Her smile goes away as quickly as it came, “So, you are far away from the United States – what is your purpose here, since we determined you are not hunting me.”
I consider my response for a second and relax myself back into the chair, turning slightly to face her more comfortably. “Revenge mostly. I’m off to merry old England to get a friend who wishes to share in my endeavor.”
That response gets a nod and a very subtle softening of her expression, less grand inquisitor and more understanding. Still not very inviting though…
“The Collector, then I presume. You will need friends. Many friends. You would be better served running in the other direction.”
“Naa… he has to die. He killed my son and his wife.” Now my face is a deadly serious one too.
“Revenge won’t bring them back,” she says quietly and resolutely.
That pisses me off. Yes, it’s true - nothing will bring them back. I close my eyes and try to keep my response in check. “Listen, I am oath sworn. My word has been given to the family of someone I murdered because that piece of shit set me up. My word has been given to others he has hurt. I don’t break my word. That and I loved my son. I loved his wife. Oh, that’s right, your kind think that love is a weakness or something. Well, excuse me – I loved them and still do.”
So much for keeping my response in check; I’m glaring into her green eyes daring a response.
Much to my surprise, she looks away. Her eyes close and I can’t read what the hell she is thinking. Those eyes open again. She turns to her side and daintily puts the small clutch purse on her lap. Opening it she pulls out a leather bi-fold opens it and turns back to me.
There are two pictures she is sharing. One is of a middle aged man with fairly rugged good looks. The other is of a boy. What is this? I glance at her and recognize the look on her face – sadness.
“The man is Frank. The child of 12 is Frank, junior. Frank was human. Frankie was half.” Her eyes turn from the photos to mine. “I loved them both. A drunk driver took them from me a little over a year ago.”
Damn. I did not see that coming. I think I may have even gasped a bit. “Lady Jxsiga, Jesus, That is... that is so wrong. I am so sorry. ”
Now sad green eyes meet mine. “Yes, I can see you are – and thank you. You should see that when I say revenge won’t bring them back, I speak from experience.”
She closes the billfold and begins putting it away. She reaches over and touches the strange round artifact and I feel the cabin’s pressure return to us. I am basically speechless. After depositing the artifact in her purse carefully, she turns back to me.
“We are done, for now. I will still meet Silithes at some point, but not today, not here.” She leans in and whispers “And I’m keeping the sword for my collection. Tell your Protectorate buddies that if they come for me or my brother, the only death they’ll find is their own.”
She stands and gives me a petite wave goodbye and strolls her way back down to executive class.
None of that is what I expected. Not one moment of succubussy come hither; just scary authority. There’s the paralysis thing – they can do that? She ate my Sheyliene. And she’s been off the grid for the last 15 years because she was raising a family – with a human no less.
And oh, yea... she’s got Clyde’s wand. Clyde will not be happy.
Chapter 53
The easy thing to do would be nothing. Maybe call Clyde and tell him the Lady has his frost wand – I play the conversation in my mind: “Sorry friend, she took it, what’s a guy to do? “ That conversation sucks and reeks of cowardice.
But damn, that is one scary, powerful, little hell bitch.
I reach up and push the stewardess button. My stewardess arrives and asks what I wish. “Whiskey, ma’am. Scotch whiskey - can you get me three of those little bottles, please. With a ginger ale.”
She asks for my ID and credit card. She scrutinizes me and the ID then heads to the galley. She returns with my goods, looking at me like I’m a common alcoholic. If she only knew what I was preparing myself to do – ask a favor of a very powerful hell-spawn. Their kind don’t give favors, it’s always a bargain – I do this, you do that.
A little mental greasing and I might be ready to face her again. Maybe.
If Pffif were here this would be much easier. There would be his flask. There would be his advice and sense of humor. But I am not blessed with him. I think for a moment, that I could summon him in a restroom. But then he wouldn’t be working on the thing that will find us Maldgorath.
Argh! All alone. Maybe I could summon Shey back, but what if that bitch eats her again or she starts flinging arrows? I’m thinking she’s best where she is.
Nopes. A little liquid courage and I’ll go down there and see if she’ll send the pen back to Clyde.
After downing the three tiny bottles and waiting a good ten minutes for them to kick in, I pick myself up and head to the elite class seating. Damn, if they don’t have it nice. Seats that fold out to beds complete with their own personal TV’s. I follow my way to the very front and find the Lady reading a copy of Southern Living. She’s as surprised to see me as I am to be there. I step in front of her seat and kneel down on a knee.
“Hey, have a favor to ask of you.”
The reaction was one of confusion at first, followed by the cover of that unemotional mask of hers. Her eyes shift to the pod next to her, obviously indicating the person next to her. “What do you offer as bargain?”
“Nothing.”
I reach into my pocket, pull out Clyde’s card and hand it to her. She regards it and looks at me quizzically.
“The pen actually belongs to Clyde. It’s not mine. He gave it to me thinking it might give you some pause if you thought it… something else. If you would, could you mail it back to him? It really doesn’t belong in your collection and uh, Clyde kind of tried to do right by me. I have to at least ask”
“Clyde, that little shit…" she says with a roll of the eyes."I’ll consider your request.”
“All I can ask.” With that I pick myself up and prepare to get the H-E double hockey sticks out of there.
“Wait Arthur.. Maca.. whatever.”
Shit. Here it comes… quid pro quo. I send this back to Clyde and you do me this little favor that’s not so little. I turn around and prepare myself.
“Talk with me a while, we have 6 hours of flight left - you’re a curious one.”
So much for a clean getaway. “Why certainly Lady Jxsiga,” is the only politic reply I can think of.
Her brow furrows at me, like I said something questionable. Then she turns to the man in the pod next to hers and does the whole, “I hope we don’t keep you up talking,” thing.
I hope he’s not a snorer.
The lady stands and points to her seat. “Please sit”
Now it’s my turn to furrow a brow; she’s giving up her seat to me. Huh?
“Sit.” She says more commandingly. “If I sit there and you on the floor, you’ll be looking up my dress the whole time. Besides, it’s good manners to offer a seat to your guests.”
So I take a seat and she sits down, cross-legged, back against the partition wall looking at me with inquisitive green eyes. Those are so much better than those hateful ones.
The passenger next is a snorer apparently. The lady snickers a bit and pulls out the round glyphed object from her purse again and sets it between us. Some gesturing and an unintelligible word lead to my ears popping again from our little barrier of silence.
“I have questions of you Arthur Macaner.”
“MacInerny, Lady Jxsiga.”
She rolls her eyes and a nods in the affirmative - “Yes, MacInerny. And drop the Lady for now, those who know me call me Jex. I’m curious of your relationship with Silithes. Is it true you’ve resisted tasting of her talents for over fifty years?”
“Almost eighty actually. And yes, it’s true. Though she had me once and let me go.” I'm leaving off the last time…
The inquisitive face becomes even more inquisitive after that and a moment of silence passed between us. “She let you go?”
“Long story Lady… err Jex. I had sent her away to the holding place because of her involvement in Maldgorath’s scheme. But, she had confessed love for my son and upon reflection, I thought true regret for how things panned out. So, I released her. She jumped me while my guard was down, realized it was wrong and apologized.”
“Love for your son?”
“Yea a really strange and awkward situation.”
“But still, almost eighty years. How did you resist her?”
I didn’t sense anything from her but curiosity. But then everyone thinks my refusing Sil is something strange. “Well, for the longest time – I just plain didn’t like her. That and I loved - love - my wife. She’d have been hurt if I strayed. I could never cause her pain.”
That actually got a chuckle and smile from the lady, “The power of true love, eh?”
I just shrug.
“It is an amazing thing, true love,” she says, her eyes steadily peering through me. Then she changes topic. “So, you spent time with him; do you think that the Baalig in the media is real Ahtsag Znuul? The Grace’s reports indicated he had affection for that wizard, Lightbringer.”
I recognize when I’m being pumped for information and I also know I lie for shit. So, taking a page from the demon handbook, I answer with a half-truth. “As best I could tell they were tight, very tight. I couldn’t imagine such a betrayal.”
She tales a moment analyzing my response and after a moment nods back to me.
My turn.
“So tell me about the whole housewife thing… How did that work, with the hungers and you being such a superior creature.”
That question gets me the same sneer that Sil gives me when something displeases her, followed by a smirk while she reaches for her purse. She opens it, pulls out a small vial, unscrews it and dips a finger in it. That finger makes its way to her mouth.
“Ah… the blue stuff,” I say in recognition of what she was using to quell her hungers.
“Not as good as fresh, but still effective,” she says “It’s funny, Frank used to get so despondent that he couldn’t take care of all my needs that way. But then he took care of me in so many other ways than just that one little thing.” She looks away from me, a woman still mourning.
“Sounds like a good man Jex, I’m sorry for your loss - but happy you got to experience what time you did with him. Some folks never get that lucky in the first place.”
Unfortunately my attempt at a pick me up wasn’t working well.
“What would your brother have thought?”
The change of topic works like a charm and actually gets a light chuckle.
“Well there’s no telling to what state he’s in or would have been in. But I imagine he’d think I lost my mind and debased myself. Of course, that didn’t stop me from fantasizing about him being happy for me and being a good uncle – silly and weak, huh? But truth is as long as he suffers from the curse, he most likely still clings to the old ways.”
I search my memory about what happened to him. It was a gypsy curse thing I think.
“So can’t all curses be lifted?”
“Most” she says absently “This one’s a classic… true love’s kiss.”
Oh please, I think to myself – “How hard could it be for an incubus to get someone to love him?”
That gets a knowing smile. “Not hard at all. But the true love has to be in his kiss. That’s part of the reason I never reached out. I stumbled into exactly what he needed. He might have interpreted it wrongly - me rubbing it in. I did treat him with such disregard after the curse...”
Regret. I see it all over her face. And in between the lines I see she really misses her brother too. This is not a topic to pursue.
“So, coast of France, Italy, no… Ireland? Where was this love nest of yours?”
That question gets me a real smile – bingo!
“Why Arthur MacInerny,” she says changing to a light southern American drawl, “You are the dreamer. Our love nest was in LA. Lower Alabama, that is – Mobile to be exact. I baked cookies for the PTA, played with a ladies tennis team and even got involved in the junior auxiliary. Sometimes I miss my friends there. A lot of times really, but returning there hurts... So back to Silithes,” she says now turning the conversation on me “You dislike her you say?”
“That’s not exactly true,” I respond after a moment to collect myself and my words carefully. “In fact, she can be rather likeable, when she’s not being all succubussy. Which, by the way you don’t seem to be at all.”
She makes a shocked face at me and covers her mouth with her hand, “Oh, that’s right… you have a dick. I should be wanting that…” Her expression changes to one that says “You are an idiot” followed by that intimidating glare of hers.
“I just meant…”
She waves me off. “Silithes has only showed you the face of the temptress. Makes sense, it’s not very scary and quite inviting. Me, I don’t bother tempting anyone that I don’t want. For that matter, I don’t even use my more innate talents for killing anymore. Something that good should be used only as a reward. If someone is in need of killin,” she says leaning in with a smile and that light southern drawl “then they ain’t going to be going out pleasantly – if you get my drift.”
I get that drift – big time. Not a bitch to cross.
“So what brings you here and to wherever you are going?”
She leans back against the cabin wall. “Here, to let some good clients know I am leaving an ages old business. There – revenge and to claim what is mine. I created a certain organization that does certain things. Certain things I wish to divest myself of. But as I see it, I am due my original investments. Well, I am being denied those original investments. And being told basically to deal with it. I will not be denied what is mine.”
That kind of amazes me. Who would cross the Lady Jxsiga?
“Do they know what you are? I mean, do they know who they are messing with?”
With a serious look I am told, “No. The one who did know what I am, was killed as some kind of statement to me to stay the heck away. They think that I am just a skinny little rich bitch who should be happy to be alive by their graces. Sergei, the one they killed; knew me and fed me of himself well before I met Frank. He will be revenged and my property will be returned. You know, that’s why I’m flying commercial. They took my jet. My jet! Can you believe the arrogance?”
Whoever these folk are, I’m thinking they have seriously messed up.
“So, two will die certainly - the one who pulled the trigger on Sergei and the one who gave the order. After that, if they don’t see reason – you’ll probably hear about it in the media: look for a gangland bloodbath in St. Petersburg.”
She was so calm about it. No fear. She was going to take down an entire Russian gang, or they were going to give her what’s due. Ballsy - or confident because she’s done similar before. I nod to her in acknowledgement. Then I lean in.
“Tell me what you know about Maldgorath.”
That gets a look of surprise, I guess from my directness. “Well, we are bartering information then?” responds. “I know a little, so I will ask a little. Is this fair?”
Of course, I can’t agree to a blind contract with demonkind. “It may be... what are you asking?"
The intensity returns to her gaze, but thankfully not the hatred. “I ask you take my phone number and call me if the Protectorate finds information of my brother.”
This seems fair enough. Goodness knows, the Protectorate has sent me to certain death twice in less than a month’s time. “Okay,” I tell her. I guess I’m a double agent now. Or is that triple? I’m in a pact with Znuul too.
“There is a way to incapacitate a Garrigin. If you place a dagger with a blade of at least three quarter inch width into the top of its head where the two front lobes meet the rear, you wi
ll paralyze it. It stops all motor function and disrupts its ability to summon. Of course, it can still reach out telepathically to those already summoned.”
That’s not great information. If I can get that close, I’m lopping his head off. “Okay, what else?”
“I know of two landing points for Maldgorath in the earthen realm.”
Paydirt.
“One is in Beijing, at the QuanJing metal foundry. The other is a warehouse in Tel Aviv. You should know that the baby dragon that transports him, is also a great threat. It is a silver dragon and its fire is beyond destructive – even as a baby. Last, a Garrigin’s field of vision is forward oriented – they have terrible peripheral vision due to their inset eyes, but more than excellent in forward view.”
The vision thing I did not know. But I bet Znuul does.
I nod to the little Egyptian girl/woman sitting in front of me. “Anything else?”
“Run away,” she says with a smirk. Then she sits up and moves in towards me, putting her hands on my arms. She rubs them back and forth along my forearms and I feel the tell-tale arousal that comes with a certain succubus’ neuromantic attack.
“Calm down,” she tells me. “I’m not trying to have you. Just loosen you up. I’m going to give you my number now, so you can call if you hear of my brother.”
I try to reach for my phone and she stops me. “Phones can be hacked Arthur, you agreed to take my number. I plan to implant it in your memory. That way, if it’s leaked – it’s because you chose to leak it and then I know what to do.”
Crap.
Her hands are still on my arm and she’s still pushing me neuromantically. The soldier is at full attention and I am starting to freak out in defense of myself. Part of me is wanting to trust her – I don’t want to trust me.
“Calm yourself, Arthur. Think of this like a mental lubricant. You don’t want to resist, trust me. I’m just trying to make the insertion of my phone number easier.” Her eyes are so rich and green.
Holy mother! It feels like an ice pick, connected to a car battery is stuck in my forehead. I even yell out. Both of my hands are on my forehead and I realize that the number to call her is 41-75-334-4012. I will never forget that number. It is thundering in my head over and over.
The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series) Page 20