“I, Lady Birdsong, magician, do swear that Princess Luna and her companions will be given sanctuary, with no restrictions on their free movement or access to weapons or tools.”
Through gritted teeth, she continued, “This will not apply if you meet royals of higher station than myself. You will never be allowed to carry weapons in the presence of the queen.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “I’ll get a manicure before we meet.”
“Maybe they’ll make you wear a muzzle,” said Logan.
“Perhaps I’ll make her wear a muzzle.” That earned me a nasty look from Lady Birdsong.
23
Two days later, Logan was nearly recovered. And drinking. Manny was a bad influence on him, I decided. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Our hosts had provided a suite of rooms on the fourth floor of the embassy.
One large bedroom had been set up for me. I almost refused it, because it had bulletproof windows, and iron bars on the outside of them. My wolf nature wouldn’t accept being locked into another cage. I forced them to modify one window so it would open and tested the iron bars myself. They were proof against magic, but I could bend them with little effort. After spreading the bars enough to allow me to slide out, I was satisfied with the accommodations.
Alisha got a separate, smaller bedroom. She made a point of locking the door whenever she retired, even though any one of us could easily force the door. I guess teenagers need their privacy.
There was one other bedroom that had two twin beds. I debated having Logan or Mike share my room, they were both safe choices.
I didn’t trust Manny not to try getting into my bed. Not that I was worried, but getting rid of the body would be a problem. Fortunately, the men insisted the third bedroom was perfect for them to share.
Each of the bedrooms exited into a common room, which was set up with a large dining table. Between meals, the table could be used for meetings.
After a long shower, I exited my room at eight a.m., hungry and searching for coffee.
Mike was lounging in an upholstered chair near my bedroom door.
“Morning, Luna. Can I get you something?”
“Good morning, Mike. Can we send down for breakfast? I’ll make coffee.”
“I can make the coffee,” he volunteered.
I shuddered at the thought of drinking Mike’s coffee. “No thanks. I’ll take advantage of Logan being asleep and brew up a pot of Mason’s recipe.”
With Mike here to cover the scent of magic with his permanent magical tattoo, I could perform small magics—as long as Logan wasn’t too close. It irked me to hide my triple nature from a packmate, but I still didn’t know how he would react to seeing his alpha sling magic.
Mike used the in-house phone to order up a breakfast for us.
While the magical brew dripped, I asked him, “How come, no matter what time I come out, one of you is sitting in that chair?”
He gave me a strange look. “Because we’re your guards. We split into three eight-hour shifts to cover you around the clock.”
“I didn’t know that. I don’t need a guard. I’m not some helpless Disney princess who can’t take care of herself.”
He gave me the same look. “It’s not for you. None of us could rest unless we knew someone trustworthy was here for you.”
“But I don’t want guards!”
“Luna, you handle the princess and werewolf stuff, as well as the—” here he gave our hand sign for magic “—and we’ll handle the guarding against mundane threats stuff.”
Our discussion was interrupted by breakfast arriving. A cart filled with delectable items arrived at our door. Mike took it and rolled it over to the table.
In a few minutes, he had served up plates of English breakfast items: grilled sausages, beans, bacon, eggs over easy, and an assortment of scones. The cooks had learned that we needed at least double rations of meat with every meal, so the plates were loaded with protein.
The next twenty minutes were spent eating. I still needed to recover from my overclocking escapade, and Mike had a high metabolism.
I took another sip of coffee and buttered a scone. I tugged on my ear, the sign that I wanted to speak privately.
“Hocus silentium!” said Mike, waving his hands around. I erected the soundproof bubble around us without using any words or gestures. All sounds from outside the bubble ceased.
“‘Hocus silentium?’” I asked.
“I saw it in a movie,” responded Mike. “The kids used garbled Latin words for their magic.”
“It’s just a cover for the real magic user,” I said, pointing at myself. “No need to overact.”
“Overact? I’ll have you know I’m a method actor. I have to put my soul into a part.”
He had that grin he used when he wanted to spar with words. I normally enjoyed this, but we had a lot to talk about today, so I waved away his explanation.
“This round-the-clock guard duty,” I asked, “isn’t it a bit much for you three? Logan really needs to rest and recover. And Manny—well, wasn’t he a one-shot? His job is over. We rescued the damsel in distress, he’s got his check and coin. Shouldn’t he be on his way to the US or Bangkok?”
“Yeah. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. I sort of hired Manny to cover the extra shifts.”
“You hired Manny? But nobody likes him. Alisha rags on him all the time, Lady Birdsong shudders when he’s around, he makes fun of everybody, and even Logan blows him off. And he’s not in the best shape.”
“Alisha isn’t a good judge of character. Ladybird hates the fact she’s attracted to him, and Logan doesn’t like the fact that another joker like him is around. I like him. He’s reliable in a crunch. And since you healed him, he’s getting back into shape.”
I took a deep breath and decided to accept Mike’s fait accompli. “And how much am I paying this new employee?”
“Not an employee, a short-term contractor. I offered him five thousand dollars a day with a minimum two weeks’ retainer.”
“And this is above and beyond the five hundred thousand I gave him?” These numbers were making my head spin. Five thousand dollars a day would have changed my life at one time.
“We would consider that a performance bonus. We really needed his help to get Alisha out of there.”
I’m good with numbers, in the abstract sense, but these were hitting close to my heart. Then I remembered Mom’s advice.
“Is that a fair price, in your opinion?”
“It’s what most ex-military contractors get in a war zone,” Mike said. “If I overstepped my bounds, I’ll pay his two weeks from my salary and send him on his way.”
But we’re not in a war zone! I stifled that thought. Wherever I went, it seemed, was a war zone.
“No, Mike. I trust your judgment. If you think we need guards, and those are fair prices, I’ll back you up. I’ll message Kuga to set up another account for these payments.”
“Thank you.”
I felt sudden shame. The man who had sworn to follow me through the gates of hell was being paid less than a sub-contractor.
“Two more things. I want you to make more than any of the contractors we hire—”
“You can’t do that. I’m happy with my salary.”
“I insist.”
“Well, if Princess Luna insists…” he said with a wry smile. “And the other thing?”
“Let me know if we need more guards. Human guards. There are things I can’t do around other werewolves.”
Mike pursed his lips as if getting ready to convey bad news. “We’ll need about ten more guards to ensure coverage.”
“Ten more guards? Fifty thousand dollars a day?”
“That’s only the bonus payments if they travel with you. I’ll set the salary and benefits as low as possible, but if you want to have SEAL-level guards, that’s the going rate.” He pursed his lips in thought. “We might have a garrison force for our compound in Nevada. Those will have a
good salary, but not the premium for traveling with you. That’ll save a lot of money.”
“Mike, I don’t know if I can free up that much money from our accounts.”
“It’s not going to start right away. It’ll be several weeks before we hire anyone.”
“Okay. I’ll have to spend some time at the mine when we get back to ‘dig up’ some more gold.”
“We might be able to get a better deal if you can offer something besides cash,” he said.
“I can’t afford to toss more BITCHCoins around, Mike. I can’t keep up with current obligations.”
“You have something more valuable. You could offer healing or upgrades.”
“Like I did with Manny?” I shook my head. “We were lucky his problem was something I could fix with my talents. Anyway, upgrades are out of the question until Mason is back and fully recovered.”
“Okay, no upgrades.”
He grew thoughtful. “Here’s how I want to do it. For strictly short-term assignments in danger zones, we can pay out at the five-thousand-dollar rates. If you decide that one of the new guys merit a full-time position, and you can offer them something better than cash, we can craft an offer.”
In for a penny, in for a Krugerrand. “Okay, Mike. You’re authorized to hire ten more guards.”
“I have a few guys in mind.”
“From your top-secret SEAL Facebook group?”
“Them and some others.” Mike took a gulp of coffee, frowned at the cold brew, and topped up our cups with fresh portions.
I buttered another scone. Would I end up with an army of guards? That seemed absurd. I was just a businesswoman. A part-time nurse. A full-time werewolf alpha. And a mother.
“Mike, you keep saying ‘guys.’ Do you have any female candidates?”
“If you want SEALs, there’s not much choice. Almost no women have completed SEAL training.”
“Why? Don’t you think someone like me could make it through?”
Worry flashed across his face as he searched for a diplomatic answer. “You could certainly pass the physical requirements. Even at the new moon, you’re stronger than most men.”
He looked away before continuing, “But you’re not a team player. I can’t imagine you not being in charge.”
“Okay, not me, I’m a bad example. I know I’m bossy.” And proud of it. “But in general. Why don’t the SEALs have more women?”
“Because if a woman has the physical skills and determination to make it as a SEAL, she can always get a better job somewhere else.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Professional athlete, performer, stunt double—there are a lot of options for talented women. Personally, I’d love to have some women on the guard force. It makes our job much easier. Hell, just having someone who can go into public restrooms with you would be great.”
“Well, if you can find some candidates, make them an offer.”
We cleared the table and I set up my materials for study. For magicians, school never ends. Now, with Mason in the hospital, most of my studying was self-guided.
I scanned for recording devices, mostly out of habit, since we had already swept the rooms when we moved in. The soundproofing prevented audio, but any camera aimed at the table would show my work. Luna likes to keep her secrets.
Mike watched as I sketched out the design for a spell on an A2 sized easel board.
Mike watched from the side, occasionally sipping his coffee. The scent of curiosity came from him, but he kept quiet.
“It’s okay to ask me what it is, Mike,” I said. “I only need quiet when it’s a real spell.”
“How do I know if it’s a real spell?”
I pointed to the nullification marks on the four corners of the paper. “See these symbols? We use them to prevent a spell from activating. It lets us sketch out a spell without danger.”
“Sort of like the dummy rounds we use for training,” said Mike. “What kind of spell is that?”
“What do you think it is?”
“It looks like the math you did when we used the portal to get out of Nellis.” He tilted his head and squinted. “But it’s a lot more complicated.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I’m working on setting up a spell to portal out and get back home.”
“It would be nice to step from here to Nevada.” Then he shook his head in disbelief. “Is that possible? I thought the jumps got harder with distance.”
“They do. I may never figure out a way to make that jump safely.” I gestured at the paper. “It would require an enormous amount of energy. It would be a last resort.”
I bent over the paper and made some more notations. I missed Mason and his lessons. He was so much better than me at math… Oh, hell. I just missed Mason.
At the click of the handle to Alisha’s door, I stood and disintegrated the paper. Some of the symbols would be dangerous in the hands of an untrained human.
Alisha came out of her room, smiled at Mike, and said a cheery, “Good morning.”
She glanced at me with a sour expression, grunted, “Morning,” and turned to the cart. After filling a plate, she retreated into her room.
Once she was outside the bubble, I had to ask, “Mike, why is she so nice to you? We all worked together to get her out of that place.”
Mike wrinkled his nose in thought. “She’s mad at Logan for finding her; Manny put her in restraints and a hood and threatened her; and since we all work for you, she blames you for ruining her acting career.”
“I didn’t ruin her acting career. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t have an acting career. I gave her a part in Ashton’s movie. Sure, it was a small part, but it was more than what ninety-nine percent of other actors get. She should be grateful.”
Mike tilted his head and gave me a puzzled look. “You don’t understand teenage girls at all, do you?”
“What do you mean? I was a teenage girl, too. I know what it’s like.”
“Wrong. You were a teenage werewolf. You grew up in a different world than Alisha. That’s a big difference.”
“Shouldn’t she be grateful for that opportunity?”
“No,” Mike said bluntly. At my expression, he continued, “At least, not the way you presented it to her. You offered her a chance at a dream career, gave her a BITCHCoin to fund it, then jerked it away by forcing her to live with Logan and follow your rules.”
“I’m not going to apologize for that. Hollywood has more predators than a jungle. She’s only human.”
“And it’s only human to want freedom,” said Mike.
24
Mike, Manny, and I entered the conference room on the main floor of the embassy at one p.m. Seated at the long table were Lady Birdsong, the British ambassador, a bland-faced American, and a fierce-faced Saudi man.
The ambassador and the American wore standard business suits. Lady Birdsong wore an abaya and a head-covering that left her face exposed. The Saudi wore a white thobe and ghutra; over his thobe was a sheer black bisht robe with gold lapels. At seeing me, his face grew red and his lips curled back in disgust.
I was in a black knee-length dress and heels, head bare, and face uncovered. Standard indoor clothing for the embassy, but scandalous for meeting a Saudi man.
One sniff was enough, even before I recognized his face. The American was the CIA station chief from the US Embassy, the demon-ridden monster that had abandoned us to the Saudi Army.
I stepped quickly to my left, sliding my feet from my shoes and leaving them behind. putting the wall at my back. I ignored the angry Saudi and concentrated on the real danger: the demon-possessed American.
Mike stepped forward to get between me and the group but hesitated when I touched his arm and tilted my head to the right. He and Manny moved to the other side of the door. Our positions put the American at the apex of our triangle, where either Mike or I could attack without getting in each other’s way.
Mike raised his hand and touched his chest, where his cruci
fix hung. He opened his mouth but halted at my head shake. May as well hear what they had to say.
The ambassador rose to his feet, apparently unaware of the ratcheting tension in the room.
“Princess Luna, welcome. I’m Wallis Crayton, Her Majesty’s ambassador to Saudi Arabia.” He introduced Lady Birdsong, the Saudi—Prince Abdul Aziz, followed by a dozen honorifics—then the CIA contact, Bradley Jonathan.
As usual, neither my guards nor theirs were introduced. Their guards, three tough-looking SAS troops lined up against the far wall, stiffened when Mike and Manny moved. They had seen how much weight Mike lifted in the embassy gym during his workouts, and had been careful around him ever since.
Mike gave them his bland smile, the one that meant, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if it becomes necessary.”
Sometimes I wished I could get that amount of respect from men. On the other hand, it was a complete surprise to them when it turned out Mike was the gentle one.
There was a slight hesitation during the introductions, as if the ambassador was waiting for me to shake hands with the newcomers. Shake hands with a demon and the man who had kidnapped and tortured my packmate? Not gonna happen.
The ambassador pushed on, giving the bland, diplomatic smile politicians used to relay bad news. “I’ve been charged with resolving this unfortunate misunderstanding diplomatically. Please have a seat.”
“No, thank you. I won’t be here that long.”
“Now be reasonable,” started Mr. Jonathan.
“I know what you are,” I said. “What you really are.”
The tiny flames in his eyes flickered a bit brighter. Warning or surprise? With demons, it was hard to read expressions or scent intent.
Still, accusing him of being a demon—with no proof, in front of people who probable didn’t believe in demons—would be a mistake.
“And what am I, really?” he asked. The fire in his eyes danced with amusement. “And how would you know?”
“It’s the name,” I said. “All you would-be spies do the same trick with your fake names.” At a round of puzzled looks, I elaborated. “You choose names that can be either a first or last name. Maybe because you’re not smart enough to remember your own fake names?”
Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series Page 71