Owl and the Japanese Circus

by Kristi Charish

  “Hey, Bindi. The name’s Owl,” I said. I raised the musket and pulled the trigger, but it didn’t fire.

  Shit.

  Bindi smiled. “Missed me,” she said, exposing her fangs.

  Well, so much for that idea. OK . . . time for another one.

  I hurled the bayonet at the fluorescent lights. Bindi kept smiling until the bayonet cracked the casing and the bare UV light registered on her skin.

  Bindi started to smoke. She screamed, but I wasn’t anywhere close to done with her yet. I whistled. On cue, Captain came barreling out from behind the display case and launched himself onto Bindi in a white and brown ball of Mau cat fury. He growled and bit into the back of her neck.

  Bindi’s screams reached a new high, as if she’d never imagined something so painful in her wildest dreams. She reached for Captain, who was making short work out of her back.

  Red, stunned and not sure what to do with Bindi screaming, still held Nadya’s leg.

  “Let go of her,” I said, running over and driving my foot into his stomach. He let go of Nadya and rolled out of the way. I jumped onto his back and sank my arm around his throat.

  Bindi was still screaming.

  “You know what happens to Sabine’s thralls, don’t you?” I whispered in his ear as I pulled the choke tight, cutting the blood supply to his brain.

  He grunted. “Every minute in Sabine’s service is worth it. I get to be a vampire, just like Bindi.”

  Man, Marie gave these guys a ride down to rock bottom at warp speed. I was guessing from Red’s happy and sane demeanor that he had a lot of vampire pheromones coursing through his system. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try and get it through his thick skull. “Who the hell do you think Sabine is getting her meals from, moron? It’s only a matter of time before she drains Bindi dry. You’re next on the menu. You’re not her subject, you’re just the duck she’s stuffing to make pate—Ow!”

  Red bit down on my hand, the one holding my choke in place. I shook my head and straightened out. Some people just don’t want to be helped. Red gurgled, but I didn’t let go until I was certain he was out cold.

  I brushed the water out of my eyes and stood to see where Nadya and Bindi had gotten. I was soaked and had a hard time getting my wet hair out of my face.

  “Owl!” Nadya yelled.

  It took me a minute to realize they’d headed back into the scroll room where I’d smashed the display cabinet. I ran after them, but not before grabbing my pack and tossing my gas mask on. I reached them in time to see Bindi madly trying to dislodge Captain as Nadya stabbed her with the bayonet, again and again. Then Nadya stumbled. She shook her head, as if trying to focus. She tried to lift the bayonet up again but failed. Vampire pheromones are not water soluble, so the sprinklers did nothing to dull the effect. And despite, or maybe because of, Captain, Bindi was giving her the full effect. Nadya would be out cold soon.

  “Nadya” I yelled. She saw me and stumbled over. I handed her my pack. “There’s another gas mask in there,” I said. She got it out and fastened it around her face. She’d be OK, but there was no way she’d be able to fight.

  “Time to get the hell out of here,” she said.

  I couldn’t have agreed more.

  Bindi almost had Captain, so I whistled him off. He shot me a dirty look, growled, and bit down harder.

  Shit, Bindi had too much vampire blood.

  With a last scream she latched onto the scruff of Captain’s neck and pulled him off. She held him out at arm’s length and shot me a look of pure murder. I had my flashlight and gas mask, but if I lost that . . . I shook my head. If I couldn’t pull this off, we’d all be dead. I readied my UV flashlight. “Drop my cat, bitch.”

  “Make me,” Bindi said with a smile. The fact that she was soaking wet and sashaying towards me made her look even more the crazy surfer chick than when she’d been alive.

  “Happy to,” I said, and turned my flashlight on her eyes. She snarled and covered them with her free hand. But even as smoke began to rise off her, she kept hold of Captain and started towards me.

  I was out of ideas. “Nadya, run,” I said.

  “No,” she said.

  I started to argue, but the look on her face told me there was no point. She wasn’t leaving.

  I swore as Bindi staggered towards me, hate on her face and Captain a vicious ball of fury in her hand. She’d kill me, take the scrolls, and then kill Captain and Nadya, or worse. It dawned on me that this was all my fault. I’d been stupid not to wait for Rynn and now, hell, now he’d show up and they’d probably kill him too.

  Marie had set the bait, and I’d strolled right into her trap.

  “I—am going to slice—you—into a thousand pieces—and—stitch—you—back—together—so—I can do it—again,” Bindi said, now no less than three feet away. The purple welts from Captain’s bites made her look like living death.

  I swore. I was out of tricks and ideas. Not only was I going to pay for it with my life but so were my friends. Someone should give me an award—worst friend ever.

  Bindi’s face contorted into a mask of rage, then surprise. She let go of Captain, who started his attack again, then she dropped to her knees and reached behind her before falling forward. Three darts were lodged in the back of her ruined hoodie. Rynn stood behind her in a fireman’s jacket, holding a crossbow.

  I ran and threw my arms around his neck. “I’ve never been so glad to see someone.” He squeezed back, but only briefly. He put me at arm’s length, not bothering to hide that he was furious.

  “Get your cat, I’ll get Nadya. I’ve locked the doors to the second floor from the inside, but they’ll be through with axes soon.”

  Even I know when to keep quiet. Captain had latched back onto Bindi and was trying to pull chunks out of her. After a lot of growling and hissing, I managed to pull him off. I held him up, a piece of Bindi’s skin in his mouth. “So not cool, Captain. So not cool.”

  “Come on,” Rynn said, and headed towards the stairwell.

  “What are we going to do with these two?” I said.

  Rynn and Nadya both frowned.

  “Well, we can’t leave them here,” I said. “They’ll just find their way back to Marie.”

  “What do you suggest? We’re not taking them with us,” Rynn said.

  He was right. Still . . . I remembered Charles’s phone and dialed. “Come on, come on,” I said, as the fifth ring came and went.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Alexander said, a cheerful tone to his voice I didn’t like. There were birds in the background.

  “Hey, you guys finally got out of the tunnel,” I said.

  “Oh yes, in fact, I’m in North America as we speak. Care to guess where?”

  “Can’t touch me, Alexander.”

  “Of course, but accidents always happen, ma chérie.”

  I heard the first axe fall on the second-floor entrance doors and voices shouting on the other side.

  “Owl, now—” Rynn said.

  “Hey Alexander, I’m in a real hurry here, but I’ve got a present for you.”

  “And what would that be? A light bomb? Your mercenary friend with the toys? You’ve found an entire pack of Mau cats, maybe?”

  “Well, look. If you think it’s a trap, don’t take it. But if you want some evidence to hand over to the Contingency, proof someone is being a very naughty vampire, then I’d get your vampire ass over here as fast as possible.”

  Alexander paused. “Where would I find this . . . present?”

  “Follow the cell phone.” I hung up and dropped it in Bindi’s front jacket pocket.

  “Rynn, help me hide them.”

  Rynn shook his head in disgust, but he helped me drag them into the air vent—somewhere the firefighters wouldn’t look. I hoped. Otherwise they were in for a big surprise.

  We all heard the door crack at the same time. An axe tip was poking through. I took one last look at the soaked scrolls and grabbed what I thought I c
ould salvage.

  Rynn frowned at me. “You almost get killed by a vampire, and you have time to steal?”

  “Look, you can return all of it after I fix it up,” I said, grabbing my ruined carrier and shoving the scrolls inside. “I don’t trust these idiots not to do more harm than good. Automatic sprinkler system, my ass.”

  We ran for the exit and followed Rynn through the crowd of faculty and firemen. Lucky for us, there wasn’t much attention paid to a good-looking fireman escorting a couple of grad students out of the labs. I kept my head down and my hoodie up, just in case the IAA was watching. Time to lose ourselves in the crowd.

  “This way,” Rynn said, and veered towards a collection of IAA jeeps.

  “You can’t be serious,” I said when he hopped into the front seat.

  “Dead serious. Both of you get in now.”

  I crawled in before an IAA agent decided to look our way. “I thought you hate stealing.”

  “The IAA strikes me as real assholes. Besides, it’s not stealing if they leave the keys in the ignition.”

  I didn’t get the chance to argue his wisdom, because Rynn was already peeling out of Berkeley.

  Once we were well on the highway—me in the front with an icy Rynn, and Nadya lying down in the back with Captain—I called Oricho.

  “Good news and bad news. Bad news is Sabine’s brats are in town.”

  Oricho drew in a sharp breath.

  “Good news is we have the scroll. How quickly can you get the plane in the air?”

  “I will notify the pilot. You are en route?”

  “Oh yeah, and we need out of here, now. We ran into Marie’s thralls—correction, vampire and thrall. It didn’t end up being a very covert operation,” I said.

  Rynn shot me a dirty look. “That was about the worst covert operation I’ve ever seen—”

  I glared back.

  “I understand,” Oricho said, “though with Sabine’s thralls involved, I am not the least bit surprised. The pilot will leave as soon as you arrive.” He paused. “Owl, I am very pleased with your progress. You have lived up to my expectations.”

  Coming from him, that praise was about as high as I figured I was going to get. As far as supes went, Oricho at least made the attempt to treat me with respect. I glanced back at Nadya to see how she was doing—worse for wear—and checked that the scrolls were still in my bag. “Listen, just answer one question. Your kind of kami . . . you can’t lie, right? I mean, the whole justice thing?”

  He drew a breath. “That is . . . a simple but accurate definition.”

  “Just tell me Mr. Kurosawa really doesn’t plan on using this thing to wipe out a few cities.”

  “I swear to you that Mr. Kurosawa will not use this weapon. Some arms carry too high a price.”

  “See you in a few hours,” I said, and hung up. I felt more assured. Handing it over to Mr. Kurosawa still worried me, but Oricho I could deal with.

  My reprise was short-lived though, given the look on Rynn’s face as he drove.

  “Look—” I started.

  “Not now,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m too angry to talk to you.”

  If there is one thing I understand, it’s needing space. I hopped into the backseat with Nadya, who was still coming down from the pheromones and nursing the black eye Red had given her.

  “Don’t you think you should have mentioned we can’t read the scroll?” she said.

  I shrugged. “No one can. I figured let them be happy for a few hours. At least we have it.” Besides, maybe not being able to translate it was a good thing. If I could swing it and get out with my life, that was exactly what I planned on doing.

  “Here,” Nadya said, and pressed her Bluetooth into my hand. “Give that back to Rynn for me, would you?”

  I felt around in my back pocket for mine and pulled out one broken piece of expensive electronics, exposed wires and all. I shrugged. “I must have landed on it.”

  She shook her head. “And you wonder why Rynn won’t give you nice things.”

  Thinking back to the fifteen one-of-a-kind sopping wet scrolls, I was starting to think no one should give me nice things. Ever.

  17

  OUBLIETTE; A DEEP, DARK, DOORLESS PIT

  9:45 p.m., the Japanese Circus

  “The good news, Mr. Kurosawa, is I’ve got the scroll. The bad news is I’ve got no idea how to read it. How ’bout we call it even and go our separate ways?” I tried.

  Rynn didn’t look at me, but he shook his head.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I pulled my hair back and tried to fix it into a ponytail for the fourth time since we’d stepped into the casino elevator. Nadya was still in the car and would wait there until we were out of my meeting.

  No matter how I ran the scenario over in my mind, rephrasing it didn’t help. Great, I had the scroll. Somehow I didn’t think handing over a nonfunctional weapon would appease the dragon. So much for my budding career as a supernatural arms dealer.

  The elevator door opened onto the second floor of the Japanese Circus, and Rynn exited ahead of me straight into the crowded mezzanine. He hadn’t said much on the trip back, and I was giving him space until he was ready to talk. Me. Waiting to talk to him. That was a role reversal.

  “Come on, Captain,” I said. Since he’d ruined his carrier eating his way out, I had him on a leash. He took one step out of the elevator, nose in the air, and a few curious vacationers and gamblers gave us a passing glance. He ducked back behind my legs and tried to pull me back into the elevator. Whereas most cats would balk at the sheer volume of people, Captain was balking at the same thing I was. The sheer smell. Vegas’s own patented “Eau de twenty-four-hour blackjack and slot machine marathon.”

  “Come on,” I said, and dragged him out. “Across the bridge is a building dedicated to fresh fish.” He got the hint and followed. I got a dirty look and a grunt from a very Rubens-esque woman—oh screw it, she wearing a muumuu and enough blue eye shadow to scare a drag queen, with the kind of body only a diet of mimosas and french fries can build. I pushed by, ignoring her.

  Resigning himself to the idea that, like it or not, he was along for the ride, Captain stuck his tail in the air and trotted after me.

  I caught sight of Rynn waiting by the bridge to Samurai, Vegas’s premier sushi restaurant. I pushed through the crowd to reach him and glanced down at my watch. 9:50 p.m. In time for my meeting with Oricho.

  Even though it was late, Samurai still had a line running from the bamboo doorway looking over the Zen gardens all the way to the elevator. I was amazed that the bridge, a series of ropes and planks stretched over the garden, held under the mass of people crammed onto it. Why do people always think crowding around the door equates moving up the line? Squeezing your two-hundred-pound frame as close as possible doesn’t get you inside any faster.

  “Rynn, I don’t think I’m getting across that bridge. Maybe I should try tomorrow?”

  “Watch,” he said, and nodded at the entrance. Sure enough, one of Oricho’s tattooed henchmen came out and began to clear the crowd, not caring that disgruntled patrons clamored to shove past. Two more henchmen on either side of the bridge made them think twice. The first henchman strode right up to Rynn and bowed.

  “I’ll wait here,” Rynn said, taking up a post by the bridge.

  “Wait a minute, why aren’t you coming inside?”

  “Because Oricho didn’t invite me.”

  I glanced over at the three henchmen. “Is it safe to go in? By myself?”

  Rynn frowned. “It’s a little late to be worried about ‘safe.’ ”

  I bit my lower lip. “OK, bad choice of words, but I’m serious. Are you going to be OK out here? By yourself? Oricho is OK, but I trust the goons about as far as Lady Siyu.”

  Some of the anger dissipated from his face. “I’ll be fine, so will you. If anything happens, I’ll come in and find you.” Something else flickered across his face, something I hadn’t seen before
, like he was hiding something but felt guilty about it at the same time.

  I told myself to stop reading into things. I was projecting because I had screwed up our arrangement at the museum. Rynn was my friend—maybe more—and had pulled me out of trouble not once but several times now. Even if he was hiding something . . . well, I had my secrets, I’m sure he had his too.

  I nodded. “Let’s hope this is fast,” I said, and accompanied Oricho’s henchman—I started to call him “Bob” in my head to distinguish him from the other henchmen—across the bridge, under the watchful eye of disgruntled patrons who looked like they wanted to lynch me.

  Get in line, folks.

  As Bob led me past tables towards the back of the room, the noise and smell of people who’d spent too long sweating at the slot machines gave way to the expensive, heavy perfumes favored by trophy wives and high-end call girls everywhere. This was where the serious gamblers hung out, the ones with money.

  Bob led me to a table, where only one person sat. Lady Siyu. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. Bob shook his head.

  “Goddamn it, just shoot me now,” I said, sliding into the opposite chair.

  “You’re late,” Lady Siyu replied, glancing up from her tea.

  “Clearly you didn’t see the line up all the way to the elevator.”

  She frowned. “Clearly I do not care.” She took the cup of tea in her hands and turned it clockwise before taking another sip and placing it back on the table.

  “Where’s Oricho?” I said.

  “He is detained with other business and will be late.”

  “So he sent you instead? And I thought the ghosts were torture.”

  Her perfectly painted red lips tilted down at the corners. “Believe me when I say I tried to get out of this as well,” she said, and held a menu up. A waiter appeared at her side, though I didn’t see where he’d come from. There was a quick exchange of Japanese I didn’t even bother trying to follow. The waiter bowed, then disappeared.

  “Is it true you retrieved the scroll?”

  “Why don’t you ask Oricho?”