Reboots: Diabolical Streak

by Mercedes Lackey;Cody Martin

  Humph had dealt with imps before; they were wily as hell, and horrible at parties. “What’s the twist? How’d the mischievous little bastard sucker you?”

  “After he worked the magic and I freed him from his obligation, he told me that the binding wouldn’t actually break until I met someone who would bring more trouble into my life than I’d already had. At that point, I didn’t care; I just wanted out from under Jeanpaul’s thumb. But nothing happened for weeks. I figured that the little rotter had conned me. Then you walked into the bar.” She gave him another full stare with those luminous blue eyes, and Humph got another jolt. “See what I mean?”

  It was everything he could do to keep from stroking her face right then and telling her that everything was going to be all right. He fought down the urge and finished his martini to brace himself. “Well, darling, I hate to say it, but the imp did one over on you. Big time. Trouble does not even begin to describe what I brought with me. I’m in a world of hurt right now, and I don’t rightly know who put me there. Or why, for that matter.” His jaw tightened, and he ground his teeth unconsciously. “But I’m going to figure it out.”

  Harry sat down between the two of them, grinning and holding his own martini. “Don’t worry, miss. With my intrepid companion here, we’re sure to figure this out in no time.” He leaned in closer, shouldering Humph out of the way slightly. “So, where back on Old Earth are you from again, doll?”

  She sighed, and tried to lean to see around him to Humph. “Germany is what you’d call it. Anyways—”

  “Ah, fraulein! How in the world did you ever come to be on this miserable little rock?” He leaned in her way again, sipping his martini.

  “It’s complicated,” she said as she tried to look to Humph again. He had leaned back at this point, watching the show unfold to its inevitable conclusion, which he had already guessed. “So—”

  “Come now, it can’t be that bad, can it? Tell me your life story, beautiful, and I’ll give you the world.” Harry had turned the charm up all the way at this point. Humph felt like warning him for half a second, and then decided he’d enjoy just watching the train wreck more.

  Lori looked him straight in the eye. “Fine. I used to use my voice and my powers to lure men to horrible, tortured deaths on craggy rocks, and I enjoyed doing it too, until a sorcerer captured me, then sold me to a voodoo priest who bound me to his soul. Satisfied?” Harry looked at her closely, saw that she wasn’t making a joke, gulped, finished his drink in one slug, and then stood up.

  “I, um…I think I need a refresher. Anyone else?”

  Humph was chuckling to himself. “I’m fine.” He leaned forward again, smiling. “Got that out of your system, princess? He’ll just be at it again once his goldfish memory resets, y’know.”

  “They never learn,” she sighed. “What’s our next move? My plan was to hop a freighter off of this rock to parts unknown; anywhere that Jeanpaul wouldn’t be able to find me.”

  But Humph shook his head at that. “Can’t leave the planet, not anymore. For starters, the bulls will no doubt already have every station monitored, and all the spaceports. If they’re not running interdiction on all outgoing transports, I’d be very surprised. Jeanpaul, the rat bastard, might’ve had the resources to sneak us out, but he’s obviously not an option anymore. Secondly, this is where the mess started. If I’m going to figure out how to get clear of it, it’ll be here that I find the information I’m lookin’ for.”

  “I don’t imagine that we can sit in this storage unit forever.” She glanced over at Harry. “The booze will run out soon enough, and then I might actually kill that poor sucker.”

  He had to chuckle at that. This was certainly his kind of woman. “Fair enough. First thing we need is a little breathing room; this part of town has become mighty crowded, fast.” He sat thinking for a few moments, taking another sip of his drink. “We’re going to need you to work a little of your magic, Lori. And we’re going to have to skip town. Are you up for that?”

  She chewed her lip, then raised her glass. “As we used to say in the old days, in for a penny, in for a pound. We’re stuck together now.”

  And, predictably, a little more liquid courage had given Harry back his aplomb, or at least, his chutzpah. “Any man would like being stuck to you, gorgeous,” he leered. “Want to try it out for size?”

  “Sure. I need something unimpressive to mount on my wall.” She leered back. “Are you volunteering? Darling?”

  ***

  It took some convincing to get Harry and Lori to go along with it, but Humph had come up with a semi-workable plan. Lori, being the only one out of all of them that didn’t yet have her face plastered on every wanted notice on the planet, would be their “front man” for the time being. First order of business was to get outfitted, literally. She went out and bought them some new clothes. Harry’s suit was tatters at that point, and Humph needed something besides coveralls and a trenchcoat. Some button-down shirts, nice slacks, and comfortable shoes for both of them; nice enough to swim between middle and upper class in a pinch, but not so expensive that they stood out. Lori had a small wardrobe already, but got herself a few dresses, tops, and other necessities anyways.

  The next part required a bit of subterfuge. Humph knew they wouldn’t be able to get off-planet; if the cops hadn’t already been watching for them to escape that way, which was unlikely, they certainly would be now. Jeanpaul had probably divulged everything about their meeting to the cops or whoever had gotten to him. There’ll be a settling of accounts on that one, Paulie. Bet your bones, you rotten fink. Still, he could use that to his advantage. He and Lori started trolling the bars near the spaceport until they found one particularly disreputable establishment; it didn’t seem to have a name, only a sign that said “Cantina” above the door. After spending some time studying the crowd, Humph found their marks; a scruffy looking freighter captain and his Yeti copilot. Lori worked her magic on both of them, and soon they were ready to eat out of her palm. No one else in the bar seemed to notice, or care. She probably wasn’t the first of her kind to come a-hunting around here, and for the most part, the Sirens, the Loreleis, and the other mesmerizing types did tend to stick to fleecing their targets rather than killing them outright. Any sufficiently talented Norm hooker could do that sort of “magic”—the fleecing, that is, not the killing.

  Using a script that Humph had made her memorize, she convinced the captain and his copilot that she was in need of help, and that they were her only hope. First she convinced them that they needed to take her and a couple of friends to a port on the other side of the planet; she was fleeing a jealous ex-boyfriend, and couldn’t use regular transportation. Second, that they needed to spin a yarn for any cops that they happened to come across after they left the Hub; that they had taken on passengers, a Boggart and a human that fit Humph and Harry’s descriptions, and dropped them at a random station. Hopefully that would keep the authorities chasing their tails, and off of Humph’s scent. Her magic worked perfectly on the inebriated pair; they were already enamored with her before she started, and the magic itself would last for days. Plenty of time for the Boggart, Harry, and Lori to be far away when it wore off.

  Gathering up Harry and their meager possessions, they were off with the captain. The flight was short, only about four hours. The primary advantage was that in-atmosphere flights didn’t have to be registered the same way as launches off-planet were; no paper trail to link back to where the trio were heading. Humph dozed for most of it, while Lori was left to fend off the advances of Harry and the Yeti; occasionally Humph would wake up long enough to caution Harry against pissing off the copilot too much. Yetis weren’t exactly known for their gentle dispositions. Lori actually seemed more amused by the situation than anything. This might have been the first time in a long time that she’d been at liberty to tell someone no. Humph didn’t like to think what else that Jeanpaul had had her doing besides singing. Because if he thought about it too much, he’d have
to put Jeanpaul on the top of his personal Bucket List. In Paulie’s case, meaning the short list of people I beat to death with a bucket full of cement, starting at the feet and working my way up. And if he ain’t just a tall bastard.

  Once they had landed and concluded a tearful farewell—Humph had never seen a Yeti cry before; it was, in a word, disturbing—the trio set off to find a place to start plotting their next move. The port was more of the same as the rest of the planet, but grimier. To put things into perspective, Jeanpaul’s establishment had rested on the periphery of a zone like this, slightly on the higher end. This area had everything together, jam packed and stacked on top of itself. Factories and power plants were nestled right next to pleasure districts and gunshops, with casinos and churches just around the corner. The ports were the real face of Planet Mildred, and this was the perfect place for them to disappear into for awhile.

  Humph picked an out-of-the-way flophouse; he had Lori pay in advance for a one-week rental room. A few extra bills slipped to the clerk was pretty much required; places like this one housed those on the lam as often as they did transients and factory workers. Only she and Harry walked in; Harry’s face was buried in bags that he was carrying for Lori. Humph, meanwhile, rode along via his pocket watch, which he had temporarily entrusted to the siren. When they were finally settled in the cramped room, Humph started to get to work. Using a cheap, disposable comm unit he started to put feelers out to some of his more trusted contacts. He needed more information on Harry’s company, Somerfield Botanicals, the various subsidiaries and other connected businesses. He also needed to know if anyone was making big moves in order to find Harry; someone with a lot of resources was after him, and that sort of influence was hard to hide effectively.

  The only thing left to do was wait. He had sent out the messages as securely as he could; unfortunately, he wasn’t as good at cyber security as Fred. It would take a bit of time for any responses to come back. This left a lot of time to kill in the flophouse room. Harry kept hitting on Lori. Humph had to give him some credit for persistence. Lori continued to shoot Harry down, but each setback seemed to embolden him rather than dissuade him. That didn’t really surprise Humph; he doubted that the word “no” was something that Harry had heard very often in his privileged existence.

  What did surprise him, however, was when Lori started making passes at him.

  Subtle passes. Probably so subtle Harry didn’t even notice them, and thought he was free and clear to navigate. Then again, courtship among Paras tended to have little nuances involving magic that Norms wouldn’t see.

  Like the little tendrils that looked like golden dust that Lori kept throwing off in his direction. Or the distinctly magical gleam in her eyes when she glanced at him. And the undertones of her voice when she spoke to him—undertones that told him, in essence, “I could use my power on you if I chose, but I choose not to, so you know this is real and not a compulsion.” All this read “I am really, really interested in hooking up with you” in Para language. This was dangerous. Paras and Norms loved…differently. Paras experienced wild changes in emotion that could only be described as hyper-bi-polar, running to deep longings and passion that could burn deep in a being’s heart for millennia. After all, in the old days it might be a hundred years before you encountered a potential mate. Or longer. You’d better be able to hold to affection for at least that long.

  There were several other problems with this courtship, of course. How much of this was actually due to the imp’s spell? He had no idea. Another consideration was Harry. While Harry wasn’t exactly high on Humph’s list of all-time favorite people, pissing the Norm off and having him stomp out of the room—possibly to blow their cover before Humph could reel him back in—was a pretty bad idea. While it was clearly not going to happen between Harry and Lori, Harry didn’t know that.

  And then there was Claire…dear Claire. Parked in the back of his head, smirking at him, and reminding him that he still wasn’t “over” her, no matter what he might think. He never “fell” for anyone; it was a rule of his, or it had been. Especially a Norm; he was going to be around for awhile, whereas most Norms just…weren’t. Those were the breaks. Claire was different, and he was still kicking himself for letting her in. Thirty years had never seemed like such a long time until after he met her. Granted, she had turned into a colossal bitch, and a Fang bitch at that. He knew, however, that he was at least partly responsible for who and what she had become; a mixture of pity and heartache always cropped up when he started thinking about her.

  And Lori is a Para, not a Norm, a little voice in his mind reminded him. She was dangerous, certainly. A killer of men; Humph had never heard of a Lorelei who wasn’t; she had spent hundreds of years doing it, before she was bound. It was her nature. But you’re no different, Boggart. What have you done in your long life? For survival, for kicks, for money? He was really starting to hate the hell out of that little voice in his mind.

  They were sitting in the room, sharing drinks with the vidscreen droning in the background. Humph had been keeping an eye on it for any little bit of intel that he could glean. Most media outlets were in the pockets of any number of interested parties, but gems of information could still get out every now and again. Then it happened.

  “So. How long have you been—” Lori gestured vaguely in a way to suggest “the world” “—out of the broom closet?” She blinked limpid blue eyes at him. “It hasn’t been more than a couple of years for me. I never would have thought anyone would have gone looking for one of my kind up that particular obscure Austrian stream. I’d thought I was pretty safe.”

  Humph mused thoughtfully. “It’s been a while.” He left it at that, not wanting to tip his hand too much. “Let’s just say it was a surprise to the both of us when I got yanked out into the Norm world.”

  Lori made a face full of distaste. “If I ever get my hands on the bastard who wrote Summoning and Binding for Dummies…” Her expression made it clear that what she had in mind was going to be long, involved, and painful.

  He raised his glass. “Not so bad, being out in the world, though. They have scotch, after all.” Humph drained his glass. “Beats a share of a farmer’s crops, at any rate.”

  “And your farmer didn’t brew his own?” She smiled sweetly. “Really, Boggart, you should have found a better class of host.”

  Humph shook his head. “I never said I was a particularly good Boggart, lady.” There was a moment of comfortable silence, and he felt it again; the urge to throw caution to the wind and go after her. He had to give himself a hard mental shake. It was an effort to stand up and walk over to the bottle on the bed instead of throwing his arms around her. Harry was still passed out on the bed, empty martini glass in his hand. Nice that someone is able to sleep, at least.

  But when he got up, so did Lori. Before he could turn, she was behind him, close enough so that he could feel her warm breath on the back of his neck. “So…since Sleeping Ugly is going to be out cold for a while, think we could go somewhere else more…comfortable…for a little?” Her voice was a warm, lush purr in his ear; she didn’t physically touch him, but he could feel tendrils of her magic twining seductively with his. “I’m sure we could manage something.”

  Keep it together, Boggart. “Can’t do that, sweetheart. This poor sap is my—our—lifeline right now. I’m not letting him out of my sight for more than a minute at a time if I can help it.” He stared at his drink for a second, taking a large gulp to steel his resolve. “I might not be a good Boggart, but I like to think I’m at least a passable gumshoe.” He could smell the light perfume that she was wearing; it was blue lotus, and was intoxicating on its own. His head was swimming when he finally turned around to face her. Electric blue eyes locked with his; he wanted to tear himself away from her, to sit down and pass the time quietly, but he found that he couldn’t.

  “Oh, Boggie,” she breathed, moving in a little closer. “He’s finished off most of that bottle of gin. He won’t be goi
ng anywhere for a good long while. Why don’t we get to know each other better?” She was almost nose-to-nose with him. “A whole…lot…better?”

  His hands started to move of their own volition. He set down his drink, then gently took the back of her neck into the other hand. It felt like time was stopping, and that he was going to fall into her eyes and be lost forever. Their lips were almost touching, uneven and hot breath gracing one another. It was like a scene from Beauty and the Beast; he was savage and feral, she was frail and innocent. He closed his eyes, ready to surrender to the inevitable. Everything shattered when his comm unit went off loudly and insistently. Harry bolted upright in bed, still half asleep. “—no, not on the carpet!” He blinked hard a few times, looked around, then remembered where he was. “Uh, the phone’s ringing.” Humph and Lori quickly stepped back from each other; Humph felt guilty, and he could see the disappointment on Lori’s face. Too damned close, moron. You know better. Harry was oblivious to the exchange.

  Humph picked up the comm unit. It didn’t take very long at all for him to see that things were going downhill fast, and picking up speed. Over the course of the next couple of hours, Humph had bad news piled on top of worse news. Most of the contacts that he had reached out to never got back to him. The Harvey Brothers, Mikhail, Rodney the Fence, Small Tony, Big Tony, Señor Leandro, and Whispering Miguel; all of them were silent, and quite a few of them were his most dependable information brokers and snitches. Everyone he did hear from didn’t know anything of value. What stood out was that they were all scared. Which was saying something, considering the clout some of them had and the strings that some of them could pull. There was someone out there making big moves, and all of it seemed centered on Humph.

  The last of them was Lenny the Lip, who sounded on the edge of a nervous breakdown before the Boggart closed the connection. He sat down on the bed heavily, feeling weary. He had been in the dark on jobs before when a lot was on the line, but this was different. Someone had painted a bull’s-eye on his back, and he didn’t like it one bit.