The joke broke the lock in Diana’s head, and she laughed gratefully. “No. And Drow aren’t evil. You know that.”
“Well, y’all are really kind of jerks fairly often, you know?”
“Don’t judge me by Nylotte.”
This time, it was her mentor who laughed. “Well, that went better than I’d feared. I wondered how long it would take you to realize the truth.”
Diana considered going down that path of conversation but rejected it. What is simply is. Nothing else about it matters. Instead, she asked, “So does that mean you can’t train Cara or you won’t train her?”
The Dark Elf folded her arms. “It means I’m willing to do so, but it will come at a cost. For you, my protege, part of my motivation has been to support one of my own kind. Whatever variety of elf your friend might be, it is not what we are so that does not apply.”
“Fine. Done. Name your price.”
She smiled thinly. “Oh, please. You know by now it doesn’t work that way.”
Diana grinned. “I almost had you, though.”
Nylotte laughed. “Not even close. You are but the apprentice, whereas I am the master.”
Cara sounded concerned when she rejoined the conversation. “Boss, maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”
“Psh. It’s fine.” She turned to the Drow. “So, no time like the present, right? Make with the teaching.”
The wide grin on her teacher’s face suggested that she might not enjoy receiving what she’d asked for, but it was too late to go back. Really, what’s the worst that can happen?
Chapter Eighteen
Every muscle, tendon, and bone in Diana’s body hurt by the time Nylotte had consistently used her as a living target to train the other woman. At the end of the session, the Dark Elf created a portal back to the base and sent Cara on her way. She had even given her part of an energy potion since they had only been able to make minimal inroads into helping her control the amount of power she expended.
Diana held the cup of tea in her hands and savored the smell of the energizing brew. Her teacher had been correct about its ability to restore both physical and magical strength, although if she had to fight at that moment, she’d need to down a full energy potion simply to be able to stand.
Her mentor gazed levelly at her. “So, how does it feel to know your true origin?”
Diana shrugged. “At first, it was a shock. Now, it’s simply another thing that doesn’t warrant worrying about. I’m comfortable with who I am.”
“And you’re not upset that your mother didn’t tell you?”
“I’m sure she had her reasons. It probably had to do with the fear that people would assume things about me rather than judge me by what I do.”
Nylotte’s grin showed her perfect teeth. “What a forward-thinking individual. She must have been very smart.”
“She is still very smart.”
“What a pity it didn’t rub off.”
Diana rolled her eyes. “How about we change the subject? What are your thoughts on the blades?”
She set the cup down with a sigh. “I think we’re in a race.”
A frown accompanied her reply. “Explain.”
“The enemy knows about them, and if they have any brains at all, they have reviewed the evidence and concluded that we—or rather you—know about them too. That will spur them to action.”
“Like trying to kill me or kidnap my friends again?”
Nylotte shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past them. No one can reach your Lisa while my associates are watching her, so that’s not something to worry about. But your boyfriend, perhaps.” She never missed an opportunity to jab at Bryant.
She sighed. “I’ll warn him, but he can take care of himself. So, what’s next?”
“We search for them, of course. I’ll handle the first part and seek information on Oriceran. It is most likely that they will still be on that planet rather than this one. There’s no evidence to suggest they ever crossed over.”
“Does that mean you’ll be away a lot?”
The Drow laughed. “It does not. Nice try, though. Your training continues and you’ll need to be here when I work with the other one too. I have people making inquiries and tracking down stories and hints about the movement of the weapons. Eventually, something will bubble to the surface, and when it does, we’ll move on it.”
Diana sighed. “So, wait and try not to be killed, is that the plan?”
“In addition to whatever trouble might occur here, yes.”
“Awesome.”
Nylotte gestured for her to rise, and she pushed herself up with a groan. Thank heavens. I need a nap. Her teacher said the worst words she’d ever spoken. “Now, it’s time for your training.”
Rath had visited the Griffins the day after the battle at the factory and discussed the unexpected and upsetting end to their interactions with the pirate. They had been sympathetic but unable to shed any light on the matter. It had continued to bother him as he and Max patrolled the neighborhood around their house and searched for any signs of trouble. There were none to be found.
Still, the way the Prince of Plunder had met his end bothered him. He’d planned to discuss it with Diana, but she’d staggered through the portal from her training session with barely enough energy to eat cold Chinese takeout leftovers and collapse on the couch. Instead, he’d taken the magical subway into town to see if Kayleigh was in her lab.
She smiled as he entered. “What’s up, Rath?”
He jumped up on the chair across the workbench from her. “Nothing. What working on?” There were pieces of equipment scattered around the table.
The tech scowled. “More canaries. That damn pirate crew blew up the two I had. I need to make them tougher but I’m not sure how.” He sighed, and she set the piece in her hands down and focused squarely on him. “Spill, troll.”
He laughed, a few quick sounds. Her knack for getting right to things was something he always appreciated. “Upset about the Prince.”
“I get that. We could have learned a lot from him.”
After a nod of agreement, he shook his head. “Yes. But not that. Who shot him?”
She shrugged. “I’ve sent drones everywhere but have no results yet. Everyone’s been too busy to dig into it, although I think Tony is working his contacts at the police station. No one has anything yet as far as I know.” She tilted her head away and spoke a little louder. “Alfred, is all that correct?”
The AI’s English accent answered immediately. “Indeed so. Agent Khan is also reaching out to his military connections, but as yet, no definitive answer has been discovered. I have searched all the ARES databases, but to no avail.”
She picked up a different piece of equipment that looked like part of the fans that helped the tiny scout drones to fly. “So, there you have it. We have nothing. Nada. Bupkis. Zilch.”
“Not good enough.” Rath jumped down from the chair. “Gonna find something.”
“Stay safe, and good luck.”
He gave her a thumbs-up as he headed out the door toward the equipment area.
An hour later, he had made his way to the furthest boundary Gwen could calculate for where the shot had come from. His AI coordinated with Alfred, and they created a list of possible locations in a cone that spread out from the factory. There were five potential buildings on the same side of the river and numerous others on the opposite side.
Rath really hoped he wouldn’t need to cross it, although the idea of gliding over the water held some appeal. He climbed the highest of the structures the AI had marked—which, coincidentally, was also the farthest from where the battle took place—and reached the roof. He paced while Gwen scanned and highlighted objects in yellow as they came into focus. He found bird feathers, the remains of a nest, a potato chip bag that initially gave him hope but led to nothing useful, and a dead rat. He slipped the bag into an evidence pouch in case but had no faith that it would turn into anything.
“Launch p
oint, please.” Even though he could physically see it, the troll believed in using the tools he was given. The AI marked a spot on the roof and created a series of virtual rings in his goggles to display the optimal route to make use of the prevailing winds. A less perfect but possible path was displayed in a more subdued shade of yellow. Rath leapt from the rooftop and his wings deployed from their container. He rocked gently to bank into alignment with the ring and glided forward. It was an amazing feeling to float unseen high above the world. All too soon, he was over the other building and had to retract the appendages, land, and roll to the side to dissipate the remaining energy.
When he stood, he sensed something about his surroundings that was different. He paced the perimeter of the rectangle, an empty space that surrounded ventilation equipment in the center with a staircase leading down. He realized it was a scent in the air that he recognized from Emerson’s lab long before and many occasions since. Gun oil. He headed for the best position from which to cover the back of the factory and found the roof somewhat scuffed where the sniper must have lain in wait. He gazed out, magnified the view in his goggles, and confirmed that the position had sight lines on both the front and back of the building. I wonder if they were merely waiting, or if they knew about our raid?
He saw the faintly polished rings where the weapon’s bipod feet had rested and nodded. It was very clear that he’d found the place. Step in the right direction. “Gwen, deep analysis.” He turned slowly in a circle and studied the surface. Then, he did the same thing with his chin a little higher to give the AI a wider radius, and one again a little farther out. He repeated it until his head was angled slightly up before the confirmation chime sounded in his ear.
“Standby, processing.” A few moments later, the AI showed him a picture of a section of the roof with something strange on it. He searched until he found it. Folded into a cylinder inside a vent was a stylized playing card. He held it up for a good look at it and noticed the skeleton head in place of the face. It was a Jack of Diamonds. Jack for Prince, Diamonds for Plunder. Clever.
A crackle from his right was followed by the squelch of a walkie-talkie. Rath spun with a frown. If whatever object made that sound had been active a few moments before, Gwen would have sensed it, which meant someone had noticed him. The troll grabbed the communication device from its hiding place and dashed down the stairs, which would keep him protected from most angles. A deep voice, clearly processed and masked, spoke. “I wondered which one of you it would be. I’m glad it was you. The raid was expertly done.”
“Who are you?”
The man on the other end of the comms laughed. “Come on, now. You don’t think it’ll be that easy, do you? Let’s simply say I’m an independent contractor with a particular dislike for criminals.”
“We needed him.”
“That’s probably why I was hired to eliminate him. Sorry about that. It wasn’t my intention to interfere with your group. Our goals are the same, more or less.”
The troll growled. “Except you work for bad guys.”
The voice on the comms sighed. “It’s difficult to tell who’s who these days, I’ll give you that. But, ultimately, as long as the end result is a low-life loses and I get paid, I consider it all good. I simply wanted to be sure to send my apologies for this one, since I imagine our paths will cross again.”
“What should I call you?”
There was a drawn-out pause. In his goggles, Gwen displayed the source’s signal, which bounced around in different directions every few seconds. Masking his location, too. Impressive tech. Finally, the man answered, and the disguise had been discarded. His voice was deep, raspy, and sounded older than most of the people in Rath’s orbit. “Call me Amadeo. Good luck with your work, troll. But tell your team that if they see me, they’d better get out of the way. I won’t take kindly to any interference.” The line dropped and he looked at the card again.
More trouble ahead. I need to show this to Diana. But at least we have something to go on, now.
Chapter Nineteen
Kayleigh was deep in the guts of the new model of her canary. Her glasses showed a blown-up view, courtesy of Alfred the AI, who was closer than ever to being able to intuit what she wanted before she asked for it. As she tapped her multitool on the tiny motor that drove one of the fans, the schematic appeared on the left side of her vision and the actual state of the device appeared on the right. The large sensor pod that hung above the table provided the data in real time.
She cursed softly and more or less consistently as she worked, a habit she’d picked up since coming to Pittsburgh and being the only one in the lab. Alfred occasionally commented on it, but the standard response—“Screw off or I’ll turn you into a coffeepot”—seemed to keep the interval between the corrective nudges large enough that she didn’t need to take real action.
“Come here, you little bastard,” she muttered as she slid the tool in to twist the bolt that constrained the motor from outputting more energy than the fan could handle. The whole thing was extremely delicate, something she’d try to improve in the next version. For now, her goal was simply to make it faster and enhance the AI to help it avoid incoming fire.
She’d managed to set it when Deacon yelled at her from three feet away. “Boo!” Kayleigh closed her eyes, pushed her anger down, and set the multitool gently on the work surface to avoid stabbing him with it. When she had regained full control, she opened her eyes and grinned.
“Nice try. The next one’s mine.” He groaned and smacked the table. The last time, she’d waited until the very early hours of the morning when he was finishing a twenty-hour marathon of coding to slip a black plastic spider into his coffee. Half the cup had spilled on him when he noticed it and bolted to his feet in panic. She replayed the video of his shriek to amuse herself on at least a daily basis. “What’s up?”
He sat down across from her. “Do you have time to talk?”
She checked her watch. It was two in the morning. She’d lost track of the hours yet again. “Yeah, but not here. Let’s take a ride.”
They agreed to sing along to the radio rather than discuss business on the way. Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a booth at the breakfast place Diana had introduced her to. It was cracked vinyl, trapped in the nineteen-fifties, cash-only, and absolutely delicious. She ordered a Vanilla Coke and a western omelet with rye toast. Deacon went with coffee, regular Coke, and the meat-lover’s special with wheat toast. Kayleigh grinned at the choice and recalled the various eating fads he’d adopted in college—Atkins, then vegetarian, briefly Vegan, and something that prioritized mushrooms. Mushroom teas, mushroom soups, and giant mushrooms cooked like steaks. His adventurousness, in food and everything else, came with a side order of blessedly brief total commitment.
As the server departed, she leaned forward. “Okay, what’s the deal?”
He looked furtively to his left and right, and she was struck by how much it suddenly felt like they were in a spy movie. “I’ve worked some angles to find out more about the people on the oversight committee. And there’s a lot there.”
“Like what?”
“Let’s start with the positives. Sam Somers is clearly in our corner. Nothing in his background shows anything to worry about. Aaron Finley, as well. He’s definitely on our side.” He fell silent.
“If this pause means we’re done with the good news, I have to say this is much less encouraging than I might have hoped.”
His response was delayed as the server refilled his coffee, then he leaned forward again. “Cassandra Ekkles is about as close to true neutral as the group’s members get. She’s supported some things Taggart wanted and blocked others. Her in-person appearances are exceedingly rare, as she splits her time between her congressional office and her brownstone.”
Kayleigh tapped a fingernail against her teeth. “Family? Any pressure points?”
He shook his head. “Everything I’ve found suggests she’s exactly what she purports to b
e. A public servant beholden to no one other than her constituents.”
“Huh. It’d be better for us if she was explicitly pro-ARES but I can’t really argue with that degree of integrity.”
“Right? And, as you might have guessed, that’s the end of the good stuff.”
His revelations of bad news were delayed by the arrival of their late-night breakfast. Each dug in, and she watched his face. As expected, a look of pleasure washed over it at the quality of the food. There was no talking for a while as neither wanted to let the delicious meal grow cold for something as mundane as business talk.
Finally, when they’d mostly finished and had their drinks refilled, he brushed crumbs from his hands and leaned forward. She nibbled on her last piece of buttered toast as he spoke. “Let’s start with the least offensive of the bunch. Winston Tomassi.”
Kayleigh interjected, “Diana’s mentioned him. He sounds like a total douchebag.”
Deacon laughed. “I believe most people would agree with that characterization. He’s a rich kid, which isn’t a problem in itself, but it allowed him to grow up caring only about other rich kids. How he got elected in Louisiana is a matter of some uncertainty, as he doesn’t really fit the profile of the state. In any case, he did get elected and has spent his time working tirelessly for those with considerable money.”
“I thought you said he was the least offensive?”
“The pivotal word is least. His motivations are very clear, though. He’s in it for the cash, and for the cash his influence will bring him when he leaves the Senate. My guess is that he’ll serve two terms, maximum, before he becomes a lobbyist.” He shook his head and his hair flopped to one side. “So, his position on any ARES issue will always be colored by how he can turn it to his monetary advantage.”
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