Owl and the Japanese Circus (29 page)

If I ever got back to Seattle.

I stood there, undecided. What was I supposed to do? Sneak out? Wake Rynn up?

My flight response won. If I got out now, I could pick up Captain, head to the airport, and worry about Rynn later. I headed through the kitchenette to the front door and found my bag and sunglasses along the way. Now where the hell had I put my boots? I opened the closet—way too neat for my liking; I have this theory that the neater the closet, the less likely you’ll find anything. I got down on my hands and knees, and started rifling through Rynn’s neatly arranged shoes. My boots had to be in here somewhere. I couldn’t exactly go out into the hall barefoot.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been in the position of having to pin a girl down to stay.”

I peeked around the corner of the closet. Rynn was leaning against the kitchenette counter with his arms crossed. He’d found a pair of gray sweats but hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt. There are few people who look great without clothes in daylight. Rynn was one of them. He also didn’t look anywhere near as tired or as green as I felt.

“Looking for this?” he said, and held one of my boots out to me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. So much for my escape plan. I stood up and grabbed the closet door to stop myself from falling. Hangover head rushes, bad. I could have sworn Rynn covered a laugh as I tripped over my own feet.

“You’re not even hungover, are you?” I said.

He shrugged. “Perk of working in a bar. Or not drinking as much as you.”

I held up my single boot. “Any chance you know where the other one is?”

He smiled. “The least you can do is have coffee with me. I’ll take you over to Nadya’s after.” He nodded at my boot. “Unless you’re set on bolting out my front door barefoot. If you are, try not to run through the lobby. It upsets the doorman.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Preempting. You think I’m backing you into a corner?”

“I do not—” I started, my face flushing.

“That reminds me. Before you even start, you know as well as I do you weren’t that drunk when you came to bed with me last night, so don’t even try it.”

What the hell was I supposed to say to that? I let out an exasperated breath and sat down at the small kitchen table. There was no sense arguing with something so obviously geared towards getting a rise out of me. “I was going to say I don’t normally do this sort of . . . thing,” I said, and waved my hand in the general direction of Rynn’s place.

“What? Have fun? Indulge? Let go for a few short hours? Stop me when I hit the right one.”

I made a face. We were not going to have this discussion—not now, anyways. That this was all partly my fault didn’t help. When we’d left Gaijin Cloud last night, I’d convinced myself I’d only crash on Rynn’s couch, since I couldn’t go back to Nadya’s.

Yeah. Right. Sure I would. Drunk enough my inhibitions had been lowered; sober enough I’d still tried to justify it.

I could smell the coffee from the stove percolator. Just what my hangover needed. Thank God Rynn knew how to make a good cup. He passed me a mug and slid into the chair across from me. I took my first sip and picked up a hint of cardamom. Time to change topics.

“Turkish?” I asked.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Yes. I spent some time there and developed a taste for it,” he said.

“In other words, no, you’re not from Turkey.”

“I’ll give you three more guesses this morning,” he said.

Rynn had played this game with me a few times before. I’d already ruled out North America and most of Western Europe. That he had no discernable accent made it next to impossible to narrow down. “Ukraine?”

“No.”

“South Africa—and it’s a good guess, it fits with the whole mercenary thing.”

He shook his head and smiled. “You can do better than that.”

I pursed my lips. I’d hoped it was one of those. “I give up. Just tell me.”

“It doesn’t work like that. Besides, the game is most of the fun. You’re a thief, you’re supposed to be good at figuring things out.”

“Archaeologist,” I said. “Russia?”

“You’re getting closer, but no. And that was your last guess.”

I was about to say something about it being too early in the morning for this, but the buzzing on the counter derailed my train of thought. I scanned the kitchen and saw the buzzing was coming from my bag. “Shit, I was supposed to call and report in to Oricho last
night.” I scrambled across the kitchen and fumbled my phone out of my bag. I winced. There were four missed calls from Vegas. All from Oricho. “Yeah—hi, Oricho?”

“Owl, is everything well?” Oricho said, a concerned edge to his voice.

“Yeah—look, I’m sorry. Some things came up and I couldn’t call you back right away.” I cringed at my white lie, but it wasn’t exactly far off from the truth. I had been too preoccupied to report in—first with Nuroshi, then with Nadya, and last, Rynn.

“I received some disturbing reports that one of your contacts from Tokyo University, Dr. Nuroshi Kabu, was murdered yesterday afternoon, along with two of his archaeology students—”

“I know,” I said, and filled him in on our run-in with Marie—glossing over the sordid past together and the part about us lifting a few items. I didn’t think my picking up the odd convenient item lying around would be an issue, but with Oricho you couldn’t be sure.

When I was done, there was a pause on the other end.

“So you are no closer to translating the inscriptions and finding the whereabouts of the scroll. You have reached a dead end,” Oricho said, pronouncing each word carefully, as if he’d been making sure that yes, in fact, Grandma did just die.

“Not exactly,” I said, and rushed on so I wouldn’t get his hopes up too much. “We recovered a lot more data from the sites than Nuroshi’s students ever did. Don’t get me wrong, they are—were—good, I just have more levels in dealing with the supernatural.”

“Levels?”

Of course Oricho wouldn’t get a World Quest reference. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot more experience than they do—did—” Goddamn it, if I referred to them in the present tense again I was going to start feeling guilty. I already have enough complexes as it is. I took another sip of coffee and pinched the bridge of my nose.
Come on, Owl, concentrate.
“I’m pretty sure they missed one, maybe two, sets of inscriptions. Whatever they and Nuroshi were trying to translate would have been incomplete.”

“Like missing words?” Oricho asked.

“Mmmmm, more like trying to read a sentence with two-thirds of the letters removed.”

“So you have everything you need to translate the tablet and writing on the egg now? It will tell you where the scroll is located?”

I winced at the rise in Oricho’s voice. Time to manage expectations. “Finding the scroll is still a long shot. Even with the full inscriptions, we still have to find a translation key. I think we’ll figure it out, I just don’t know when. It’s a dead language I’ve never seen before.”

“Or supernatural,” Rynn offered.

“Or supernatural,” I said, and shot Rynn a dirty look. I didn’t even want to consider supernatural languages at this point. There’s a reason only supernaturals speak them; things tend to blow up when humans try to string a few words, let alone sentences, together. I wasn’t about to experiment with what reading one might do.

I waited for Oricho’s response, but he said nothing. I took another deep breath and pushed on.

“Look, I know it’s not the smoking gun you’d like, but it’s a lead—”

“How long will it take you to investigate these possibilities?”

I weighed the variables in my head. “It’ll take me a few hours to sift through the images, and another few to search through Nuroshi’s and his students’ notes for a partial translation key. If it’s in there, I should know by the time I touch down in Vegas.”

“What about this Sabine?”

I glanced over at Rynn. “It should be fine. I’m with Rynn, and I have the feeling he can handle her.” Rynn inclined his chin. “Besides, she’s terrified of my cat.”

“Your cat?” Oricho said.

“Let’s just say vampires have a natural aversion to him.” Speaking of which, I had a deal to uphold with Alexander. “Oh, one more thing, the Paris Contingency isn’t involved. It’s freelancers.”

I heard Oricho’s breath hiss over the phone. “A pathetic attempt
to navigate our agreement and elude responsibility. Luckily Mr. Kurosawa included a clause that requires the Paris Contingency to control their numbers. I will inform him of the infringement. He does not take kindly to broken deals.”

I’ll bet. “As much as I appreciate it, you might want to hold off. I think I’ve handled it.”

“Are you certain?” he said, uncertain. “Mr. Kurosawa is within his rights to demand satisfaction and the removal of these ‘freelancers’ and any other vampire that offends him.”

I weighed what I said carefully. “No, I’m not sure, but it’s less messy than an all-out dragon/vampire war with me caught in the middle.”

Oricho paused. “What shall I tell Mr. Kurosawa?”

“Tell him there was a misunderstanding,” I said. I held my breath and waited. It wasn’t that far off from the truth.

“I will do as you ask, this once,” Oricho finally said. “However, if there are any more ‘misunderstandings’ ”—I was surprised at the venom in his voice, hopefully at the vampires and not at me—“there will be no more bartering. Advise me once you have landed in Vegas.”

“Wait!” I said, catching Oricho before he could hang up. “One more thing, and it’s important. I need you to get me in to see Mr. Kurosawa.”

The line went silent for a four count. “That is exceedingly difficult, Owl. Lady Siyu or myself can ask any question you require on your behalf.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary. I need to talk to him in person.” And see how he reacted.

The line went silent again; this time I counted three seconds. “I will do what I can,” Oricho said, and the line went dead.

I looked at Rynn. “He really doesn’t like people who go back on deals, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t, and you’d be wise to remember that.”

I checked my phone as I took another sip of coffee. 9:30 a.m. One crisis averted, now on to the next dozen. If I had any chance of getting
back to Vegas tonight, I needed to start moving now. I sent a probing text to Nadya.

SNY?
(Systems normal yet?)

No more than five minutes passed before her response.

No. But they’re not likely to improve. Come over.

I held my phone up. “Nadya gave me the green light to head over.”

“I’ll take you,” Rynn said, and grabbed his leather jacket off the counter.

He still hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on. “You plan on going out like that?” I asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but almost. “It crossed my mind.” He got up and headed into the partitioned bedroom. Well, if anyone could pull off a bare chest under a leather jacket, it was Rynn.

I started to put my boot on. “Any idea where my other boot is?” I yelled.

“Right here. Come in and get it.”

Yeah right. “Just throw it to me,” I said.

“Coward,” Rynn said. The next thing I knew, my boot was sailing through the air and I had to dodge out of the way. Son of a bitch! I drained the last bit of my coffee and not too gently dropped the cup into the sink. Two people could play it that way.

Rynn reappeared around the corner. He’d switched out the sweats for jeans and wore a black T-shirt decorated with gold paint underneath his leather jacket. “Breaking dishes is a little juvenile for you, isn’t it?” he said.

“No more than throwing my boot.”

He shrugged. “I expected more originality is all.” He closed the distance between us, fast. I took a step back, right into the wall. Rynn was a good head taller, so he had no trouble leaning over me. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

I avoided his eyes and stared at the floor. “Can we please leave it for now?”

“Look at me.”

I channeled every stubborn and defiant thought in my head right into my face before meeting his stare. It was as if he was searching me, looking for something. After a few moments he backed off, clearly disappointed. He shook his head. “Have it your way, Alix. Though why you insist on running away from even those who go out of their way to earn your trust—”

“I’m not pushing you away—” I started.

“Yet you’d leave like a thief in the night rather than speak to me this morning.” He touched my check briefly, then turned away from me. “You may want to play this game forever, but I won’t. I’m sorry, this is my fault. Bringing you here last night was a mistake.”

I closed my eyes. Goddamn it. Why the hell couldn’t we just keep our status quo a little longer? I didn’t know if I wanted more with Rynn, but, against all logic in my brain, I wasn’t ready to shut the door just yet.

Oh well, blurt something out now, or slam a door. I guess I’m like Captain that way. I hate the idea of closed doors . . . maybe that’s why people always equate cats with thieves. We’d rather have open boxes than closed . . . I took a deep breath.

“I was going to sneak out this morning because I didn’t know what this meant—if it meant anything—oh, hell, I didn’t want to be the girl who sticks around and asks where things stand,” I said, and waved my hand in frustration.

Rynn crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. Waiting. I took another breath. When I have conversations like this, I find it’s better to just get this stuff out in one shot. “Hosting, talking to girls, hell, maybe even sleeping with them sometimes. I care about you, Rynn. And it scares the hell out of me, because making me care about you is a part of your job.”

“That’s not fair,” Rynn said softly.

“There are ten other girls just like me who you talk to, just like that girl last night. I’ve avoided doing
this
because I’d rather keep you as
my friend than end up just another client you fall into bed with. That’s why I try so hard to keep things the way they are—so I can still care and not get hurt.”

Rynn kept his composure, but I could see frustration building under the surface. “Is that what you think I do? Toy with girls’ emotions for fun? By now I hoped you knew me better than that.”