Slay

by Matthew Laurence

  … which is where we come to a screeching halt, mouths open.

  9

  THIRD WHEEL

  FREYA

  Someone’s trashed our rental. Its tires are slashed, the windshield is cracked, and charming phrases like WHORE, THIEF, and GO BACK TO RUSIA are scrawled over it in black spray paint.

  “We so lost our deposit on this thing,” Nathan deadpans after a moment.

  “Anyone here who doesn’t think Riley did this?” I ask. “Anyone?”

  Silence.

  “Yeah. Thought so.”

  Sekhmet gives me a pointed stare and holds up her hand. Peach-gold talons pop out of her fingertips, and she arches an eyebrow as if to say, “Eh?”

  “Getting really, really tempted here, but no, not yet,” I say, pulling out my Mim and searching for the rental agency’s number.

  She shrugs, and the talons slip back. “I will admit it’s a simple solution,” she says, admiring her nails for a moment. “But results are results.”

  “And homicide charges are inconvenient,” I mutter, dialing. I glance at the car again. “Not that this isn’t,” I add under my breath.

  “I’m just surprised she spelled thief correctly,” Nathan says as we settle down to wait.

  I lean against the side of a building, feeling the California heat radiate through the brickwork, and place my call for help. The rental lady sounds deeply annoyed over the phone, but eventually promises to send someone with a replacement car as soon as possible, as well as a tow truck for our former ride. Funny how a pile of cash can make everything better.

  It only takes about five minutes before I get bored with squinting at LA’s blazing sunshine and decide to find something else to help me pass the time. A quick search in my Mim tells me there’s a café within walking distance that’s known for its baked goods.

  “Done,” I say, clicking the phone off and straightening up. Nathan and Sekhmet both send curious looks my way.

  “I’m questing for treats,” I explain, pointing in the direction of the nearby street corner. “Anyone want to come with?”

  “Our new vehicle may arrive soon,” Sekhmet says with a small shake of her head. “Best if at least one of us is here when it does.”

  “Nathan?”

  He pauses, thinking it over, then glances at Sekhmet. “Nah, you go ahead, boss,” he says after a moment, then adds a subtle wink. “I’ll wait.”

  “Ah, okay,” I say. “Back in a few. Call if you need me.”

  They nod at that, then return to their vigil. I walk away, turn the corner, and immediately stop, pressing against the side of the building and focusing my hearing to eavesdrop on the pair. Based on last night’s conversation, I’m guessing Nathan intends something with Sekhmet, and, nosy goddess that I am, I’d like to know what. A minute passes, and just as I begin to wonder if I’m zipping right past “involved friend” and into “creepy stalker” territory, my priest speaks up.

  “Uh, Sekhmet?” he says in a voice that’s a little higher than normal.

  “Hm?” she replies, sounding distant. Probably on the lookout for threats, as usual.

  He lets out a breath. “Sara—I mean, you—That is, Sara told me you—Gah, hang on.” I picture him running his hand through his hair, like he does when he’s nervous.

  “Are you quite all right?” Sekhmet asks.

  “Yeah, even worse at this with goddesses, apparently.”

  “Worse at what?”

  “Asking—No, that’s not—” He blows out another breath, sounding stressed, and tries again. “Look, I know you’re the sort of person who prefers it when things are direct.”

  “This conversation seems to indicate otherwise.”

  “Aheh, yeah,” he says in the sort of way that can only be accompanied by a nervous fidget. “So let me … ah, just—” He inhales, steeling himself. “Sekhmet, would you like to go out with me?”

  There’s a tense pause, and then, in a slightly puzzled voice, she says, “Go? Where?”

  “On—on a date?” he says, sounding strained.

  An even longer pause follows. Finally, after what seems a rather cruel amount of time, she replies in a very puzzled voice with, “You are asking if I wish to have sex with you?”

  I clap my hand to my mouth to avoid snorting out loud.

  “Wha—No!” Nathan sputters. “I mean, I guess technically there’s an implication—”

  “So you do not…?”

  “No! I do! Just not—” He gasps, a reactor in his brain seeming to enter meltdown.

  “I am trying very hard to be patient, as I consider you an honorable ally,” Sekhmet says, “but if you do not speak plainly, I will become upset.”

  He replies with an exasperated sound, then seems to steady himself. “I like you, Sekhmet,” he says. “In that stupid, heartsick, gooey way that kills sleep. I’m asking for a date to see if we match, not just because you’re an eye-popping Egyptian badass.”

  There’s another uneasy silence, and then he adds, “Gods, Sekhmet. I want to see if you’re interested in a relationship.”

  “A relation—Oh!” she says in a shocked voice, sounding more surprised than I think I’ve ever heard her. “You wish that of me? With the—the flowers? You are asking to … romance me?”

  “I’d kind of want to phrase it nearly any other way, but yeah.”

  “I’ve never done that before.” She sounds stunned.

  “So that’s a…?”

  “Ah! Yes, of course.” She clears her throat, and then, in a very formal voice, says, “Nathan Kence. I, Sekhmet, Eye of Ra, accept your proposal. We shall date.” There’s a slight scrape as she finishes, and I sigh as I realize she must be sketching a bow or curtsy of some kind.

  However awkward I imagine it must look, Nathan doesn’t seem to mind. “Great!” he says. “That’s … wow. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”

  “You are the first mortal in over five thousand years to express a desire for me beyond this form,” she says, something sharp in her voice. “Kings. Priests. Conquerors. Men and women who defined themselves by their love for me, and in this moment, you have chosen, have dared to ask for more than any. ‘Relieved’? You are a warrior, Nathan, and the novelty of your invitation is … intoxicating.”

  “So you’re curious?” he asks after a moment. “About us?”

  “Thoroughly,” Sekhmet croons, and then there’s a rustling sound and a startled breath from Nathan.

  Overwhelmed by the need to know what’s happening, I sneak a peek around the corner and work to stifle a gasp of my own. Sekhmet’s thrown her arms over his shoulders, pressing their bodies together so they can make out with passionate ferocity. I can’t help staring, nor can the handful of passersby on the street; it’s like she’s playing lioness and gazelle with his lips.

  For his part, he seems to be loving it, tightening his hands on her back the moment he gets over his surprise and giving as good as he gets. I slip around the edge of the building as their kiss continues, a bewildering array of emotions ricocheting through my head, and try to focus myself on the strongest anchor I can imagine right now: cookies. The promise of baked goods shines like a beacon in the storm, leading me down the street and away from the new couple.

  As I make my way to the café, my brain keeps trying to unpack how I feel about the whole thing, and I keep trying to shove the whole mess back down. He is my friend and my priest, and she is my friend and my peer. That’s it.

  I’m not going to let this get to me. I was caught off guard, that’s all. I mean, damn, my priest moves fast. And so does Sekhmet, apparently. Cookies. I’m going to eat so many cookies, going to drown the nonsense in my mind with crispy sweetened bliss, and then get back to the business of conquering Hollywood and crushing my foes.

  Priorities. And cookies.

  Half an hour and a pile of magnificent chocolate-studded delights later, a shiny new car pulls up beside the wreck of our old rental and a grim-looking man gets out, eyes darting from our
vandalized ride to us with an expression that says, “These people.”

  We sign a bunch of forms and scary waivers, exchange some very clipped pleasantries with the rental guy, and pile into the sporty number he’s brought us. Nathan gets comfortable in the driver’s seat while Sekhmet and I take the back, and we’re soon cruising LA’s congested streets once more. As Nathan returns us to the hotel, I punch Mahesh’s number into my Mim, hoping to distract myself with news about the audition.

  He picks up after a single ring. “They love you,” he says, and I can hear his grin.

  “I’ve had a bit of practice at that,” I reply, smiling, and switch the call to speakerphone so Nathan and Sekhmet can listen in.

  “Glowing reviews,” he says. “They’ll try to fast-track you, so get ready for a flight to San Francisco. There’s no way the director and network reps are going to sign off on an unknown without a face-to-face, which is perfect for us.”

  “That’s great to hear, Mahesh.” I pause, and try to put a bit of steel into my voice. “Guess you’re going to have to give Kirsten the bad news.”

  “Ah, ran into her again?” he says, sounding very pleased.

  “Something tells me that wasn’t an accident.”

  “Not at all.” I hear a keyboard clicking on his end. “In fact, let’s see—ah, yes, already raving about you on every social network she can find. Perfect.”

  “She—Wait, back up. She knows who I am? How?”

  “Those media consultants you met yesterday? I’ve instructed them to use your accounts to start a little feud between the two of you.”

  “You what?” I snap, exchanging glances with Sekhmet and feeling blindsided. I take a breath and try to remind myself that I sought an agent out for a reason, and this one may know what he’s doing. “I’d, uh, love an explanation about now, Mahesh.”

  I think he’s picked up on my frustration, because his next words tumble out just a little too quickly. “Nothing to bring you down to her level. I’ve instructed them to keep your voice levelheaded and clever. Kirsten doesn’t need much to go off, anyway. The point is getting you exposure and followers. Move you up a bit in the search rankings, give the people who matter the idea that you’re established.”

  “And you’re sure messing with her is the best way to do it? She trashed my rental, Mahesh!”

  “Seriously?” he says, sounding like he’s fighting back a laugh. “Did you take any pictures?”

  Nathan glances back and nods. “A few, yeah,” I say.

  “Fantastic. E-mail those to the media team. That’s great stuff.”

  “So you planned for her to hate me?”

  “No, just took advantage of it. After she gave me an earful about you, I figured it might be worth trying to overlap your auditions. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I didn’t want things to feel forced when you met again.”

  I think it over and look at Sekhmet. She shrugs. “If it turns her wanton foolishness to our advantage, I can find little fault,” she says.

  “I’m inclined to agree,” I say. “Just keep us in the loop next time, all right?”

  “Certainly,” Mahesh says. “I’ll give her a call, let her down, drop a few hints about who’s getting the role. Should be more than enough to fan the flames.”

  I have to admit to a bit of spiteful satisfaction as I picture her response. “And there’s no danger of annoying someone in the industry by doing this?” I ask. “She doesn’t have any friends in high places, does she?”

  “Matter of fact, she does, and it’s her father—a media mogul. Very wealthy, very influential, and thoroughly invested in Kirsten’s well-being. That said, it’s not all nepotism; his money got her started, but she managed a great deal on her own. For the most part. She’s actually a talented girl, if a bit spoiled.”

  “You don’t say. All right, well, as long as you think you can deal with him, you have my blessing; go feed those fires.”

  “Already on it,” he says, keys clacking. “Actually, on that note, do you have any objections to a fling?”

  “A what?”

  “A trivial relationship with a popular actor. Something to keep the buzz going while you’re busy with a shoot. Tabloids adore them.”

  “Oh, eh, sure,” I say. Not like my current love life is going anywhere, my brain adds with a helpful, involuntary glance at Nathan.

  “Great. I’ll find a good candidate, send you the details soon.” There’s a pause, and then he adds in a musing tone, “I wonder if Kirsten has anyone you could steal…?”

  “Now you’re talking. Just keep me posted, and let me know how things go with the show.”

  “Absolutely, Sara. Ciao,” he says, and then the phone clicks.

  I take another deep breath as I settle the device in my lap, then let out a snort of amusement. A feud? How delightfully lowbrow.

  “You can’t wait to see what she’s saying, can you?” Nathan says in a knowing voice from the front.

  “Blasphemy! I’m not some gossip addict!” I say, failing to suppress a giggle. I bypass the phone’s lock screen and tap the Twitter app. “I’ll have you know this is battlefield research.”

  “‘Know thy enemy’?” he asks, hitting just the right amount of sarcasm.

  “Shh, I’m trying to read,” I say with a grin, waving my hand. Sekhmet grunts in amusement, and I can see she’s trying to hold back a smile as she watches out the window, still on alert for danger.

  My eyes widen as I begin digging into the strange little war Mahesh has engineered. There’s not much to the exchange yet, but what’s there is practically radioactive. Kirsten isn’t just self-absorbed, hotheaded, and semiliterate—she’s also downright vicious. I need some popcorn and a drink with a little umbrella to properly enjoy it all, but the gist of the conversation between her and my media team is this:

  Kirsten: This girl is ruining everything that is good in my life.

  Me: No, I’m not.

  Kirsten: So you’re also a liar. People, take a look at the worst person I’ve ever met.

  Me: That seems extreme.

  Kirsten: You want extreme? I will literally kill you.

  Me: It’s nice to feel welcome in Hollywood.

  Kirsten: [incoherent raving]

  And so on. As far as I can tell, it’s working, too: I’ve already started gaining followers at a staggering rate, so full credit to Mahesh for this minor coup.

  “How’s it looking?” Nathan asks.

  “Ugly,” I say, tearing my eyes from the screen. “I love it. You know what? I might have my first project, and my new show biz nemesis is flipping out. I’d say this calls for a celebration. What do you two say to a fancy dinner?”

  I kick myself the moment the words escape—I have a pretty good idea exactly what these two are up to tonight, and would dearly like to avoid discussing it.

  Nathan and Sekhmet exchange looks in the rearview mirror. “Um, rain check?” he asks.

  “We have a date,” Sekhmet explains, savoring the word like a new toy. I swear it comes out with a purr.

  “Oh! ’Grats!” I say, trying to act surprised. “When did you, uh, set that up?”

  “While we were waiting for the tow truck. Remember when you went for those cookies?”

  “Of course,” I say, wishing I had more. “They got such nice reviews. Had to see.” I shake myself. “Well, that’s exciting! I guess I’ll see you back at the hotel tonight?”

  “Will do,” Nathan says. “Got a curfew for us?”

  “Just bring her back safe,” I say with a laugh.

  Sekhmet purses her lips, then chuckles at that. “No promises,” she says with a hint of spice.

  The rest of the ride passes with an odd touch of awkwardness I can’t seem to shake. It might just be me, because Nathan and Sekhmet seem quite happy with the whole situation. I don’t know. This is the first time a high priest of mine has ever gone on a date with another god, so maybe it’s just the novelty. That, or I really am—la la la NO. I’m no
t getting back into this. Let them have their fun, and let me work on murdering Ares. Priorities. Damn it.

  We pass the afternoon planning, snacking, and enjoying the California sunshine. Most of the time is spent researching San Francisco and the various filmmakers attached to my miniseries, getting a handle on the people I might be working with and the places I’ll be visiting. At first it’s scouting for points of interest and tourist hot spots, but it quickly degenerates into a long list of top-rated restaurants, cafés, food trucks, cocktail bars, fashion boutiques, and clubs. I start feeling a little shallow before I’m even halfway done, so I add Visit the Legion of Honor museum to the top of the page. There, now I’m all cultured.

  As the sunlight slips away, Nathan and Sekhmet begin packing up, intent on following it into the night. I wave good-bye from my poolside lounge chair, figuring I’ll make friends with a few more cocktails before I do the same. Sekhmet says her farewells before heading inside, but Nathan hangs back. He makes sure his new crush is gone, then practically dances over to me. “I can’t believe I actually asked her out!” he gushes. “And she’s actually into me! This is amazing!”

  Despite my general uncertainty about the whole thing, that level of glee can’t be anything but infectious. “You did great, my priest,” I say, returning a grin of my own. “Were you honestly worried she’d turn you down?”

  He laughs. “To start. I had a whole list of terrible crap I was stressing over. ‘Gutted for his insolence’ was pretty high on there.”

  “Well, the night is young.”

  His smile gets a little shaky. “Yeah, I—Geez, I was going nuts over asking for a date, and now I have to actually do it.”

  “Oh, I’m just joking—you’ll be fine,” I say, swatting him on the leg. “Remember, no matter what, you’re a high priest of Freya, and your god is never wrong.”

  “Never ever,” he agrees, grin returning. “All right. All right, I can do this. I’m gonna do this.”

  He wavers for a second, no doubt adding some new worries to that mental list of his, and I groan. “So do it already!” I say, giving him another encouraging swat.

  “Hey! Okay! Yes. Sorry, right.” He shakes his head ruefully, then starts moving to leave. “G’night, Sara!” he says as he goes.