Owl and the Tiger Thieves

by Kristi Charish

  I stared at my best friend. It was as if I were staring at a completely different person. “What the hell has gotten into you? Nadya, you’re usually the voice of reason. You’re the conscientious one.”

  A dark look crossed her beautiful features. “Maybe I’ve had to grow up as well in the past few months.”

  I was starting to think I shouldn’t have left Nadya in Tokyo with the monsters for so long. After I fixed all the other problems, I was going to have to rectify that.

  Nadya let out a breath and shook her head. “Just forget I said anything. It was an idea. If things come to the worst. Let’s leave it at that—a suggestion.”

  Nadya took the empty bottles from the bar—there were a few; I’d needed them as the others had updated me on the situation in Tokyo—and headed into the back.

  I turned my phone over, still reeling from Nadya’s admission. There was a new message from Lady Siyu . . . and a text . . . and an email. Shit, I’d pushed the idea of dealing with her to the back of my mind. It was a simple message—only a few words long and very to the point: “We have been made aware of the da Vinci device. Return with it or do not return to us at all. You have been warned.”

  All of them were the same. I swore and considered my options. First off, there was no way in hell I was giving the evil dynamic duo the device—no way, no how—but I wouldn’t be telling them that either. Lady Siyu was itching for a reason to kill me. I pushed that thought aside, though.

  I heard the door open as Oricho reentered.

  I sighed, abandoning any idea of trying to mollify Lady Siyu over email. I’d deal with it once we’d gotten Rynn out—or died. That was a distinct possibility . . . today’s supernatural threat to my existence, not tomorrow’s . . .

  “Please tell me there are no more imminent supernatural disasters on the horizon,” I said, putting the phone away.

  Oricho inclined his head. “You can ask them that yourself, as you will have a chance to meet a representative from the other side. Artemis has succeeded in arranging a negotiation.”

  I didn’t know if I was optimistic about the idea of negotiating. The other side hadn’t struck me as the negotiating type so far. “So they’ve actually invited us to a sit-down?”

  Oricho inclined his head. “In a matter of speaking . . .”

  I grabbed my jacket from the bar. “Come on, Captain—this I’ve got to see.”

  Of all the ideas that had run through my head regarding a meeting of supernatural powers, one that involved a scene this macabre hadn’t even made my list.

  I glanced up at the skyscraper once more, at the man sitting on the ledge. Emergency workers were gathered around, some of them trying to place a net in the best possible position while others attempted to talk him down.

  I’m jaded, especially where the supernatural is concerned, but this was pushing it, even for me. “I thought the Kitsune drained their victims of life through work?” I asked Oricho. Nadya had warned me about the salarymen/-women deaths, but she—and the media—had made it sound as though they’d died of exhaustion and dehydration at their desks, not, well . . .

  “Usually that is the Kitsune’s preferred method of feeding—slowly, over a period of months or years,” Oricho replied. “But like any of us, they also make their exceptions. This is their idea of making a scene.”

  I’ll say. I shielded my eyes against the spotlights darting across the skyscraper. He had to be on, what, the thirtieth floor? I shivered, not immune to the tragic nature of the spectacle being put on. The guy didn’t want to kill himself, not really—it was a result of the feeding that had probably been going on for weeks or even months now that was driving him. Neither had any of the other victims, for that matter. Funny how the details changed one’s perception of what was going on. One suicide with a spectacularly promised exhibition caused more uproar than twenty quiet deaths by overwork. Or maybe it wasn’t the quiet aspect at all; maybe it was the fact that death at a desk was more mundane, expected, ordinary—but someone jumping off a skyscraper? Spectacular. Like the difference between influenza and Ebola—Ebola might kill only six thousand people worldwide during an outbreak, but it did so spectacularly. The run-of-the-mill flu? In a bad year it killed up to fifty thousand people in the United States alone, but you didn’t hear much about that. It was all a matter of jaded perspective—which led us back to this . . .

  Captain, picking up on my mood, let out a forlorn mew. “You said it, buddy.” Despite the crowd around us, he was not picking up any supernaturals. I turned to Oricho and Nadya, who had forgone her red wig for her natural brown hair and glasses. I tried to find Artemis, but either he’d decided he didn’t need to be here or he’d decided to stay out of sight. “So where do we meet this representative, exactly?”

  “I imagine they will find us,” Oricho replied.

  “Before or after the show?” Being forced to watch an execution being billed as a desperate plea for help wasn’t exactly what I’d signed up for.

  “Before,” came a distinct woman’s voice from behind us. The three of us turned to see a well-dressed Japanese woman with ombré hair, black at the roots fading to a platinum white at the ends, the very tips painted with a pink that matched her lipstick. She was beautiful, but it was the kind of beauty that’s more frightening than inviting. And her eyes? A pale, watery gray.

  “The invention of contacts has been a wonderful thing,” she said, catching me staring. She offered me a smile that would have put most people at ease. Not me. It was all I could do not to take a step back and run away screaming. For all her mild-mannered appearance, this woman was likely one of the more dangerous supernaturals I’d met.

  For his part, Captain let out a mildly warning bleat, peeking over my shoulder before hunkering back down. Great, one of the few supernaturals who scared my cat. That did not bode well by any stretch of the imagination.

  She was standing out in the cold in little more than a wool blazer, though no one in the crowd seemed to take more notice of her than a quick glance, and those who did were more appraising and admiring than questioning.

  The Kitsune held out her hand to shake mine. “No offense meant,” I said, only staring at her delicate hand, fingernails painted white with pink cherry blossoms, looking so harmless.

  Rather than take offense, she only gave me a knowing smile and placed her hand back into her blazer pocket. “None taken.”

  I saw her face take on a dreamy look as it drifted upwards, her lips parting to expose a pinker-than-normal tongue. Screams around us followed, and as I glanced back up at the ledge I saw that the man had edged farther out onto the window ledge.

  She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Delicious, isn’t it?” she said. “You can taste the uncertainty and anticipation, so thick is the air filled with it.”

  “Yeah . . .” I said ironically. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in—or however it was she sensed. I knew that Oricho and Artemis had both said to stay out of the negotiations, but there was no way they could have imagined this spectacle. “A little messy, though?” I nodded at her suit. “I’d hate to see the dry cleaning bill for getting too close.”

  Her smile deepened, and for a moment her eyes took on a pinkish shade. “Oh, I believe it would be worth it. Just to watch the plunge.” She turned her face towards me, feverish with anticipation. “Rather like one of your Western adages, isn’t it? Watching pigs fly?” Her lips parted in a smile. “Like bacon—not healthy but very satisfying.”

  This spectacle was getting more sickening by the minute. I opened my mouth to say something to that effect, but Oricho interrupted. “You are here to negotiate on your party’s behalf, yes?” he asked.

  “Ah yes. That,” she said. “Leave it to you, Oricho, to spoil all my fun.” The pleasant, dreamy tone of her voice vanished as she spoke, and she gave Oricho an unfriendly, critical glance, narrowing her expertly lined eyes. “And I would expect you to be more sympathetic to our side now, all things considering.”


  If her tone and address offended him, he didn’t let it show. Instead he offered her a smile. “Ah. I suppose a supernatural of your stature would come to that conclusion.”

  “I’d forgotten just how boring you Kami were, Oricho.” She glanced back up at her victim, still precariously balanced on the ledge.

  “What is it you have been sent to barter today, Kitsune?” Oricho pressed.

  With a sigh, the Kitsune turned her attention away from the salaryman to us, her features schooled back to pleasant indifference. I winced at the screams from the people gathered around us as the man on the ledge wavered.

  “Look, maybe while we’re negotiating, could you just— Ow!” Oricho silenced me with a squeeze to my shoulder. “Never mind,” I said.

  “Our offer is simple. A cease-fire, a truce, as it were—temporary, of course, but a welcome respite to allow both our sides to regroup while we deal with the incubus and the elves’ trespass.”

  Oricho’s brows furrowed. “That’s a pleasant offer considering your previous reluctance. I would be remiss for not questioning your motivations—and the cost.”

  “Ahhh.” She turned back to look at the man on the ledge. “The cost? Your side’s word that for the duration of one month neither side shall interfere with the other. As for our motivation and the cost?” She arched an eyebrow. “They are one and the same.”

  Meaning that Oricho, Mr. Kurosawa, and Lady Siyu wouldn’t be able to enforce their rules. For an entire month, there would be a free-for-all. It would be disastrous—there was no way they’d be able to hide the existence of supernaturals.

  For the first time since the Kitsune had arrived, she let her pleasant mask fall, exposing cruel and rather ugly features. “Oh yes—and we expect the Electric Samurai to be removed from the game. Permanently, if necessary.”

  I opened my mouth to say that that was obvious, but a warning touch from Oricho stopped me before I said it.

  “An interesting proposal,” Oricho said.

  The Kitsune’s pink upper lip curled. “We know you have a way.”

  Now, how the hell had they found that out? Rynn had his suspicions, but them?

  The Kitsune continued, “And although we have considered attempting to obtain it from you directly”—she leveled that cruel pink stare at me and flicked her pink tongue, which was now forked—“we have decided it would be more prudent to call a truce.”

  “And let us clean up your mess?”

  Both she and Oricho turned their decidedly supernatural gazes on me this time. “Since it was elves on your side who thought it would be such a great idea to shove him in there in the first place, no?”

  I counted to a slow three while she regarded me, calculating. “Regardless, he is a problem for both of us. And I’ll wager that in the long run you care more about the outcome than we do.”

  I snorted. “You can’t beat him. You created a monster, let it loose with no way of controlling him.”

  “Ah, such is the beauty of chaos.” Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose that is one way to look at it. Though I believe you will accept our terms as they are.”

  “And why would that be?” Oricho said.

  She gave a pretty-sounding sigh and glanced once more at the man on the ledge. “Because unlike yours, my side cares very little for the value of life beyond our personal enjoyment and fulfillment. Perhaps you are right and we have no way to deal with the Electric Samurai ourselves. Then again?” She closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the man, then drew in a breath and leaned back, balancing on her heels.

  Even though the air was warm and clear, I made out the fog—like reversed warm breath on cold air—that she sucked in. For a moment the street seemed to hold still—the people, the air, the noise of the city. Then screams broke out and mayhem ensued as emergency workers tried desperately to place the net below the man who was now plummeting off the building.

  The Kitsune still had her eyes closed, her head tilted up as if savoring every moment. “Such a bore having to feed off the wretched, deserving, and invalid. They have an unpleasant copper taste that always leaves me hungry. A virile adult like that? Absolutely delectable, so sweet and fulfilling.”

  I’ve seen a lot of horrible things in my life—violence, death—things that would make normal, well-adjusted people never sleep a wink again. I knew about the things that went bump in the night with a vengeance.

  I couldn’t look.

  I cringed and turned my face away as the screams reached a crescendo, followed by the unmistakable sound of something organic hitting the sidewalk.

  The screams were replaced by the roar of people trying to speak over one another and the din of shock and excitement at what had just occurred.

  Finally, careful not to let them drift towards the pavement, I opened my eyes. The Kitsune was licking her fingers. “Jesus Christ, I thought you said you wanted a truce?”

  She stopped what she was doing and arched an eyebrow at me. “Consider it a well-timed reminder. You have until midnight tomorrow to decide, Oricho.” She turned and started moving through the crowd. She gave me one last look over her shoulder, throwing her black, blond, and pink hair to one side. “Oh? Yes, I suppose I did. And who says we don’t have a way to deal with the Electric Samurai? I would wager that if we do, you would not like it. Rather like this evening’s spectacle. Accept our truce.”

  With that she was gone, leaving us with the mayhem she’d wrought with the poor man now dead on the sidewalk. Once again, there had been nothing I could do about it . . . at all. I’d been completely powerless.

  But there was at least one person here who hadn’t been powerless to do something. I turned on Oricho. “What the hell was that?”

  “A Kitsune.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you stop her? And don’t tell me there was nothing you could have done!”

  Oricho’s hands were clenched at his sides—he gave me a once-over, turning away from his survey of the macabre scene unfolding in front of us. TV crews mixed in with the emergency workers now; apparently dead people garnered more attention than ones in need of help who were about to kill themselves. I stopped that train of thought for the whole new level of anger it drew out of me—at the people, not the supernaturals, who had started this and used an innocent human with a life as a disposable pawn.

  “My hands were tied,” Oricho said, not looking away from the scene.

  “Tied? Jesus, you didn’t even try—”

  I trailed off as he finally turned his gaze back on me. “Do not tell me what I could and could not do. Events were out of my control before we arrived. That man’s life was forfeited well before this evening. She decided to use it as a spectacle.”

  “Because you provoked her!”

  “No, it was to get under your skin.” The three of us turned to see Artemis standing behind us, hands in his pockets. “And from the looks of it, she did a brilliant job,” he said.

  I crossed my arms. “And you? You didn’t lift a damn finger either!” It wasn’t Artemis’s fault, I knew that, but I needed to vent my anger and frustration at someone—and he and Oricho were right there.

  He frowned, probably at the sheer anger boiling off me, all directed at him—but if it bothered him, he didn’t let on. “As Oricho already said, there was nothing either of us could do. That man was dead weeks ago, the moment the Kitsune got her deadly fingers into him. The only thing we could have accomplished was avoiding a spectacle.”

  “Which is likely what she was aiming for, knowing your particular reputation,” Oricho added, as delicately as he could.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

  “It means you have a bad habit of making a spectacle of yourself in public view. That’s likely what she was banking on,” Artemis offered.

  “Oh, come on.” I turned to Nadya, but she kept her eyes on the ground.

  Fine, I’d defend myself. “If my trying to save someone—”

  Artemis leaned in and placed a finger on my che
st. I just about punched him in the stomach. “It would have been replacing one spectacle with another. We would have lost what leverage we had.” He straightened and took a step back, as if just realizing how close we were. “They aren’t confident they can handle Rynn; otherwise they would be pressing the advantage. Rynn has been picking away at their foot soldiers, warping them into his own personal brand of fiends. As it is, we still have the upper hand.”

  I snorted. If the upper hand was watching someone throw himself onto the pavement from the thirtieth floor of a skyscraper, I wasn’t sure I wanted it. I might be used to being the underdog in these supernatural scuffles, but underdogs were normally able to escape with their morals intact. Not like . . . this . . .

  “Like I said, he was dead weeks ago. This was only the grand finale. A heart attack a week from now, a month.” Artemis shrugged. “The other side doesn’t just fight dirty, Alix, they dig the knife in and twist for fun.”

  “So I should just let it go? Be okay with them killing someone in front of me?”

  Artemis narrowed his eyes at me. “No, what I’m saying is that you need to learn to suck it up like the rest of us and stop being such an entitled brat.” That was it. I wound up, but Nadya caught my arm before I could plant my fist on his nose.

  Artemis snorted. “Like I said, one spectacle with another. Now, if anyone would like to know what I learned while I was doing my job instead of playing the self-righteous hero, like who the Kitsune was with, find me back at the bar. I need a fucking drink.” With that he turned and left, Oricho following with a nod. I could have killed both of them, but most of all Artemis—throwing the fact that I was the only one here who cared back at my face as if it were some kind of self-righteous crutch—

  “Alix, you need to drop this,” Nadya whispered in my ear.

  “Don’t tell me you agree with them!” There was no way—Nadya had an even stronger moral compass than I did.

  She sighed. “No, I think they’re so used to this particular battle that they’ve forgotten what it’s like to try. Alix, I’m not saying it’s right, I’m not saying I agree with them. They’re stubborn and wrong, but we didn’t have anything that would have changed things. We’re not mercenaries and soldiers, Alix, we’re thieves and part-time archaeologists—and that’s the truth.”