Silver and Gold (Sanctuary Book 1)

by Lilith Sinclair

  Alex rolled her eyes and ignored her. Only children think the world works like that when your job is to save it. She swiped a few things on the tablet’s screen and activated the earpiece, ignoring the blue light flickering as it established a connection. She clipped it to her shirt collar, having no issue hearing the monologue of information.

  The first few sentences droned on like a shopping list, and Alex feared the entire collection of clips from the different cases would sound dry, like a documentary.

  Mira’s heels clicked against the wooden floor. “I’m ready.” Her favorite luggage bag—bright pink and bedazzled in gems—bounced and twisted behind her as the wheels lost purchase against the cheap laminate floor, threatening to spill the other two bags strapped to the top. She carried a smaller duffel bag and an overstuffed purse among the twisted straps of her messenger bag, all of which beat her across the butt with each step.

  Alex flipped her iPad closed and slipped it into her travel bag that housed her TACT gear and the very basics of necessities and followed Mira to the teleportation office.

  At the office, Alex dropped her bag onto a luggage cart. A smirk curled her lips, and humor danced in her eyes as Mira struggled to untangle herself.

  “You could help, you know,” Mira snapped.

  Alex unclipped the messenger bag and threaded the nylon strap from among the mess. “Pack lighter.”

  Mira laughed and muttered, “Yeah, right.” In all the years they had been friends and in the years being partners, she had never packed light. She smoothed her loose green strands of hair and tidied up the pink shirt and jeans she’d changed into.

  The long line of patrons waiting for a port to one of the twenty-four-hour locations was a mix of various supes, snaking between velvet ropes that swung to and fro with a glancing pass. Some porters worked as quickly as they could, while others took their sweet time, knowing fewer options existed for those present and wielding that power as such.

  The Council was Big Brother when it came to porters, only allowing the ability to be harnessed under their strict training. Most teleporters were witches of some variety; a majority were adept at ley line manipulation, but some were good at molecular dispersion or reality bending.

  It was a cushy job if they didn’t kill someone by accident. Just an inch in either direction and poof, the transport became part of a wall or dropped to their death.

  “Hope someone is free,” Mira muttered.

  Fredrick hadn’t sent a transportation form, and, depending on who was working, they could be sitting there for hours.

  It was beyond Alex why the Citadel didn’t have guardian specific porters or why the Council-specific ones couldn’t handle the guardians as well.

  A little halfling girl with bright red hair and green eyes hurried up to them. “Miss Alex. I was sent to fetch you.” She bowed her head and turned about. With short hurried steps, she headed into one of the back offices.

  “Alex. Mira.” Rita smiled as she shook their hands. She was a witch from the fifteenth century, kept alive beyond her years with magic. But that life was a double-edged sword waiting for its penance.

  Alex was thrilled she was working tonight.

  “Where to?” Rita cracked her neck and flexed her fingers.

  “DC. The last heist was there,” Mira muttered, her mind elsewhere as she texted someone.

  “How’d you know we needed porting?” Alex laid her hand on Mira’s shoulder and a hand on the luggage rack.

  “I may have flagged your name in the system.” The witch smirked.

  Alex smiled, happy to see her and grateful someone with experience was porting them.

  Despite Rita being a good friend, even as a veteran porter, she didn’t know the duo were guardians, thinking they were tier operators or envoys as so many from the Citadel were.

  Rita wove ley line magic around the trio, and Alex reflexively spindled her magic around herself, creating a bubble of meta-shields and protecting her aura from the ley line’s grasp.

  An audible pop echoed inside Rita’s magical sphere as she pulled them into the line with her.

  A crystal rainbow of light streaked by at incredible speeds, and Alex closed her eyes to the treacherous display. Her stomach knotted as the magic sought entrance through Rita’s bubble, wanting to pry it apart.

  Without protection and guidance by someone trained in riding the lines, their minds would fry from the magic shooting along their synapses. Their identities would be stripped from them, layer by layer, and the magic of the Earth would absorb them, like the ocean against the cliff.

  Seconds stretched for an eternity, and, as smooth as she’d sucked them into the ley line, they materialized on the banks of the Potomac river.

  With lights still dancing in their eyes, Mira vomited at their feet. “I’m sorry. I haven’t—”

  Rita waved her off. “Even veteran porters lose their stomachs. The lines aren’t always smooth.” Rita reached through the rift she had created, staying within the confines of the Citadel and the teleportation’s magical field.

  “This the closet you could get?” Alex admired the lights that glittered on the other side of the river.

  “DC forbids port drops within the city. When you get back, we should do a girls night out. Holler if you need a jump.”

  “Thanks, but we might fly.” Alex wasn’t sure if Mira could handle another port so close to this one.

  It was common knowledge weres didn’t take kindly to being shoved into a tuna can with wings, but Rita took it with grace, nodding before warping back into the fold of magic and leaving a ringing in their ears at her departure.

  Guardian housing could pass for any run-of-the-mill hotel chain, and, for the most part, it was. Guardians and various agencies could stop in on a whim regardless of affiliation and be safe. As guests, they could order anything needed to efficiently do their jobs, from fresh meals to city delegates, science equipment and more.

  Alex didn’t care about the amenities, though having access to ammo the time or two she needed a special type had been nice in emergencies. For her, the dives were free, and the food was passable.

  The moment they crossed the threshold, the hairs on their necks prickled.

  “That’s different.”

  Alex nodded, agreeing with Mira. She rolled her shoulders, hating the feeling of being watched that naturally came with housing, but this was different.

  She brought up second sight, letting the magical plane overlay reality. The world was crisp greys and dark blacks. The usual strings of magic hummed against the grey in a rainbow of color.

  Witches. Fae. Weres. Alex made note of every person in the lobby and came up empty in connection to the heaviness that tingled against her mind. She shook her head to Mira and dropped the sight as they sauntered across the newly laid tile that clashed with the outdated wall color.

  A huge desk hid the scrawny man who compulsively tidied papers, despite nothing being wrong with the stack to begin with.

  Alex gave a short wave, thinking she got his attention. When that didn’t work, she cleared her throat.

  The man looked up, squinting over glasses. His hands never left the papers as he straightened them again.

  Mira smiled, holding up a finger at Alex. With her bright hair and complementary lipstick, she smiled until her teeth shown, batted her lashes and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

  The man didn’t take notice, now moving to straighten magazines on the counter.

  Mira’s charms worked on almost everyone. She blinked with her mouth wide. I don’t know, she mouthed, shrugging.

  Must not be his type. Alex tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear that refused to stay where she wanted. Curious about the receptionist, she sniffed him as she eased down her shields. The marks of a vampire’s lackey showed as two black voids against the man’s collarbone. Alex tapped her neck twice, pretending to shoo a fly.

  With the man’s connection and the sun still nestled beneath the horizon, the
re was little doubt he knew what Mira was, as were-shifters ran hot, and their blood pumped through them at an amazing rate, not to mention they emanated a smell any supe with a nose could distinguish.

  Vampires were low in the power structure of the supernatural community, especially since sunlight, of all things, weakened them. As a whole, the species toyed the most with supes, feeling more respect was owed them than they received by being the first supernaturals to come out to the mortal world—a notion that Orion, Demon Lord, laughed at and showed them an entire history of when vampires weren’t even considered a thought until well after ghosts, ghouls, demons, and even witches.

  Never in a mood for rudeness from lackeys of any sort, Alex leaned over the counter, staring into the man’s eyes. The glamour around her eyes dropped, revealing purple orbs, and her magic crawled along the desk, letting her dark side contemplate how long he’d last under tooth and claw.

  The shadows lapped against the fragile human full of fast food and smelling of cool dirt.

  Her fox didn’t find him appealing, thinking instead he’d be a waste of effort to dispose of compared to the joy of shredding him. But the shadows … the shadows thought he’d make a great mouse-size appetizer.

  “We’d like our room, please.” Alex dropped the look of normality, letting the demonic side of herself curl her lips into a devilish grin full of dirty thoughts and naughty intent.

  The receptionist visibly shook, dropping the key on the desk twice before he managed to set it on the counter.

  “No first floor?” Alex asked, knowing the odds were slim at best in DC.

  “No, ma’am.” He flinched from her as she grabbed the keys.

  Alex pressed her thumb against the registry. With a little magic, her signature flashed across the page, and a bright line appeared through it before dimming to black.

  “Have a good evening.” Mira blew him a kiss as they stepped onto the elevator.

  “You’re in a cuddly mood.” Alex smiled, leaning against the rail as the rickety box shambled to the third floor.

  Mira shrugged. “You about gave him a second death, and he hasn’t even had his first.” She winked. “You can’t have all the fun. Besides, I’m famished. Is it just me, or does this place actually smell good?”

  As they exited the elevator, the stench of stale air mixed with an incredible aroma of steaks and burgers made their stomachs growl.

  “Something smells good.” Alex didn’t wait for Mira to figure out which way to turn and instead traversed the hallway and paused in front of their room. She thought about setting Mira’s bags on the floor to open the door, but the idea of whatever was soaked into the carpet touching anything other than the soles of her boots made her mouth sour.

  Mira hurried down the hallway, fumbling with her key among her baggage and bracelets.

  The room was trapped in the eighties. The floral-patterned carpet coupled with the wallpaper made Alex miss the concrete dreary rooms of the academy dorms. Sniffing the air, Alex turned in a circle. The rooms smelled fresh while the halls and lobby had smelled stale. Her mind recalled the servant at the desk. The vampire. The Master Vampire and his coven’s scent permeated every public space.

  “Room service?” Mira eyes were glued to the kitchen menu’s laminated pages.

  Alex set the bags on top of the dresser. “The usual fare?’ She was hesitant to trust the delightful smells of food hidden among the mildewy fug that permeated the hallways. “If they have steak, I could go with a ribeye, rare, and french fries.”

  Mira picked up the landline, cradled the phone against her shoulder and punched in the numbers. Her lips curled into a snarl as she stuck her fingers together, grossed out by whatever she’d touched on the phone’s buttons.

  Alex dug the case files from Mira’s messenger bag, smiling at the missing you love note one of the guys she was dating had left for her.

  Mira mumbled about taking a shower, and Alex waved her on as she settled onto the twin bed and started up the audio case files once again and paired them with the physical copies.

  “Two items dated from the sixteen-hundreds … The alarms weren’t triggered, and the security cameras only show a bright light.” The narrator’s voice for the DC heist had an easy-going cadence that conflicted with the information it narrated.

  Mira stepped from the bathroom, a towel concealing her body while briskly rubbing her hair with another. “Food?” She looked around before turning toward the door. Without a pause, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “Bring it on in!”

  Alex pulled out the earbud and watched the light fade as the Bluetooth powered down. “The audio didn’t get any better the third time through.”

  Mira stepped around her, snatching clothes from one of her bags.

  Moments later, an impeccably dressed young man complete with shiny black shoes pushed a food truck into their room. He adjusted his bowtie and blushed before facing the closet door. “Steak and fries. Two cheeseburgers. A jerky bag. A chocolate shake. Two bags of chips, both sour cream and onion.” He refused to turn toward the room as he rattled off the list.

  Alex caught a glimpse of Mira’s bare ass disappearing into her pajama short-shorts and the side of her boob hiding behind her elbow as she reached for her shirt. She dug a tip from her pocket and pressed it into his hands. “Sounds right. Have a good morning.”

  He pulled the door closed and fled down the hallway.

  Alex chuckled. “You didn’t have to give the guy a striptease.”

  Mira shrugged. “A girl’s just got to have fun.” She snatched a bag of chips from the cart and flounced onto a bed. “How red did he get?” She fumbled for the remote and turned on the television before shoving a handful of chips into her mouth.

  “Redder than that two-piece you bought this summer.” Alex picked her plate off the tray and sat at the round table. “Two bags of sour cream and onion?”

  “I’m hungry.” She tipped up the bag, lapping the crumbs.

  She could have ordered BBQ chips for us to share. Alex shoved a fry into her mouth and reached for more salt. Using the fries to soak up the steak juices, she polished off her dinner.

  Mira slurped the last of her shake then set the glass on the cart beside the discarded lettuce from her hamburgers and the empty bag chips. “Want a piece of jerky?” She offered a small piece.

  Alex tossed the security photos onto the table and leaned back in the chair. “No thanks.”

  Mira shrugged, flipping through the channels, and stopped to watch some crime-solving show like NCIS or CSI. “What do you think of that guy?”

  She shrugged. “I guess he’s kind of cute, in a raggedy way.”

  The ocelot was quiet for a moment. “You think they’ll ever separate us?”

  Alex tried to figure out where this was coming from. “Why would they do that? We’ve been a pretty effective, if not typical, team.” If they look at close rates and not how we closed them.

  “Well …” Mira flopped onto her side. “They brought in this other member on the show because of disputes with how much they were paying the actors, and well, you know that got me to thinking that kitsunes age really slow compared to most of us. And …” She prattled without seemingly taking a breath while giving a list full of hypotheticals. “And they have never done a three-man team, so it seems more logical they’ll separate us.”

  Alex sat next to Mira, torn between hugging her and pushing her off the bed. “One day, yeah, we’ll probably get swapped out, or you’ll want to settle down and work from a stationary position in a town instead of traipsing across the world, but you know that’s not today nor will it be tomorrow.” She thought for a moment. “Besides, we’ve got a few aces they’d have to deal with before they tried to do that.”

  Mira seemed content with that, getting absorbed in the television show once again.

  Alex patted her friend’s arm. She tossed her jeans on the floor and turned from the clock. She didn’t need the reminder that the sun would be
rising in just over an hour. She climbed under the blanket on her bed, hating the chilliness that cool sheets brought.

  Mira adjusted the TV and curled beside Alex. She pushed her head under Alex’s hand, and, as Alex played in her green hair, the soft hum of her purring vibrated through her and the bed as if she was just an oversized house cat.

  Alex smiled, thinking how simple it was to please her friend. She didn’t enjoy unwarranted touch, but the ocelot thrived on it, like a plant and sunlight. As the warmth from the ocelot seeped through the blanket and into her, her eyelids dropped closed. She yawned, noticing a sliver of light slipping through the heavy drapes, but sleep pulled at her.

  Just as she dozed, a siren cracked through the early dawn.

  3

  Weekday mornings didn’t mean much in DC, as the museum was crowded with people. Tour groups moved like ants through the rooms, and the kids touched everything no matter what adults or signs said, leaving the guides frazzled. An older couple hung back, letting the hooligans through, and stole kisses from each other until the crowds around the exhibit scattered.

  Alex had arrived early, hoping to catch the curator as soon as the offices opened. Instead, she’d gotten a bleary-eyed secretary who had no idea about anyone. She sent Mira a quick text. Curator not in. Checking floor. Text when you’re up. She slipped the phone in her back pocket, not expecting a reply.

  The were-ocelot had been sprawled across the bed, drooling against the pillow and unable to rouse without some sort of meat-sickle, and that was one step too far for Alex.

  Blending in with the visitors on self-guided tours, Alex bumbled along with them, hating the way their collective smell lingered like trash, with dozens of perfumes and deodorants mixing with sweat, bad breath, and fabric detergent. Painfully slow, people surged through the Day of the Dead exhibit with bright colors and decorative masks. In one of the bends of the exhibit wing, a plaster pedestal sat vacant with a tiny pardon the interruption card on top.