goods that can be sold in bulk. You get—how do I put this?—power from corrupting the minds of children. Say a being convinces millions of innocents that one of the cardinal sins is a virtue. That gives them power, and that influence can be traded. But there is more direct currency than that. Certain beings achieve mind dominion and control over multitudes, by magic or by illicit drugs or many other ways. Items of magical power, curses, books of spells, weapons of mass destruction, entire criminal enterprises—human traff
icking and drug supply chains mostly—basically anything that supernatural creatures can control will be offered. Do you understand now?”
“Kind of.” My voice failed. I understood enough to know it was probably immoral to be getting my son back at this kind of expense. I wasn’t sure how this worked exactly, but whatever Management was going to give to Brother Death on my behalf was dangerous and immoral, and it would stain my soul.
I weighed it all, wishing I could be so fine, so noble, as to say, “No, no, I don’t want to benefit from that.” But I couldn’t. My son was my family and mine to guard. I knew that my title of Guardian referred only to the artifact at my side…which was fine. But it didn’t matter. I’d accept the stain on my soul, the feeling of becoming a little more of a monster myself, as long as it got my son back, costs be damned. I can say I was fine with dying or worse as long as innocent Ray was okay. At least one of us would escape this.
“Knowing Management owns some of those assets makes me like him a lot less.”
Hansel pursed his lips. “Yes and no. Management has a diversified portfolio. Surely you understand, he couldn’t have run casinos in Las Vegas without having his talons in various criminal pies. For the most part, he is one of my more virtuous clients. However, what he’s actually bringing to the table are several potions, magically charged, some of which contain very dark magic, including several vials from one of the principals in the Affair of the Poisons. There are poisons there that will kill people in horrible ways, potions that will make people lose all free will and transfer all their financial assets to less than trustworthy kin, or to make them fall in love with the person who feeds them this. I am not sure you get all the implications or even—”
“I’m not stupid. I get it. If we bid them and we win the bidding, we’ll be giving Brother Death—an extremely evil son of a bitch—a lot of power over innocents.”
His eyes were very intent on mine, not letting me look away. “Yes, and I want to emphasize that with all that, winning the auction is still your best option. If you do not sign my contract, you’ll be forced to go in, guns blazing, to a gathering of very high level power players, all of whom will have human security or some manner of supernatural protection. There is no assurance that you will get your baby out alive, and you will most surely die in the process.”
Even with a full team a rescue would be dicey. To even be feasible it would have to be a team of our best, experienced Hunters. I didn’t have that. The best Hunters in the world were—heaven willing still alive—on Severny Island, incommunicado, cut off from the world. The team Dorcas had scrambled to help me was probably being detained in Germany, and I couldn’t risk contacting any of the EU-based hunting companies because that might end up with a bunch of government agents arresting me. I suppose I could have called on Grant again, but he was on the other side of the world, and if he helped, it would just jeopardize his position with the MCB.
“Fine. Winning the bid is plan A. It isn’t like Brother Death doesn’t already have mind control powers anyway. Once I get Ray back safe, then I can focus on hunting Brother Death down and returning Management’s property.”
“That isn’t necessary—”
“Oh, it very much is.”
Though Hansel was a lawyer rather than a cosmic horror, poor Benno was still a good reminder of what happened when you entered into binding agreements carelessly. So I read through the rest of the contract carefully. Hansel held out a gold pen.
“Okay. You try to win Ray. We’ll pay whatever you can bring to bear, no matter how nasty it is. In the near future, we’ll kill Brother Death and get it back before he can cause too much harm with it.” That made me think about the artifact at my side and a very uncomfortable possible plan B.
He didn’t say anything. I could tell from the way he looked at me that he thought it was futile and probably stupid of me to think I could simply kill all my problems away but, you know what, it had worked for us for many a year. If he thought it was a job too big for just me or even for all of MHI, he didn’t know us very well at all. Once Ray was home safe and once our people were back from Severny—our people would be back!—I would make sure that everyone involved in this wretched auction scene died. That’s what my family did. We killed monsters so normal people could sleep safe at home. I’d do it again, and if I failed to kill them all, then someday Ray would do it, or his sons, or their sons and daughters. Until every last monster was eradicated once and for all.
Because that’s what Hunters do.
I took Hansel’s pen and signed the contract.
CHAPTER 15
Our destination was a large home in a nice part of the city. It was three stories tall with a flat roof. The plaza grounds were made of that inlaid black and white stone you see on some older sidewalks in Europe; it was extensively landscaped, and palm trees swaying gently in the breeze.
Hansel escorted me inside, into a sort of atrium. From there, a hallway led to a staircase, big, marble and winding. It was truly a beautiful home, only from the lack of personalization or mess, it felt like no one actually lived there.
“This is one of Management’s many investment properties,” Hansel explained. “Though he can never visit any of his holdings, he enjoys collecting real estate.”
It had a kitchen you could have fit an entire floor of my house into, and please keep in mind I lived in an antebellum mansion. “It must suck to be him.”
“I will stay here and prepare while you get cleaned up and dressed.”
“Speaking of preparations?”
“Ah yes, I was informed of your shopping requests. I’m afraid I’m a lawyer, not a gun runner. I do not care for the things. So I could not get you a suit of armor and a bazooka, or whatever it was you wanted.”
I was down to a few rounds of .45 for my gun, and a partially expended mag for the stolen Walther. “If we lose this auction, what am I supposed to use—harsh language?”
“Considering that some of the guests will possess claws, fangs, or magical powers, Brother Death’s security won’t look too askance at a human possessing a discreet handgun politely concealed. Anything more than that they would frown upon. I don’t know much about such things, but I asked a favor of one of my other clients and he loaned me something that he described as rather classy.”
I sighed. Since it was one of his asshole clients, that meant it was probably from a snooty billionaire’s collection, so it would be covered in gold and ivory and, considering their goofy European gun laws, probably carry five rounds and be chambered in something odd and anemic like a .32 Pillow Fighter. Worst-case scenario I could put it in a sock and beat them with it.
“I’ll take what I can get.”
“I’ll retrieve it while you are getting cleaned up.” He sniffed disapprovingly at my blood-stained novelty sweater.
The staff was quiet, efficient, and perfectly trained. When they asked if I had any requests, I surprised them with an odd one. I showed the butler the artifact. Despite being super-ancient evil and capable of all sorts of craziness, it really didn’t look like much in the hand. I might be able to use that to my advantage. “I need you to find me a rock or a piece of stone that looks close to this. It doesn’t need to be perfect, just good enough that a quick glance could mistake the two. And I need it for tonight.”
“I will see what I can do, madam.”
A woman led me to a guest room. They’d even gotten towels warmed for me while I took a shower. Remarkably, in the time it took the limo to pick me up in Cannes, they’d picked out and bought a black cocktail dress for me, laid it out with the appropriate undergarments and a set of jewelry which was way more expensive than anything I’d ever seen outside of TV.
Examining myself in the mirror after the shower, I confirmed that the Guardian’s marks on my abdomen and neck had grown a bit. The skin atop the new shrapnel wounds was perfectly smooth, but black as ebony. Other than that, I was covered in scratches, scrapes, and a whole bunch of bruises. I looked like crap.
Back in the guest room, I looked at the dress, thinking it was really pretty, and definitely not what I’d choose to go into battle in, but Management had tried to warn me about the dress code. I hated going into the fight of my life without so much as a bulletproof vest. The dress fit perfectly and really accentuated my figure, which made me wonder just how well Management kept tabs on us that he knew my measurements.
“May I help Madame with her hair and makeup now?” a young woman in a white smock asked, appearing—of course—at just the perfect time.
I nodded and sat down in front of the vanity while she piled my hair on top of my head, making it look way sexier than anything I ever managed to do on my own. It was obvious she was a top-flight professional, something that became even more obvious when she moved on to my makeup.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll be wearing a mask.”
“My employer’s message was very specific that I must do my best.”
I might as well make the dragon happy. “Can you hide these scratches?” I gestured toward where the Tokoloshe had tried to claw my eyes out.
“Easily,” and she went to work.
I know that my husband thinks I’m so beautiful and amazing. Frankly, I’ve always thought I have an average face, but nothing to write home about. However, the way the makeup specialist outlined my eyes, and applied just a touch of color to my cheeks and the space between eye and eyebrow, everything just came to life. What I mean is, when you first saw me, I didn’t even look made up. Just five years younger and a million times prettier than the real me.
While I was staring at the mirror, I felt her fingers on my neck, and turned, saying “Hey!” before I realized she was carefully applying some kind of concealer to the Guardian marks.
Her fingers stopped. Her eyes met my gaze in the mirror. “I was told Madame would be incognita…not under her own name or her own appearance. These tattoos are very distinctive, and I was told they must be hidden.”
She was right. “Carry on,” and she did. By the time she was done, the exposed skin on my neck looked smooth and exactly the same color as the rest of my body. I could still feel the marks there, warm and tingly, like a living thing. But no one would be able to see them.
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