If he was expecting me to be baited by two groat of tass, then I'd disappoint him. I reached for a retort.
O'Meara cut in. Thomas, stop thinking with those things hanging under your tail. Two groat is more than enough to make me sing a tune. Give me one sec. She ordered a finger of scotch.
Ceres began drumming her fingernails on the desk. Doug's eyes bored into me, no doubt looking for a sign that this was a trick or, if it wasn't, to gain some knowledge on how to replicate what I had.
Down in the bar, O'Meara took a deep breath that mirrored my own. With a twist of my mind, the link between us unmoored from hers. The tunnel between us twisted and curled into an entirely separate entity, a simple mind all its own. I called him Mr. Bitey. He coiled inside my own being. Other than a slight movement in the fur around my neck, there would be no evidence that anything had happened to an unaided eye. I released the breath on my own.
Ceres's eyes rose from the surface of her desk, and the cheetah barked once in confusion.
"See? That's all there is to it! Easy peasy." Rudy leapt down to the bowl and shoved one of the tass crystals into a cheek pouch.
The cheetah slammed a paw over the dish as Rudy reached for the other one. "Do it again," he demanded. I could feel the prickle of his concentration on my neck.
"That's not the deal," I replied, making a mental note to see if O'Meara was any good at concealment charms.
"AH!" The cheetah recoiled as if bitten, leaping back from the bowl and skidding over the tile.
Rudy held a sewing needle in one paw as he scooped up the remaining crystal into his mouth. "No backies on deals."
The cheetah issued forth a low moan and bared his teeth. "You dare bite me!"
"Nah. I stabbed ya. Cats taste awful!"
"Doug, that is enough," Ceres snapped. The cheetah immediately began to groom his rear leg in a huffy manner that wasn't fooling anyone. "Your friend is still standing, and we saw something." She scowled at me thoughtfully. "You broke what I believed to be a very established bond, and neither of you is a blubbering mess. We are interested in your services."
I heard the static click of an intercom turning on.
"Grace, sweetie, please come in." Ceres's voice pitched up a bit.
As Rudy busied himself stowing the tass, a copper-skinned elf walked in through the same hidden door that Ceres had arrived through. I couldn't see her ears for the mane of wild hair that fell around her shoulders. Give her a bow or a staff and she'd be stepping right out of a Dungeons and Dragons manual. The only things spoiling the effect were the earbuds hanging from her neckline. Her aura shone brighter than her mentor's.
Ceres rose, and the elf came to stand beside her. "This is Grace, my latest apprentice." Ceres beamed with pride as she placed a hand on Grace's shoulder. I saw the slightest flicker of a channel in Ceres, and the girl straightened. "She's finished all her trials, but it will still be a year before she's eligible for a familiar of her own. I see no sense wasting a year waiting to teach her basic spellcraft, so you represent a golden opportunity for her to stay ahead of her peers."
I smiled and nodded, trying (and failing) to still my twitching tail tip. This was precisely the opportunity I had been hoping for. A chance to get to know young magi and hopefully nudge them away from the sociopathic tendencies of their elders. It could be a vain hope, but I was in a unique position to try. "I suggest twice-weekly sessions. One for instruction and one for practice."
Ceres flinched. Genuine fear flashed in her eyes. "You want to form and break the bond twice a week?"
From that flinch, I knew two things. One, that she wasn't a sociopath, and two, Doug was not her first familiar. She knew the trauma that the breaking of a traditional bond caused firsthand. "I assure you it will be painless." Nobody I'd bonded with Mr. Bitey had resulted in a bond as deep as I had with my favorite magus. Your first bond is always special, I suppose.
"The fire mage downstairs needed a scotch, and Grace here can't legally drink. I'd prefer to hire you for the year," Ceres said.
"Thomas isn't available for an exclusive contract at the moment. We've got commitments in the next six months." With the rustle of paper, I caught a flash of white out of the corner of my eye. Rudy had whipped out the contracts. "We can do more sessions per week if you feel Grace needs even more practice." His weight shifted in the manner I recognized as him preparing to launch himself. "May I approach the bench, your honor?" he asked.
With a nod of her head and a slight roll of her eyes, Rudy launched himself onto Ceres's desk, almost sailing on the folds of parchment he carried.
My mind drifted as Rudy laid out the contract, chattering about rates and options. I watched Grace instead.
Worry had spread across the girl's face as Rudy tossed the term "standard mortality exit clause," and her aura brightened minutely. I realized that she herself was channeling her anchor, although the power didn't appear to be going anywhere.
I had my own audience, however. Doug watched me with an air of wariness. Still attempting to divine how my bonding worked, perhaps?
"These are workable terms." Ceres's voice boomed with the tone of judgment. "I'm sure Grace can behave herself while her lessons are ongoing."
Rudy's tail danced as Ceres picked up a pen and clicked it open. Freelance Familiars was about to be in business. Had I possessed thumbs, I totally would have shot Rudy a clandestine thumbs-up. Lacking those, I let my tail lash behind me and tried not to purr.
The intercom crackled to life. "Mistress Ceres! Are you expecting an owl?"
My heart sank as she put down the pen to press her intercom button. I knew only one owl, and I did not want to see him here.
"I have no appointments with owls today, particularly ones named Oric." And with that, my heart rebounded. She snatched the pen back up and signed the document with a flourish, then thrust the pen at Grace. "Quickly now, girl."
Grace moved with a smooth motion, the pen twirling around her fingers before she signed.
Taking the stack of papers back, Ceres straightened them. "There, we have a deal. But once you're outside, you'll need to deal with your owl problem yourself." She did not attempt to hide a smile. Apparently, I wasn't the only person with a bone to pick against Oric and his Talking Animal Union.
13
A Juggling Act
"Tell the limo and O'Meara to meet us at the next casino," I whispered to Rudy as soon as the elevator doors closed behind us. I needed to rebind O'Meara before Oric got to me. Best case, the head of the TAU might simply want a very stern chat, but I doubted that. Worst case, the old owl had decided I needed to be removed from the board. No matter how you sliced it, I wanted backup for this conversation. Oric might be a puffed-up fool, but you don't get to be over two hundred years old without some major mojo. I doubted the teleportation was the only trick he had tucked under his wings.
"Okay, soon as we're out of this metal box and I get a signal." Rudy's claws ticked on the glass of his iPhone.
The elevator door opened, and we stepped out into the lobby. I expected to find a small grey owl waiting for us, but the lobby was empty except for the guard in the suit. The hairs on the back of my neck began to rise.
Rudy hunkered down close to my neck. "No signal here either."
I instinctively reached out to O'Meara, but there was only Mr. Bitey in my mind. Double crap. The plan had been for Rudy to text the limo once we were done with Ceres. There was no backup plan. I tried to remember where the bar that O'Meara had camped in was located. Oric wouldn't risk airing the TAU's dirty laundry in public, and the casinos had wards against teleportation within them.
"Thomas!" O'Meara waved from down the hallway. She made a "hurry up" gesture. "Limo's ready to go." She turned and strode back towards the entrance.
Panic seized my heart. "O'Meara! Wait!" Rudy squeaked in surprise as I tore off after her. She didn't seem to hear me as she continued through the door outside.
Rudy said something, but I didn't hear him as my
pads skidded across the smooth tiled floor. Patrons gave shrieks of fear as I nearly skidded straight past the bank of eight doors that made up the entrance to the Luxor. I got my feet under me and launched myself through that door as the bellhop helpfully held it open. My intent was to grab O'Meara and pull her back inside.
Purple flashed in my vision, the color of space being bent, as soon as my tail exited the building. My body tried to twist, but needles jabbed into my rump.
O'Meara turned and smiled, an impish, triumphant thing. Horror flooded my body. Her aura - it was blue, not red. The color of actively-channeled anchor. I'd fallen for a bait and switch.
The purple flashed again, this time from everywhere at once.
"Would you like to know the secret of keeping an organization of predators in line, young Thomas?" Oric's stuffy voice echoed through my head. "It's simple gravity."
The purple faded away, and nothing replaced it. Nothing but blue sky and the sensation of floating, which turned into biting-cold wind tearing through my fur and stinging my skin. I spun and caught sight of a gridded plane far below me. A primal scream tore itself out of me into the rushing air. The fucking bastard! He'd just up and killed me. No negotiation, no second chances. My bowels let go. Somebody's car would need to be washed, but the one next to it would be a blood-red crater.
Bloody feathered bastard! I started to wonder how I had so misread the little gangster then pushed it aside. If I was going to die, my last thought wouldn't be of him!
The tears in my eyes were making it difficult to see, and it took a mighty effort to hold back my third eyelids when I looked directly down. Despite that, the details of the ground began to loom, with the square shape of the Luxor directly beneath me. The owl had teleported me directly up.
"Nice view, isn't it?" And there he was, right in front of me, falling with his wings opened just a tad so he could steer. The bird radiated smugness.
"Okay, okay, okay!" I shouted at him. "Let's talk!"
Oric gave no indication that he had heard. The Luxor grew beneath us, the point of the pyramid growing ever closer. My eyes fixed on it through a narrow squint.
"Oric, you've made your point!"
Still the building grew larger, filling my vision. Gravity playing chicken with my head, except I wasn't at the wheel. I made out the individual lights along the edge of the pyramid, shut my eyes, and waited for death.
Purple flashed. My stomach lurched. My eyes opened and found the world in a crazy spin around me. The Luxor still loomed as it tumbled around me, but it was... retreating? Yes, the ground was going away. A manic laugh exploded from my throat. I wasn't dead!
"Yet," said Oric, still right within wing-reach. "All it takes is a simple failure to catch you. It can happen so easily." His voice was even, as if he were drinking an afternoon coffee instead of hurtling through the sky.
"We can work this out, Oric!" I pleaded, finding it really hard to keep my spine stiff without a single paw on the ground. The wind cutting through my fur was lessening already. We'd almost reached the top of the arc.
"We are not going to work this out, Thomas. You are going to listen."
Reaching the apex, it felt like I hung in space for moment. The ground was far below, but not nearly as far as it had been the first time. I nodded with what I hoped was vigor at the bird.
"Good," he nearly cooed as gravity once again tore me from the sky. "Now, I know we've had our differences, Thomas, but I think it's high time that we bury the hatchet. So, after this conversation, you're going to join the TAU." He took his time with every word as the very, very hard ground zoomed toward my squishy body. "Now, I recognize that standard procedure won't do for someone of your talents, which could be in very—"
His wing struck my nose, and purple flashed around me as I saw the blue eyes of a little girl pointing at me.
I inhaled to scream, expecting another reversal, but instead biting cold rushed into my lungs. The world stretched out so far below that I could follow the lines of the mountains and Lake Mead.
"—high demand," Oric continued as I struggled to snatch enough oxygen from the air to stay conscious. "So you'll keep your freelance business. I daresay you'll find it much easier to find clients. The TAU will take fifty percent of the revenue, as is fair."
My fear was exhausted now, my intestines and stomach emptied. I felt hollow. I just wanted this to be over. And still Oric kept talking.
"You will go to Mistress Ceres and renege on your agreement. Use whatever excuse you need. She and all her apprentices are officially blackballed."
The world flashed to a blue sky as we headed up once again.
"This arrangement will be easier for the both of us if you give it a chance, Thomas. If you don't remember, I have Jowls, and his memory of what happened in Grantsville is surprisingly clear."
My head snapped in his direction, and he gave me the evilest grin that ever graced a bird's face. It was all in the eyes, and they said, I own you now.
From the beginning, I had trusted Jowls. The flamboyant bowling ball of a cat had seemed harmless. He and his magus, Jules, had helped O'Meara and me out as we fought off an elder magus named Sabrina and a pack of werewolves. By "helped" I mean "letting me use their phone,” not actually putting themselves in any sort of danger or lending us any magical resources that aided that fight. To survive, I made a deal with the dragon. Later on, when I realized that the remains of the dragon's prison was blending nearby realities together and generating large amounts of tass, it was Jules and Jowls I went with to harvest it. Unfortunately, the pair of them decided that in order to maximize the yield, it'd be prudent to toss the entire town, residents included, into a blender.
Only by throwing in with the Blackwings did we save the majority of Grantsville's residents. Tack shot and killed Jules. With his bond dead, Jowls had been reduced to a blubbering ball, mewling with grief. Common knowledge held that when a bond breaks, you lose weeks of memories, so we deemed it safe to allow Jules to go back to the TAU. That, and I couldn't have brought myself to kill him.
"The shock wears off, the memories come back. Particularly the younger ones. Our minds are not meat." The wind slowed, my stomach cuddled up to my throat.
Flash.
A deep blue.
Splash.
Blessed warmth slapped my face and tried to say hi to my lungs, igniting an entirely new pain. My legs flailed, and this time my paws propelled me upwards to break the surface of the water. Coughing and snorting, I gulped down air before my lungs were ready for it. A sneezing fit ensued as I doggy-paddled for the shore. The circling shape of Oric chattered at me, but I refused to heed him as I dragged myself onto the rocky shore and collapsed. My panting only paused while I hacked up water.
The little feathered torturer flitted down in front of my nose. "I hope you enjoyed our little game today, Thomas, because you only get to play it once. Think on what I showed you." With that, he took wing. I couldn't even growl a response.
14
A Lovely Day for a Walk
I woke.
Stupid.
Not the waking. Me. I wanted to go pound my head against a wall, chanting it like a mantra. Stupid, stupid, stupid. We'd rushed over to Ceres without any precautions, without any plan against the owl. Apparently, in working with Ceres, I'd crossed a red line that he'd neglected to tell me about. How dare he fling me around like a toy!
There were simple countermeasures to Oric's juggling act. I could get O'Meara to ward against his powers, or maybe rig a parachute spell - or a flying spell! A smile came to my lips. If he thought I'd tuck my tail between my legs and behave, then that bird had another thing coming.
The whole thing replayed in my head. My smile fell right off as I heard that threat of blackmail again. Now that did not have a simple solution. Other than killing Oric, which would be an entirely new can of worms, and I've got plenty of those open already. Growling, I pried open my eyes.
The sun did not blast my retinas, but it wasn't da
rk either. I was under something. It made a crinkling noise when I shifted. A reflective blanket. I pushed my head out from under it. The desert sun blazed down from its perch in the sky and scalded my eyes. The edges of the blanket had been weighed down with rocks so it hadn't blown off me. I sat on the bank of a lake. Probably Lake Mead, Las Vegas's main reservoir. Had Oric put the blanket over me after I'd passed out? The rocks were about the size of my paws. He could have if he'd teleported, but I couldn't see Oric sticking around.
Mysterious wasn't Oric's style. He would have left a bill or a taunt or at the very least maybe a note that this blanket had been provided by the TAU. Not much I could do about it now. Nothing alive stirred, and the scenery wasn't talking. I saw one dusty indentation that might have been a human footprint if I squinted. Not much to go on. Maybe a community of talking kangaroo rats?
I let the mystery go before taking a long drink from the lake. Afterwards, using a combination of claws, teeth, and my magic thumb, I fashioned the tinfoil blanket into a crude cat poncho. Once I situated it around myself, I started walking.
I cursed each step, mostly because every nook and cranny of my body sported windburn. That was an entirely new sort of discomfort. You generally don't get chafing with a fur coat as thick as mine. Also, the ground tried to sear my feet, resulting in a hot foot shuffle. Eventually, the aches of my abuse faded out, and a rhythm settled on me. I retreated inward.
How many folks knew about the dragon? Rudy and O'Meara, certainly. But Veronica definitely knew too. Then there were the surviving technomagi who'd attempted to grind up Grantsville, Harry and Richard. Their memories had also been damaged by the death of their bond, Tom. Then of course Jowls; the fat feline had been nearly catatonic when we fished him out of the void Tack had tossed him into. We all figured it'd be safe to turn him over to the TAU for treatment. Were there any nice cats out there who wouldn't stab me in the back for a can of tuna?
High Steaks (Freelance Familiars Book 3) Page 8