by W H Lock
"Oh," Quinn said in the sort of neutral tone people think hide pain. "Well. Let's see. I guess you could say I grew up in a compound. A lot like Oscar, actually."
"Oscar was in a compound?"
Quinn nodded and led them through a quick turn.
"He was a part of some sort of eugenics program," Quinn said.
"Eugenics? You mean like humans...," Gwen let that trail off unable to say more.
Quinn nodded. "Yeah, they were trying to breed super wizards or something. I'm not sure. Anyway, but about me."
Gwen laughed and reached up to run her fingers through his touselled black hair.
"So, people would come to visit the, uh, well, I guess you could call her leader. She was treated like a queen. She'd love it if you called her a Queen or your majesty. But people would come to visit the compound. When people came to visit, there was always a dance."
Quinn looked down at Gwen with sadness buried deep behind his eyes. He didn't like to think about the time he spent in that Court.
"It was at the dances that I was left alone. My mother, well, step-mother really, she would be so involved with whoever it was that came that night to pay much attention to me. So, I guess, really, dancing reminds me of the time that I was free. So, when I am happy, or I want to be happy," Quinn gently stroked her cheek. "I dance."
"What about your father?"
Quinn spoke in a soft voice, so low that only she could hear him, "He wasn't around, so I don't know."
They had stopped any sort of formal dancing at some point and simply swayed together. Gwen half closed her eyes and stood on her toes to reach up. She brushed his hair back with her hand, feeling the black strands moving in between her fingers.
Quinn leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers. When she pushed in, he held her tighter and leaned down to kiss her the way she wanted to be kissed.
And in the middle of it, Gwen went cold.
The world around them snapped back into reality. Her small clutch purse and shawl had been placed neatly on the ground near them. The moon was well on its way to setting, and the night air had turned cold. There wasn't a sign that a dining occasion had ever been here.
"I...I have to go," she said, stumbling backward.
"I'm sorry," Quinn said quickly. "I thought that you wanted, look, I didn't mean to--"
Gwen looked at the suddenly empty park. She didn't remember any of the tables being packed up or the lights being removed. She turned back to Quinn and glared at him.
"Was this all an illusion? Did you do this to me?!?"
Quinn shook his head. "No, I didn't have anything to do, I mean, I found it, but I didn't--"
"Restaurants don't just disappear, Quinn!" Gwen shouted.
"Well, not typically. But they also don't just appear like this one did. I think maybe we got a little too wrapped up--"
"Don't try any of your crap with me. I expect to have that skull in the next few days, Quinn. I expect results, Angels or not. Got it?"
Gwen snatched up her purse and shawl. She stormed off, the sound of her heels stomping on the bricks echoed.
Quinn saw the elegant tinfoil swan that had been underneath the shawl. He picked it up. "Well," he said, "at least I'll have leftovers tomorrow for breakfast."
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Quinn opened the phone to see that he had a single text message waiting for him. It was from Oscar.
It read: We have a problem.
Asbiel's white limo pulled up as Quinn slid his phone back into his pocket. The two bodyguards got out and held the door open for him.
"Shit," Quinn said. "When it rains it pours."
He got in the car.
Chapter Eighteen
Federal Agent Elly Barnes watched from inside the surveillance van as her target met with a contact in a remote corner of a city park. Someone had organized a pop-up white party. The couple had dressed for the event and were admitted quickly. She pulled out her binoculars and pointed them at the couple.
Midnight, her raven familiar cawed and pecked at the driver's window.
Elly looked at her raven and said, "Can't it wait?" She gestured to the video feed. The bird cawed at her. She sighed and made her way to the front. She rolled the window down for the bird and said, "Don't screw around. Get over there. I want to hear what they're talking about not listen to you flirt with the locals, okay?"
The bird squawked indignantly as it jumped out of the window. With a few quick flaps, the raven took to the sky. It a short amount of time, he settled into a tree not far from the couple.
She pressed the com channel button on the radio and said, "I am linking in. I want squad one to follow the woman and squad two to follow the man."
After the two teams acknowledged her command, Elly closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and let the bond between her familiar and herself take over.
Through the eyes of a bird, Federal Agent Elly Barnes watched her target, and the contact eat part of a dinner and then spend entirely too much time dancing. The couple was so lost in each other it almost made Elly retch. They had started out with him teaching her how to do a Fox Trot, but then they had degenerated to what her father had called a Clutch & Sway. They didn't even notice with the pop-up white dinner folded up shop and placed their left-overs on the wall near them. She and Midnight both laughed when they got into a fight when he tried to kiss her, and the woman stormed off.
Elly took control of herself from the connection, letting the bond with Midnight slip away. It always took a few minutes to recover her sense of self. Being one of the few Witches in the employ of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, her ability to connect with her familiar made her a natural for surveillance.
No one really noticed if the same raven kept following them.
She shook off the last of the connection just in time to see a white limo pull up as Quinn walked out of the park. Two large bodyguard types got out and held the door open for Quinn. He handed one of them the left-overs from the dinner and got in the car.
She watched the limo drive off, leaving the two guards standing on the sidewalk. The two men opened the pack of food and split it between them. Why would the crime lord of Los Angeles want with Quinn at this time of night? She queued her radio handset.
"Before you ask, yes, follow the limo." She opened the window and let Midnight back in. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Nineteen
Quinn leaned back in the chair he found himself in. It was one of those German designed chairs made up of leather straps and chrome tubes. He wasn't in the room he expected. This wasn't the comfortable fire lit study. This was glass and chrome office furniture in a concrete box. The wall behind him was made entirely of glass. Beyond the glass, there was what appeared to be a massive party. It was a warehouse-like space, colored LED lighting with small spotlights roaming over the crowd of grinding dancers. Quinn could feel the beat of the music through the floor. There was no visible door out of the room. He turned back around to find Asbiel sitting behind the desk.
She was, as always, the most beautiful and elegant woman in the room. Her desk was single glass pane several inches thick. It rested on top of a pair of twisted steel I-beams. Asbiel set down a tablet and a stylus. She stared at Quinn without saying anything. Her void-black eyes refused to blink.
Quinn cleared his throat and looked away from the endless gaze of the angel.
"Can I offer you something to drink? A bite to eat?"
Quinn shook his head and said, "No, thanks. I just had dinner."
Asbiel nodded. She kept staring at Quinn. She tapped the stylus against the glass. The constant tick outweighed the under-beat of the party going on behind the glass wall.
"It seems to me," she said. "That you were just here a little bit ago."
Quinn nodded.
"And what were we discussing again?" She cocked her head to the side and tapped her chin with a red lacquered fingernail.
The tablet on the desk chimed. She looked at the
screen and nodded.
"Ah, I do need to attend to something. You don't mind, do you? I won't be but a moment."
Quinn didn't mind at all.
She smiled and stood up. She straightened her white jacket and smoothed the white pencil skirt. She pulled a flaming sword that was almost her height into existence in her hand. She turned to Quinn and said, "How do I look?"
"You look amazing, especially for a woman who's not a day over twenty-seven," Quinn said without hesitation.
Asbiel paused, put her hand to her throat and said, "Quinn, thank you. That was so sweet. Just. Just thank you."
The corridor opened in the concrete wall behind her. There was no sliding of stone or hiss of an open door. The corridor just came into existence, as if it had always been there.
"I'll be right back," the angel said with a wink and a smile.
Quinn listened to the click of her heels fade down the hallway. After a moment he heard some muffled talking. As he leaned in to focus on what they were saying, the screaming started. The man started screaming in pain. He was cut short by Asbiel.
"WHAT DID I SAY, CHARLIE?" Asbiel screamed. "What did I say?"
The man started screaming again, a high keening wail of a scream. He was cut short again by a sickening blood-filled gurgle. That was replaced by a repeated wet smacking sound. Eventually, even that stopped. The silence that remained weighed heavy on Quinn. He didn't have to wait long before the sound of Asbiel's heels came down the hall. This time her step was fast and hard as if she had a lot of things to get done and no time for fools.
She rounded the corner, her hair ablaze with fire. Every strand twisted and curved in the flaming mass, raising her hair up off her shoulders and into the air. Her suit was covered in blood. She stalked forward and drove her Heavenly Swordpoint first through the glass table and the steel I-beam holding up that side. The blade slid effortlessly through the glass and the steel. The flames crackled and hissed as they ate at the glass and steel.
"Now. As I recall," Asbiel said without wiping the blood off of her face. "I told you to keep things small. To keep things quiet."
Quinn nodded.
"You've got Fred McLaren running around town snagging a warehouse, utility trucks, and all sorts of gear. You brought in Karen Lee. You've got a werewolf following one of my people. You've got some kid from Bumblefuck nowhere driving for you. That's a squad, Quinn. Guys like you don't bring together talent like that without something big on the line."
Quinn took a breath to try and answer, but Asbiel held up a gore-soaked hand.
"Shut up, Quinn. When I want something out of you, I'll pin you to that wall over there, got it?"
Quinn nodded again.
"I told you no trouble. I told you nothing big. This doesn't look small time to me."
"Hey, I can explain everythi--"
Quinn didn't get to finish. The leather and chrome chair came out from beneath him. It twisted and moved, wrapping his arms and legs together with the leather bands. Quinn was jerked straight back, slamming into the thick glass wall. The chrome bars drove through the thick glass. Quinn's heart raced at a thousand miles an hour. He could feel the relentless pounding of the music behind him. He heard the tinkling of the glass as it cracked.
Asbiel pulled the sword out of her desk and spun it lazily as she walked forward. With each swirl, the blade carved a gash in the floor. She ended the final twirl to rest the blade on Quinn's shoulder.
"Did you know that the human soul has seven parts?" She asked.
Quinn did know that, but he felt that silence was the better choice at this moment.
She pulled the sword along until the point traced its way across Quinn's chest. She looked up at him and said, "I can cut each part out of you, one at a time. I can slice that part into thin little strips, like the best corned beef you've ever had, Quinn. The pain," she stepped in close to whisper into his ear, "I am told the pain is beyond anything a mortal can experience."
Quinn dared not even breath. The fire of her hair flicked out and threatened to burn him.
"That werewolf of yours is following one of my guys. He sends me a Christmas card every year. He treats me to the box seat at the Opera once or twice a year. He has amazing taste in evening dining. And most importantly, he doesn't cause me any problems. If I find out that your little heist gang is here to steal something from him, even if it's the lint from his suit, this doesn't end any other way than thinly sliced."
"Your wingedness?" Quinn said, his voice quiet and hopeful.
She nodded.
"I can assure you that neither Oscar nor I are here to steal anything."
"NOT GOOD ENOUGH," Asbiel screamed in Quinn's face. She stepped back and raised her sword to strike.
"What oaths would you have me forswear, oh Valley of the Lord?" Quinn said quickly, speaking in the archaic style.
Asbiel stopped. The point of the heavenly sword was a hairsbreadth from Quinn's heart. She quirked up an eyebrow.
"I will vouchsafe such oaths anon or at such time as thine will decree. Verily, I declare here and now of mine own will that by my gage that my intent in the City of Angels is not to pilfer those well-gotten gains of its honest citizenry. Doest thou accept mine oath, Oh Valley of the Lord?"
Quinn felt the heavy weight of an Oath settle on his shoulders. You don't make promises to a being like Asbiel in the way that he had without there being some weight to the words. Oaths had meaning.
The chrome and leather let go of Quinn. He fell to the ground in a heap. He didn't dare look up. From the ground, he watched Asbiel turn and walk back to the table. The sword disappeared.
"Verily, I accept thine oath, and bind your companions to it as well." She poured herself a glass of wine from a decanter that hadn't been there before. "Are not companions such as yours always willing to share the load, Chwin?"
Quinn made no move or gave any sign at the subtle change in the pronunciation of his name. It was the way his mother and everyone at the Court had pronounced it.
Quinn stood and said, "Indeed. For the measure of a man is taken by those he calls friend." He never took his eyes from the floor.
"I only give second chances once, Chwin. LA is quiet because I want it quiet. Make sure you keep it that way."
There was a blast of night air as a car door opened to the side of Quinn and hands reached in. He was tossed out on the side of the road, right in front of the warehouse, Freddy had secured for them. He picked himself up and brushed off the dirt. He took the hint. She knew everyone on his team, where they were at, and what they'd been doing.
"Shit," Quinn said.
Chapter Twenty
Oscar stared at Quinn hard. He had a look of a man who had heard something ridiculously asinine and was doubting that it had really been said.
"You made an Oath? With Asbiel?" Oscar repeated slowly and in a low tone.
"She had me pinned against a wall, waving a Heavenly Sword in my face, and was going on about how my soul would pair nicely with a nice chianti. You tell me, what do you do in that situation?"
"You don't make an Oath about not stealing something!" Oscar shouted back.
"Oh, okay, next time I'll consult you on what the best method of action is when I'm about to be turned into a roast soul on rye with a side of thousand island dressing," Quinn shouted back. "But until then, I can deal with it! Now, as I remember, you have a problem that you need me to fix. Again."
Oscar tilted his head back the other way with an unspoken Fuck You Too.
"Don't worry about it, Oscar. I gave myself plenty of wiggle room. We'll be fine. We can do this," Quinn said, taking a step forward.
Karen cleared her throat in the suddenly very uncomfortable silence.
"If you would step over here, Quinn. I have some things to show you on the feed," she said. She stood up and stepped aside so Quinn could take her spot.
Oscar stomped off, making sure to slam the door behind him on his way out the back of the room.
"What
am I looking at?" Quinn pushed the screen of the laptop back a little bit to sharpen the image. It was a few of the display case where the skull was kept in Oswyn's house. What he saw was a fine web of faintly visible silver lines. The place was covered in wards of all types. He recognized a few, but they were mixed in with different types.
"I've run a few programs of my own design, and I've enchanted the display to show any relevant warding. Most of this is pretty standard stuff. Anti-theft. Movement. That sort of thing. Easy to take apart. Except this," she pointed to a fine series of runes encircling the skull.
These runes were not silver. They weren't standard ghostly silver lines and runes. These were savagely cut into the world. They bled and oozed globules of dark red magic. The tell-tale signs of demonic magic.
Quinn pointed to a small antique doll sitting next to the skull. It was posted on a vintage hat box with a set of spectacles, a thimble, and a spindle. The cracked porcelain doll face with empty black eyes was staring straight at the camera.
"Is that a homunculus?"
Karen nodded.
"What's a humoncu- what did you call it," Rube asked from beside Quinn. He has moved over to look at the screen. He pointed at the screen, "Is that how Y’all see the world all the time?"
"Pretty much," Quinn said.
"Dang. But what's a hot monkey?"
"Homunculus," Karen said, slipping back into educator mode. She carefully enunciated the word as she spoke it. "It's from the early Third century. There's a few different methods, early texts talk about petrifying a man's sperm in a horse womb and slowly baking it, but the effective ones involve taking the heart of an orphan boy with the sperm and--"
"What?" Rube's brown skin had paled considerably at the idea of the heart of an orphan boy.
"It's better if he doesn't know," Quinn said with clear disapproval.
"They're little human-shaped nasty things that won't stop," Karen said with a gentle pat on Rube's shoulder. "If one shows up in your dreams, let me know right away, okay?"