Special Deceptions (The Coursodon Dimension Book 5)

by M. L. Ryan

  Far be it for me to judge, but I was relieved the entire holiday wasn’t based on the Klydilap’s dual-purpose prick. “In that case,” I opined. “A raucous party doesn’t seem like the best way to honor the Courso-driven extinction of a native species.”

  “I know, but a lighthearted event is better than ignoring culpability. It brings their ancestors’ atrocities against nature to the forefront every year.”

  Ulut shook his head. “In Dekankara, we’d be more likely to celebrate the guy who killed the last one.”

  Having spent time there, his assessment made perfect sense. While I nodded in agreement, Tannis—lacking any context with which to judge the third dimension—looked like she’d bit into an wormy apple. To her credit, the expression was fleeting, and she continued the conversation as if Ulut hadn’t spoken at all. “On the other hand,” she said, surveying the surrounding merriment. “We’d never have anything like this in Alenquai.”

  I pointed toward the king and queen, sitting on a stage wearing freakishly life-like Klydilap costumes. “It is hard to picture your mother hobnobbing with the masses while dressed up like a well-endowed pig-rhinocer-phant.”

  “Uncle Fry does know how to have a good time,” she agreed. “My father’s whole family is known for their sense of humor.”

  I found Tannis’ revelation oddly depressing. While her uncle had a certain natural effervescence, his brother, Wyx, wasn’t exactly the life of the party. Maybe marriage to Tannis’ mom sucked the humor right out of him, but I couldn’t ignore the possibility that the drudgery of royal life played a major role. It was tough to remain jovial when someone had an opinion concerning every move you made; a reality I was becoming more familiar with on a daily basis.

  Tannis’ bell-like voice pulled me from my brooding. “I need a cold drink before we go to the carving competition. Either of you want one?”

  I didn’t, but I offered go along to keep her company.

  “That’s okay,” she countered. “You two go ahead; I will meet you there.”

  Ulut’s eyes darted between Tannis and me. Sebastian had assigned him the thankless task of keeping me out of trouble, but Ulut clearly wanted to accompany the beautiful—and single—hot chick. Not that I could blame him; if I were male, I’d choose her over me in a heartbeat. I also knew he’d pick loyalty over libido, and I wanted to spare him the onerous choice. Besides, Uncle Fry assigned four King’s Guards to escort us through the festival. Ulut’s attendance was just Sebastian being overprotective.

  “Ulut, if you’re thirsty, you should go with Tannis.” I inclined my head toward the security detail. “I think I’ll be fine without you.”

  Any lingering doubts concerning his promises to Sebastian evaporated. “As long as you are sure,” he mumbled, moving immediately toward Tannis. Yep, he had it bad. If her broad smile was any indication, she was as delighted as he was by the arrangement.

  Followed by her sentries du jour, Tannis and Ulut went in search of fresh-squeezed lemonade while my babysitters and I weaved through the ever-expanding crowd in search of the radish-sculpting tent. It wasn’t hard to find—it was the one with the longest queue—and it didn’t take long to get there because when flanked by two stern-faced King’s Guards, people tended to scamper out of the way. Loki—the name I assigned to the Tom Hiddleston look alike—offered to use his influence to move us to the front, but I nixed that idea.

  “No one likes some pseudo-celebrity cutting in line,” I argued. “I’ll wait my turn.”

  The taller sentry, who didn’t remind me of anyone and whose name I promptly forgot, shrugged and muttered, “As you wish, milady.” The words were polite, but his tone told a different story.

  Suit Yourself stood behind me while Loki positioned himself on my left as the column of people moved slowly but steadily closer to the entrance. The delay didn’t bother me; the weather was pleasantly cool and I got a chance to really scope out the costumes. Taking in the entirety of the embellished masses, I felt a little under dressed for the occasion.

  Just as I considered using the gift I’d purchased for Rachel as to better blend in, someone to my right whispered, “I didn’t say he was dispatched using magic.”

  My breath hitched in my throat. I whirled around, expecting to finally get a good look at Deep Throat, but the bitch thwarted me once again. She’d taken advantage of the festival’s theme and disguised herself from head to toe as a Klydilap. The life-like, full head mask obscured her features, but not her now-familiar voice.

  Moving purposefully past me, she added, “Look closer,” before veering away from the line. I stood dumbfounded as Deep Throat weaved through the multitude of revelers.

  “Doprix nix,” I spat, finally regaining my senses.

  The entire encounter lasted only a few seconds. She hadn’t touched me; hell, she barely slowed down to deliver her newest message. To Loki and Suit Yourself, yet another costumed celebrant gliding by was no concern, but my use of the dreaded “d” word got their attention. Morphing into mega-protection mode, they positioned themselves between me and the unseen threat that had made me curse like a sailor.

  I provided a brief explanation of what transpired, but rather than pursuit, they elected to maintain their vigilance over me.

  “But, she’s getting away,” I yelled. “Follow her!”

  Suit Yourself did his best to appease me. “Our duty is to safeguard you. We have alerted other operatives,” he explained, nodding toward Loki, who barked instructions into a band on his wrist. “But we cannot leave you to pursue her.”

  As nice as a cadre of uniformed guards sounded, by the time they arrived, Deep Throat would be long gone. Someone needed to act now, and that someone was me.

  I wriggled out of Loki and SY’s defensive cocoon and took off toward where my masked nemesis departed. Neither had expected me to bolt, and I used the element of surprise to put some distance between us. While they may have been faster in a race devoid of obstacles, the dense crowd worked to my advantage. My smaller size allowed me to traverse the masses more efficiently than two muscle-bound officers, and they couldn’t keep up without flattening most of the festivalgoers. With them trailing, I darted behind a canvas pavilion where kids were playing pin the penis on the Klydilap, stripped and willed myself to form-bend.

  My pissed-off babysitters skidded around the tent just as I took flight. I caught a glimpse of them—Suit Yourself stared into the sky, clutching my discarded clothing while Loki shouted frantically into his wrist—and hoped they didn’t get reamed for losing me. Good thing I’d decided the festival was no place to wear a giant engagement ring and left Dyzopga with the Wiqyrd dirthyxa. Pixie would never forgive me for letting it slip off during a transformation.

  From my bird’s eye view, it wasn’t difficult to spot my prey. Deep Throat was a tall woman. Even among all the other costumed folk, I could still make out the top of her dappled, fake head bobbing through the crowd. The fact that she was moving in the opposite direction from the majority of the partiers helped, too.

  Deep Throat’s pace slowed as she exited the festival, still brisk, but nothing that might attract attention. At first, she kept to sidewalks along a busy roadway, looking much like everyone else going home after a day of celebration. After about half a mile, she diverted into an alley and disappeared through a narrow doorway.

  I landed on the roof of the building opposite and considered my options. I could stay put and hope she came out the same way she went in, or find a better vantage point where I could see both the front and the back of the building. The latter seemed preferable, but I worried I might miss DT’s exit while flying to my new position. Confounding either choice was the very real possibility that she wasn’t coming out any time soon, and I’d be stuck feathery for who knew how long. Not that I minded a protracted stakeout, but I’d need food soon, and I hadn’t noticed anything warm and furry skittering around the trash cans. What a poor excuse for an alley, I noted glumly. Where’s a rat when you need one?
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br />   Luckily, neither my wavering nor the apparent lack of vermin proved problematic when the door opened and Deep Throat emerged. She’d ditched the Klydilap disguise, opting instead for a long, hooded cloak, but even without the mask, I still couldn’t get a good look at her face. I was pretty sure it was her—the body size and determined stride were the same—but as I took flight after her, I mentally crossed my currently nonexistent fingers that I was following the right person.

  I followed above as she left the alley, returning to her original northerly route away from the festival grounds. Occasionally, she’d double back a bit, and then take a slightly different path to get back to the place she veered off, only to continue moving to the north. Her many detours suggested an effort to identify a pursuer; only someone intent on tailing her would mimic the circuitous route. Alex taught me the same maneuver, and it might have worked if she’d bothered to look up. No one suspected aerial surveillance from a bird; that was why my hawk form was such a valuable asset to the Xyzok.

  We continued the circumnavigation for the better part of an hour until Little Deep Throat Walking Hood turned to the east and started acting like a normal pedestrian. Whether the modification was a result of believing no followers lurked, or she’d simply grown weary of the tactic, was immaterial. Either way, I appreciated the more straightforward path; flying in small circles made me dizzy.

  If I’d had twenty chances, I wouldn’t have guessed where we ended up. A secluded safe house on the outskirts of town? Sure. A marqizobaz to whisk her away to points unknown? Certainly. But back to the palace grounds? Never in a million years. As she approached, I assumed she’d attempt to sneak inside, but she avoided the actual palace entirely. Instead, she went through a good-sized, unguarded iron gate located on the far south side, which opened when she placed her palm against the lock. After securing the gate behind her, she walked around a big—but small by palace standards—outbuilding. As I banked, the pitch of the roof obscured my sight line. I couldn’t see her for only an instant, but it was enough time for her to vanish.

  What the hell? I circled around a few times, finally alighting on a thick branch of a nearby oak. The structure, separated from the palace by at least two hundred feet, was one I hadn’t noticed before, but I hadn’t spent a lot of time checking out the expansive acreage. She must be able to make herself invisible, I reasoned, scanning the area from my perch. It was the only explanation that made sense; there was no obvious entryway on that side of the building, nor was there an abundance of shrubs where she might hide. It also suggested she knew she was followed.

  Recalling that cloaking required a huge energy expense, I made wider passes above the property, hoping to catch a glimpse of her if fatigue settled in. It was a longshot, but better than doing nothing. After thirty minutes with no sign, I had to accept that, once again, she had given me the slip.

  The squirrel I hunted afterward sated my bend-induced hunger, but it did nothing to vent my frustration. I was so close to figuring out who the tramp was; it didn’t seem fair she disappeared into an arcane illusion. A lot like how she “vanished” from my room. Invisibility had its advantages; she could have left the grounds entirely, or moseyed through the front door when someone else entered. She could even just be standing somewhere, waiting for me to fly off. Fucking magic.

  As if I wasn’t feeling crappy enough, there was no shortage of unhappy campers waiting in my suite when I returned. Pixie, Ulut, and Sebastian, all in varying stages of discontent, were visible through the glass of the French door. If Sebastard hadn’t been so freaking observant and not noticed me land on the balcony rail, I’d have flown away rather than deal with their rebukes.

  Instead, I opted to remain feathery while they shouted over one another, counting on rationality overcoming anger when they realized how ludicrous yelling at a bird was. My ploy wasn’t entirely successful; Sebastian and Ulut continued to chew me out, but having Pixie stop his relentless whining was victory enough.

  “How could you be so irresponsible?” Sebastian spat, tossing a robe in my direction. “No one had any idea where you were, or if you were safe.”

  Ulut narrowed his eyes. “I leave you for a few minutes, and you take off.” His reprimand, which conjured up a lifetime of manipulative maternal rebukes, both surprised and annoyed me. He wasn’t generally the guilt-tripping type, but in the interest of keeping what little semblance of accord remained, I refrained from calling him, “Mom.”

  “Hey,” I began, pushing my thoughts out. “Deep Throat would have gotten away if I didn’t go after her. I only had a second or two to decide.”

  Sebastian lifted one eyebrow. “Deep Throat, eh? I suppose a rather apropos appellation. But back to the topic at hand. You have explained why you pursued her, but you have been gone for over two hours.” His voice trembled, but I could tell it was more from fear than rage.

  Hopping down from the balustrade, I changed back into me and wrapped myself in the thick terry cloth. “I’m really sorry you were worried. After I followed her, I hunted a squirrel.”

  “Your dietary requirements are secondary to reporting your whereabouts and status,” Sebastian chided, arms crossed indignantly over his chest. “Keeping in contact is essential in any operation.”

  “You’re right,” I admitted. “I should have come back right away.”

  “If anything had happened to you, I don’t know how I would have explained it to the queen,” Pixie fretted, finally reentering the conversation. “But, at least you had relinquished your ring to the Wiqyrd dirthyxa.”

  Nice to know Pixie’s worries about me didn’t prevent him from making certain the ring was safe.

  I blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m fine, and I was never in danger.”

  Sebastian studied the PA. “Would you mind finding Myrjix? I am certain Hailey requires more than one rodent to assuage her hunger.”

  Pixie glanced between the Xyzok and me. It seemed he might object, but he nodded and went to locate my lady-in-waiting. I could have mentioned using the jyrgitsap to summon her, but I suspected Sebastian—much like me—had enough of Pixie’s high-pitched histrionics.

  “Now, my dear,” Sebastian queried, once Pixie had gone. “I assume you have something to report?”

  Ah. It wasn’t that he wanted Pixie elsewhere because of the man’s grating personality. Sebastian just didn’t trust the little guy. Interesting.

  “Yes and no,” I answered, then summarized the afternoon’s observations.

  “Too bad you didn’t get a good look at her,” Ulut remarked.

  Sebastian agreed. “Yes, quite the bad luck.” He tapped his forefinger against his chin. “She came back here you say? How… curious.”

  “I know. I couldn’t believe it either.”

  He projected a large, holographic map of the property from his palms, and then had me describe exactly where Deep Throat disappeared. I’d only seen that sort of image rendering with memories, and inquired how he managed to cast such a detailed recollection of a place where he hadn’t spent much time.

  “I am blessed with a photographic memory,” Sebastian explained. “The head of the King’s Guard supplied me with a hard copy when I first arrived so I might acquaint myself with the area.”

  “I’m jealous,” I admitted. “I could have used that ability when I was a grad student. Studying the endless physiologic pathways would have been a breeze.”

  “Yes, but I cannot transform as both Ulut and you can.” He gazed off for a moment before shaking off whatever vision distracted him. Sebastian had more magical aptitude than most Courso, and it seemed unfair that one of the few talents he lacked was one of the few he’d given me, and one he coveted. “Now, let us determine exactly where she was last observed.”

  At first, I had a tough time figuring out which of the many structures was the correct one, but once he provided the aerial perspective, I located it within seconds.

  “There,” I said, pointing to the place where she disappeared. “Betwe
en the wall and the path.”

  Sebastian scrutinized the 3-D image. “You were correct, my dear. There is no obvious point of ingress. However, that does not indicate an entryway does not exist.”

  He grinned imperiously, adding his trademark single, uplifted brow. I knew the expression meant he had additional information to divulge but wanted me to prod him into revealing it. Normally, I’d refuse to play along, staring silently until he tired of milking the moment, but impatience won out and I took the bait. Sort of.

  “If Courso can walk through walls, you could have mentioned that a long time ago. Would have saved a lot of time and effort using locks.”

  “Your sarcastic retort is not far from the truth,” Sebastian observed, his smirk growing wider. “If I am right, which I usually am, a door exists, but it has been magically obfuscated.”

  Ulut inclined his head. “She made it vibrate?” He spoke English so well it was easy to forget it wasn’t his native tongue.

  “Not oscillated,” Sebastian clarified after a moment’s hesitation. “Obfuscated. Instead of making herself disappear, Deep Throat made the door invisible.”

  16

  Sebastian was, indeed, correct about the non-door. Standing alongside the building in question, it took only a few seconds for him to identify and expose the magic that disguised the entry. The building had once housed servants when kings and queens were reluctant to share even a tiny bit of an enormous palace with their domestics. Nowadays, most of the staff lived in an attached—albeit distant—wing of the royal household. This place was currently used for storage.

  There was only one large room on the main level, although linear discolorations on the ceiling suggested walls once separated the space. Straight rows of sheet-covered furniture stood like an army of silent ghosts, dimly illuminated by rays of light escaping around the edges of the heavily draped windows. Dust blanketed the floor, in which I expected to see some indication a person had been inside recently, but the only footprints were ours.