Sleight of Fantasy

by Dima Zales

  Okay. Not going to leave yet. Not before I figure out what is causing this.

  If I’ve learned anything from my adventures thus far, it’s to trust and respect such feelings.

  Then it hits me. Unlike the other times when I was in this type of situation, I now have a huge advantage.

  I can generate visions right here in this cozy bathroom stall.

  Evening out my breathing, I close my eyes and attempt exactly that.

  The prerequisite focus arrives with record speed, and I find myself in Headspace—surrounded by terrifying-sounding shapes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Do I just touch one of these, or do I attempt to focus my vision on the present moment in the bathroom?

  I could think of Felix’s essence. He’s in the bathroom with us, and if I see a vision of his future, I’ll also see a vision of my immediate future.

  Of course, I could also end up learning what Felix does when he takes longer showers—and get scarred for life.

  The good news is that I have time to think now, since for all intents and purposes, I’ve stopped the time flow on the outside—meaning whatever the danger is, it will only be a problem when I exit Headspace and not before.

  I opt for the more active solution and summon Felix’s essence. I bring to mind his gentle and affectionate nature, his analytical mind, the efficient way he tackles any problem that comes his way, his gossipy side…

  No matter how much I do this, though, the shapes around me don’t budge.

  Either I didn’t properly capture Felix’s essence or the shapes here are already the ones I need—which would imply my subconscious mind has already done something similar to what I just did consciously.

  If I had a body, it would be trembling in anticipation as I reach out to the nearest shape with my ethereal wisp.

  I exit the stall.

  The bouncer-looking dudes enter the bathroom and stop next to the stall I just vacated.

  Something about the situation strikes me as extremely odd—something that goes beyond seeing men in the same bathroom as me.

  Like me, they also look somewhat confused. Perhaps they don’t feel completely at ease seeing a female in the bathroom?

  Wait a second.

  If they are bouncers at this hotel, they should be used to this bathroom situation.

  In fact, I have no evidence that these guys are bouncers at all. With their bulging muscles and mugshot faces, they could just as easily be Russian mobsters working for Baba Yaga.

  Crap. Would I find their eyes all-black if I ripped off their sunglasses, or does Baba Yaga not need to mind-control most of her mobsters?

  The fourth bathroom stall opens, and Kit waltzes out.

  Seeing her seems to bring the goons out of their momentary stupor.

  In the time it takes me to think, “I’m dead,” the pair reach into their suit pockets with their meaty hands and produce guns larger than my head.

  Before Kit or I can blink, they fire.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I spiral out of the vision, and my already-elevated heart rate spikes as a desperate plan forms in my head.

  I unlock my stall door and open it by a tiny sliver.

  A couple of anxiety-laden seconds later, the two men walk in.

  They stop next to my stall—just as they did in my vision.

  Every muscle in my body tenses in anticipation. If I get this wrong, Kit is toast.

  Kit’s stall opens—just as I’ve foreseen it.

  The guys reach into their pockets.

  I inhale a deep breath, then kick at the stall door with as much force as I can muster.

  There’s a sound of metal hitting tile, and I see the two goons groaning next to the sinks.

  Kit disappears back into her stall.

  I channel all my practice with Nero and Thalia and execute the martial arts move I’ve been learning.

  My knuckles smash into the nearest guy’s massive jaw.

  Something audibly cracks.

  Ignoring the pain in my hand, I hit my opponent once more—and he doubles over.

  A fifteen-foot alligator scurries out of Kit’s stall and leaps for the second guy with a speed one wouldn’t expect of such a huge monstrosity.

  I fight the urge to rub my eyes, and knee my doubled-over opponent in the face.

  The gator’s jaws crunch on the other guy’s torso, the giant teeth entering the man’s body like eighty sharpened daggers.

  The guy I just kneed rolls to the side.

  “He’s going for the gun!” I shout at Kit/the alligator.

  The gator lets go of her dead opponent, and leaps for the guy.

  The goon grabs the gun and shoots without aiming.

  The gunfire is muffled. No wonder the weapon looks so big—must have a silencer.

  The bullet hits the wall above the middle stall, and shards of tile fly everywhere.

  The guy points the gun at the gator, but the monstrous creature chomps at his shoulder before he gets the chance to fire again.

  His scream of pain is cut short by another snap of the massive jaws.

  Felix’s stall opens.

  My friend looks whiter than the toilet behind me.

  Grisly work done, the gator turns toward me, stands on hind legs, and seamlessly morphs into Kit.

  “What?” Felix looks at the two dead guys with wild eyes, then at me, and finally at Kit. “A crocodile?”

  “An alligator.” Kit calmly shakes a piece of lint from her sleeve. “A crocodile wouldn’t make sense under the circumstances.”

  “Right.” Felix walks to the sink and splashes cold water on his face. “That explains it all, thanks.”

  “Sure,” Kit says, clearly missing Felix’s sarcasm. “My choices were limited due to the Mandate.”

  “Huh?” I mumble, happy that I finally found my voice.

  “They had no aura.” Kit looks at the dead men. “I couldn’t have them see me turn, which is why I backed into the stall. I also couldn’t turn myself into an orc, or something else that doesn’t belong here.”

  “But an alligator is perfectly reasonable?” I ask.

  “But of course,” Kit says. “Everyone knows there are giant alligators in the New York sewers.” She looks around. “This being a bathroom, the sewer connection is rather plausible, in my opinion.”

  Her logic must’ve been convincing to the Mandate as she’s not bleeding from any orifices, so I just shake my head, walk over to the sink, and follow Felix’s example by splashing my face with cold water.

  Kit checks the dead guy’s pockets and shakes her head. “They don’t have any ID.”

  “Check their bodies for tattoos,” Felix says without looking at the dead men.

  “There are stars on their shoulders,” Kit says to Felix’s back.

  “As I suspected,” he says, still without turning. “Those indicate a stint in the Russian prison system.”

  “Which means these are Baba Yaga’s men,” I say.

  “We better get out of here,” Felix says and walks to the bathroom exit in such a way that the mangled bodies do not enter his field of vision.

  I walk over to pick up the gun off the floor, then pry the other one from the death grip of one of the goons. Up close, these guns don’t look like anything I’ve seen at the shooting range, which, combined with how silently they fire, makes me wonder if someone smuggled these from an Otherland with more advanced technology. From what I’ve read about guns with regular silencers, the resulting sound should still be plenty loud, yet this gun was so muffled no one outside this bathroom would be the wiser.

  Then again, maybe Earth silencer technology improved recently? Could this be the product of some secret government research?

  Shrugging, I stash one gun in the front and the other in the back of my pants.

  “We should call Pada to clean this up,” I say, looking at the bodies.

  “I can do anything he can do, but better.” Kit turns into Pada and gives me one of the o
ld man’s grumpy smiles. “If you have as weak of a stomach as your friend, I suggest you wait outside.”

  I don’t have as weak of a stomach, but I gladly seize the excuse to rush out of the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I cover my ears for good measure.

  Felix does the same, and we stand there like that until Kit walks out of the bathroom.

  “All good,” she says and loudly burps. “Let’s take a raincheck on that pizza.”

  Felix whitens so much he turns translucent.

  I can’t help but peek into the bathroom.

  It’s completely clean.

  Did she turn into something that ate the bodies and licked up all the blood? If so, does that mean Pada uses the same methodology for his cleaning? Then what are those cleaning products he brings for?

  On second thought, I don’t think I want to know.

  “We should head to the limo,” I say. “There might be more where these guys came from.”

  “I’m not afraid of some humans,” Kit says derisively.

  “You nearly got shot,” I counter. “I saw it in my vision.”

  Kit puts her hands on her hips. “I’m not leaving until I get what I need from Gaius. Unless one of you wants to take care of that itch?” she adds with a smirk.

  I roll my eyes and face Felix.

  “If we go sit by the pool, it would be too public for anyone to attack us,” he says uncertainly. “And if Ariel is somewhere at this hotel—”

  “Right,” I say, feeling guilty that I forgot about Ariel in all this madness. “We wait for Gaius.” I hand Felix one of my newfound guns and ask, “Can you tap into this hotel’s surveillance system to make sure no one can sneak up on us?”

  Felix hides the gun, and some color returns to his cheeks as he pulls out his phone and starts to excitedly swipe through screens.

  I wave for Kit to follow, grab Felix’s shoulder, and shepherd him to the waiting elevator.

  “I summoned that,” Felix says as we enter the elevator car. “Watch this.”

  The elevator doors slide shut, and we go up without anyone pressing any buttons.

  “There’s a security camera by the pool,” Felix says without looking up from his phone. “I also commandeered a drone to cover the areas where the camera doesn’t reach.”

  “Great job,” I say as Kit sighs and mumbles something along the lines of “boys and their toys.”

  We exit onto the gorgeous pool deck, and the views of the city take my breath away.

  When I recover, we grab lounge chairs, and after a brief minute of relaxation, I take out my phone and video-call Nero, figuring if I have to put up with his crap, I might as well enjoy his Mentor protection.

  He picks up on the twentieth ring, and I see a golden cross with colorful frescos behind him, along with a familiar-looking man dressed in spotless white robes, a white yarmulke-like hat, and red leather shoes.

  “I’m busy,” Nero says to me and nods his head toward his companion.

  “This is extremely urgent,” I manage to say without blinking.

  “I must take this, Your Holiness,” Nero says to the man and swiftly walks away, nearly knocking down a bunch of red-gowned clergymen.

  Finally, he stops in a corner. “This better be a real emergency, Sasha. The P—”

  “Baba Yaga just tried to kill me again,” I blurt out.

  The black of Nero’s limbal ring spreads through his eyes as he stares intently into the camera. “Are you sure about this?”

  I tell him about what happened as quickly as I can and watch his features contort into an ever-darker expression.

  “Kit should be able to keep you safe,” he says when I finish. “I will reach out to Baba Yaga to make sure everything is crystal clear regarding our arrangement.”

  “And bear in mind that you and I also have an arrangement that is dependent on you protecting me from Baba Yaga,” I can’t help but say.

  “Leave this with me,” he growls, and squeezes his phone so hard he cracks the camera—which makes his image almost ghoulishly frightening.

  “Thanks,” I say and hang up, heart pounding.

  “I don’t think Baba Yaga will bother you again,” Kit tells me. “She must’ve gone senile to dare mess with Nero in the first place.”

  I shrug, then lean back in the lounge chair. Closing my eyes, I do my best to relax.

  Soon after, the sun warms me, and the gentle breeze lulls me into a nap.

  “Sasha,” Kit says, shaking my shoulder. “Wake up. Gaius will be in his room by now.”

  The reminder about Gaius—and by extension, Ariel—wipes all remnants of sleep from my brain, and I leap to my feet.

  We make our way to the elevators, and Felix uses his mojo to get us to the eighth floor.

  When we get to the room, Kit knocks.

  No one replies.

  She frowns and knocks again.

  Same lack of result.

  Frowning deeper, Kit makes Felix unlock the door.

  We enter.

  The room is empty.

  Kit looks at her watch, then at us. “Where is he?”

  “Running behind?” I suggest.

  “I’m coquettishly late as it is,” Kit says. “How dare he?”

  Felix and I shrug uncomfortably.

  Kit snags a phone from her pocket and angrily swipes at the screen. Tapping her small foot, she waits for the call to connect and frowns again.

  “Voicemail?” she shouts. “Really? You stand me up—me—and now you don’t pick up?” She tightens her grip on the phone, then inhales a comically deep breath and starts to spew the most creative combination of profanities. She finishes her rant with a lengthy discussion of the apparent “shrivelness” of Gaius’s testicles and a treatise on poor blood circulation to his manhood. Instead of farewell, she suggests he drink the blood of a human who took Viagra and perform an impossible sexual feat on himself.

  Felix clears his throat. “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “Hell hath no fury like a horny woman scorned.”

  Kit gives us both a seething glare, then looks at the bed, then at us and then back at the bed, mischief replacing anger in her expression.

  “We have to locate Ariel,” I say preemptively. Kit was clearly about to ask us to “scratch her itch” again.

  “Yeah,” Felix says. “Could Gaius’s absence have something to do with Ariel?”

  “Maybe he was also kidnapped?” I look at Kit and then pointedly at the bed. “That would explain why he’d turn down such an amazing opportunity.”

  “That could explain it,” she grumbles. “But who could kidnap a vampire as powerful as Gaius?”

  “Ariel isn’t a wimp either, but this would be her second time getting kidnapped,” I say.

  “Hmm,” Kit says. “So what now?”

  “We go to our apartment,” Felix says. “Maybe Ariel simply checked out of rehab and went home.”

  “It’s worth checking on,” I say. “Plus, home is a good place to be if Baba Yaga is trying to kill me again.”

  “Assuming it is Baba Yaga,” Kit says. “I overheard your conversation with Nero, and I agree with him: if they made a deal, she wouldn’t break it.”

  She exits the room, and Felix and I follow.

  “Who else could it be?” I ask when we reach the elevator.

  “Chester?” Felix summons the elevator. “Maybe he’s purposefully made it look like someone else’s work?”

  “Chester wouldn’t mess with me.” Kit enters the elevator that’s just arrived. “Besides, I don’t think he cares about Sasha anymore—not since she ended up under Nero’s wing instead of Darian’s.”

  “Chester might not have known you’d be around when his goons attacked me.” I press the ground floor button. “I did kind of beat his daughter in a fight… twice. Could that have put me on his radar again?”

  “That I don’t know,” Kit says. “Though I think it doubtful the little pup would tattletale to Daddy. Werewolves are a prideful lot.�
��

  Felix nods in agreement as we exit the elevator. “Plus you didn’t really beat her in any of those fights.”

  “Depends how you define ‘really,’” I reply defensively.

  “He means she didn’t submit to you,” Kit says, her eyes gleaming excitedly. “She didn’t, did she?”

  Is there anything Kit doesn’t turn sexual? The way she says the word “submit” makes it sound like she’s talking about BDSM—not something I would want to even think about in the context of an underage girl like Roxy.

  “She ran away the one time, and was chastised by Rose the other,” I explain. “Not sure if that counts as submission.”

  “It doesn’t,” Kit says with an air of disappointment. “Werewolf submission is pretty elaborate and formal.” Wistfully, she adds, “You’d know it if it happened. Trust me.”

  “Riiight,” I say and exchange a furtive glance with beet-red Felix before jumping into the limo. “Kevin, take us home.”

  “Ariel?” I shout when we enter our apartment. “Are you here?”

  “She’s not home,” Fluffster mentally tells me as he walks out to greet us.

  “Fluffster, meet Councilor Kit,” I say. “Kit, this is Fluffster.”

  Kit’s excited squeal is so high-pitched it must make Fluffster worry about the expensive wine glasses in the kitchen. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” She grabs him from the floor and ecstatically rubs his fur on her cheek. Reverently, she whispers, “Softest thing I’ve ever touched.”

  “He’s a domovoi,” I say pointedly.

  “I know.” She grins almost literally from ear to ear as she gently puts him back on the ground.

  “He’s extremely powerful in the house,” Felix adds.

  “I know.” Kit reluctantly pulls her hands away from the chinchilla and looks around. “So, where do I sleep?”

  “Here.” I lead her into the living room.

  She looks at the couch and wrinkles her nose. Then I can practically see the lightbulb appear above her head as she says, “If Ariel is missing, can I stay in her room?”

  “No,” Felix and I say in unison.