Owl and the City of Angels (17 page)

I’d really prefer not to . . . Kind of like our current working relationship. No offense,
I responded, then fired off my email to Nadya.

A few minutes later I heard the ping of another email.
Dear Owl, None taken. Meeting in person nonnegotiable—Cheers, Hermes.

“What do you think, Captain?” I said as he leapt onto my lap.

In answer, he let out an inquisitive meow, waited—probably to see if I was about to stand up—then settled.

Expecting wisdom from a house cat. Yet another illustration of my descent into madness.

Not like I had any other real leads jumping out at me.

All right. But this better be good.
And hopefully not a trap.
Where and when?

Dear Owl, Will let you know tomorrow—Thanks for accommodating, Hermes.

I shook my head and went back to the videos to see if there was anything else I’d missed. I was interrupted by a knock on my door.

1:00 a.m., maybe Rynn got off early.

Captain howled as I stood on my toes and checked through the eyehole.

What the . . . ?

Lady Siyu stood in the hallway, black sunglasses and all, tapping her foot. Should I open the door, or pretend I wasn’t there?

Her nose twitched as she sniffed the air. She then tilted her head up and looked into the eyehole. She curled her lip, exposing a single, extended fang. “I can smell you,” she said, “and if you do not cease to waste my time—”

I threw the door open. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. She’d only get meaner.

“What do you want?” I’d also learned from experience that conversational niceties were a waste of time in Lady Siyu’s opinion. Not having to pretend I liked her was kind of liberating. If it hadn’t been for her new life goal of figuring out a way to kill me without interfering with her boss’s business, I might not even have minded working with her so much. There’s something to be said for efficiency bordering on uncivil.

Lady Siyu pursed her lips. “I have new information to offer.”

I crossed my arms while Captain wound around my legs, his hackles up. I made no move to let Lady Siyu past the doorway.

She looked relieved rather than slighted. “I have reason to believe the artifacts themselves are cursed. You are not to touch them.”

That got my attention. Lady Siyu rarely offered me any relevant information.

“They are safe for most supernaturals to handle, such as myself or Mr. Kurosawa—even the incubus could handle them without much fault,” she continued.

I didn’t miss the way she pronounced
incubus,
as if it were something distasteful. Even having him as interim security hadn’t elevated him past the whole harpoon-through-her-abdomen thing . . .

It was my turn to narrow my eyes. “I knew that already. Why else are you here?”

“The stone bowl is particularly problematic. If one of your kind were to drink from that vessel, I believe the results would be undesirable.” Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to the side, reminding me of Captain when he was studying a toy. “If this casino is any indication, your species frequently drinks from vessels of unknown origin.”

Great, thanks for the vote of confidence . . . Part of me wanted to roll my eyes, but technically she was right. First off, most people didn’t know magic or supernaturals existed. Second, get a large enough group of people together, and someone is bound to do something stupid.

“There’s more to it. You wouldn’t be this concerned over a bunch of poisoned humans. In fact, I would have bet you’d do everything in your power to let the artifacts wipe out a few humans before going to retrieve them.” I crossed my arms, looking a hell of a lot braver than I felt. “What the hell else gives?”

Lady Siyu hissed and turned on her heels back towards the elevators. “I do not find your attitude about this predicament amusing.”

I hate being dismissed. “Trust me, I’m about the only one in this pony show with the right attitude towards the city and those artifacts.”

She’d only taken a few steps when she stopped and glanced back.

Maybe she wasn’t as dense as I thought . . . or maybe she was coming to terms with the fact that I knew what the hell I was talking about when it came to antiquities. Faster than I thought possible, the sunglasses were off and Lady Siyu’s face was back in front of me. Before I could get out of the way, her fangs—each an inch long and dripping with yellow venom—were a hairsbreadth away from my face. She was still in human form. Barely.

Nope. Scratch that, no change. Absolutely as dense as I thought.

“You would be wise to remember the only reason I permit your continued existence is that you are more useful alive than dead to Mr. Kurosawa. Do not think that status is an unlimited one. It will ebb when the tide changes, and then?”

A drop of yellow venom fell, landing on my shirt. I stumbled back, tripping over the carpet and falling hard on my ass.

Lady Siyu didn’t bother pursuing me. She swayed back and forth on her heels as gracefully as a cobra about to strike.

“Then, I think I might kill you myself,” she said.

The elevator door slid open. Rynn stepped out, and he frowned as soon as he saw Lady Siyu.

She strode towards the open elevator, saying something to Rynn—
seereet,
or
sieret
; whatever it was, it was in supernatural—before she stepped inside.

There was a tense exchange between them before the doors slid shut, but this time I couldn’t pick out the individual words. The problem with supernatural common is that the words are strung together in something that’s akin to singing, making the individual words hard to tell apart.

I stood back up, brushing my hands against my jeans to cover the fact that I was shaking. “Well, all things considered, I think that went well.”

“She didn’t hurt you?”

I shook my head. “No, just had information for me, nothing I couldn’t handle.” There was very little I hated more than implying to Rynn I couldn’t handle Lady Siyu or Mr. Kurosawa—unless they turned into monsters and actually tried to eat me. Then all bets to save my pride were off. Besides, I didn’t need him trying to babysit me.

Rynn just stood there, and I realized he was waiting for me to let him in. I obliged.

Almost immediately his eyes fell on the open computer screen.

“You were talking to the elf again.” It wasn’t a question or accusation. Just a statement.

I nodded. “World Quest game time.”

He glanced over at me. “Did the elf contact you in Egypt?”

It seemed an innocent-enough question, but sometimes I had a hard time reading Rynn’s expressions. I was getting better, but some of his quieter moods caught me off guard. It sounds strange, but every now and then it was like there was another layer—almost human but not quite.

“Well, stalked me by cell phone is more accurate. He wants me to steal a spell book from a sorcerer’s mummy who is still using it. I told him no,” I added when Rynn’s lip twitched. For a second I thought he was going to say something else about Carpe or his general dislike of elves. Instead, he nodded back at my login screen—my now defunct login screen for the next twelve hours.

“Why do you play?” he asked.

The question and his quiet mood caught me off guard. I thought about it. Really thought about it. I’d learned the hard way: making light of Rynn’s questions when he was in a serious mood led to off-again relationship status.

It hurt his feelings. Yes, I care about Rynn’s feelings.

“Because for a couple hours I get to forget who I am, my problems, and I get to be somebody who for once in my life has the upper hand. Is that good enough?”

He nodded but looked thoughtfully at the computer. “You’re not a prisoner here, Alix.”

Another comment that caught me completely off guard. “Yeah, Rynn, that’s exactly what I am. I leave, I end up exactly where I was three months ago.”

He focused his gray eyes back on me. “But you could choose to leave.”

Funny . . . Oricho had said almost the exact same thing three months ago: “
You’re free to die.
”

“Yeah, but I prefer to stay breathing. Besides, getting chased by Alexander and his vampires was marginally worse than where I am now. Lady Siyu only threatens to kill me; she can’t exactly follow through.” Yet.

Rynn nodded, but he was focusing on a point behind me, distracted. I got the distinct impression I hadn’t said whatever he’d wanted me to.

“What does
seereet
or
sieret
mean?” I asked.

Rynn focused back on me. “Where did you hear that?”

“Lady Siyu in the hall.”

He frowned but shook his head and headed into my kitchen. “Nothing of any consequence. I wouldn’t concern yourself with anything she says. Much of it is show. But don’t go repeating it.”

“Yeah—not reassuring in the least.” I wondered what happened at Rynn’s meeting earlier with Lady Siyu and Mr. Kurosawa, but before I could ask, he nodded to the case files beside my computer. “How goes finding the thief?”

“Well, the more I look, the less faith I have this guy or girl knows what the hell they’re actually doing.” I filled Rynn in on my theory that the thief in question might have only an undergraduate archaeology background. Rynn listened as I showed him the write-up on the artifacts and explained the discrepancy in the descriptions. “It could also be an elaborate cover-up to throw off the IAA from finding them. Hide in plain sight. Or just a simple clerical error,” I added.

“Something you’re an expert at,” he said, then glanced up at me. “Hiding in plain sight, not the theft part—not that you aren’t an expert . . .” He shook his head and went back to the computer screen before he could dig himself in any further.

“I like your theory about the thief being an undergrad,” he said. “It explains the knowledge base and the disregard for the supernatural. It’s smart.”

“I think you need to check your head. You just complimented me professionally.” Usually he and Nadya just yelled that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

OK, that’s kind of sad, and another argument for working alone . . .

Rynn faced me with an intensity that hadn’t been there a moment before. “I’ve never questioned how good you are at your job. I question your risk assessment and political acumen.”

One thing you get used to when hanging around an incubus: they pick up on emotions besides attraction.

“Any line on how the artifacts ended up in L.A.?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not yet. I don’t have many contacts there. Not enough serious collectors to be interesting, and the ones that are buy overseas anyways.”

Rynn nodded. “I may be able to help with that.”

“How?”

“My cousin. Someone I should really check up on and who owes me more than a few favors.”

He refocused back on me with the unspoken question on his face: did I want him to stay or go tonight?

“Why do you put up with my job?” I blurted out.

He was silent and seemed to be studying the items on the tablet. Then he said, “Well, on the one hand, I’m still optimistic I’ll wear you down.”

The familiar pit formed in my stomach. Me walking away from my job wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon . . .

He shrugged. “Mostly though, I figure it’s a rather inconsequential flaw in an otherwise beautiful person.”

He said it without looking at me, which was probably a good thing, because to be honest—emotionally I wasn’t there yet. Let’s face it, it’s me. I don’t know if I’d ever get there.

Or maybe my subconscious was hell-bent on sabotaging the only thing close to a meaningful romantic relationship I’d ever had. Wouldn’t fucking surprise me.

As if sensing we were verging into dangerous territory, Rynn gave me a half smile. “Mostly I think I’ll wear you down eventually on the thieving, Alix.” He took another step closer. “So on a scale from one to ten, what are my chances of staying tonight?”

“One to ten? You sure you don’t want to add a few numbers onto that?”

Rynn seemed to think about it, then shrugged. “Not really—I’m confident my odds lie on the one-to-ten scale.”

I glanced up at him.

“Train wreck,” he added, arching one blond eyebrow.

I closed the computer and turned my full attention on Rynn. I noted Captain had disappeared to one of his hiding spots. Carpe, World Quest, and the damned thief could wait until tomorrow.

My hair had fallen out of its tie and was hanging in a curtain over my face. I brushed it out of the way. “Whore,” I said.

7

The Rock Star of L.A.

8:00 p.m., Hollywood Hills, Los Angeles

As soon as I stepped out of the damn car, I knew I was in trouble. The heels Nadya had given me were higher than I was comfortable in, and the dress . . . well, the dress was very shiny . . . and short.

I’d asked her three times if this was my only option. Apparently I was dressed conservatively.

I swore as the back of my stiletto sunk in the grass. No grace, but enough balance that I didn’t fall on my ass. “Remind me again why I don’t just take these damn things off and walk barefoot?”

“Because they won’t let you through the front door. And you wouldn’t have near so much trouble if you didn’t keep cinching the dress down.”

I did my best to catch up to Rynn and not maim myself stabbing the grass. He waited for me and held out a hand. I took it. I didn’t have so much pride that I wouldn’t take the extra support.

“You try walking in these heels,” I said.

“Who says I can’t? Though those might be a bit small.”

I stumbled again at the image of Rynn in full drag back in Japan. Considering some of the theme parties Gaijin Cloud had thrown, it wasn’t that far-fetched.

“I feel ridiculous, and I’m dreading bending over,” I told him.

“You look beautiful. Try to enjoy it,” he said. I frowned, studying his face to see if he was making a joke. He wasn’t. Which surprised me, since he hadn’t said a damn thing when I’d stepped out of the bathroom back at the hotel.

“Easy for you to say—you’re not worried about flashing the world.”