by Domino Finn
In the meantime, Shyla and Shen had erupted into an argument.
"The job was either him or the Horn," she insisted.
His tone was more calm but melodramatic. "And you assured us you would focus on the Horn."
She shrugged defensively, arms spread to her sides. "Shit happens. I can still get it for you, but if you want me to deliver double, you need to pay double."
Shen snorted. "Your price is too high."
She relaxed a bit, trying to steer the argument into a business negotiation, but I could see she wanted out. "That's the price," she said firmly. She waited in silence, not pressing the issue.
The illusionist crossed his arms. Darcy turned to him. That was my opening. I reached my left hand up and unhooked the shotgun from my frozen arm. Holding the barrel, I flipped it lightly to catch the handle. Before the antique wood hit my palm, a tide of force shoved me back into the wall. The sawed off bounced on the floor.
Darcy sighed. "Don't try anything else. We're too strong and have you outnumbered."
I grimaced. Luckily, Shen seemed to have missed the whole show. He waved his hand dismissively at Shyla. "No more payments. We have what we want. Your job is done."
The summoner was pleased with the decision. She quickly went to the garage door and jerked it up. "Whatever you say."
"Where'd you find him?" asked Darcy. I stiffened.
Shyla hiked a shoulder. "On the street. I followed him from the Port."
"And the artifact?"
The summoner played off the question with casual disregard. "No idea."
I sighed under my breath. I had more pressing concerns at the moment, but I didn't want to add the-Society-knowing-the-location-of-my-hideaway to the list. And a secret group of manipulative animists getting their hands on the Horn would be a disaster.
I had to admit, though, it was strange that Shyla kept the information from them. Maybe she was protecting me, in a way. Or maybe it was as simple as job security. Why tell them where they could find me or the Horn for free? If I escaped they'd need to hire her all over again. Mercenary instincts, right there.
"What about the key to the chains?" asked Shen.
"That's right," she said. She reached into her boot and tossed him a shiny silver key attached to a thin chain. He smiled and hung it around his neck. Cisco Suarez, the complete sucker.
Shyla considered me for a moment, eyes revealing that she had done her best to help me. "For what it's worth, Cisco, I really am sorry. You seem like a nice enough guy. If I'd recovered the Horn, you wouldn't be here. I don't like leaving poor saps to these animals."
"Yeah," I grumbled, facing away. She was a survivor. And as she hopped into her Beamer and drove off, we both knew she had successfully survived another day.
My horoscope was a bit less certain.
Chapter 31
Between Darcy the Teen Witch and the steel band around my neck, it wasn't hard to secure me. They stuffed me in an isolated back room. It was like a walk-in closet with steel shelves, but the walls were only eight-feet high, disconnected from the warehouse's high ceiling. A row of windows lined the outer walls along the ceiling. Metal rafters crisscrossed in between. It was a nice view for a storage room but I wasn't going anywhere.
They looped my neck chain around the industrial shelving's corner support beam. This wasn't your typical IKEA setup. It was solid steel. They clicked it down with a Master Lock and that was that.
The two animists stripped my spell tokens. The pouch on my belt, my ceremonial bronze knife—they even took my dog-collar bracelet. They didn't see the silver whistle because the neck shackle covered the black twine. They missed the belt buckle too, but it didn't do me a whole lot of good in this situation.
My hands were free. Shackled, of course, but loose. That was enough to work most shadow magic, but I couldn't create physical manifestations without my bracelet.
Shen checked my pockets. A burner phone. That was useless to him. And Shyla's phone too, still in my back pocket. It was interesting that she forgot it. Then again, it was apparent she'd wanted to leave ASAP. I held a blank face as Shen checked it out, hoping he didn't realize the significance of the GPS locator.
"Two phones?" he snickered. "What are you, a drug dealer?" He laughed at his own joke.
I gave him a half-assed smile to keep him happy. Hopefully he'd be so pleased he wouldn't notice the—
"Whoa. A tracking program."
Crap. If they had that then they as good as had the Horn.
"What is this?" he asked. The screen refreshed and the GPS location disappeared. A notification popped up. "Coordinate Charlie deleted. What the fuck?"
All the air went out of my lungs. Shyla must've realized she'd left her phone with me. She was remotely erasing her tracks. The one shred of hope I had of recovering the Horn had just vanished with a pop-up message.
"What're you doing?" growled Shen. He rammed his hand to my throat. I shook him away and growled louder.
"That's not mine. I took it off your thief. She left a tracker on my car. Her job's done so she doesn't need it anymore."
He frowned, trying to poke a hole in the story. He must've been satisfied because he shut the phone off and tossed it with the rest of my stuff. On the far shelf, just ten feet from me. All my power was frustratingly close.
Then they basically let me be. Darcy kept watch in silence. Shen wandered in and out, making a few phone calls. They pretended I wasn't there but barely left me alone for more than a minute.
I got tired of struggling eventually. My position was uncomfortable. My neck was chained high enough that I couldn't sit on the floor but too low for me to properly stand. My thighs burned.
I remained quiet. I went through everything I had. Everything I needed. I tried to play out every available angle in my head, so that I'd be ready for anything.
After an extended absence, Shen Santos returned. Darcy hopped to her feet expectantly.
"Anything?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No word. Has to be any minute though."
"I don't like sitting here alone with this guy." She turned to me with an apologetic shrug. "He just watches me like a lion, completely calm, waiting for the perfect moment to bite my face off."
I snapped my teeth just to mess with her nerves. She gave me the finger.
"Bring that finger a little closer and see what happens," I said.
She pulled her hand away and tucked it under her elbow.
I considered these two in a new light. They were capable animists, but they weren't in charge. Darcy acted like she was working the Burger King register and was counting the hours till she could clock out. Shen, well, he was enjoying himself enough. He was confident too. Maybe he'd been promoted to shift manager and got to wear a little paper hat. But he wasn't the boss. Both of them were worker bees in a grander design.
"Look at Mulder and Scully here," I commented, eyebrows raised in mock admiration.
Shen turned to me quizzically. "I'm Chinese."
I shrugged. Clean-cut confidence was close enough. And Darcy had the hairdo.
"Who's Mulder and Scully?" she asked.
"Really?" I shot back. "How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
I did the math. "Wow, as much as I hate to admit it, it literally was before your time."
"They're on Netflix," offered Shen. "Even the new ones, I think."
Darcy scowled. "Netflix is for old people. I watch YouTube."
Shen and Darcy got into a debate on the merits of user-generated content and corporate media overlords.
"Whoa," I cut in. "Slow down, guys. I was kinda dead for ten years so I'm not up on current events. You need to take it slow with me. Also—hold up. Did you just say there were new X-Files episodes? Do Mulder and Scully finally hook up?"
Shen opened his mouth to answer but someone spoke over him. "What is this, a high school reunion?"
We all turned to the metal closet door.
"Crap," I muttered.
Simon Feigelstock smiled. "What, you'll chum it up with these two strangers but you don't have anything nice to say to an old friend?"
Simon was in his mid forties, dressed to the nines in a power suit, and threatening to go bald any day now. He was also an accomplished channeler of thunder and lightning. The two kids holding me hostage had power, but they were young and brash. You wanna talk pure combat experience, I had the edge on them.
But Simon Feigelstock was a different story. I'd gotten into a tangle with him before and, well, I'm too proud to admit he kicked my ass, so let's just say I was sore the next morning.
"Cisco Suarez, the shadow charmer," said Simon, strolling casually closer. I may have been a patient lion, but I was a wounded one, and he was that wily hyena who was hungry enough to take a bite out of me. Simon stopped short and tapped his polished wing tips on the unfinished concrete. "You've been making business with Connor progressively more difficult these days."
"Aw, you noticed," I said as insincerely as possible. "That's kinda the point, Simon. Make him more of a liability than an asset. Even to his friends."
He glanced at his associates in amusement then spun back to me. "This has nothing to do with friends. This is business."
"That's what—"
I didn't have time to finish my quippy rejoinder because Simon hit me with his lightning special, courtesy of his fingertips.
Everything went white. A fleeting moment of absolutely no pain or self-awareness. Then it all rushed back in a surge of pins and needles and a contact burn. I couldn't even scream until he let up.
"Son of a bitch!" I grunted. "You didn't even ask for the Horn yet."
He chuckled. "You're not complaining about that little shock, are you? That wasn't part of the interrogation. That was payback for Rudi Alvarez. You do remember Rudi Alvarez, don't you?"
I did. Another scumbag Miami politician doing the Covey's dirty work. Rudi enjoyed a good run for a while there, even being primed for the mayor's office, until I exposed his illegal dealings. Last I heard, he escaped any prison time, but he left the city in ruins. Some of his ruin was financial because his accounts had been frozen and his assets seized, but most of it was his reputation. The man would never hold a public office again. If you ask me, he got off light.
I grimaced as Simon leaned closer to me. "I recall asking you to leave our political connections alone."
I gritted my teeth. "And I recall telling you to go fuck yourself."
He zapped me again. I was a sucker for punishment, or maybe just a good one-liner. I didn't think either was a crime, but Simon seemed to disagree. He clamped his hands around my face and pushed me back into the shelves.
"You. Shouldn't. Have. Messed. With. Our. Business."
We stared at each other for a minute. He released me, only to pound my head into the pole when I slackened.
I grunted. "Simon, I could give a shit what you and the wizard cartel do in your spare time. When your conspiracies involve killing me and my entire family, you can't blame me for making things personal."
Shen and Darcy traded uncertain glances. Simon just clenched his jaw. He could do this all day if he needed to. Me? I could at least make sure he didn't get any sleep tonight.
"Wait outside," he ordered. Shen reluctantly complied. Darcy was happy to leave the room.
Simon took a menacing step toward me before his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned.
"Saved by the bell," I muttered.
Simon silenced the call and returned the cell to his pocket. Uh-oh.
"The thing is, Cisco," he said, pacing past me with his hands crossed, "people like you have to be shown." He turned to me. "I get it. I do. You grew up in the streets where it's all about posturing and puffing out your chest and talking a big game. That's where you get your power." He snapped his fingers together and a blinding crackle of light sparked between them. "Power isn't always subtle," he said. "We both know that. We both can respect that."
Simon crouched in front of me, face to face. "But sometimes we need to acknowledge power greater than ours. That is what channeling the patrons is about, after all. And in this case, Cisco, you're just one man. Me? I represent a collective of the best and brightest animists on the east coast. Our plays have been in motion for decades. We're shaping the country, even if we need to get in bed with people like Connor Hatch once in a while. That's how we move mountains. And you? Right now you're wondering if you can knock me out with a quick headbutt."
He moved away quickly before I could follow through. I hissed. "Actually, I was wondering if I could cave your head in."
He showed his teeth. "Close enough. And far from the point."
"Yeah? Are you gonna get to it one day?"
"The point is that we are better bearers of the Horn of Subjugation than you are."
My eyes narrowed to meet his.
"It's only a matter of time before you lose it, Cisco. You don't have the resources to do more than that. Do you really want Connor to end up with it? 'Cause that's where this is heading."
Something about his appeal struck me as odd, but just like him it was out of my reach. Maybe I was too electrified to get it. Or maybe he was testing me. Either way, there was something unsaid in his words. I suddenly asked myself why he'd sent Shen and Darcy out.
The metal door to the room screeched open. An older woman with a head of short gray hair entered. "That will be enough," she said, glooming at Simon's handiwork. I wondered what I looked like to deserve that expression.
Simon straightened and nodded to his superior as a few other agents mingled behind her.
The enforcer smirked and leaned in conspiratorially. "You're gonna get it now," he warned under his breath. "The Gray Lady's here."
Chapter 32
Several assistants filled the room. They all wore the same unassuming black clothes. Long sleeves, gloves. Each had some kind of hood over their heads. Gray cashmere, maybe. Thick. Definitely not transparent. They moved around with precision even though their faces were completely covered.
One stuck his head around me. Studying me. He didn't say a word. It was creepy. Two more stood by the door, one inside and one outside. Another carried a chair in from the main warehouse. He set it down beside the Gray Lady, facing me.
The older woman, who was clearly the boss, kicked the chair toward me.
"Where's mine?" she asked impatiently.
The assistant hurried out and retrieved another. I dragged my chair closer with my boot and sat. Joy. It was the perfect height. For the first time in over an hour, I could relax without suffocating pressure on my neck.
Despite having a chair herself, the older woman remained standing with her arms clasped behind her back. Whether or not she meant for me to catch my breath, I jumped at the opportunity.
Darcy peeked in through the open doorway. As Simon left the room, he pulled her with him. The chair carrier left and shut the door. All that remained was a single anonymous assistant, waiting at the back wall. Within reach but out of the picture. Only then did the boss sit.
She was a bulldog of a woman. Pale cheeks, sagging, worn with age and hard lines. Dark and mysterious eyes. Her scruffy white hair was cropped more for convenience than appearance. She wore a long gray sweater and pants. Matching cashmere, I thought. It must've been a killer in the Miami heat.
"You are Francisco Suarez," she noted, not quite a question. When she spoke, it was firm and direct. "You are the one who killed the vampire, Tunji Malu?"
I cleared my throat. "I am."
She tightened her lips and sized me up, answering with a terse nod. "I'm sorry to meet under these circumstances."
"Are you?"
Her lips twitched. "Believe it or not, your death isn't our goal. The thief was tasked with recovering an artifact you have no business possessing."
"Finders keepers."
The Gray Lady sat back and crossed her arms with a sigh. "I've been keeping abreast of your activities. We've only known a
bout you for a few short months. Crossing paths with Simon first was unfortunate." She leaned toward me. "He is exceedingly good at his job, but he often does it mindlessly." She shrugged. "Maybe that's why he's so good at it. In this business, a conscience can get in the way."
"This is an awful supervillain speech," I said.
Something resembling a chuckle escaped her lips. A smile followed, but her eyes were glass. Clear but impassive.
"So that's it," she said, her voice softer but still stern. "You believe we're villains."
I shrugged. "While chained up and electrocuted, the thought had crossed my mind."
"Not a careless jump in logic," she agreed with another twitch of her lips. "But that is because you don't know us yet."
"I know you're in bed with drug lords. That you twist politicians under your thumb."
"Rudi Alvarez was Connor's project," she said.
"Simon seemed awfully invested in the project when he kidnapped a silvan princess to protect him."
The woman's breath caught for a moment. She didn't like being talked back to, but she also understood my point of view.
"This is an ugly world, Francisco. There are ugly people in it. Usually they're the ones who end up in positions of power. Leadership doesn't just fall into anybody's lap. It needs to be taken. And only those with both the desire and ability to take that power get it."
"Lady, you're making my point for me."
She chewed her lip brusquely. "My name is Margo Gray. And I'm not just some lady. Lady Gray, if you like. But most who fear my power simply go with the Gray Lady." She paused on that note to let it sink in. "There's that word again. Power. It's true that I've worked hard for mine, and it's true that such proclivities put me in touch with many bad people. How is that any different from your black magic pursuits?"
I remained silent, wondering where she was going with this.
Margo looked past me wistfully. "In the days when this country first formed, the air was turbulent. The common folk were both the biggest troublemakers and the strongest assets of this land. Much was built on their backs. And much ugliness was necessary." She focused on me again. "Nations are not birthed by smiles, Francisco. It takes blood to bear something so robust."