Out of nowhere, Buzz had stolen a nervous peck of a kiss, and JT had turned to him high as a kite and so damn grateful, and Buzz was so damn cute, all redheaded Irish, and who’d say no to that? Not anyone sensible. Seconds later, shirts were off, JT had Buzz pinned beneath him, and Buzz’s mouth had tasted like pot, and his sweet eager fear of JT had been a cologne that sent JT higher than any weed.
“I didn’t sleep with him, okay? But I would have. If I hadn’t bit him first. And he hadn’t kicked me out. It really didn’t bleed all that bad.”
“That’s why you said yes to this job. You got a thing for Buzz.”
“I don’t have a thing. We have some history. I wasn’t gonna let him get killed.”
“History,” Austin said and let the word hang there between them like it had some significance. “I wish I’d known that before. I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of getting that car. Let’s get this over with so you can get back to that nice, quiet, real life of yours.” He turned and went back into the apartment, leaving JT alone in a hallway that had just gone very, very chilly.
“JT Jameson,” Victor the Wizard said, using a name JT hadn’t gone by in years, with a greasy awe that JT didn’t trust one bit, “and Austin Shea. Legends in the flesh.”
“And who the hell are you?” Austin asked.
“Victor the Wizard, Transmuter and Bearer of the Silver Eyes of Horus.”
Austin rolled his eyes. “Right. Buzz, what’s he here for? We didn’t talk about bringing in a wizzy on the job.”
“I prefer the full term ‘wizard.’”
They were all sitting around the coffee table as if they were best friends planning a night out, except that Victor was still floating and watching his magical lava lamp, and Buzz was bouncing one leg like he was going to vibrate it off. The room was still chilly, and JT rubbed his arms.
“I did it, Austin.” Buzz smiled so broad and proud, it made one dimple show.
“I know you brought him in, Buzz. I want to know why.”
The windows weren’t open. It was Austin’s glamour making JT shiver. He leaned toward the elf. “Why are you pissed at me? What did I do?”
“I ain’t pissed at you, JT.”
Buzz leapt up from his chair and drew a crystal data block from his shirt pocket with a flourish. It went iridescent with refracted lava light. “No, I mean, I did it. I stole the Blue Unicorn just like you said.” He bounced in place like he’d just made the winning goal, one hand in the air waiting for the onslaught of high fives.
Everyone stared at him and didn’t say anything. No one jumped up to high-five him. Buzz’s excitement ebbed, and he stopped bouncing. He scowled at them all. “I know that wasn’t the plan. It’s called improvisation. Thinking on your feet? Adaptability? It’s considered a strength.” And his hand went up again, giving everyone a second chance at high fives.
They all leapt up shouting, none of it congratulations. Austin shouted curses. JT shouted at Austin, “You told Buzz to steal a data block from the Triad?”
“I told him to wait until you and I got here.”
“You told me you were hiding from a gang, not a triad,” Victor said to Buzz.
“You told me this was a rescue operation,” JT said to Austin.
“A triad is a gang.”
“This is a rescue operation.”
“You were not candid with me, Buzz,” Victor said.
“You lied to me, Austin,” JT said.
“I may have meant to, but as it turns out, I didn’t.” Austin rounded on Buzz. “I told you to wait!”
“You would have done the same thing!” Buzz said.
“You’re not me. You could have blown the whole fucking thing!”
“I was just—”
“You’ve put me at risk, Buzz!” Victor said.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Leave him alone!” JT bellowed and stepped in front of Buzz. “Both of you leave him alone!” The room was too small for an orc to be bellowing. It rattled the mobile with its little skeletons and they ran/flew/crawled faster until they tangled themselves in a mess. JT’s heart pounded like a war drum. He was running dangerously hot, so huffed a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, but that just showed how much muscle there was to him, like a bull snorting in the ring. Even Austin shut up and took a step back. The anxious tension in the room was too much, too distracting, and he couldn’t hold on to his drones like this.
It was Austin’s glamour, Austin’s glamour fanning JT’s orc blood into a wildfire. “Your glamour, Austin. Move farther away.” Austin did and the hot edge of JT cooled like a newly forged blade hitting oil. Deeper breaths. Deeper. “We need to be on the road. We need to be on the road now.”
He went to the window.
“Where are you going?” Austin said.
“Fire escape. Roof. I’m going to call the truck and I’ll get a better signal up there.” And I’ll be farther away from all of you.
JT didn’t have to be anywhere near his truck to drive it as long as he had a good signal, and with the Traffic Net there was even less to do: power up the truck, give BATN a destination, wait. Five minutes was the ETA BATN gave, which seemed like a goddamn long time, considering, but JT was still unwilling to try the emergency responder codes. They’d just have to wait.
And he was going to wait up here, alone, watching the fog, everything quiet. Sweet goddess, he loved the quiet. It was always surprising how quiet the City got at night with the fog. Like the desert. Or like the desert had been until Austin showed up with his damn car and his glamour and his lies.
JT heard climbing on the ladder and said, “Austin, I really don’t want to talk to you right—” Before he flipped a camera there and saw it was Buzz. “Oh. You probably shouldn’t be out here.”
Buzz hesitated, then came up the rest of the way anyway. Buzz leaned against the parapet that surrounded the roof, a safe meter between him and JT, and they watched the streets fill up with fog. He said, “Thanks for that down there.”
“You shouldn’t have listened to Austin.”
“It wasn’t his idea. It was mine.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was Austin’s. He’s good at making you think his ideas are yours.”
“No, it really was mine.”
JT sighed and shook his head. “You’re welcome.”
Even the rooftop wasn’t far enough away. JT still felt the tug of him. He felt Austin the way a planet felt the sun, that same inescapable running-away and falling-in that only ended when you burned up.
“And look, I shouldn’t have said . . . about the whole cannibal thing . . .” Buzz winced. “Austin didn’t tell me he was bringing you in, so you surprised me, was all. I suppose I should have figured it, but I guess I didn’t think you’d come after I . . .” He shook his head and looked uncomfortable, and JT kind of liked that and wasn’t about to interrupt him. “I’m not used to orcs—I mean look at you. You’re huge and you’ve got tusks and your eyes glow red and—”
“I get it, I’m scary.” He was still angry and didn’t want to be, and he blamed that on Austin’s glamour too.
Buzz looked away, guiltily, down into the fog. “I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I’m tired of working in the background. I’m tired of being safe. I want to be the one people talk about.”
This was Austin talking, not Buzz. This was how Austin did it. Always the lies. Always his glamour messing with everyone’s head until no one knew what they really felt about anything. Once was a time JT actually thought he’d been in love with him, crazy as it sounded. Well, fuck Austin. Fuck him. JT wasn’t gonna let Austin mess with him anymore.
“Kiss me,” JT said.
“What? Are you sure? This isn’t a good time, is it?”
They were alone—all clear for six blocks. They had four more minutes to kill, and Buzz needed to get his damn priorities straight. “You want to prove you’re not afraid, then kiss me. Right now.”
“Okay. Yeah.” Buzz laid his
left hand against JT’s chest, slowly, like he was petting a dangerous dog, and cussed at how rock-hard the muscle there was. He cocked his head up, JT ten centimeters taller than him. JT closed his eyes and didn’t move, not wanting to scare him.
A drone turned and watched as Buzz kissed him, featherlight, as sweet as the kiss Buzz had stolen eighteen months before.
Buzz leaned in closer, right hand on JT’s biceps, grip barely covering the one muscle, and kissed JT again, firmer, longer. Buzz’s lips parted. His hands slid down JT, chest to waist, biceps to forearm, forearm to JT’s hand, fingers intertwining. There was something about handholding more than the kiss: the honesty of it, the simplicity of it (things Austin could never give). And JT couldn’t keep still anymore. His arms went around Buzz, and Buzz stiffened, afraid, then relaxed and let it happen.
Last two years, JT had stuck mostly to orcs, and it was so nice to hold a body smaller than his, not hyper-muscled or elven perfect. For once JT didn’t have to be special. He was just an everyday orc holding an everyday guy that he liked to hold—a quiet guy, a nice guy, a guy like the fog or the desert.
So JT held him tighter. He nuzzled his tusks against Buzz’s freckled cheek, down his neck to his shoulder, careful not to hurt him, not even a scratch. But Buzz’s fear came anyway, and it went straight to JT’s head. He went a bit dizzy. His cock thickened, and JT could feel his pulse down in his balls. Through a drone’s eyes, he could see his own eyes narrow, hungry, and fleck with red. This was how it had all gone pear-shaped last time.
He pushed Buzz away, one oversized hand against Buzz’s cheek.
“No,” Buzz said. Buzz’s eyes were dilated wide and dark. He turned his head so JT’s black-nailed thumb lay across his lips, then he sucked the thumb into his warm, soft mouth, and JT laughed, it felt so good. Buzz smiled at him, goofy looking with an orc’s thumb stuck in his mouth.
JT let his other hand slide down to Buzz’s crotch. Good and hard, same as JT. “What color’s your hair down there?”
Buzz grimaced. “Orange.”
JT grinned, all tusks and fangs. “We’re gonna look like an Irish flag when you fuck me.” He pulled Buzz in and held him around the waist. Their cocks rubbed through denim, and JT felt the cool damp of pre-come in his shorts.
The Electric Dragon Triad opened fire from a kilometer away.
Austin watched JT climb out onto the fire escape and up.
“Your glamour interacts poorly with the orc’s blood,” Victor the Wizard said.
“My glamour interacts just fine, same as the rest of me,” Austin said with a sharp glance at Buzz.
Buzz? Seriously? What did Buzz have that Austin didn’t? Out of shape, pasty, naive, spineless. Okay, he was Irish, so that counted for something (though it was hard to imagine Austin and Buzz sharing the same ancestry no matter how far back you went). And, okay, so Buzz had stolen the Blue Unicorn, and that took some balls (but it was still stupid as shit). And “history”? Seriously, Buzz and JT had “history”? Well what about Austin and JT? They had history. A lot more fucking history than some kiss that went bad. Austin and JT, they had whole years that went bad.
“You shouldn’t have lied to him,” Buzz said.
“He would never have come if I hadn’t lied.”
“The Triad will destroy my home,” Victor the Wizard said. “I want a cut.”
Buzz said, “There isn’t—”
“One-quarter, even split,” Austin said. As much as he didn’t like wizards, they could use one.
“Austin, we aren’t—” Buzz complained.
Add to Buzz’s list of shortcomings: he was too honest by half. Austin would break the news to Victor that they weren’t getting paid after the dust settled. “Shut up, Buzz. One-quarter, Vic. And you’re coming with us.”
“Agreed.”
“I can’t believe you.” Buzz went to the window.
“Where are you going?” Austin said.
“To find JT.”
“If you’re going up there, give me that data block.”
“No. I stole it. I’m holding on to it.” And he climbed out onto the fire escape.
Austin huffed and plopped down into an overstuffed chair. He pulled out one of his magic-filled stones without looking. It was the one JT had given him. He frowned and chose another. He drew it along arrow heads, transferring their magic, and enchanted sparks flew.
Austin and Victor sat quietly, attention on the lava lamp between them. Its red globs bubbled the same way a lava lamp normally did, except occasionally the bubbles almost looked like something the way clouds almost looked like something. When that happened, Victor would wave his hand and the globs would flow backward, then forward again. Finally he would drop his hand and the lamp would go back to its normal abnormality.
Victor said, “Your glamour is remarkably strong.”
“It ain’t easy being me.” What were they doing up there on the roof?
“Volatile as orcs are, it’s a wonder JT can tolerate it. Even I can feel it.”
“Yeah, and what’s it feel like?” He could ask Victor to look in on them, but that might give the wizard the wrong impression. Austin didn’t get jealous. Getting jealous meant you felt inadequate.
“It feels old.”
“I’m twenty-six.” Jealousy meant you felt second-best.
“Like a secret.”
“That’s me: Austin Shea, elf of mystery.” Jealousy meant you felt flawed.
“Like if I only looked closer, I would learn something no one else knew,” Victor the Wizard said softly.
So it couldn’t be jealousy. Maybe Nebraska could take a quick peek? A mostly invisible familiar was as discreet as it got.
“If you let me study you, Austin—”
Austin’s clothes snapped, he moved so fast. Victor blinked his strange silver eyes at the arrow against his throat. Austin whispered into the wizard’s ear, “No one will ever study JT or me again. Ever. Do you understand?” Austin was probably overreacting, but he wanted to make sure his point wasn’t lost. He didn’t like wizards. He especially didn’t like wizards who had a disproportionate interest in the strength of his glamour.
Victor nodded carefully toward the lava lamp. “It’s starting.” The not-wax had formed itself into a stream of objects like parading ants. It took Austin a moment to process the scene: not ants, bullets. Austin let Victor go, all offenses forgotten, and Victor’s eyes went argent with power.
The spray of 20-mm bullets left the dual-rotored Kydoimos 647 Nightshrike gunship at 550 meters per second. Given loss of velocity due to drag, three seconds to impact. Target: two men standing in close proximity on a rooftop. The men would hear the shockwave of the supersonic bullets—a loud crackle—a moment before they died. Not enough warning for anything.
Except that Drone Four detected the multiple shockwaves at 100 meters out and transmitted the sound to JT via narrow microwave. JT recognized the sound immediately, about 95 nanoseconds, which gave him almost a half second to react.
And except that Victor the Wizard’s oracular lava lamp was keyed to find threats, not sounds, and had a range determined mostly by aetheric confluences. In fact, it didn’t understand distance any more than it understood past or future. Inexactness all around. So Victor had no idea how long he had to deliberate over the transmutation of a cloud of 100 gram bullets into something less deadly (though with equivalent mass and still traveling at around 300 meters per second). So he did the first thing that came to mind.
“Duck,” JT said and tackled Buzz down to the solar-paper roof. With nothing to hide behind but scrawny ventilation tubes, a small profile was the only defense they had.
JT sent all four airborne drones toward the Triad gunship, and braced himself for the impact. He buried his face into Buzz’s hair. If you’re about to die, priorities.
Thuds all around him, strangely dull for bullets. Cold wet sprayed over him. Cold trickled down his cheek. “What the hell?” he said and rose up and looked. He rose too far up,
and a loose-packed snowball the size of a softball hit him in the shoulder and exploded. It hit hard as a hammer; there’d be a bruise. More snowballs came in—bam bam bam bam bam—a wide spray of them that left white streaks on the rooftop and snow bursts on the low walls.
“That’s Victor,” Buzz said.
“Let’s go!” JT hauled him standing. They scrambled, crouching low through the storm of snow, to the fire escape. He checked all his eyes: the fire escape and alley were clear. Drone Two in the apartment building foyer saw nothing, all clear. Drone One was still on repeater duty.
Drones Three through Six saw the gunship. The gunship saw them and switched targets.
Down the ladder: Buzz first, JT hot after. Clang, as they hit the landing.
The truck was still one minute out. JT sent the emergency responder code to take it off the Traffic Net. What the hell was the Triad thinking, pulling out firepower like that? Gunfire over the city would trigger a citywide traffic lockdown. What the hell had Buzz stolen?
As JT ducked through the window back into Victor’s apartment, he caught shadows across the street flitting up and down walls and through fog. He thought they were police fliers, but there was no way to know; all his eyes were one K away engaging the gunship.
Buzz followed him into Victor’s weird, lava-lit living room.
BATN rejected his first ER code, his second, his third. They were all too old, obsolete. BATN locked down JT’s truck just like he’d expected. They weren’t going anywhere.
“We’re trapped,” he told everyone.
“You okay?” Austin asked them.
“Yes.” And JT fell into his old coordinator’s role, second nature. “Nightshrike a kilometer southeast, Drones Three through Six engaged, repositioning Drone One”—along streets gone deathly quiet—“Drone Two, front door, all clear, blind on the rooftop and alley. No, there’s something on the street.”
It hadn’t been the SFPD he’d seen. It had been 49ers, triad foot soldiers, called that for the numerological significance, not for the football team. They were running windowsill to windowsill, wall-crawling effortlessly, dressed in black, with runeblades flashing red and QCW-10 submachine guns shoulder-slung.
The Glamour Thieves Page 5