“There’s a needle in this emergency kit for that circumstance. The first time happened just after graduation, just as I started my training. He was an old man in a mental ward. New York of all places. Ceinwyn was with me, so she did it, but she wouldn’t let me leave the room. I killed him just as much as she did. He thanked her . . .
“The last time was Winter Break, outside of Houston. Miranda and I took a little vacation and . . . you know how good her ability to sense the Mancy is. Rich boy sciomancer, twenty-five and hunting the same college girls you do. Four dead, including him . . . after I . . . took care of him. He didn’t thank me . . .
“Ceinwyn mandated psychological sessions for me each time. So I’m quite versed in what I need to do to accept the fact that I’m ‘making the world a better place’, Ceinwyn’s words. And they did help. I did need them. I still feel guilty every time I think about the needle. But some bastard trying to kidnap my sister? I don’t need to talk about him any more than we have already. But thanks for listening, King Henry.”
I finally breathed.
Fuck me.
This is why I don’t do emotions.
I mean . . . I assumed something was going on with the Recruiters. Something needed to be done. More and more people, less and less space. Will only get worse. Whole reason I’m doing what I’m doing. “Yeah, I’m always here if you need me,” I said.
Val smiled. “Good to know.”
“Also . . . I’m apparently okay with a thumb tip up my asshole.”
“What?!?”
“Yeah . . . I was shocked too. Well, first I was shocked because I wasn’t expecting it—“
“Why would you tell me this?” a completely exasperated Valentine asked.
“I don’t know . . . I felt like I had to share after all that . . .”
“So you went with thumb tip?”
A shrug. “I needed something as momentous as killing a couple guys.”
And she lost it.
Pure, complete laugher. Hand over her mouth, eyes watering, her whole body shaking, head shaking too at how fucking absurd it all was.
King Henry Price is many things . . . but he’s the fucking master at undercutting tension.
Val leaned into me, still shaking her head, but managed to croak out, “Thank you for that too.”
“Yeah, who needs psychologists when you got an asshole joke?”
Silence, only broken by the occasional bubble of giggle out of Val. No more ducks even. No one else. Just night. No sign of our Weres.
“So . . . a thumb,” Val eventually tried.
“Tip,” I quickly corrected.
“And she just went for it? Did you squeal in surprise?”
“I don’t know how to explain splitting a pool,” I said instead.
Val winked at me but went with the diverted conversation like she always did. “Why not?”
“For one: I’m not Mister Gullick.”
“Miranda teaches Elementalism. Single Intras.”
“She must enjoy all the explaining she gets to do.”
“Shush now.”
Another scan of the surrounding area. Sounded like some cars had parked by the boathouse. Better be them or I’m calling Vega and cursing him out. “It just . . . feels natural once you do it for the first time. Same as holding an extended pool. Makes me think a lot about why I never experimented more.”
“You could really hurt yourself.”
“The teachers say.”
“They’re mostly right. Not everyone is an Ultra, and not even most Ultra can pool for longer than ten minutes without feeling pain. When Ceinwyn was teaching me she had me go for as long as I could. The pain became so intense that I passed out and my pool evaporated.”
I thought this over. New data in an area where I’d been going boldly but also been going blindly. “How much pain? Like when you try to release only part of a pool and hold the rest?”
Val’s eyes bulged. “Why would you try to do something that stupid?”
I motioned at myself like it explained everything.
She sighed. She sighed again. “I’ve never done that but I suppose it’s similar.”
“It hurt when you pooled like that?” I asked, comparing it to my own experience.
“Half an hour, couldn’t take any more.”
I went silent and Val must have seen something in my face since she frowned at me. “What?” I deflected.
“What?” she deflected right back.
“Before it hurt . . . did it feel awesome?”
“Awesome?”
“Like . . . pure ecstasy?”
She thought it over. “Maybe at around twenty minutes abouts . . . but then pain and pain and more pain.”
“Ah.”
“King Henry . . . what are you hiding?”
“Half an hour, eh?”
“It’s not polite to smirk like that.”
“Who told you I’m polite?” I asked.
More cars parked at the boathouse. I could hear voices as well. Vega had promised no more than four members of each Nation would show up. Sounded like more than that, but I suppose it could just be backup that wouldn’t walk over to meet with us. Were Nations ain’t exactly the most trusting of each other. Plus . . . only the Coyotes got themselves a formal peace treaty with the Vamps and the Asylum. The rest have to make their own way.
Val poked me with a finger. “How long?”
I shrugged. “Seven inches I guess? I mean it’s enough to press all the lady buttons but not worthy of making me a pornstar, ya know?”
She rolled her eyes and stood up. “You’re impossible.”
I stood too. Our Weres had definitely arrived for the meeting. They didn’t bother to walk together. One came from one side. The other came from the other side. One group had four, the other had three. “I stopped at an hour,” I finally told her.
Her eyebrows shot up. “And it didn’t hurt?”
“And it didn’t hurt.”
How long can I go until it hurts?
Touch that flame, little boy . . .
[CLICK]
The Otter Nation was a bunch of young white guys who thought themselves a bunch of ghetto fabulous superstars. Hat turned to the side, saggy jeans, gold chains, oversized 49er jerseys . . . cuz there’s a team known for toughness. One of them even had a grill piece in. How much time is too much time for a guy to spend in the jewelry department? I don’t know . . . but if your girlfriend wants to leave the store, you’ve gone past it. These guys’ girlfriends abandoned them a long ass time ago.
We’ll call the three backups Marky Mark, Beasty Boy, and Vanilla Ice. According the files Val had on a database tablet in her magic briefcase, the leader was one George Joseph McKenna IV but preferred the nickname Go-Joe. His family had been rich since they found all that gold in them thar hills. Not that his family mined it . . . but, they did help the miners get shitfaced. Never the cogs themselves who get ahead, but always the man selling lubrication, ain’t it?
From the other side of the boathouse came the Pitbull Nation—did I just hear your asshole clench up in fear that a certain word might be coming out of my mouth? Don’t worry. Ain’t no need for such . . . coarse behavior. The Pitbulls came as a trio, two of them muscle, huge black guys who had to be seven feet tall. We’ll call them Shaq and Mutombo. The leader however was short, skinny, had glasses, and was dressed in a pinstriped grey business suit with a red bow tie.
“Why is it,” I asked Valentine, “that every black guy I run into thinks he’s a cracker and every white guy I run into thinks—“
Her hand actually reached up to cover my mouth before I could finish. “Please let me take the lead on this, please remember my sister’s life could be at stake, and please . . . just please.”
“I’ll look tough and imposing and grunt a lot then,” I sulked.
“You do that, King Henry.”
Pitbull Guy hurried up his step, arriving a good minute before Go-Joe’s wary thug walk. He came right up
to Val with an open hand, “Valentine Ward, didn’t expect you to be dealing with Vega.”
Val shook the hand, frowning. Pitbull Guy turned to me next, “You however, I should have seen coming, Price.”
I frowned too. “We know you?”
He was shorter than I was believe it or not. I had a good forty, maybe even fifty pounds on him too. Not what I was expecting at all. “Jarvis Washington, went to school with the both of you.”
Val raised an eyebrow. “Intra?”
Jarvis grinned the grin of a man duping the entire world out of its retirement plan. “Year ahead of you. Just a lowly faunamancer though, not worthy of notice to most; never even got a shot at the Winter War.”
“You guys aren’t even really Weres, are you?” Val guessed.
Jarvis winked at us. “Maybe, maybe not. Just don’t let the asshole in on it.”
Unlike our apparent faunamancer faking being a werepitbull, who had left his guards behind a good twenty feet, all of Go-Joe’s posse came with him as backup. They probably wiped his ass for him too.
Go-Joe didn’t go the handshake route either, just throwing out some chin juts at Jarvis and me, and then a ‘hey sexy’ kind of look Val’s way. “Sup? Let’s be quick, midnight and all, should be in my club.” Then he scratched his balls.
When King Henry Price thinks you’re a fucktard . . . you’re probably a mega fucktard.
Just saying.
Go-Joe? Mega fucktard.
Val kept a friendly smile regardless. As awesome as she is, she was still infected by manners as a child. “Good evening, gentleman. I’m Valentine Ward, Recruiter for the Institution of Elements, this is my associate King Henry Price, and I’ve been led to believe one of you will have information I require.”
Go-Joe shrugged over it. “Depends, yo.”
“Information isn’t free,” Jarvis agreed.
So much for the I’m-a-mancer-you’re-a-mancer angle he’d played up just seconds ago.
Val reminded them of the deal that had set this meeting in motion, “King Vega has offered to reward you, whatever the cost.”
“Yeah, heard that shit before plenty,” Go-Joe said, snapping his fingers, “Vega breaks promises all the time and never pays for nothing soon as it’s given away.”
“My colorful neighbor isn’t wrong about that,” Jarvis added. “I came here to not offend him but I’d rather deal directly with the Asylum for payment.”
“Shit, don’t matter how rookie you are, Washington, Asylum never pays either, just threatens you to do what they want,” Go-Joe said.
“Why don’t I explain my situation before we discuss payment, since this might turn out to be a waste of time,” Val rebutted. She kept her cool but I could tell the stress of the day was starting to get to her.
You hear you’re meeting with Were Nation leaders and you expect some quality individuals. Sure, might be scary, might be crooks, but you expect a certain level of competence since climbing that ladder ain’t very easy. What we got was a moron daddy’s-boy and a swindler who might or might not lead a Were Nation . . . or a group of faunamancers . . . or just . . . whatever.
“Earlier tonight—” Val began but Go-Joe threw out a hand to stop her. “Yes, Vice President McKenna?”
“Go-Joe.”
Val nodded encouragingly like he was three. “That’s your name.”
“Then use it, bitch.”
“Hey, now—“ Val’s piercing glare shut me up before I could throw out my own favorite words. I made a couple annoyed grunts but kept silent.
“Go-Joe,” Val tried, “why did you interrupt me?”
Go-Joe smirked, his itty-bitty brain working overtime. “Got another party coming to this meet, need to wait on them.”
Jarvis and his guards perked up. “We agreed on no more than four.”
“Ain’t my crew, Washington.”
“Vega also wanted this to be quick and quiet.”
“Fuck Vega! Otters been around as long as his Coyotes! Used to be bigger than his Coyotes too! Just because we’re respectable and don’t deal the street-level drugs like him and keep it semi-legal don’t mean we’re weak. We’re old school, dawg.”
Jarvis’ eyes flashed dangerously. “Old school,” he agreed, “but outnumbered a hundred-to-one.”
Go-Joe brushed his shirt like he was throwing off some crumbs. “That’s why I got myself a side-deal on this one. That and like I said: Vega don’t ever pay. These bitches always pay.”
“This is time sensitive and we’re already late,” Val reminded him.
“Pull your panties out your vag, chick, they right here already.” Go-Joe pointed at a pair of people walking along the lakeside towards our group.
Well . . . not people.
Vampires.
One was a little tiny blond thing with an expressive face, just hot enough to have men swarm her but not hot enough to scare them away. The other was a guy, huge—
Fuck me, I thought.
“Gentlewoman Moore,” I growled out.
She and Linebacker both missed a step at the sound of my voice, but then kept on coming the rest of the way. They slid up next to Go-Joe, though Moore’s expression was disgusted by the company. “Artificer Price,” she greeted, “not what I’d been led to expect.”
“Two of you know each other?” Go-Joe asked.
Moore smiled, studying me like she wasn’t sure if she should be worried, happy, or repulsed. “Artificer Price dealt with a sensitive embassy matter a number of months ago.”
And that sensitive embassy matter is sitting in my coat pocket. “Had so much fun I’ll have to do it again sometime.”
Gentlewoman Moore’s smile never reached her eyes. “If either you or Anne Boleyn ever step foot in my embassy again I’ll have you shot, Price.”
“ENOUGH!” Everyone turned to a fuming Valentine. She looked about two more one-liners away from going Super Saiyan. “Enough games, enough posturing. A life is at stake and I’ve had too much of my time wasted tonight already.”
Gentlewoman Moore nodded, quickly becoming the perfect embassy functionary. “Miss Ward, I believe?”
Val didn’t say anything, only glared.
Correction: one snappy one-liner away from going Super Saiyan.
Moore continued, “The Otter Nation and the San Francisco Vampire Embassy have long had a cordial and cooperative relationship, with young George particularly, and when he happened to pass along that the King of the Coyotes was backing an Institution Recruiter in a meeting and footing the bill—my duchess was very interested and sent me and my friend here along to make sure no maneuvers were made tonight against our interests.”
Val let out a deep breath, glancing at me.
I gave an encouraging nod. Out of all the Vamps I’d met, Moore was the nicest.
Val’s posture relaxed a little, but not much. She turned to Jarvis. “Should I be expecting anyone else?”
Jarvis shook his head, covering his own amount of pissed off. “I played this straight. No more happy about it than you are.”
Moore snorted. “The Pitbulls are so young you haven’t even been recognized by the other parties here, you should be happy you’re even allowed at the grown-up table.”
Both Pitbull muscles took some steps forward before a single raised finger from Jarvis stopped them. “Recruiter Ward is correct. We’ve wasted enough time, so please tell us what you need so we can return to less . . . slimy company.”
Val wet her lips, glancing at each party in turn. “Six hours ago a team of trained professionals assaulted a house in Palo Alto and kidnapped a potential Institution recruit from her bedroom. More than ten men, armed with fully automatic assault rifles and shotguns loaded with beanbag rounds, in broad daylight after a fourteen-year-old girl.”
I watched for reactions. Go-Joe looked disgusted, Moore inquisitive, and Jarvis . . . guy was good, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Go-Joe was also offended, “Why we here then?”
> Val stared him down.
Go-Joe eyed his shoes. “I mean . . . me, at least. Sell some coke, some E, run some clubs. Kidnapping? Guns? Too much heat.”
“Vega assures me they were outsiders and would need local supplies for the job,” Val explained.
Moore squinted at her. “Why would anyone want to steal a mancer child?”
“Tasty meal?” I pointed out.
Her always expressive face was revolted by the thought. “Not everyone has Anne Boleyn’s palate, try not to compare us all to her.”
“Wouldn’t be a fair comparison,” I agreed.
“She’s a monster.”
“Hell of a monster though, as far as they go.”
Moore shuddered, probably remembering Linebacker’s buddy Sideburns getting ate in front of her. “We’ve tried to kill and eliminate mancers on and off for thousands of years, but steal your children? Never.”
“Thousands of years, huh?”
Moore smirked at everyone. “Unlike you, we have a more complete history of your species.”
“Sure, high and mighty vampire, never seen that card played.”
“Want to know of the Fall of Atlas, Price? Offer payment and I’ll let you see the scrolls yourself.”
“Atlas?” I asked.
Her smirk twisted. “What’s an empire if it’s forgotten?”
“Wouldn’t claim that based off my ignorance. Asylum ain’t high on the knowledge bombs.”
“Neither am I, but if you’re willing to make a deal—“
“The Curator,” Val said.
Moore mouth snapped shut and she took an involuntary step away from everyone. “Where did you hear that name?”
“He’s responsible for stealing the girl, according to Vega.”
“Never heard of him,” Jarvis said.
“I’m out of it too,” Go-Joe agreed.
Moore stood stiffly, processing the name. Linebacker put a hand on her shoulder for support. “We’re leaving,” she said eventually. “If any of you value your lives you won’t come within one-hundred miles of that man . . . especially not for some stupid teenage girl.”
Just like that, both the vampires stalked off.
And I thought Vega being scared was freaking me out about this guy . . . this is worse.
The Foul Mouth and the Troubled Boomworm (The King Henry Tapes) Page 18