Whatever for Hire

by RJ Blain

  “My silence is going to cost you ten thousand with those terms.”

  “Sold.”

  “In advance.”

  I lifted my chin and sniffed. “My wallet is in my bag. Use the black debit card.”

  “You can pay for it with the rest of your purchases.” Partway down the hall, more new smears stained the stone. Hagnar halted and pressed his hands to the wall, which melted away to reveal a tiled foyer barely large enough for both of us. Looks deceived, and I wondered how many people had found the small room and believed it was an antechamber rather than an elevator.

  Unfortunately, Hagnar hadn’t seen any need to install wide doors, requiring me to contort my wings to squeeze through. I crammed against the wall so the black market operator could enter without having to crawl over me to reach the steel door on the far side.

  Hagnar touched the door, the wall clicked, and we descended deep into the Earth.

  The first time I’d purchased illegal merchandise from Hagnar, he’d locked me in his office for five hours. I considered myself lucky he’d warned me to go to the bathroom first. I’d heard rumors some hadn’t been so fortunate. With nothing to do and little room to run, I’d settled in to wait and done what cats did best. I’d taken a nap.

  The second time, he’d shown me the tunnel and locked me in the hallway while he went into the warehouse, once again leaving me to wait and stay out of trouble. He’d given me a ten foot section of the corridor to move around in and threatened death if I wandered. Some of the smears were likely from those who’d failed Hagnar’s second test. The third time, after he’d sent me on a wild goose chase across town for a week, he’d taken me to the second floor to a miniature version of his main warehouse.

  With hundreds of millions worth of illegal merchandise in the second-floor warehouse, it didn’t surprise me people risked death to steal from Hagnar’s operations. If I was going to risk my life, I’d do it for more than just money.

  A hot Scottish fireman counted, although I’d need to keep our relationship to look but don’t touch, unless the Scot had a kink for sleeping with his less-than-human kidnapper.

  No, I’d have to keep my lust leashed and remain professional. Some lines I wouldn’t cross, and assaulting my hostage was one of them.

  Unless I wanted an awkward conversation with Hagnar, I needed to get my head back in the game, stand still, and wait patiently. When it came to the long elevator ride, which I estimated at taking around ten minutes, he liked peace and quiet. If he wanted to talk, he would. If he did, I’d listen, since the man never talked without a reason. Maybe my willingness to leave the silence undisturbed had ultimately earned me the right to visit his main warehouse.

  It alone was a mystery I wanted to solve, and while I’d learned some about the vast caverns beneath the Earth, I’d only scratched the surface. Before Hagnar had moved in, it had belonged to a gorgon clan foolish enough to share space with a dragon. The dragon still slept, and Hagnar refused to tell me what had happened to the gorgons. I yearned for a closer look at the living, breathing ebony serpent studded with glittering gems.

  The glimpse I’d captured would never be enough, and I wouldn’t ruin my chance to see the coiled beast in all its glory.

  “Ten dollars for my advice,” Hagnar announced, removing his hands from the steel door. The elevator halted, and several clicks and thuds offered hope it wouldn’t plummet to the main warehouse below. The small warehouse only took a few seconds to reach, the equivalent of a floor below the hallway, and I guessed we’d been in the elevator for maybe two or three minutes, nowhere near long enough to reach the main warehouse.

  To cover my unease at the unexpected change to our routine, I barked a laugh. “Add two zeroes, then you’ll be closer to what your advice is actually worth.”

  “This is why I like dealing with you. You understand the value of things. No, today, my advice comes at the cost of the memory stick containing the information. Consider the advice a token of our good business dealings. You value me and my craft. I value your discretion and money. It’s a good deal for both of us.”

  “Ten dollars it is, then.”

  When Hagnar smiled, I worried, and the man’s good humor tempted me to climb the walls to see if I could bust through the top of the elevator into the relative safety of the shaft. He rapped his knuckle against the metal door, and it clicked before popping open. Cold but clean air blasted into my face. The light failed to penetrate beyond the doorway.

  “I’d say hold my hand for this, but as you lack hands, I’ll touch your shoulder to guide you. You must trust me. You’ll be in the dark for a while.”

  “Well, this is new.”

  Ugh. I sounded like Michael, Archangel of the High Heavens. It didn’t matter if Hagnar showed me something new. Ah hell, who was I kidding? When Hagnar showed me something new, good things happened.

  “To you, yes. Not for me. Try not to panic. The air will be cold, damp, and uncomfortable. It’ll be warmer once we reach our destination. If you have electronics with you, I’ll need to protect them.”

  “My phone and wallet are in my bag.”

  “I’ll charge you standard book rate for the magic required, added to your bill.”

  I liked no-brainer offers. Standard book rate guaranteed a fair cost as determined by law, laws created by a coalition of labor unions, the United States government, and the CDC. “Deal.”

  It took Hagnar less than a minute to work his magic, which boded well for Satin’s bank account.

  “Walk with me.”

  I obeyed, bracing for the disorientation of blindness. Hagnar set his hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle, the faintest of pressure against my fur, giving me directions on where to walk and when to turn. The cold air swept into my lungs and numbed me from the inside, and I recognized the sensation from the few times I’d been sedated. Although I was worried, I kept walking, placing my paws with care and unsheathing my claws for better purchase on the floor. Each step, I tested the floor before shifting my weight.

  My caution made for slow going, but since Hagnar didn’t complain about our pace, I kept to my wobbly plod. The numbness and chill intensified the longer I remained in the darkness, worrying me yet crippling my ability to do anything about it. I hated swaying, and I needed to use my claws to keep from falling.

  “Almost there,” Hagnar promised. “I know it’s smothering.”

  It amazed me the man could sound so pleasant. Where had the gruff Hagnar I knew gone? “Drugged,” I slurred. I wrinkled my nose and tried again. “You drugged me.”

  “It’s so nice when my hard work is recognized. It’s temporary; it’ll wear off a few minutes after we leave this area. Can’t make it easy for you to find your way back here without me, after all.”

  “This isn’t your main warehouse. Not deep enough.” Talking helped, and the more I spoke, the easier it became to make my tongue do what I wanted. It also helped me concentrate and coordinate my paws so I didn’t stagger as much.

  “And this is why I take the precautions I do. You’re right. We’re about to turn right. Step carefully, as there’s a ledge. I recommend against falling, although you won’t hurt for long if you tumble over the side.”

  I took extra care with my steps trying to find the edge of the floor so I could avoid it. To my paws, the floor felt like stone. “You’re a man of many surprises.”

  “I’ve lived as long as I have because of my precautions. You’re among the more trustworthy to see my caves, so instead of dragging your unconscious body through my maze, you’re blessed. I’m letting you walk.”

  “I think I’m blessed because you don’t want to drag six hundred plus pounds of sphinx through your maze.”

  “That, too.”

  After having seen a minotaur in both forms, I eliminated the possibility of Hagnar being one; minotaurs did a poor job at playing human. “You’re not a minotaur. What are you?”

  “Why don’t you think I’m a minotaur?” he demanded, and while his g
ruff tone had returned, his voice lacked the sharper edge of actual anger.

  Did Hagnar really think he could play me? “You’re too human, too good at playing human,” I slurred. Concentrating on my breathing, I willed my tongue to cooperate. “Haven’t asked if I’m fertile, not once. Haven’t sniffed me or snorted in my face, either. I’m an exotic. Minotaurs love exotic. You would’ve been itching to breed with me the moment you saw me.”

  “You’re a sphinx. Exotic or not, you don’t have the right number of legs and arms! You’re not a minotaur’s usual fare.”

  “I’m a female. You’re not a minotaur. Minotaurs view species differences as challenges to overcome. Anyway, if you were a minotaur, you’d lose me in your maze at least once for the fun of it, you wouldn’t sedate anyone who wandered into your lair, and you’d lure those you wanted to get rid of here so you could watch them starve to death. When they got nice and desiccated, you’d eat them. You’d also take the least direct path. Did I mention you wouldn’t sedate anyone? Your labyrinth would dip into the deepest pits of the devil’s hell and rise into the peaks of the high heavens for no reason other than you felt like being elaborate. No, you’re not a minotaur.”

  “I should hire you the next time I require minotaur lore. I’m even going to give you a discount on today’s transaction for helping me see the error of my ways. I’d like my maze to better mimic a minotaur’s. How’d you learn so much about them?”

  “Saw one’s insides, thought I should learn a bit more about them.”

  “Huh. You don’t seem like the type to disembowel your prey.”

  “I didn’t do it, I just watched.” Only an idiot got in the way of the devil in the middle of a maiming. I shuddered, shook my head, and tried unsuccessfully to forget the memory of the bat-winged monster sheathed in flame turning a minotaur inside out.

  “We’re about to leave the darkness—two of your steps. Close your eyes; it’s bright. The air’s warm, too. Some find this unpleasant. Try not to faint. It’d be a hassle to drag you the rest of the way.”

  “More smothering,” I muttered but closed my eyes as directed. After a steadying breath, I stepped into the light.

  Chapter Five

  A jungle paradise dipped into a valley and disappeared beneath a canopy of trees and thick foliage. Birdsong broke the quiet, although I saw none of the birds responsible in the light of a golden crystal floating near the carved stone ceiling above.

  A ziggurat rose from the cavern’s heart, its pale stone gleaming. I’d seen something like it before, and I stared until realization struck me. If I restored the temple at Machu Picchu to its former glory, I’d likely end up with a similar temple. My mouth dropped open, and after a long, stunned silence, I spluttered, “Machu Picchu. There’s something like this at Machu Picchu.”

  Hagnar laughed. “Inti Watana. You know it as the Temple of the Sun. It isn’t the same, but yes. You tread the right path. The few others I’ve brought here didn’t bother to guess at all. It’s nice to see history hasn’t been completely forgotten.”

  True to the man’s warning, the cavern’s heat roasted me while the damp air sought to drown me for daring to breathe. The sedatives didn’t help, leaving me panting. My face sweated while the humidity clung to my fur and made my feathers stick together.

  “You weren’t kidding. It’s hot in here.” I kept my tone light, careful to avoid whining too much. Hagnar would forgive a little whining, especially since he was to blame for my discomfort. I liked it hot, but I liked it dry, and I didn’t understand how everything could feel so wet without rain being involved. “There are so many trees. What is this place?”

  “My home. I’ve judged you and found you worthy. Here you’ll find everything you need and so much more. Now, follow. By the time we reach the valley floor, you’ll feel more like yourself. It’s cooler below. I’d like to make it inside before it rains.”

  To reach the jungle, we had to traverse a staircase carved into the stone, which meandered around ancient stalagmites. At first, I paid no attention to the common cave structures, but then a glint of red caught my eye, and I halted, twisting around to locate the source. A red crystal lurked beneath the pale stone. “Hagnar? Are there gems in these rocks?”

  The man chuckled. “Yes, there are. Pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Is that normal?”

  “No. Once upon a time, magic pooled in this cavern. It’s in everything.” He pointed up at the floating crystal above. “That’s natural.”

  I sucked in a breath and stared into the light, my eyes wide. “That’s natural?”

  “A relic from when the magic flowed beneath the Earth, waiting for the next surge so it could return to the surface. I believe it’s a node.”

  “A node?”

  “A theoretical source of magic. As I rather like my home, I haven’t invited anyone to have a closer look at it.”

  “Smart.”

  True to Hagnar’s word, by the time we descended into the valley, the sedative’s influence eased. I went from numb to energized, and I fluttered my wings, itching to take to the air. I remained grounded, although it took a great deal of effort to tear my attention away from the cavern’s ceiling and back to the stone path we walked. Flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors lined the path, and I slowed to sniff them all, marveling at the variety of scents.

  One of them took offense to my curiosity and bit my nose. I yelped, slashing out with a forepaw. After a brief but fierce disagreement with the flower, I wore the crimson blossom tucked behind my ear, preening over my conquest.

  “That was rare,” Hagnar complained.

  “If it hadn’t bitten me, I wouldn’t have claimed it as a trophy.”

  “Please try to avoid destroying my home.”

  I flashed Hagnar a smile, showing off my teeth. While my face mostly looked human, I had pronounced incisors. “I was generously helping you with your landscaping. You seem to have an aggressive species in your lovely garden. How long have you been growing this jungle?”

  I was no expert on trees, unless it involved getting stuck in them, but they seemed old—very, very old.

  “A thousand years or so. This place reminds me of home. Everything you see here, I’ve built with my own hands. Every bird, every plant, every animal living here descends from the ones I brought when I left my ancestral home.”

  I halted. Hagnar had been working on his valley for a thousand years? I struggled with that, choosing to shrug and not think about it too hard. With negotiations in progress, I didn’t need the sort of headache I’d earn contemplating the man’s age. “Why bring me here?”

  “We have more in common than you think, and you interest me. I need no other reason why. I needed to come here for the drug you require anyway. This is where I make it. We’ll have to go to the main warehouse after, but there is a way down from here.”

  “This is incredible. It really is.” I could understand why Hagnar killed to protect his operation. The government’s inevitable interest in the floating crystal would ruin his home. Add in the jungle, the drug I planned to use on Malcolm Findlay Stewart, and Hagnar’s wealth and illegal property, and people would start wars to possess it. “You’ve made something truly amazing here.”

  Moss-burdened vines crossed the path, forcing me to scramble beneath, stretching and flattening my wings. Hagnar chuckled at my contortions, ducking beneath the foliage with practiced ease. Beyond, the jungle retreated, and a mowed lawn surrounded the ziggurat’s base. The front door made me laugh; I’d seen the same one at a hardware store for a hundred dollars, as cheap as it got. Inside, instead of Incan grandeur, the place reminded me of a cheap motel. The paint, which has been used to hide the evidence of mold, peeled away from the drywall in layers, evidence he’d surrendered to the mold’s inevitable presence in his home.

  I blamed the jungle’s humidity, a formidable foe of any homeowner.

  Hagnar crossed the barren entry to a closed door, a more expensive storm door with glass panes, opened it
, and waited for me to follow. “What can you tell me of your prey?”

  “His family wants him out of the way but not killed—at least not by me. I’m not convinced they don’t want him dead and are positioning to get rid of him permanently. Since I wouldn’t put it past my client to backstab my new and unwilling friend, I want him coherent enough to defend himself if necessary. I’m anticipating he’ll have a six month stay with me. The client’s paying a low upfront payment and additional funds each month, which makes me think there will be trouble. Altogether, it’s a lot of money, but I doubt he means to pay it all. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I don’t think my client really wants his cousin to live. Why else tell me to dump him somewhere and leave him?”

  It took an unpleasant stretch of my wings and a bit of squeezing to fit through the door, which led to a wood-paneled office, one cooled with an air conditioner and boasting a dehumidifier.

  Hagnar hummed, nodded, and closed the door behind me. “Tell me the details of the deal from the very beginning, but so far, I’m agreeing with your assessment. You may be in over your head.”

  “I’m willing to bet my client’s counting on that. One person pulling off a kidnapping isn’t easy, not when the target is a full-grown man.”

  While Hagnar circled around his desk to sit, I stretched out with a groan, positioning so I could enjoy the cool breeze. Starting from the moment I’d gotten the order to accept the next contract, I detailed my conversations with Bubba Eugene Stewart, leaving out their names. After I paid him for his silence, I’d consider discussing the Stewart family and possibly digging for additional information on them. I doubted Hagnar could find out anything I hadn’t on the internet, but I’d pay dearly for what he could find out.