by R. R. Virdi
Her eyes widened and flashed with a heat that could’ve caused burns. “What are you doing?” She kept her voice to a low hiss.
I squeezed her arm harder. An untold number of eyes turned to us, watching in silence. I planned on giving them a good show. “When this is over, I want answers. Screw the garbage you just said. We both know you know something about who I really am—was—before this.” I waved a hand over my borrowed body.
Her teeth gritted as her features furrowed. “And I told you whom to consult. You didn’t. That is your failing, not mine. Now, let go.”
I did.
She had the grace not to yank her arm away from my grip. Instead, she was poised and in control. Lyshae flourished with her hand and waved it from the crown of her head down to her waist. The air following the movement blurred. Her black dress was replaced with a something that belonged on fashion week. It was a strapless, body-hugging number as white as the snow-colored floor. Faint hairline threads of gold ran around the dress and shone under the light. It ended halfway down her thighs. Lyshae didn’t bother adding any shoes to the mix, deciding to go barefoot.
“Uh, very chic? What gives? Isn’t this a fancy shindig?”
Lyshae gave me a Hollywood smile that was radiant white. “It is. Some of us are more traditional in our appearances. I am not.”
“I thought appearances mattered here.” I eyed her.
“They do.” Her smile faltered before reappearing just as fast. “But remember, appearances can be deceiving, and at other times, they are all that matters.” Her tone suggested there was more to what she was saying.
“Shallow much?”
“And what are you without your appearances? Who are you? You don’t even know.” Her words cut through me like shards of glass.
She was right. I didn’t have a clue about my prior life. But everyone else seemed to. A guttural burble escaped my lips. “I’m more than just this.” I smacked a hand to Daniel’s chest. “I identify with more than this meat suit. I know who I am.”
Lyshae pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “You have no idea who you are...or what. Behave and perhaps you’ll come to know a little more, hm?” She shimmied in place and sauntered forwards like she was at a frat party. That was bound to draw attention, which was probably her goal all along. The Daoine followed and moved with the lazy confidence of a predator.
I held out a hand. “Wait!” The Kitsune managed to vanish along with her bodyguard into a nearby crowd. I swore, drawing nearby stares. I stared back. “What?” Some of them averted their gaze. Some didn’t. I stopped caring.
Ortiz and Kelly came to my side and gave me looks urging me to err on the side of caution. They had a point. We were in a castle full of paranormal whats-its. The last thing I needed to do was start fights I couldn’t finish.
My hand went to my collar. I hooked my index finger inside it and tugged twice. It was a delicate balance. Too much eye contact with the wrong guests, and I’d start trouble. Too little and I’d come off as prey. That wouldn’t do Ortiz and Kelly any favors either. I lowered my voice to a barely audible whisper. “Stick close. Don’t wander off, and whatever you do, don’t accept any gifts or favors. Got it?”
Both women nodded in unison.
It wasn’t enough. “I need to hear you both say it.” They did, and it was a small relief that let me loosen my posture a bit. “Alright, well, let’s mingle.” I picked out a nearby table that appeared to have the least threatening attendees.
Compared to the rest of the tables, it was a deserted island. Four beings occupied it. The only problem was figuring out what exactly they were.
The closest looked like a slender Japanese man in his late eighties. He had razor-sharp, gaunt features that made him looked like a shaved hawk. His hairless skull sported a few marks of discoloration that came with his age. He looked up at us and muttered something I couldn’t make out. His voice was a resonant baritone, even when hushed, with a hint of thick smoke and dryness that came with years of abusive smoking. He was dressed in a uniform that could have belonged to a Japanese soldier from the Second World War.
The figure to his right was a woman whose skin was dark enough to redefine the word. Nearby light seemed to pull itself to her only to be lost forever in her complexion. She kept her eyes locked on the three of us as she spoke to the Japanese man to her side. Between the clear accent and her features, I pegged her as someone—thing—from the Indian subcontinent.
She wore a sari made of red silk hemmed in a silver thread so fine and polished it could’ve been spun from the precious metal itself. More silver adorned her ears in small hoops and studs. It seemed the theme as a slender reef of the same metal ran along her forehead in a simple crown. A heavy, intricate layer of gold links wove over her chest and around her throat. That was a serious necklace.
I waved at the pair.
They stopped talking and rose, inclining their heads to the others who remained seated. They moved towards us.
The muscles in my forearms knotted and the feeling made its way into my fists. A hand fell on my shoulder, prompting me to relax. I looked to my side and gave Ortiz a silent thanks. Despite my muscles being at ease, my heart and temples still nursed a set of boomboxes.
The pair stopped a few feet in front of us. Both moved with an eerie and utterly inhuman precision in even the smallest of their movements. The Japanese man eyed the three of us in a slow, mechanical manner before making a sound of disgust that seemed to shake phlegm loose from deep within his chest.
Classy.
He whispered something to the woman then turned to leave.
Gold rings clanged and jingled along her wrist and forearms as the Indian woman gave him a minor wave. She turned back to face us. Her gaze narrowed in on me, seeming to block out everything else.
The space around me felt tight, like I was inside a bottle being pumped with excess air. I tried to clear my throat, but it sounded like I’d swallowed a dog’s squeaky toy. “Um, hi.”
The woman smiled. You often hear about things being the color of blood, but it’s poetic exaggeration most of the time. That wasn’t the case here. Her lips were a disturbing red—wet, like they were covered in something other than lipstick. “I’ve heard of you.” My bones rattled when she spoke. There was a second layer in her voice that wormed its way into my body and threatened to shake me apart.
I cleared my throat successfully. “All good things, I hope.”
“Mhmm.”
I forced a thin smile. This was going well. Given the environment of potentially hostile nasties all around me, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. I extended a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She didn’t take it. Cold. The woman tilted her head, regarding me for another instant that seemed to stretch forever. “Curious.”
“What is?”
“You. How did someone put you together? A little soul in someone else’s body—odd.”
Kelly and Ortiz traded glances and looked to me for an answer. I wish I had one. Maybe Lyshae had stamped it somewhere on my suit, but it’s not normal for creatures to pick out what I am at first glance. I arched a brow and kept quiet.
“It’s a wonder you have held together for so long.”
“Impressive, huh?” I gave her a lopsided grin.
She shook her head in what looked almost like pity. “You are a broken thing bound to break further. Shame.”
I swallowed the lumps of gravel in my throat. She was right. All the years of body hopping hadn’t done me any good. I’d lost so many memories and had no idea if I’d ever get them back. But my last case had forced me to consider another possibility. What if there was only so much of this my soul could take before something worse happened? I didn’t want to consider it.
“You should,” said the woman.
I looked at her and nearly sucked in a breath through my teeth. Her eyes resembled pools of liquid ink lined with hairline branches of fire. It was like staring into dying coals t
hreaded with a hint of flames. “Who—what are you?” I had a feeling I knew, but I had to hear it from her. A part of me didn’t want to. But reading minds isn’t common. I only knew of one person who seemed to possess that ability.
She leaned close, and the smell of hot spices threatened to choke me. There was something else. An odor associated with dead bodies in the morgue—times a thousand. It was like inhaling a frozen meat locker.
I nearly gagged.
The woman whispered my name, and it felt like my bones were toothpicks supporting cinderblocks. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor. “Do not move.” The comment was directed at Ortiz and Kelly. I wasn’t sure since my view was fixed on the floor. The pressure increased to the point where I feared becoming a Graves-puddle. It relented a second later.
I exhaled and pushed myself to my feet. My suit wasn’t dirty, so there was that. I brushed myself off regardless and tried to look dignified. “Well, that was rude.”
The woman smiled and, believe me, I was glad. No one wants an angry god—goddess—on their hands. “It was mildly entertaining to meet you. Perhaps we shall meet again.” She inclined her head in a manner that looked like it hadn’t moved at all. The woman moved off in the direction of her friend.
Ortiz followed the woman with her eyes before turning to me. “What was that?”
“If I am right—and I have a feeling I am—she’s a sign that Lyshae is the least of our troubles.”
Ortiz raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“That we should really play nice.”
Kelly and Ortiz gave me flat stares.
I held up my hands. “Yeah, I know. Can the smartassery, make nice.”
Both women gave me dubious looks.
Playing nice wouldn’t hurt though. I turned back to the table. Only one person remained. The other must’ve left when I turned my back. He had a face that looked carved from white marble. Hard edges and gaunt features that he somehow made work for him. He ran a pale hand through his hair, sweeping it back. Some locks curled around the ends. It was the sort of black so dark it edged near blue. He looked up and caught me staring. His eyes were a gray that belonged to storm clouds moments before they brought the thunder.
I gave him a goofy grin and headed towards him. Kelly and Ortiz followed as I took a seat across from the dark-haired man. “Hey, long time.”
He shifted and looked around like he was searching for someone—anyone else to sit with. “Not long enough.”
Ouch. “FYI, words hurt.”
He rolled his eyes and brushed his long, black duster aside to reveal an equally dark silk shirt. “Acronyms.” He spat the word like a curse.
“I know, right? Look, on the DL, I’m working a case and this is really going to cut into my timeline. Feel like helping a friend out? Because I need this wrapped up ASAP. Things ATM are pretty FUBAR, but I’m trying to keep them from getting worse. Uh...hashtag YOLO.” I widened my grin.
His eyes narrowed, and I felt that thunder coming on. He reached over, grabbing a chalice fashioned from something like pearl. His fingers closed tightly around it. The material crunched like it was tin. His eyes never broke contact with mine as garnet liquid sloshed onto his hand. “I had forgotten what a pain in the ass you were, Graves. I’ve killed men for being less than the nuisance you’re being now.” His eyes hardened into discs of concrete.
I kept up the smile. “Aw, don’t be like that. Remember that time I got you pizza?”
A small fountain of liquid leapt from the goblet as it crumpled completely.
I blinked as I took my seat across from him. “Uh, did you not like it?”
“What do you want? Why are you here?” He looked over his shoulder again, likely still searching for an empty seat nearby.
“Long story or short?” My grin slipped, and Ortiz and Kelly took spots beside me.
“Short preferably; the shorter, the better,” he said, turning his gaze towards Ortiz. He looked at her the way someone would if they had nothing else better to do. “And you are?”
Ortiz smiled and held out her hand, shooting me a sideways look. “No names, right?”
I nodded.
“Nobody.” She kept the smile up.
Tall, dark, and pale smirked as he cupped her hand. He pulled it close and leaned in, brushing his lips against her fingers.
Ortiz shuddered at the touch.
My hand darted out on impulse, fingers closing around the nearest dinner knife. I lunged across the table and pulled his hand from her, pinning it down. The tip of the knife pressed against the soft meat under his chin. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare pull that crap around me, freak!”
The clamor died around us. All eyes turned towards us—again. I wasn’t doing a good job of not causing a scene.
My friend sighed and kept his bored gaze on Ortiz like the situation didn’t bother him. He glanced at me for a split second. “Manners, Graves.” His attention went back to Ortiz. “Call me Card.”
She stared hard at him. “I’ve worked my job long enough to spot a fake name when I hear it.”
Card grinned. “It’s what he knows me by”—he managed to raise and tilt his eyebrows towards me—“and the best I could do this century.” He flashed Ortiz a smile that made me want to push up on the knife a little harder. “And, Graves, you’re really pushing your luck. I like you—the way some people like an irritating dog—and you’re pushing it now.”
“Keep talking, and I’ll push harder. Maybe you’ll get the point. Get it? Point?” I gave him a wolfish smile.
“Is that really the smart thing to do here? I saw you came with Lyshae.”
“So?”
“Tell me: Did she you give her word of safe conduct?”
“Uh...” I looked to Ortiz and Kelly who stared back. Crap. She hadn’t. We had no guarantees of our safety with Lyshae other than she needed us. Or so she said. As far as I knew, this might be as far she needed me. But I still owed her two more debts. She wasn’t the kind to squander favors or leverage she’d earned. I didn’t let Card see my doubt.
“You’re a guest in a place of neutrality tonight. You’re threatening another guest without provocation—”
“Provocation my ass! I know what you are. I know who you are. You’re a threat just because of that.” My hand shook just enough that the point scritched against his chin without drawing any blood.
Nearby guests turned in place, leaning towards us in curiosity. It might have been a trick of the light colored with my imagination, but their eyes held hungry gleams. There’s a certain feeling when you’re being stared at like a meal by big predators. This was that.
I looked around, catching all the looks I could, and swallowed.
Card didn’t relent. “Think hard about where you are. Who could drum up a party with the likes of gods and darker things—some of them nameless? You’re here under a promise of no hostility that everyone unconditionally accepted when passing through the doors. You’re coming pretty close to breaking that, and you didn’t get any oaths guaranteeing your safety.” A thin, crooked smile spread across his face like a slit in marble. “Or your friends.” He glanced at Ortiz and Kelly.
Moisture built atop the skin of my palm and I felt the knife slipping. I licked my lips and kept the blade in place.
“That means you’re fair game, even if you don’t put the knife down. If you keep it up, you’re going to find yourself in a world of trouble from our host.”
I arched a brow and peeled my lips back into a snarl. No fear in the face of monsters. Easier said than done. “Yeah, and who’s that?”
Card chuckled. “You’re about to find out.”
The lights went out, and hundreds of eyes shone like prisms.
Chapter Twenty-One
Golfball-sized motes of blue flame erupted into existence along the walls of the castle. The fires gave off more light than they should have been able to. The entire room was cast into an odd tint reserved for low-grade horror flicks.
It did
n’t do wonders for the various eyes homing in on our little spat.
“I think I’ll lose the knife.” I let go of my hold on Card’s wrist. The knife clattered atop the table.
“Wise choice.” Card pulled his hand back and propped his elbows atop the table, resting his chin on balled fists.
A Way snapped to life at the end of the hall. It was a smooth slit through space that grew by the second. The Way rippled and expanded like a nebulous cloud of white.
Ortiz, Kelly, and I squinted at the jarring brightness.
Flurries raced out of it and filled the hall like they were propelled from the other side by a high-powered leaf blower. It was a beautiful thing to look at, even under the blue lighting. A figure stepped out, and I regretted bringing my friends into this mess.
“No-no-no.” My fists balled tight enough to make the tips of my fingers ache.
Kelly scooted closer to me, her hands back on her phone. “It’s not a good thing when you say that, is it?” She thumbed a button, causing a vibrant light to spring from the back of her phone.
“No, it isn’t.” I clenched my jaw and wanted to usher Ortiz and Kelly from the seat. But bailing on a lady of the Neravene’s party was one hell of a slight. Bailing on a queen’s party was worse. It’s an offense that ends up with you being served as chunks out of a tuna can for monsters. I never was a fan of tuna.
The Way shut, and a young woman stood at the end of the hall with the grace and poise of someone decades older. Although, decades was the wrong word. There wasn’t any accurate way of pegging just how old she was. Ancient. Damn ancient was closer.
She was dressed in a long gown the color of frozen blueberries—a dark thing sequined in pin-sized diamonds. A thin cape flowed over shoulders and trailed several feet behind her. It was a translucent mesh that seemed fashioned out of snow. Don’t ask me how. Her lips were the color of smeared strawberries and made her fair skin look snow-white by comparison. The soot-dark hair didn’t help.
“Welcome, all.” Her voice rang through the hall with enough force to drown out a thunderstorm. It helps having a bit of magic. And if I was right, she had no end of it at her disposal.