by TR Cameron
“AET. Do you know how expensive those are?”
Cali laughed. “More expensive than rebuilding the French Quarter?”
“Point taken.” She shook her head. “Are you sure you don’t know anything else?” The frustration was clear in her expression, but unlike previous versions, this one didn’t seem to be directed specifically at her.
“No. Honestly, I’d tell you if I could. I don’t like the looks of this any more than you do. But I will mention one thing I noticed.”
An eager look crept in around the edges of the woman’s frown. “What’s that?”
“If I was in a gang and a sea creature attacked my city, I’d take a hand in its defense. But I didn’t see a single Atlantean here. Which makes me think that, at the very least, they were cool with whatever resulted from the situation.”
The detective nodded. “That’s a good point.”
She sighed. “So, is this the part where we start looking for someone to create our own giant monsters so we can fight things like this? What was it—Mecha-Godzilla?”
Barton laughed. “If we can’t afford AET, we certainly won’t be able to manage that.”
“Toy robots with grenades wired to them?”
“Maybe.”
“Good. Good. Problem solved.”
The woman walked away, shaking her head. Cali was sure there’d been an actual smile before she departed. She did the only thing that was left to do and turned to face Tanyith. “So, lover boy, you missed another chance to ask her out. Seriously, right after a major scare is prime time according to the movies. Will you actually get your act together one of these days, or do I need to do it for you?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Even though she was exhausted from the battle, Cali had returned to the tavern to work the night before, knowing she’d be too keyed up to sleep. Fyre had made it to the back of the bar, collapsed, and snored the evening away until she woke him to head home.
Zeb had given her the day off citing that a monster attack on the city was a reasonable cause, and she’d spent it sleeping until his text roused her at five pm. Council meeting, your presence requested. Here, eleven o’clock. She sighed and fell asleep until the absolute last minute, then threw on her nicest jeans and t-shirt combination and portaled over with Fyre at her side.
Her boss was descending the stairs to the basement when she arrived. He growled in irritation. “Have you ever heard of being early?”
“Have you ever heard of not being a whiny jerk?” she snarked in rebuttal.
He laughed, and she walked forward and hugged him. For a moment, he stiffened, but relaxed and patted her awkwardly on the back. She broke the embrace and stepped away. His perplexed look made her laugh, and his irritation at her laughter only increased it. After a few seconds, she mastered herself. “After yesterday, I realized that danger is everywhere and you don’t know what’ll happen at any given moment. So, I’ve decided to become a hugger.”
His face scrunched in doubt. “A hugger.”
“Yes. One who hugs.”
“Trees?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Trees. Dwarves. Draksa. Maybe even Barton.”
“Oh, that’s a reaction I’d love to see.” He laughed.
Cali grinned. “I bet Tanyith would be jealous.”
Zeb tilted his head slightly to the side. “You really think there’s something there, don’t you? You’re not simply being a twit.”
She pointed a finger at him. “First, I am never, ever, simply a twit. A twit is only part of what I am. And yes, I do. In the beginning, I only screwed around, but have you seen the way they look at each other?”
He folded his arms and stared at her. “Suspiciously?”
“No.” She mimicked his posture and stared in return. “Interested-like. How long has it been since you’ve had a date, anyway?” She’d never seen him with another dwarf at the tavern and never seen him at all outside its walls. Maybe he’s a ghost, doomed to haunt the place and we can all see dead people.
Zeb lowered his arms and moved to the center of the room. “That is none of your business. But more recently than you, I would guess.”
She shook her head and replied, “I’m totally in demand.” Fyre snorted, and she rounded on him and held a fist up. “Quiet you, or you’re gonna find yourself bopped on the nose with extreme prejudice.” A combined scraping and crashing sound came from nearby, and she turned as several crates slid out of the way to provide access to one of the room’s walls. “Wait. I thought you were coming down here to get supplies. What are you doing?”
The dwarf grinned over his shoulder. “You think you know it all, but in reality, not so much.” He placed his hands on the wall and muttered something she couldn’t make out, and the brick surface moved back, then slid off to the side to create a wide doorway and reveal the room behind it.
Cali walked through the entrance and looked around. To her right were several small casks, identical in size to the one for his custom brew upstairs. A cupboard stood against the wall beyond them, a fireplace on the left, and a large round table in the center with seven chairs. Zeb waved and seven glasses floated out of the cupboard and landed in the proper position.
He pointed at the stone fireplace. “Start a fire. Let’s make this place a little less moist.” She approached to a safer distance and dispatched an orange line of flame into the wood that was stacked inside. The smaller pieces caught quickly, and she turned to face her boss.
“So, this was here the whole time and you didn’t think it was important to share that with me.”
“You didn’t have a reason to know. Now, you do.”
“How about honesty, for one? Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
Zeb merely laughed at her sarcasm. “Right. Like you’re honest with Barton. A real paragon of virtue, you.”
“Touché, old man. You’ll get it for that. Just you wait.” She walked to the cupboard and retrieved a glass for herself since he’d rudely not included one for her. The council numbered seven, and thus the seven chairs, which meant she’d stand for the evening meeting, which was fine. “What’s in the casks?”
He pointed to each in turn. “Red wine. White wine. Mulled cider—a special batch with extra honey.”
She drew some and tasted it. Although a little potent, it was nothing like his stash upstairs. Still, given her constitution, she’d limit herself to sipping one for the flavor.
“So what’s the deal with this place?”
Her boss turned from where he was doing something at the far end of the room. He shrugged as he walked toward her. “They needed a neutral location to meet and I had already built this area for storage. I thought I might do some whiskey distilling at some point. But I realized it’d make kind of a nice clubhouse, so that’s what I did.”
“A clubhouse.”
“Yep.”
“For a group of grown men.”
“And women.”
She rolled her eyes. “That makes it all better. Thanks for the clarification.”
He sighed. “Okay, perhaps I thought it was cool having a secret place. And maybe, just maybe, it’s also a safe room in case everything goes to hell.”
Cali frowned. “And why would you need one of those?”
Zeb shook his head. “I haven’t always been a bartender, girl. And I’m well aware of the dangers that are present out in the allegedly civilized city we live in.”
Of course, she immediately wanted to continue that line of questioning in the worst way, but a portal opened and terminated the conversation. Malonne stepped through, his wounds from the battle healed. He greeted her first, then Zeb, and moved directly to the casks with a glass in hand. The other council members arrived one by one and before too long, everyone was in a seat except for Cali, who stood behind the one her boss selected.
The gathering turned expectantly toward the wizard, and he smiled at her. “Caliste, thank you for coming.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for inviting me to your
clubhouse,” she quipped.
Silence hung for a long moment before the witch beside him began to laugh and soon, most of the others at the table joined her. Vizidus only grinned but didn’t seem offended in the least. “You, also, are welcome. I assume you know everyone at the table?”
She nodded. “Not necessarily in person, but Zeb has told me about you all.”
Delia chuckled. “Hopefully, only good things.”
Cali raised an eyebrow. “About the others, sure, but about you, well, uh…yeah.”
“I like this one.” The witch laughed. “She has fire.”
She sent a mental message to the Draksa, who hid beneath a veil and behind some boxes in the basement. “Indeed I do.” He returned amusement to her. Out loud, she said, “I try. Zeb loves it.”
More laughter greeted that until Vizidus rapped his knuckles on the table. “All amusing wordplay aside, we are here for a reason, so let’s get to it. Delia, please begin.”
The witch nodded. “Caliste, do you know anything about what the hell caused the chaos at the docks the other day?”
She laughed at the directness of her question. “Call me Cali, everyone, please. And I don’t have any more information than you do, except that it came from New Atlantis and had a seriously bad attitude.”
“How did you know how to defeat it?” the Kilomea asked.
Cali shook her head. “I didn’t. Your people were the first to hurt it when they stabbed it with the spear. That gave me the thought that maybe only enchanted weapons could damage its skin and that it was somehow spell-proof. Although Fyre’s claws apparently count too.”
Scoppic smiled at her. “I wasn’t there, but I did see the recording that the news station played. Your companion was magnificent.” Zeb had dutifully informed the council about the Draksa when the creature had adopted her and had told her that he’d done so some time later.
“He was. He always is. Thank you for saying so.”
Malonne asked, “Is there really nothing more you can share about what’s going on since you seem to be at the center of it all?”
Zeb replied for her. “You’ve all heard the reports I’ve shared. We haven’t held anything back. What are you getting at, exactly?”
Invel sighed. “What a couple of my colleagues are wondering is if Caliste isn’t somehow more than she has revealed to us. Why has the Atlantean gang targeted her? Why is this city suddenly so important that it’s worth sending a horrific creature to attack it? There seems to be a storm of unexpected events and they swirl around as if drawn to her.”
Cali laughed, but it was helplessness rather than humor. “I really, really wish I knew but I don’t. Perhaps if I survive the next battle, I’ll ask them.”
Scoppic spoke out of turn, as she understood the rules, which seemed to shock the whole table. “You could do that, in fact. I had a little free time, so I did some research about the trials. The victor may request a boon, and if it is within the defeated champion’s ability to give it, they are obligated to do so. If the champion cannot, the person the champion represents shares an identical obligation. It doesn’t go beyond that, but if the gang’s secondary leader is attending, you might be able to turn that to your advantage.”
Zeb bristled in front of her, apparently offended that the council would question her in the way they had. She imagined she should be equally upset, but it really didn’t bother her. They did the best they could to make sense of the situation, exactly like she did. She patted her boss on the shoulder and smiled at the seated gnome. “That’s good to know. Thank you so much for doing that. I deeply appreciate it.”
“So,” Vizidus said, “do we have anything more for Cali?” No one responded, and he nodded and looked at her. “Thank you for joining us and for being such a valuable friend to the citizens of New Orleans. The members of this council applaud your efforts.”
Yeah, you’re merely not willing to put your necks on the line to help with them. She sighed. Quit being petty, Cali. You’d do the same if you were them. “I appreciate that. Good night to you all.”
She left without a backward glance and chose not to give away any of her dignity by saying something snippy. Fyre stared past her as she walked toward the stairs, his glare at the people in the room communicating all the things she held inside. When they reached the top, they portaled to her apartment. She patted him on his side. “People. Am I right?”
He gave his weird laugh. “Idiots, more like.”
“It takes all kinds.” She grinned.
The Draksa shook his head as he followed her into the bedroom. “It really doesn’t. Next time, let me eat one of them. It’ll send a message.”
Cali pulled her jeans and shirt off and crawled under the covers, and he jumped up beside her and curled on top of the blanket. “So, which would you choose?”
He tilted his head to the side in consideration, then answered, “Malonne. He’s one irritating Light Elf.”
She laughed and burrowed deeper into the covers to think about what she might ask the Atlanteans when she kicked their asses next time.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Usha reclined on the comfortable couch in her office, leaned her head back, and stared at the ceiling. Even that had been repainted to try to remove the mental stain of it all after the violation of the space by Caliste Leblanc and her associates. Still, it hung in the air like a fine mist she would sometimes catch glittering in the corner of her vision.
Danna was talking. She had done so for several minutes, sharing details on the successful rollout of their highly addictive drugs to both the human and magical communities. The Empress had charged the gang leader with taking the city by whatever means necessary, and she was determined to do exactly that. If it required the deaths of a large portion of the population, well, they could import indentured workers instead of using drug-addicted people as their labor force.
Her ruler hadn’t explained the reasons behind her desire for the city, of course. Things didn’t work that way. It was merely, “Usha, I need it. Make it happen.” Nothing more was required. And if she died in the process, the leader of the Atlantean gang in New Orleans would count herself lucky to have served. Hopefully, Danna feels the same way about me. It seems like she does. She tilted her head and looked at her second in command.
The woman had a glow about her lately. It appears that increased authority is good for her. She was in an even more perfectly cut suit than usual, a product of a new store she’d enthused about a week before. The gang took a smaller piece of the man’s business in exchange for free clothes and services, and it appeared to work out quite well for her subordinate. It was a charcoal pinstripe that fell flawlessly over her crossed legs. Her shirt was the deepest black, and the tie atop it a shimmering blue.
Danna stopped speaking with a smile. “Why are you staring at me that way? I feel like I’m about to become lunch for a shark.”
Usha laughed. “Well, I am hungry. But I was admiring your suit. Is it from Raynauld’s?”
The other woman grinned widely. “Yes, isn’t it fantastic? It’s the best acquisition we’ve ever made, aside from our scientists.” Her expression faltered somewhat. “Speaking of scientists, did you hear any more about the thing at the docks?”
It was a good choice of phrasing—the thing like the activity, or the thing like the giant sea monster that had attempted to wreak havoc in her city. They’d received notice a few days before the event that something big was in the works and a warning only minutes before the attack itself. The Empress had ordered them to stay out of the battle without any explanation and of course, she had obeyed. If given her own choice, she would have watched with glee while the creature eliminated her foes, then called for her people to destroy it when they were all dead. There really isn’t much point in ruling a broken city if other options are available.
She nodded. “I communed with the Empress after the incident. A challenger to her rule has arisen in New Atlantis. The family is undergoing the trials no
w but apparently, has chosen not to limit themselves to the formal structure. Of course, they’re working secretly enough to not appear to break the rules. The Kraken was developed by one of the Empress’s scientists, a product of both magic and technology. That person was found dead and their research stolen in the days before the attack.”
Danna nodded. “Hence the warning.”
“Exactly. The upstarts apparently had sufficient riches, power, influence, friends, or all of the above to replicate his work and send the creature. Of course, they deny everything and until we can reliably make the dead speak, there is no way to be certain enough to halt the process.”
“The process is archaic. We would be rid of Leblanc if not for that.”
The leader shrugged. They’d had this discussion before and she didn’t fault her subordinate for speaking her mind in private as long as she dutifully followed the rules. “It is what it is. Changing it would demand unanimity among the nine families, and such a thing is impossible.” Since those ruling clans had set the laws down generations before, not once had there been enough agreement to change them. It would require a ruler who was willing to release a portion of their power and authority. The very things that allowed them to reach that position inevitably made them unwilling to part with the fruits of their labors.
Her second sighed, stood, and crossed to the small bar table that stood in the corner. She poured two glasses of rum, carried them back, and handed one over before she sank into the cushions again. Her boss nodded her thanks, and she gave a half-smile. “When you are the Empress, perhaps things will change.”
Usha barked a laugh filled with frustration. “As if someone not of the families could be acknowledged as ruler. While it’s possible within the laws, the odds are beyond small. No, I think I will have to be content with the role of the Empress’s strong right hand. Fortunately, I can live with that, especially if it gives me the chance to make life difficult for the nine.” Her hatred of the noble families was not because of anything they’d done to her but simply for their uselessness. When power was handed from one generation to the next, the worthiness of those who held that power decreased exponentially. Such things should be earned, not given.