Bunny didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about. Suddenly, she looked very tired.
“I had no choice, Skeeve,” she said. She slumped into the chair at the front desk, which was usually empty, since we didn’t have a receptionist. I stood over her with my hands on my hips. “As you ought to know, sometimes a leader has to make on-the-spot decisions for the good of the group. That’s why I was chosen as president.”
“I didn’t choose you,” I said. I had wanted to be president again.2
“But the others wanted me,” she said. “All of them but you and Aahz. Both of you had lost sight of the goal of this business, which is to help other people. And I thought you had come to like having me as president. Do you think I failed Aahz in the conference room?”
I exploded. “Yes! You didn’t stand up for him!”
Bunny raised her eyebrows. “Did he deserve it? He was taunting the customers. He insulted them to their faces when we were trying to secure their cooperation. That’s unprofessional. If an associate behaved that badly in front of someone outside the Family, my uncle Bruce would have someone like Guido take him outside and deal with him.”
“I might have insulted them, too,” I said. I knew I was sulking, but I didn’t care. “Emo and Wilmer were maneuvering every way they could to get the best advantage for themselves.”
“Of course they were!” Bunny said. “If they weren’t, one of them would have ceded the office of governor to the other long ago. I had to give them something they could win at, so they would feel good about going along with the rest of our plans.”
“Why would we care if they felt good?” I asked. “Emo came to us, remember? He asked for our help. You don’t even like him.”
“It doesn’t matter if I like him. He’s the client. One of them. We agreed to take the job, and that means handling all the factors involved. That includes the people.” She tilted her head and studied me. “You’ve been sheltered from the worst of everything in your life. There are consequences you have never even dreamed of that could happen to people.”
“Worse than imprisonment, torture, or death?” I taunted her.
“Well, yes,” she said, surprised by my question. “Having to live with humiliation every day of your life. Having your self-worth called into question. Never being able to redeem yourself or hold your head high. That’s why the Ax was so effective. As a Character Assassin, the Ax destroys people without killing them. Having been on the receiving end of that yourself, can’t you have a little sympathy for two silly men who have spent five years avoiding asking for the truth?”
I hated lectures, especially if I deserved them. But she was right. I accepted what she said. I was determined not to revert to the stubborn apprentice I had been in Garkin’s house or the brooding hermit I had been during my self-imposed exile in my own inn. I pulled back on my temper and sat down on one of our guest chairs opposite her. “I see your point, but we’re a team!”
“You think Aahz is off the team because he’s not working on one assignment?” Bunny countered. “We don’t all go around in lockstep. Do you want to join Pookie undercover in that monastery?”
I was taken aback. “No . . .”
“Then see it my way.” She smiled at me, her big blue eyes turned up to mine. Bunny was a very beautiful woman. I found myself falling into her gaze. I could smell her perfume. She wore the scent of the lilacs, like those that had grown around my mother’s garden. “I would never do anything that deliberately harmed Aahz. I did consider the ramifications before I asked him to leave. There are upsides to having him out of the picture, too. It might come in handy later on when we’re too deeply mired to see what our next move should be. We can lean on Aahz’s perspective. You know how he loves giving advice.”
“That’s for sure,” I said. You could set Aahz off on a daylong lecture with one simple question.
“It’s only a month, plus an extra day or two for arguing over the ballot count, and not anywhere close to the last job we’ll take as a group. Besides, wasn’t his exit just a little too dramatic?”
“Well . . .” I looked around. “Then where is he? If he’s not mad, he should be back here.”
“Think for a second, Skeeve,” Bunny said, with a grin. “This is Aahz we’re talking about. Where do you think he went, after a session like that?”
“An inn,” I said at once. “I’ll go find him.”
“Why?”
“Well, just to see how he’s doing.”
“Don’t do it. Why chase him down? Aahz is a big boy. If he wanted company, he would have left word where he went. I bet he’s telling the bartender and everyone else in earshot that he got the situation just where he wanted it. And he’d be right, too. There’s no one single way to handle a client.”
I grinned back.
“Right,” I said. “Then what do we do next?”
“Chumley’s got the files. I want him to formulate questions for the debates.”
I nodded. He had by far the most analytical mind among us.
“Guido and Nunzio?”
“I hope they won’t be needed over the next few days. They’re putting together a team to oversee the polling places. Nunzio thinks that Gleep will be able to sniff out any spells or devices that either side sets. Tanda is sitting this one out. She liked Emo even less than you did.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Is it because of what I said a minute ago?” I asked. I got up and took her hand. I felt terrible. “I just have to tell you that what I said is true. I didn’t want you as president.” Bunny looked crestfallen. “Not then. I mean, only for that single moment, when I was disappointed that the rest of our friends didn’t want me back. I do now. I really do. You’ve been a great president. I’m sorry. I had no business saying that.”
“It’s all right, Skeeve,” she said. “I understand. I felt like blowing off steam myself. I know you really do support me. It’s not what you say that counts. It’s what you do.”
“Then why don’t you have a job for me?”
“Oh, I do! But you can have the night off. You’re going to be busier than anyone else besides me. Besides providing our backup magikal firepower, I need you to help me judge the debates. I was going to include Aahz on the panel, but he talked himself out of the job.” Her eyes twinkled. “I really think he did it on purpose. Ooh, I hate politics!”
“May I buy you a milk shake?” I asked solicitously. “It will cheer you up. Gus makes a terrific strawberry shake.”
She kissed me on the cheek. It was a sisterly gesture, but it still made my blood tingle. “Thanks, but I can’t. I have to get home to Mother! She hates it when I’m late for dinner.” She stood up.
“Do you need a lift?”
“No, thanks. One of Uncle Bruce’s magicians is coming for me any minute.”
“There you are!”
A brassy trumpet of a voice burst out in the quiet of the tent. A female Klahd about Bunny’s age and height pushed through the front flap. She had black hair, a firm chin, round cheeks and dark blue eyes. Her low-cut, electric-blue dress drew attention to her rounded décolletage, even more impressive than Bunny’s. It was also cut short enough that I could see most of her shapely legs. It reminded me of the kind of outfit Bunny had worn until she felt comfortable enough to dress the way she really liked, in tailored suits that hugged but didn’t reveal her figure. This one didn’t mind letting everyone glimpse ninety percent of the goods. The magician from the Mob was a Moll?
“You were supposed to meet me near Crazy Ichor’s perfume tent!”
“Sorry, Sylvia,” Bunny said.
Sylvia eyed me up and down. Her brows rose in approval. “Say, who’s this?”
“Sylvia, this is Skeeve. Skeeve, this is my cousin Sylvia.” Bunny performed the introductions hastily. “We ought to get going, Sylvia.”
“Skeeve? Really? Skeeve the Magnificent? Say, he’s cute! I like them tall and lean an
d blond. C’mere, Handsome.” Sylvia sidled up to me and began to run her hands where her eyes had just traveled. I squirmed aside. She followed me.
“Sylvia!”
The newcomer stopped, but she looked perturbed. “Uncle Bruce said you weren’t going to put dibs on him, so he’s fair game.”
“No, he’s not!” Bunny exclaimed.
Sylvia put her hand on her hips. “Well, make up your mind, already! Forget it. We don’t have time. Everyone’s already waiting for us. Come on. Gascon!”
A Deveel stuck his head inside. “Miss Sylvia? Hello, Miss Bunny.”
“Hi, Gascon.”
“Three to beam out,” Sylvia commanded.
“Yes, Miss Sylvia,” he said.
“Move it, Bunny!”
“Yes, sorry, I’m coming.” Bunny picked up Bytina from the desk and stuck her into a shoulder bag. “See you later, Skeeve.”
“Right. Have a good dinner, Bunny.”
She gave me an enigmatic look. I couldn’t translate it, and with company present, I couldn’t ask.
Gascon came in, rubbing his hands together nervously. I don’t know what he’d been told about M.Y.T.H., Inc., but he looked impressed at our domicile. I didn’t know why. Even though we took up plenty of interdimensional space, our office was small and underadorned by the standards of Deveel architects, who liked to act poor and live rich. Behind the rear flap of a humble shoemaker’s hut might be a pleasure palace with solid-gold fountains and a zoo filled with exotic animals from a hundred dimensions. Gascon drew a circle in the air around him and the two women. The lines that followed his fingertips were bright blue. They grew into a cylinder that surrounded the three of them. It flashed brightly, then disappeared.
BAMF!
“Wait a minute, Bunny!” I called.
I was left by myself, trying to make sense out of what had just happened. Dibs? Fair game? The contract to provide a foothold for the Mob in the Bazaar had ended, but I knew Don Bruce still considered me a powerful ally. I thought he had stopped matchmaking between me and one of his female associates. Maybe he hadn’t. Bunny would know. I wished that I could ask her then.
And I hadn’t had a chance to tell her that my containment spell at the hotel had been broken from the inside.
CHAPTER NINE
“Good politics is cleaning up the town.”
—W. EARP
Aahz had not returned by the time Bunny and I left for Tipicanoo the next day. I kept looking for him as we prepared to go.
“Don’t worry about him,” Bunny insisted.
She was right. Aahz had a solid ego. I ought to have been more worried about what we had to deal with in Tipicanoo. I had had a good night’s sleep, but Bunny had circles under her eyes.
“What about you?” I asked. “You look tired.”
“Too much family, and too much food,” she said. She brightened up and straightened her suit, a businesslike pale-blue coat, though the skirt was still enticingly short. “Let’s go!”
BAMF!
I brought us directly into the offices of the Morning Gossip. The press was rolling full blast as always. Bales of paper flew overhead, ready to keep their appointment with corner newsstands. I glanced at the clock: a few minutes before ten. We were on time for our planned announcement. Bunny had the press release Chumley had written for us ready in her hand.
Ecstra saw us appear and hurdled her desk. She ran toward us, notebook in hand.
“Skeeve! Bunny! What have you got to say about the report that you have engineered a fixed election date by the two candidates?”
We looked at each other.
“How do you know about that?” I asked.
Ecstra beamed. “So it’s true! Tell me everything! Who agreed first? How did you decide on a month from now? Does it have anything to do with favorable conditions in the stars? What sign are you? Give me your impressions of the two candidates! Who has the best chance of winning?”
“Hold it,” I said. “Where did you get the impression that there was an agreement?”
Ecstra wrinkled her nose at me. “Don’t try to deny it. It’s all over town!”
“Who told you?”
“Skeeve! I can’t reveal my sources. That would be unethical. Now, give me details! We’ll put the follow-up in tomorrow’s paper!”
“What do you mean, tomorrow’s paper?” Bunny asked.
I reached up and snagged a stack of papers flying overhead toward the door. The headline read, M.Y.T.H., Inc., Maneuvers! The subhead went on to say, Backroom confab yields a crop in one month!
I scanned the article. Bunny read over my shoulder. It contained almost an entire transcript of our meeting. There were no pictures, fortunately. The images on either side of the front page must have been official portraits of Emo and Wilmer.
“I really didn’t expect them to stick to their promise,” Bunny said, with a shrug. “I suppose that’s what the assistants were writing down.” She handed the paper to Ecstra. “We wanted you to have an exclusive.”
The young reporter scanned the sheet. “Yes, I’ve seen this stuff already,” she said.
“How?”
“Every paper in town has it! Now, give me something juicy. What did you have to promise them to get them to agree? Did Skeeve here have to wrestle them? Was it bribery? How much?”
“We just showed them it was in their best interests,” Bunny said.
“Very quotable!” Ecstra said, pleased. “Well, come on, or we’ll be late!”
“For what?” I asked.
“For the baby-kissing contest. It’s scheduled for ten o’clock.”
* * *
We followed Ecstra to the town square, where an enormous crowd had already gathered. A white-painted gazebo in the center gave it the air of a quaint country town, except for the campaign decorations all over. Dozens of fresh posters had been plastered on every available wall. Go Emo! and Why Not Wilmer? were printed on signs stuck every few feet next to pathways and sidewalks. Vehicles bore gaudy slogans on their sides and buckboards and even hanging around the cart animals’ necks. The purple and green motif was so strong it took me a minute to realize that all the garbage was gone. The fences and light posts were freshly painted. Every piece of metal in sight had been polished. The grass had been clipped and huge beds of flowers planted. Butterfly birds flew and sang as if they had been especially imported to make the city look festive. I suspected they had. The air smelled of roses and popcorn.
“When did all this happen?” Bunny said.
“About sunset last evening,” Ecstra said. “Hordes of campaign workers canvassed the city. And swept and cleaned and painted. It was impressive.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “It all started about the time we left. They cleaned the place up pretty well.”
Badges in swarms surrounded visitors and pinned themselves onto any available inch. We fought them off, managing to go without being inadvertently adorned. A stack of brochures floating in the air by itself made for us. Three of the pamphlets dealt themselves from the top.
“No, thanks,” I said, holding up a hand. The flyer tried to stick itself between my fingers. I shook it loose. It dropped a few inches, then retreated to the main group.
“Aggressive, aren’t they?” Bunny observed.
Printed material was not the only voter enticement available. Attractive young Tipps of both genders offered toys, candy, and drinks from trays slung around their necks. As soon as a newcomer entered the town square, he or she was descended upon by a host of eager Emo or Wilmer supporters. Few children went without a toy or balloon in green or purple.
And there were a lot of children. I had never seen so many youngsters in one place outside a school or an amusement park: big ones, little ones, but especially babies in arms. A horde of mothers with infants that extended all around the center and out of the square was being lined up four abreast by more cheerful campaign workers wearing straw hats with purple or green ribbons. Dozens of the babies were crying.
“Where are the candidates?” Bunny asked.
We looked around. I spotted Wilmer, Emo, and their campaign managers bustling around in the gazebo.
“There they are,” I said, pointing over the heads of the crowd.
“Take us over there,” Bunny said. Her auburn brows folded downward. “I need to have a word with them.”
I put an arm around her waist and pushed off against the ground with my mind.
“Wait for me!” Ecstra called.
She jumped up and grabbed onto my ankle. With her additional weight, we sank fast. I was afraid of dropping Bunny. I shook my foot, but Ecstra hung on firmly.
“Let go!” I said.
“The press has the right to observe!”
“You’re pulling my leg off!”
“Let her come along,” Bunny said. “You can do it, Skeeve. I know you can!”
Well, if she believed in me, I couldn’t let her down. Grimly, I drew in additional magik from the force lines. Pushing hard, I managed to get all three of us airborne.
CHAPTER TEN
“Some jobs just require lip service.”
—M. JAGGER
We sailed over the throng until we came to a barrier at the foot of the gazebo steps with a dozen police patrolling behind it. Three of the officers rose to intercept us. One was my old nemesis, Sergeant Boxty. The other two spread out a dragnet. Sergeant Boxty sat back in the air as if he were in a comfortable chair and patted his belly with both hands.
“Well, well, well, Mr. Skeeve, isn’t it? And where do you think you’re going?”
“We need to get through. We’re overseeing this election.”
“A likely story. Let’s see your identification!”
“I don’t have any identification. You already know who I am!”
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