Owl and the City of Angels (23 page)

The houses started looking increasingly expensive, with more distance between the driveways and less visibility from the street. Almost there, I figured, meaning I’d only have to put up with Artemis a few more minutes.

“How is my cousin doing, by the way? Familial curiosity. He’s not one to pick up the phone.”

Oh for Christ’s— “All right, fine. You want to talk? You can start by telling me what Daphne is,” I said. That ought to shut him up. Supernaturals couldn’t talk about other supernaturals.

“I thought it’d be obvious—she’s a siren. Most of the stories are true, except for the singing, which her recording attempts debunked spectacularly. But her voice will ensnare human men and even some supernaturals. Doesn’t work on females though, or incubi, or succubi.”

I looked away from the window to stare at Artemis, who was splitting his attention between the road and me, a relatively innocent expression on his face. I say relatively, because I’m not sure Artemis did innocent.

“Seriously? Aren’t you not supposed to answer?” I said.

He shrugged. “It’s the only thing you’re really interested in. Besides, Daphne will be royally pissed if she figures out you’re one of Rynn’s.”

“One of Rynn’s?”

Artemis’s lip twitched. “Figure of speech—most incubi don’t tend to practice monogamy. No fucking point, since the more energy the better, but some integrate more with humans than others.

“The warning is relevant though. Most of them will smell incubus on you. Not exactly a problem, since most don’t know Rynn, and that’s about as good an explanation as you could have for being here. They’ll just figure you’re one of mine, but Daphne?” Artemis whistled for effect. “Well, Daphne and Rynn go back a long way, and the memories aren’t pleasant. Needless to say, a siren won’t be able to resist taking a bit of vengeance out of you.”

Artemis pulled into a driveway behind a series of other cars, all on the flashy, versus luxury, end. From what little Rynn had explained of Artemis, he had a habit of lending everything an opulent air, something that clashed with Rynn’s understated nature.

My God, I was referring to Rynn as understated . . .

Artemis smiled at the valet who rushed up to take the car.

We both got out, me feeling less confident than I had a few minutes back now that I was actually standing in supernatural central.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about from me,” Artemis said, flashing me half a smile, uncannily like Rynn, as he tossed the keys over his shoulder. “Unless you want to, that is. You know, worried about what I might do to you.” He held out his arm.

I shook my head and walked past him to where the guests were entering the mansion, which was even larger than his. “You realize that’s not doing anything for me? I’m not interested.”

“That’s not entirely true. And you’d be the first.”

“Bullshit.”

He raised his hands. “True story.”

I ignored him. Telling him I really wasn’t interested again would only egg him on. I’d known guys like Artemis at my grad school dorm—where replying itself was considered a form of flirting.

“Oh come on, is that it?”

I shook my head. I wanted to get this over with, not serve as his entertainment for the night. “I’m just disappointed. I knew grad students who had better game than you. You’re what? Two, three hundred years old at least? I just figured you’d have your routine a little more polished by now.”

Artemis dodged in front of me, blocking my way—which wasn’t hard, considering the crowd. “But that’s the point, isn’t it, Charity? Part of the game, appeal to the target’s comfort zone, just challenging you enough to get your blood going? Coming in with all guns blazing doesn’t always get the job done. Sometimes it’s the tools you leave in the box, not the ones you take out.”

I rolled my eyes. OK, this was starting to bother me now. “Just keep up your end of the bargain and get me in.”

Artemis smiled. “More than happy to. With a name like Charity, they’ll just figure you’re the call girl of the week.”

“Fuck off.”

Artemis, enjoying this way more than I was comfortable with, put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close as we reached the hostess checking guests off the list.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Artemis said. “You and Rynn asked me for help.” He winked at the hostess, who was in her early twenties, with a dark bob and flapper dress. She initially seemed indifferent, but that changed as soon as Artemis leaned in to help her find his name.

Dear sweet Jesus, I think I might hate rock stars.

I shouldn’t.

Seriously, we have a surprising number of things in common: they drink, I drink; I prefer to shop out of a catalogue, and they’re happy to wear whatever’s left on the floor in the wake of last night’s party. Definitely more parallels than tangents.

By the time the girl had checked us in, she was giving Artemis more than a friendly smile.

“Yeah, that’s not at all creepy,” I said when we were out of her earshot.

He shrugged. “Just trying to give you a bit of an education into the incubus mind, Charity.”

“And by creepy I’m including the sexual innuendo,” I whispered as we entered the ballroom. The sheer volume around us would hide our conversation in a normal crowd, but I didn’t want to be picking up the attention of stray supernaturals. “And Rynn doesn’t pull any of the garbage you just did.”

Apparently that was what Artemis had been waiting for, because he gave me a slow smile.

“
That
just proves Rynn’s even better at it than I am,” he said, and continued ahead of me into the expansive ballroom full of booze, dancing, art, and a mixed crowd of masked supernaturals and humans. Damn, there couldn’t be this many supernaturals in Hollywood, could there? I decided not to ask Artemis. I wasn’t sure whether I’d like the answer, and I already wasn’t happy with the direction our conversation was steering.

As much as I pestered Rynn and Carpe about supernaturals, for some reason I didn’t think I wanted to learn anything else about incubi from Artemis.

“Let’s just get this job over with, Captain,” I said to my bag. Now that we were inside, I had more important things to concentrate on. There was a hell of a lot of decent artwork in here. Say what you would about Daphne Sylph’s movie career, but the siren had taste.

My eyes fell on a tapestry hanging from the high ceiling. It depicted Viking seafarers marooned on an island with a beautiful woman who had a head full of thick red dreadlocks . . . and bore a striking resemblance to Daphne. Twelfth century, restored, if the colors and patterns used were any indication . . . if the restoration was any good, it was worth a few hundred thousand dollars . . .

I swore as someone grabbed my elbow.

To my dismay, it was Artemis. I’d figured he’d ditch me as soon as we passed through the doors. No such luck.

“Where the hell is your mask?” he said. His wasn’t one of the Venetian numbers with frills and giant noses but a flatter, simpler one in black with gold detail.

“I hate masks,” I whispered. “They cut my visibility.” I’d tried explaining that to Rynn too. “Besides, what’s the big deal? How many people are actually going to be wearing masks? Don’t they prefer having their faces photographed?”

Artemis frowned. “Not at this party. Here,” he said, and towed me to a corner. “Put it on now before anyone else notices.”

I fished the one Rynn had given me out of my purse. It was more ornate than Artemis’s, with a beaklike nose, but the real kick was the white and spotted feathers arranged around the eyes—just like an owl. I’d thought it was bad taste, but Rynn had gotten a kick out of it.

Artemis waited until I strapped it on.

“Happy?”

Artemis arched an eyebrow. “
Thrilled
.”

I ignored him and went back to searching the ballroom. There were two obvious exits leading outside: the hallway we came in through and a pair of glass doors that led out to the gardens, maybe a pool.

I didn’t want to get too ahead of myself planning alternative escape routes. I needed to steal the damn item first.
One thing at a time, Owl.

“So tell me, what else did my illustrious cousin tell you about me?” Artemis asked.

I forced a smile. Three hallways leading out of the ballroom. Two on the opposite side of the room, which led further back into the mansion, and one that ran parallel to the gardens. Considering that one had a constant stream of waiters entering and exiting, I put my money on the other two. “Something about dragging you out of a Bangkok whorehouse,” I told Artemis.

He laughed and snatched two flutes of champagne from a passing server, handing one to me. “Did he now? I suppose that was one of my more spectacular low points, but a low point nonetheless.” He smiled, eerily reminiscent of Rynn. “I promise I’m on my best behavior.”

I downed the champagne. “Weren’t you supposed to stay sober?” I asked as Artemis grabbed another flute.

He shrugged and waved the glass at me. “I took it as a suggestion, and calling the kettle black, isn’t it? Speaking of which, you seem an adventurous, devil-may-care sort of girl. What the hell are you doing with my cousin?”

I glared. I so didn’t have time for this. “He makes a really good martini, all right.”

Artemis shrugged. “I make a great martini.”

“Dude, I saw the vodka in your fridge. Not even midshelf.” I started pushing my way into the crowd, hoping to get a better look at the halls. I tried not to think of the supernaturals I might be jostling. I also hoped Artemis would take a hint and go chase an actress.

Apparently I was way too entertaining, and he followed. “All right then, Charity—if that is indeed your name—what has my cousin told you about incubi?”

“Who says he’s told me anything? I hear that’s against the rules.”

“Hardly seems fair now, does it? Get involved with someone, to be left in the dark, rather like . . .” Artemis watched me. “. . . a possession—no, wait, I have it.
Pet
.” He inclined his head and watched me, a more malicious smile dancing across his features. “Yes, that’s how it is, isn’t it?”

“Not even close,” I said through clenched teeth.

Now, if I was an ancient artifact being held in a siren’s mansion, down which hall would I be? Over the left hall entrance was a fresco I recognized from the haphazard entertainment TV tour of Daphne’s private exhibit. Of course it was the only hallway being guarded.

Well, if I was a priceless artifact, that’s definitely where I would be.

Come to think of it, now that I had my bearings, the fresco wasn’t half bad either. Definitely older than I’d thought—medieval, Levant features from the Middle Ages . . .

Come on, Alix, focus, just the artifacts.

“You do know how incubi and succubi reproduce, don’t you? I’d at least expect him to tell you that much.”

“OK, not discussing my sex life with you. Besides, incubi and succubi are essentially the same species, right? You do the math.”

Artemis pressed another champagne flute into my hand. “If you’re not going to drink, at least pretend you are. And you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Genetically we’re similar enough. Succubi are the female of our species, if you care to call it that, but we’re parasitic off humans in more ways than one. Probably to make sure . . .” He trailed off, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the topic or the crowd breaking out in laughter near the glass doors.

He recovered, though. “Regardless, we use a go-between, and hence why incubi and succubi tend to integrate with humans better than everyone else.” He looked at me but waved the champagne flute around the crowd. “Except the dragon. But he likes humans for the treasure, and they’re so accommodating to just drop it off at his doorstep. In fact, I’ve rather got the same game going here. Women and men just more or less flock to my doorstep. Daphne has the same racket going on here, for that matter.

“You aren’t supposed to know any of that, by the way,” Artemis added as he reached for another glass of champagne off a passing silver tray. “Probably be in quite a bit of trouble if the dragon and Naga ever find out.”

Oh for— I spun on Artemis. “Then why the hell are you telling me?”

He shrugged and swirled the second flute; he had one in each hand now. “Easy. You don’t think very well of me, and unless I start dressing and behaving like my cousin—which isn’t going to happen—that is unlikely to change. I do, however, have information, and that is something you like very much.”

The way he watched me and swirled the two drinks sent a chill down my spine. “Besides, Charity, it’s more interesting this way. Especially when I hand you back off to my cousin. I’m sure he’ll be in for an earful after this. I can feel the curiosity pouring off you—oh don’t give me that look. Your poker face needs a shocking amount of work.” After a pause, he added, “I’m also curious just how far I can push the rules right now. Consider it a thought experiment, so to speak.”

“Stop the incubus bullshit,” I said.

“Now why on earth would I do that when it’s so much fun?”

“Look, don’t you have anything better to do than heckle me? Don’t you have pretty young starlets and groupies to go chase?”

“So cynical for one so young. And as a matter of fact, I need a stronger drink. Wait here,” he said before disappearing into the crowd.

Finally. As soon as I was certain Artemis was out of sight, I beelined for the hall beneath the tapestry.

Shit. I stopped short of stumbling into a group of admirers surrounding none other than Daphne Sylph. Tonight her hair was a mix of bright red and blond dreadlocks that hung down to the middle of her back. A little alternative, but she managed to make it look high fashion. She was also dressed in a floor-length white silk dress—not that I’m a fan of white, but with that hair?

She stopped laughing and scanned the crowd, as if looking for someone. I ducked behind a taller couple before she saw me, but not before I got a good look at her face. Not a day over twenty.

“Do you want me to introduce you?” Artemis whispered in my ear.

I swore and jumped back out of reflex. “Could you not sneak up on me like that? And no, I don’t want to meet her. I like my body parts attached, thank you very much.”