He arched an eyebrow and turned to stare out the empty warehouse. “You named them, Drake.”
“So the goal is to be able to handle these two groups?” Saanvi asked, returning the conversation to the topic at hand.
“Exactly,” Holly said, “and the Heart, if he ever comes back.”
“Ships aren’t cheap.” Saanvi began pacing in the small office.
“Very true.”
“Just remember that. If you don’t end up needing them, it’s a big investment. Big either way—bigger if you do use them, but still very pricey if you don’t.” The mechanic studied her with a measuring glance.
“Look, there’s no way I think this is going to be the cheap route. But, it’s the route. I can’t think of another way to do what I need to do. I’ve been dealing with these guys for a while now, and one thing is true—they have firepower. Someone with deep pockets is funding their actions.”
“I’m assuming you don’t have the same luxury. Your best option might be to acquire some beat-up ships that you can fix up. I know that means you won’t have the best-looking ships, but as long as they function, you can make them work.”
“So you know a mechanic that could help out?” Holly asked her.
“I do. I know a kickass mechanic who loves kitting out ships.”
“We’ll pay her.”
“I didn’t say who it was.” Saanvi winked.
Holly opened her mouth to say something, then smiled. “You almost got me.”
Saanvi shook her head. “So you want me to scour the webs for some ships you can buy?”
“I can help with that,” Darius offered. “I have access to the sketchier sites as well. Together, I bet we can find what we need.”
“Let’s add this warehouse to our properties for now. Darius? You’ll handle that?”
“Definitely, Drake.”
17
“Holly Drake, where have you been, lovely girl?” the elegant woman asked, opening her arms wide to swallow Holly in an embrace. Around them, the lights of Cosma’s spiretop bar were bright, illuminating the floor of the club, since it was still early in the day. Patrons gathered around tables drinking and chatting. Music played over the speakers, a faint soundtrack to the social setting.
Holly sank into the legendary thief’s arms and found herself laughing and being squeezed tight and tossed to and fro. She came away from it feeling as though she’d just been told that everything about her was perfectly right, even the things that might give one pause—her opinions and her feelings and all the emotions that might be dark or negative, or that she’d have trouble admitting she had, even to Charly.
“Cosma,” Holly said, shaking her head, feeling touched by the treatment. She leaned against the bar and studied her mentor—Cosma had retired from thieving, but Holly still suspected the woman found time to sneak around at night and snatch trophies here and there.
“It’s been too long, girl, too long. Where have you been? Out saving the universe?” Cosma motioned for the human male bartender. “Dante, grab the woman the beverage of her choosing.”
“Just the 6 Moons. Possibly the solar system,” Holly explained to Cosma, “possibly even the galaxy. But not the universe.”
“What’ll you have, Holly?” Dante asked, tossing the bar-cloth over his shoulder.
She asked for a Frozen Pearl and turned her attention back to Cosma.
“Well, leave that to me, I can cover the universe if you take care of the galaxy.”
“You can cover it all, Cosma. It was your calling.”
“Was?” She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes.
“Did I say was? I meant is. So sorry.” Holly’s cheeks warmed and she looked away, settling her gaze on the bartender as he made the mixed beverage.
“I forgive you.”
“Thank Ixion.” Holly pretended to heave a sigh of relief.
“Yes, thank that bastard up there in the sky, spying on us at all times.”
“I will. I do, regularly.”
“OK, let’s cut the small talk," Cosma tapped the bar top like a judge calling the room to order. "You are here for my wisdom?”
Dante approached and handed her the beverage and excused himself to the back room.
“Thanks Dante,” Holly said. She looked at Cosma. “You’re the only one I know who has any. So yes.”
“Very true, my dear one. You know I loathe winter, if for no other reason than that I cannot go sit out by the pool and have a drink with you while we catch up. I should move to Itzcap,” she said, shaking her head. She turned and led Holly into the office of her club.
“No chance, Cosma. If you left the city, I’d have to take a trip to Itzcap every time I needed to see you. I hate that place,” Holly confessed.
“Hate Itzcap?” Cosma said, sounding shocked as she sat down in the chair at her desk.
The office was on a raised dais that surrounded the perimeter of the club floor. But the windows enclosing it were frosted glass. Cosma’s shelves were laden with prizes from her jobs that she most certainly did not do, and which no one could ever prove had been done by her, most of them trinkets that could never be sold for a significant amount, but that recalled her days kicking ass as the city’s most notorious cat burglar.
“How can you hate Itzcap? It’s a paradise, unlike that Ixion-cursed moon, Paradise. Those poor people.” She shook her head sadly, recalling the inhabitants of the industrial hellhole that fed the 6 Moons all their object-centric and material needs.
It was a topic neither of them wanted to dwell on. Like people, every city or moon had its bright side and its dark side—patching the bruises was pointless. Another would spread where it had been healthy and clear. It was like Odeon’s constant reference to the balance that needed to be kept. No one knew how to do that really, and if someone did, it was likely Odeon.
“Where’s your Yasoan friend?” Cosma asked, as though she could read Holly’s mind.
“I was just thinking of him.”
“What a coincidence!”
“He’s busy somewhere, finding out how to restore balance to the universe,” Holly said, letting her thoughts direct her response.
“So like a Yasoan.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s Odeon.”
“Well, Holly dear, talk is there’s another faction rising in the shadows. You did away with the Heart, and someone else has assumed his role,” Cosma said, spinning in her chair.
Holly smiled, despite the reference to George. She paced across the plush rug that covered the floor of the office. “You’ve heard, then.”
“Oh yes, my girl. I have my eyes and ears out there, watching. Now then, if you read history there is always that risk. Overthrow a mob boss, another mob boss moves into that role. So, were we better off with the your father, the Heart, or will this enigmatic replacement be good for the 6 Moons?”
“She won’t be,” Holly said decisively. “I know her. She’s a real bitch. Much more violent and brutal than the Heart was.”
“Ah, you know her.” Cosma’s grin was mischievous. “Jealous of her?”
Holly paused in her pacing. “Why would I be jealous?”
“Women, we are an animal given to jealousy. Hardwired for competition.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Cosma waved a hand casually. “It’s just what I’ve observed.”
“I have female friends,” Holly said. “I know how they are. How we are.”
“But if you and a friend wanted the same man?”
Holly shoved her hands into her pockets to avoid crossing them in a defensive posture. “I wouldn’t want the same man that a friend wanted.”
“Because you know that the competition would destroy the friendship?”
“That, or she’d probably kill me in my sleep to get the man,” Holly said, giving Cosma what she wanted.
Women knew. And it was a thing men never knew. There were always exceptions, but women didn’t openly vie for men. Their machi
nations were subtle and quiet, manipulating the scene behind their veiled threats and secrets.
“You knew that was my point,” Cosma said, lowering her chin and flashing a coy grin.
“Women are complex. Men, fairly simple.”
“That’s the language of the oppressed. They develop a style of communication as a way to cope beneath the structure. It’s happened a billion times, and will happen a billion more before the universe burns itself out.”
“I can’t even argue against that. Wise,” Holly said, nodding. Though she wanted to think about what Cosma had said, she needed to keep the conversation moving. “The point is, Aimee Voss is a bitch, I detest her, she has taken over the Shadow Coalition, but a splinter group has peeled away and started mounting an opposing force to do something against her. They’re looking for George. And I’ve got to figure out a way to build a bulwark against both of them, and be prepared for anything if George does come back with yet more reinforcements.”
Cosma blinked, surprise written all over her face—an expression that Holly had never seen on the woman. One that she never thought she would see. “Reinforcements?”
Holly sighed. “The new group thinks George is out there somewhere. They’ve been bugging me about a map to find him. I can’t explain it, but I have a sense . . . this vibe that he’s out there, doing something with the non-humanoid species. I’m concerned he’ll bring them back.”
“Holly, darling,” Cosma said, spinning lazily in her chair and rising when it stopped. “Where are you going with this?”
“I’m not sure. I’m trying to be ready. Getting my own force together, a unified front, to be prepared for whatever these different groups may bring against me, against my friends, against the stability of the 6 Moons.”
Cosma came to stand beside her, and touched a figure on one of her shelves. A carved mask that looked like some kind of ancient armor. “Stability is good. But it’s not always the best way forward.”
“If you have a different idea, tell me. Otherwise, I need funds. A way to build up something to take out Voss, and The Cocks—aka the Shadow’s Shadow. And potentially my own father, again.”
“You want my money?”
Holly felt her cheeks go hot at the question. Was that what she wanted? She wanted a way to do it herself—and that did mean novas.
“I’m not accepting donations,” she hedged, “but I would accept a gig if you knew of one. I’ve got my crew looking for jobs too.”
Cosma pressed her lips together and sighed. “I have nothing at the moment. I’m retired. However, I’m here for you for anything else. Advice. Counsel. Potentially connecting you with other contacts. As long as none of this interferes with my retirement. There may be a gig, Holly dear, but allow me to think on it. And to look into it. I’ll give it to you if it’s viable.”
It wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but Holly still smiled, feeling reassured. It would do. She knew by now that you couldn’t force people to give what they didn’t want to offer.
18
“She doesn’t want—she can order for herself,” Gabe was saying as Holly approached her lunch dates from the rear at the counter of Molten Taco.
“I know my sister, I know what she wants, and this lunch needs to be damn quick, Gabe,” Meg said. “Get her the three a la carte—”
“Holly,” Gabe said, seeing her when he turned to speak to Meg. He gestured to her and smiled. “Please tell Meg that you’re a damn adult and can order your own damn lunch.”
“Oh, right. OK, well, she’s here now, she can order,” Meg said.
“That’s what I’ve been—” Gabe threw his hands in the air. He paid for his and Meg’s meals, and stepped out of the way. “I’ll get a table.” He walked off in a huff.
One beso and a hug later, Holly focused on Meg’s expression—irritation. “What’s going on? Gabe biting your head off?”
Meg lifted one shoulder. “It’s both of us.”
“It fits you more than Gabe. Not used to seeing him so pissy.”
“Wow, thanks, Hols. So sweet of you to point that out.” Meg spoke in a dry tone. “Thank you for saying bitchiness looks better on me than him. We’re both stressed. He’s annoyed that I’ve been dating other men. Plus, you know, shit happening all over the city. It’s usually a mess, but things are worse than normal.”
Holly cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me more.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Exactly. That’s why I said what I said. Tell me, Meg.”
“At the booth. With the food. Just be careful—Gabe’s not himself right now. Neither am I.”
Holly ordered as Meg walked away. When she joined them at the table with her plate of tacos, she watched her sister and ex-brother-in-law as they both avoided making eye contact with her.
They’d been married at one time, working together as a team of detectives for a local precinct. They’d had a child, Lucy, and now they were separated but still a partnership. Attitudes were lax, detectives in short supply, and so they’d managed to keep that half of their partnership together.
Holly forced a smile, wondering if one of them would finally make eye contact and lose their attitude. Gabe poured a gallon of hot sauce onto his tacos. His face was so tense it looked like it might shatter.
“Suicide by hot sauce?” Holly asked.
“I wish. That would be the way to go. In fact, can you guys make sure that’s how I die?”
“I would, Gabe. Just for you,” Holly said, trying to loosen the table up with her fantastic sense of humor.
Meg scoffed. “Wouldn’t that really be a heart attack? With the way you eat, that’ll actually be how you go.”
“Thanks, Meg,” Gabe said, smiling at Holly. But the smile danced on the edge of fading, like it would flip into a frown at any second. Or maybe a snarl.
“Any time.” Meg’s voice was ice.
Holly waited for them to laugh. Gabe took a bite of his hot sauce bath. Meg’s chewing could only be described as angry chewing. Like she was maybe imagining that she was chomping through a mini Gabe Bach.
“Guys. What the hell?”
Both of them ignored her plea.
She looked at her plate of tacos, which suddenly seemed about as appetizing as a plate of worms.
“So, Holly, we met you here. This is your lunch. What’s going on?” Meg asked, sprinkling dried herbs and cheese on her second taco, then she dug into it with a fork.
A knife and fork. Meg had always eaten her tacos that way, and Holly had always felt slightly embarrassed on her behalf, though the other woman was oblivious.
Holly shifted in her seat and looked back and forth between them. Their faces were impassive. Something was going on, but there was no way she was going to get to the bottom of it simply by asking.
Her appetite vanished completely, and she didn’t touch her plate of tacos.
“Yeah, thanks for meeting me. So, the reason I asked you here is because I need your help.”
“That’s usually what you need, isn’t it? And then you’re never around until you need something again.”
Meg’s words stabbed at Holly, but she laughed. “Pretty much.”
“You think that’s funny?”
She bit back the mean response. “OK, look, I’ll just tell you what I need, and then we can talk later, maybe? Maybe once you both just, hell, I don’t know, screw again, and get this tension out of your systems, then we can all go back to being normal and say goodbye to this pent-up frustration.”
Meg gasped. “Totally uncalled for, Holly Drake. And screw? Screw? When did you start talking like that?”
Holly leaned across the table. “Sometimes it’s just screwing, Meg. Sometimes that’s all someone needs to get their head back on straight. And anyway, if this—” she waggled her fingers over them like she was sprinkling pixie dust, “isn’t the angst of desire, then what is it? I’ve never seen you guys like this before.”
“She’s right, Meg, not a bad idea,�
� Gabe said, his eyes gleaming.
“Knock it off,” Meg snapped.
“I’m just saying, you know, you could use it.”
“Keep it in your pants, mister. Maybe in a million years.”
The gleam vanished. “Fine.”
They both fumed quietly.
“So I’m right. Work this shit out. Otherwise, you know one of you will get transferred out of the precinct. And neither of you want that.”
“What did you need from us, Holly?” Gabe asked. He was annoyed, she could see it in his face. But she also thought she detected a bit of appreciation for her broaching the topic.
“I’m building my own little force to fight the Shadow Coalition. And the Shadow’s Shadow, who I’ve renamed The Cocks.”
Gabe laughed, spitting chunks of taco into the napkin he quickly covered his mouth with.
“Real mature, Holly," Meg said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think I had a brother for a sister.”
“I love that name, Holly. I’m going to start using it.” Gabe finished wiping his mouth. “Uh, who are they?”
“They’re a splinter group of the Shadow Coalition. They want George to come back.”
“No way,” Gabe said.
“I’ve had some encounters with them. They’re not nearly as bad as the new Shadow Coalition, but they’re still idiots.”
“Tell me about the encounters, Holly,” Meg said. “You haven’t touched your food, by the way.”
“The fighting turned me off. Not hungry.”
Meg sniffed. “Sure, blame us.”
“I will.”
“OK,” Meg sighed. “Get to the point. Please.”
Holly sighed also and smiled at her sister and Gabe—they were both being uncharacteristically snotty. But once Holly stopped caring, she could handle them.
She launched into a short explanation of the few encounters she’d had with The Cocks and the remnants of the Shadow Coalition that were now assembling under the leadership of Aimee Voss. She shortened her stories and cut out certain parts. The main idea was that they were real.
But she knew it was going to be hard to convince Gabe and especially Meg, and besides, she didn’t want to incriminate herself. The work that Holly did for Dave was cloak-and-dagger type shit, and she’d gone this long without telling them much more than they knew just from the time they’d gotten her out of prison.
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