Fate's Edge

Chapter Ten

KALDAR lay on a low ridge, wearing one of the Mirror's night suits. The fabric, painted with swirls in a dozen shades of gray, hugged his body, formfitting but too elastic to hinder his movements. With the hood hiding his hair and his face painted gray and black, he supposed he resembled a ninja.
It was good that nobody could see him because he looked completely ridiculous.
Although, come to think of it, the suits did have their advantages. For example, if one had decent night vision, he could admire the way the stretchy fabric clung to Audrey's incredibly shapely ass . . .
"Kaldar," Audrey hissed. "Stop looking at my butt."
Behind them, Gaston made some choked-up noises that might have been coughing but really resembled chortling.
She had a sixth sense. That had to be it. He would never again take woman's intuition lightly.
She leaned closer, her whisper so quiet he had to strain to hear it. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"
"No."
Audrey shook her head and raised her binoculars to her eyes, looking down on the house three miles below. Kaldar picked up his binoculars and looked, too. The full moon ducked in and out of torn clouds, dappling the building with patches of silvery light and deep shadow. The house sat in the middle of the shallow valley, surrounded by palms and greenery. The building rose two stories high, with white arches sheltering a long front porch under a bright orange roof. Five thousand square feet, at least. A tennis court stretched in front of the house. To the left, a fenced-in field contained a horse course with white gates. Farther back, a barn loomed, and next to it a caretaker's house. To the right, a picturesque pool gleamed in the weak moonlight. Except for a gun tower behind the house and the ring of metal spikes circling the house, which served as anchors for the defensive spells, the place looked like a tropical resort built by a Spanish family with unlimited funds.
The humble abode of Arturo Pena. Kaldar gritted his teeth. If houses could tell stories, this one would bleed.
According to Gaston, Arturo Pena prayed on coyotes, the human traffickers who ferried illegals from Mexico into the embrace of the State of California. Arturo and his band of hired lowlifes ambushed the coyote vehicles, extracted the cargo, and sold the people in the Democracy of California's slave markets. Half of the people died making the crossing into the Weird. The other half followed shortly thereafter. There was a reason why the robber barons always needed fresh bodies to till the fields, build their castles, and fight in their armies.
Nobody ever missed Pena's victims. The Broken's California didn't know they existed; the Broken's Mexico lost jurisdiction once they left its borders, and the victims themselves had no idea where they were taken. Those who ran away never found their way back across the boundary.
Pena was a sonovabitch of the first order. His name was spoken in whispers. The local Edgers feared him, but for the most part, he left them alone, and they did the same - which said something considering that Arturo Pena didn't believe in banks and was rumored to keep large sums of cash in his house. It made sense, Kaldar decided. Putting money in the bank resulted in questions. Money earned interest, which was reported. Arturo Pena avoided all that transparency by hiding all of his blood money in his house, in a supposedly unbreakable safe. A tempting ripe plum for any Edger.
Kaldar focused the binoculars at the circle of iron spikes. The ward extended in a rough oval shape around the house, not including the barn or the caretaker's dwelling. The ward couldn't be very old - the house looked too new. Still, the defensive spell presented a problem. It kept out anything magical, including people with magic and sometimes even those without. Screwing with it would be like ringing a warning bell because anyone with any magic sensitivity would come running.
This was impossible. They should've gone with his plan: stroll up to the front door and con their way in. He had tried suggesting that, but both Audrey and Gaston refused. It seemed that Arturo Pena had a habit of shooting visitors in the face first and checking identification second.
Next to Audrey, Ling crouched on the slope.
Kaldar leaned to Audrey, and whispered, "I still don't understand why we had to bring that creature."
"Because she helps," Audrey told him "You really should use her given name. You might hurt her feelings."
And she nagged him about not taking things seriously. "How exactly is she going to help?"
Audrey nodded at Ling. "See how she's quiet? This means Pena has no dogs. Don't move. I'll be back in a minute."
She slithered backward and, bending low, ran to the right along the ridge. Ling followed her. He watched them go, then Gaston landed in her place, his dark hair obscuring his field of vision.
"If you keep taking her side instead of mine, I'll have to disown you," Kaldar murmured.
"I'm crushed." Gaston pantomimed being struck in the heart.
"That's right. Don't forget whose rolpies are pulling your boat." Walking up to the front door was still a better way to go. Getting through the wards without noise would be impossible. Suppose something went wrong with Audrey's brilliant plan. How many guards would they have to deal with?
"Uncle?"
"Mmm?"
"Arturo Pena. He's a slaver. A scumbag."
"Yes?"
"Why don't we just kill him?"
Kaldar paused.
Gaston shrugged. "With the equipment we have, we could slice through that ward. Walk in, kill him, and once his guys realized that their paycheck was dead, they would scatter."
"You've spent too much time with the wolf," Kaldar said.
"William is efficient."
"He is that." This would have to be said just right. "What's the difference between you and me and a murderer?"
"A murderer kills out of passion or for money. We kill for our country."
Kaldar shook his head. "We kill to keep our people safe. 'Country' has a nice ring to it, but it doesn't really get to the heart of the matter. Families, Gaston. Our family. Your brothers, your cousins, uncles, aunts, grandmother. We do this so they can sleep in their beds at night, worry about their daily problems, and have delicious berry wine on their porch while their kids play in the grass."
Gaston smirked. "I never knew you were all about noble purpose and grandeur."
"I'm not. Tell me, what do you want out of this life?"
"Vengeance for our family."
"And then?"
The boy shrugged again. "I don't know."
"You think, eventually you might want to be like those people we're protecting and start a family?"
"Sure."
"You might find some funny girl to be your wife, have some kids, someone to come home to?"
"Yeah, I guess it would be nice."
"This job, if you let it, will burn every shred of humanity out of your soul. It will chew you up and spit out an empty husk. If you don't take care, you'll be hollow like an empty casket. No pretty, funny girl for your wife, no home, no love, no laughter, nothing." Kaldar paused to make sure it sank in. "You've seen the old Mirror agents. They walk jingling enough medals on their chests to be their own marching bands, but their eyes are dead. That isn't what you want."
"At the end of the day, they know they've done their job."
"That satisfaction doesn't keep them warm at night. It's no substitute for a life or a clear conscience." Kaldar pointed at the house. "Every time you get into a situation like this, I want you to think of our family. If one of us asks you why you killed or maimed or tortured, you need to be able with a clear conscience to say, 'There was no other way.'"
"William . . ."
"William has Cerise," Kaldar said. "And she has a temper, and she kills, but she is also kind and compassionate. Cerise seeks balance in all things. William listens to her because he knows she has something he lacks. It's not his fault; the Adrianglians did their best to murder any humanity he had in him when he was a child. And even he has some lines he won't cross. I once saw him run into an open field, in plain view of the enemy's guns and bows, to save Lark, with no regard for his own life."
"That was different! Lark is a kid."
"Can you tell me for sure that there are no children in that house? Can you tell me that one won't run out and be caught in the cross fire? Are you prepared to murder Pena while his family watches?"
Gaston opened his mouth and closed it.
"You must hold on to your humanity, nephew, so when it's time to return to your house for a family dinner, you can do so as a happy man. At some point, you will have a son or a daughter. When you come home, you need to be able to look your wife and children in the eye."
Gaston looked at the house.
"We kill only when we have no other choice. Is Pena a scumbag? Sure he is. But he's outside of the scope of our job. We are not judges. Remember, we do only what is necessary. We need his money, and we'll take it - because it's dirty and we can. But until he levels a gun on another human being, we will not take his life. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Uncle."
"Good."
They fell silent.
Gaston stirred. "If it helps, Audrey checked your ass out before she took off."
"She did?"
Audrey slipped next to Gaston. "I did what?"
"Nothing!" Kaldar and Gaston chorused.
"Shh." Audrey glared at them. "Will you two nincompoops stop screwing around?"
"Yes, m'lady." Kaldar ducked his head in a half bow.
Audrey tapped Gaston's shoulder with her finger. "Think you can get into that barn?"
Gaston shrugged his muscular shoulders. "Sure."
"I need you to get down there, open the stalls inside, and panic the horses."
" 'Panic'?" Gaston asked.
"Smile at them or something."
He gave her an insane grin. "I can do that."
"What about me?" Kaldar whispered.
"You lie here and look pretty. I'll be back."
Look pretty, huh. She'll pay for that.
Gaston and Audrey melted into the darkness. Audrey and his nephew seemed to be made of the same stuff: she flit-tered over the ground, completely silent, almost weightless, and Gaston snuck around like a big cat, noiseless despite his bulk. Kaldar turned to the house. Well, he did want to see her work. All he could do was hope that she didn't get the lot of them murdered.
Breaking into the house in the middle of the night just wasn't his style. He did his best work in plain view, and, usually, his tongue was doing most of it.
Now that was an interesting thought. Heh.
He made a mental note to drop that one on Audrey. Maybe he'd get another "Oh, my God!" out of her.
She hugged the ground next to him.
"Where is my nephew?"
"Watch," she told him, and pulled her mask on.
A long minute passed, then another. They lay in silence atop the hill. Kaldar leaned closer to her until their faces almost touched. "Take your mask off."
"Why?" she whispered.
"I miss your face."
Her eyes widened. Aha! He had finally scored one.
"We've got a few minutes," she whispered. "Do you want to make out?"
It was a trap. A one hundred percent, genuine Audrey trap. If he fell for it, he'd be sorry. But then there was that slight, one in a thousand chance that she was serious. He'd be an idiot not to take it.
Kaldar reached over and gently tugged her mask from the lower half of her face.
She flicked her fingers, hitting him lightly on the nose. "You're so easy."
"No, just smitten." He leaned closer. His lips almost brushed hers.
Audrey didn't pull away. "Now, remember what happened the last time you tried that?"
"Worth it," he whispered.
The door of the barn below flew open with a thud. Horses burst into the night. Audrey turned toward the herd, and he grabbed her and kissed her. She tasted just like Kaldar remembered, like a sunny day in the middle of a dark night. For a moment, Audrey didn't respond, as if they had both paused on the edge of a skyscraper with the ground far below, and she was too scared to move. He pulled her closer, kissing her, reassuring, loving. Suddenly, Audrey melted into his kiss, so hot, so welcoming, and they fell off the edge into the empty air; but instead of plummeting down, they floated, wrapped up in each other. Kaldar lost all sense of time and place. He just wanted more of her.
She hit his shoulder with a closed fist. Pain shot through his biceps. Kaldar let go. "Ow."
Audrey glared at him with sincere outrage. He might have overstepped just a smidgen.
"What the hell? We're working!"
She took everything so seriously. "For luck," he told her.
Audrey yanked her mask over her face. "Follow me and try to be quiet."
They descended the slope, the raccoon sneaking through the night a few steps ahead of them. At the house, horses dashed to and fro, galloping along the driveway and jumping fences. The ward meant nothing to them, and they dashed back and forth, trampling the flower beds in their frenzy.
A long, ululating call of a pissed coyote rolled through the night. Gaston was always good at imitating animal calls.
Floodlights snapped on, bathing the scene in harsh white light. Men spilled from the caretaker's house, yelling. At the guard tower, a sentry dressed in black yanked a rope. A siren wailed. The horses lost what little calm they had left. The scene turned into complete pandemonium. It was glorious.
Kaldar laughed soundlessly and padded through the brush, making less noise than a fox. The Mire didn't suffer loud guests.
Audrey dropped behind a dense clump of brush. He landed next to her.
"Can you strut louder?" she whispered. "I think there might be one or two guards who haven't heard you yet."
"Lies," he told her. "Nobody heard me. Not even you."
A huge, pale horse charged out of the barn, scattering the guards like a pike scattered a school of fish. The horse veered left, galloping toward them, its mane like white silk. A stallion. Kaldar wasn't a horseman, but even he had to admit: the stallion was one hell of an animal.
A door opened, and a half-naked man marched out from between the porch arches into the open, three guards following at his heels. The man waved his arm, pointing a gun at the guards outside the ward. The wind brought tatters of his voice from the distance, "What do I pay you for . . . get the fucking horses . . ."
Hello, Arturo Pena.
The guards set down their rifles. Pena bent down, grasped an iron spike, and pulled it out of the ground. The flow of magic around the spikes vanished. Pena pointed at the guards next to him. Two men chased after the herd while the third went back inside. A moment later, the guard from the tower slid down and joined the pursuit. Pena surveyed the scene, spat, and went back into the house.
Audrey moved, slinking through the darkness with Ling as her silent shadow. He followed. Together, they ran toward the house, angling to the right, away from the horses and guards toward the darkness of the pool. A few moments, and they sank into the deep shadows by the glass patio door.
AUDREY touched the lock on the glass door. Locked. Her face burned under the mask. She wished she could take it off, but that would've been foolish. The Mirror's suits were beyond cool. They made her practically invisible. Kaldar wouldn't be getting this one back. Not in a million years.
When Kaldar kissed her, she hadn't reacted quickly enough. She'd been focused on the horses, and the bastard ambushed her. All her nerves had been keyed up, and the kiss had sung through her, hot and sudden. Kaldar kissed like the world was ending. And after she came to her senses, his face was so full of self-satisfaction that she knew she'd stumbled. It had been a crucial blunder, and now he'd be insufferable.
Her magic slid off her fingers in translucent tendrils of deep, beautiful green. The tendrils tasted the lock, seeped into the tiny space between the door and the frame. She pushed. The lock clicked, and she gently swung the door open and slipped inside. Kaldar followed and shut the door behind them. She had to give it to him: when the man closed his mouth, he could actually move quietly.
The living room lay shrouded in inky night shadows. Across the room, a wet bar of mahogany spanned the wall. Between the bar and her, a set of plush couches circled a coffee table, facing a colossal flat screen on the wall. A handful of pinpoint lights in every color of the rainbow glowed under the TV, where assorted electronic equipment sat on glass shelves. For an Edger, this was unimaginable luxury. Amazing what selling other people into slavery could buy you.
Ling trotted along the wall, sniffing at the air. Audrey kept still, listening.
Hello, house.
The house answered: the tiny buzzing of electronic gadgets, the whisper of the air-conditioning, the murmur of the generator filtering from the outside, the faint creaking of the walls . . . The sounds enveloped her, blending into a calm white hum, and she committed their pattern to memory. Any stray noise, no matter how tiny, would sound the alarm in her head.
Audrey padded through the room, toward the right-hand end of the bar, where the hallway led deeper into the house, diving under a wide staircase. The safe would be on the first floor. Gaston's intelligence claimed the safe was large enough for a man to fit inside. Most of the larger varieties weighed thousands of pounds and required reinforced flooring, which wasn't likely judging by the first floor's ceiling. Besides, the logistics of dragging a safe of that size and weight up the stairs would drive anyone mad. You needed a forklift to move it.
A quiet creak announced a door swinging open above. Her mind snapped into overdrive, thoughts firing off in rapid succession. Heavy footsteps - male. Coming down to the first floor, fast, but not running or sneaking - not alarmed. Stomping - irate. Her gaze snagged on the bar. Arturo Pena wanted a nightcap. That had to be it.
Audrey crouched, pressing against the outer edge of the bar, and put her hand on the floor. Hide. Ling darted under the couch and lay down. Kaldar dropped down next to Audrey.
Arturo Pena jogged down the stairs. She caught a flash of hairy tan legs under a short white robe and a black muzzle of a handgun in his left hand, pointing down. The lights came on with a click.
Breathe in and breathe out. Nice and calm.
The cabinet door creaked, opening. A heavy glass clinked as it was set on the marble bar.
Breathe in.
A heavier clang - probably a crystal decanter. Swiveling top sliding out with a barely audible sound as it was being spun. The scent of scotch spread through the air, alcohol fumes mixed with a distinct aroma of burned honey.
Breathe out.
Glass clinked against glass, Arturo swallowed in a long gulp, exhaled, and headed back upstairs, hitting the light switch with a casual swipe of his hand. Arturo climbed the stairs. A moment, and he was out of their view.
The door thudded shut.
He had never let go of the gun. Talk about paranoia. She waited another moment and waved her hand at Ling. The raccoon emerged from under the couch and slunk into the hallway. Audrey paused, but the raccoon didn't return. The way was clear. She rose and moved into the hallway, Kaldar a ghost behind her.
The safe sat in the back of a small room, on the right side of the hallway, a solid black tower. She crouched by it. Hello, old friend. TURTLE60XX, Super Vault, 76.25 tall, 39.25 inches wide, 29.0 inches deep. Capacity of 20.4 cubic feet. Weighing in empty at fifty-nine hundred pounds. The multilayered door was eight and a quarter inches thick. It would take hours to break through it with a drill, and if you did, at the end you'd hit a plate of tempered glass, which shielded the locking mechanism. Any attempt to access the locking mechanism by a tool would shatter the glass and activate the relocking mechanism. It was a monster of a safe, the kind diamond dealers used.
Audrey touched the door. Three locks secured the safe. A combination lock, standard antitheft precautions, but nothing major. An auxiliary key lock and a huge one, too. She'd seen one before: the locking mechanism connected to four steel rods, each as thick as her wrist. It would take a lot of pressure to open it. Finally, a digital lock, an optional feature. Not that it did anything superfancy, but the digital display looked awesome enough to impress Pena, because he'd paid an extra chunk of cash to have it installed.
Magic slipped from her fingers. The green numbers on the digital panel blinked and vanished. Bye-bye computer defenses. One down, two to go. Unfortunately, the other two locks would be harder. Audrey motioned Ling to the hallway. The raccoon padded out. Audrey pulled a stethoscope out of her suit and slipped it on, pressing the sensor to the door.
Kaldar bent over her, his lips barely moving. "Magic?"
"The key lock's too heavy," she breathed. "The heavier the lock, the more magic it takes. A quarter of a pound feels like five hundred. Need to save the juice."
"A problem?"
"No problem. I'm not a one-trick pony."
She touched the wheel gently. One, two, three, four, five . . . turn, turn, turn . . . with a faint click the false tumbler fell into place. It was a dry sound, clear and distinct, designed to fool an average picklock. Audrey touched the dial again. Turn. Turn. A tiny muffled sound traveled to her ears through the stethoscope. There it was, the real tumbler. It was an almost imperceptible sound, but she'd practiced on these combination locks as long as she could remember.
Ling dashed into the room and crouched in the corner.
"Someone's coming," Audrey whispered.
Kaldar nodded and took a step back, moving into position by the door.
Audrey turned the wheel in another direction.
Footsteps came down the hall. She willed herself to ignore the approaching person.
Turn, turn, click. Turn, turn. Tumbler. Reverse.
A tall, large man walked into the room, dressed in dark clothes and carrying a rifle, pale blue disposable booties on his shoes. Her stethoscope was still pressed against the door of the safe.
They stared at each other. The guard jerked his rifle up. Before the barrel moved an inch, Kaldar snapped a lightning-fast punch to the guard's throat. The man had no time to react. The second punch caught the guard in his solar plexus. Kaldar grabbed the man, pulled him forward, bent him, guiding him into position with fluid grace, almost as if the guard were made of Play-Doh, until somehow Kaldar was behind him, with his arm barring the guard's throat, cutting off the blood flow to the brain. The guard jerked, flailing. Kaldar held him, almost carefully. The man went limp.
Wow. That was kind of beautiful.
Kaldar lowered him to the floor and pulled tape and plastic ties from his pocket.
The last tumbler clicked. Audrey rose, pulled the stethoscope off, and spread her arms, bent at the elbow, palms up. The magic bubbled from inside her and out, sliding down her shoulders in a weightless wave of crystalline green. The translucent color encased her palms. Audrey pushed. The magic shot from her to the lock, flowing through the keyhole. The safe trembled but stayed locked.
She braced against the pain and pushed harder.
The lock resisted.
Harder.
Pain began deep inside her, growing hotter and hotter, the price of too much magic expended too quickly. The weight of the lock ground on her, like someone had piled a ton of rocks on her shoulders. Come on . . . Come on . . .
Metal slid against metal. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing four shelves filled with cash.
The pain ebbed. Audrey exhaled. Kaldar grinned like an idiot. The way he looked at her almost made her blush, and for a Callahan, that was saying something.
He leaned over to her, and whispered, a little too loud, "Audrey, you are magic."
She had no way of knowing if he was being sincere. But she really, really wanted to believe that he was.
JACK sauntered down the street next to George, squinting at the early-morning sunshine. They were gloriously filthy.
They'd both rolled down the hill twice, and now George's hair looked like a dirty mop. Swirls of dust stained their arms and faces. The memory of Kaldar's voice resonated through his head. Less happy, more hungry. Hungry. Right.
"Doode," George said.
He'd practiced all morning but still didn't get it quite right. "Nope, more u, less oo. Duuude."
"Dude."
"Dude."
"Okay, dude." George nodded.
"How's it hanging?" Jack asked.
"How am I supposed to answer that?" George looked at him.
"I don't think Kaldar said anything about that. I guess 'good'? I don't get it. What's hanging anyway?"
George shook his head. "Your stuff, you nimwit."
His stuff . . . Oh. Ha! "In that case, it's hanging long!" Jack dissolved into giggles. "Long, get it?"
"My brother, everyone." George bowed to an invisible crowd with a martyred expression. "A refined and sensitive creature."
A beat-up red car turned the corner and swung into a parking lot ahead. Audrey was driving, with Kaldar in the passenger seat and Gaston in the back. He barely recognized any of them. Audrey wore a baseball cap that covered her hair. Kaldar and Gaston looked like two beggars in ripped-up clothing. Jack forced himself to ignore the car. They were the backup. If anything went wrong, the adults would run to rescue them. When he told them that if something went wrong, they would have to rescue the other guys instead, nobody seemed amused.
Jack hid a sigh. He was under strict orders to do nothing violent unless it was absolutely necessary.
They strolled up the street. Out on the sidewalk, kids traveled in pairs, handing out little pieces of paper. George and Jack stopped, leaning on the building, and watched them for a while. The kids worked the street up and down, targeting women mostly. They had it down pat: a suck-up smile, a few quick words, hold out the paper, a sad dog face if they didn't take it, a giant smile if they did, and on to the next victim. A tall, lean man watched the whole thing from the side. He held a placard that said, COME TO JESUS! LIVE AN ABUNDANT LIFE.
Jack didn't fully get Jesus. Audrey tried to explain it, and he could repeat it back to her, word for word, but he still didn't comprehend most of it. The best he could gather was that Jesus lived long ago, told people to be nice, and they killed him for it. At the end, he asked who was Jesus' necromancer and if he was in the Bible, then Kaldar couldn't stop laughing and had to sit down.
The man with the placard noticed them. The next time a pair of kids passed him, he handed the placard to them and started across the street toward the two of them in an unhurried fashion. George tensed next to him. A nervous burst of alarm dashed through him, and Jack squared his shoulders. Kaldar and Audrey had made them practice the conversation for the last three hours. This was the real thing, and he was so excited, he had to fight to keep himself from jumping and yelling something stupid.
A faint scent of cinnamon fluttered on the wind. Placard Man. Declan smelled like a pie, but this man's scent was slightly bitter, spiced with cloves. It wasn't that Placard Man was that powerful or had that much magic, but he'd definitely been around it.
The man stopped a few feet away, hands in plain view. "Hey there."
Showtime. Jack gave him the kind of look bluebloods unleashed when they first found out he was a changeling: half suspicion, half derision.
George just stared at the man, his face flat and unfriendly, tense as if ready to bolt any second. Kaldar had explained the street-prostitute thing to them. He said it was the easiest way to go, and they both agreed they could do that.
"I saw you standing here," Placard Man said.
Jack bared his teeth at him. "We can stand here."
"It's a public street," George said.
"That's an interesting accent," the man said. "You boys are English?"
Aha, they had practiced that one. "Canadian," Jack said, while George said, "None of your business" at the same time.
"Canadian." The man nodded in appreciation. "You're a long way from home. Does your family know where you are?"
"What do you want, dude?" George asked.
"I want to help," the man said.
"Right." George laughed, cold and bitter.
"We don't need any," Jack told him.
"From what I'm looking at, you do. Do you boys know about Jesus Christ, our Savior?"
"I don't know, does Jesus have food?" Jack smirked.
"Yes," the man said. "Yes, he does. When's the last time you two ate?"
"Look, why don't you bugger off," George told him. "We aren't bothering you."
Placard Man smiled. "I tell you what, I'm shorthanded today. If the two of you give out flyers for me for the next two hours, there will be a sandwich and a bottle of water in it for each of you. And a cookie."
"What kind of cookie?" Jack asked.
George put a restraining hand over him. They didn't practice that, but Jack went along with it. "What else do we have to do for the food?" A warning note crept into his voice. Heh. George was kicking ass and taking names.
Placard Man sighed. "Nothing else. Definitely nothing like what you're thinking of. Nobody will touch you or force you to do something you don't want to do. Just simple payment for two hours of honest work. And the cookie is chocolate chip, by the way."
George pretended to think it over.
"I'm starving," Jack said.
"We just hand out flyers," George said. "Nothing else."
"Nothing else."
"We're not going into any buildings with you, dude."
"That's fine," Placard Man said. "No buildings."
George hesitated for another moment. "What sort of sandwich?"
"Ham or turkey. You get your pick."
"Come on." Jack let a little whine into his voice.
"Okay," George said.
"THEY'RE in," Audrey murmured. On the street, the two boys accepted a stack of flyers each. Look at George go. The kid did everything right: the weary, suspicious look, the distrust, the jumpiness. George was a born actor, and Jack wasn't bad himself.
"Go," Kaldar said.
Gaston slipped out of the car. He wore a tattered trench coat and a filthy panama hat that hid his face and most of his hair, which Kaldar had sprinkled with white powder. His face and hands, what little could be seen of them, had been dyed brown with one of the plant dyes from Kaldar's collection. As she watched, Gaston slipped a small glass vial from his sleeve and splashed some liquid on his coat.
She glanced at Kaldar.
"Cat urine."
Ugh. Cat urine stank to high heaven. Nobody would come within six feet of Gaston.
All this trouble so they could get an invitation to the auction of the man who had bought the bracelets. And to think Audrey had the stupid things in her hands a week ago. She should've never taken that job. But whatever regrets she had, she would have to live with them. Regrets never did anyone any good. She would fix this mess. She was smart, good at what she did, and she had Kaldar, who was possibly the best conman she had ever met.
The glass vial vanished into Kaldar's nephew's sleeve. Gaston slumped against the wall in the corner of the parking lot and slid down to the ground. He looked like an old Hispanic homeless man.
"Nice job," she approved.
"One of the first things the Mirror teaches field agents," Kaldar said. "The best way to hide is to do it in plain view."
If anything happened to the kids, Gaston would get them out. It didn't make her feel any better. The whole plan was made of bubble gum and lint and hinged on luck. When she told Kaldar that, he grinned, and said, "Trust me," as if that was supposed to make everything okay. She argued against it until Kaldar suggested a vote. All male members of the party voted against her, which meant everyone. She had a feeling that if the wyvern and the cat could've understood what was going on, they would've voted against her, too. She was surrounded by fools with too much testosterone, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
"Why the sour face?" he asked. "Still worried about the kids?"
"You know they need to simmer for at least a week." She merged into traffic, heading toward the nearest mall. "We're rushing this."
"We have no choice. The Hand won't keep spinning its wheels forever."
Audrey shook her head. They were moving too fast. They had cash, that was true, but some things couldn't be fixed with money alone.
They'd taken $187,000 from Arturo Pena's safe. They had also taken the stack of maps that showed his slave routes, which maps Kaldar had delivered in a neat bundle to the doorstep of a friend of a friend, whose business car seemed to have government plates. Even if Arturo Pena managed to pull himself back together, he would never regain the respect of his crew. They had effectively put him out of business. It was the least he deserved. And now they would spend his blood-soaked bill.
"How long will you need at the mall?" Kaldar asked.
"At least four hours."
He blinked.
"Manicure, pedicure, wax, hair, makeup, clothes, jewelry. You'll be lucky if I'm out of there by three in the afternoon."
"I'll count my blessings," he said. "Don't buy anything tasteful."
"Shut up. Do you think this is my first time?"
THE buzzer on the intercom sitting on Kaleb Green's desk chimed with a silvery note. Kaleb Green opened his eyes. His head throbbed with the beginnings of a spectacular migraine. He could take the pills, which would turn him into a zombie for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, he had to stay lucid and upright.
The Bosley deal was going down today, which, if the die fell right, would net him a quarter of a million dollars in the Weird's gold. Personally, he could see no point in arming anyone in the Weird with AK-47s. Any blueblood with a decent flash would simply deflect the bullets and mince the troops into sushi. But the robber baron wanted the guns, and Kaleb would deliver and endure. He'd taken three Excedrins and four Advils, but the migraine persisted, so he had retreated into his private office and told his secretary he wasn't to be disturbed.
The intercom chimed again. For a moment, he considered throwing it against the wall. But then, his curiosity won. Perhaps there was a deal of the century waiting on the other line. Kaleb reached over and pressed the button. Tamica's voice came through. "Mr. Green?"
Kaleb sat up. His secretary had worked for him for six years. They were on a first-name basis. "Mr. Green" meant a client or trouble. Considering that they were currently in the Edge part of the building, the latter was more likely.
"Yes?"
Tamica's voice shook slightly. "You have visitors."
He pulled a Colt .45 from the desk drawer and let his magic cloak him in a pale sheen of green. His wasn't the strongest of flashes, but it would shield him from a hail of bullets.
"Can they wait?"
"No, sir. They would like to see you now."
She hadn't used the code word, or he would be already gone, out through the back.
"Very well. I'll see them."
The door swung open, and a blueblood woman entered, her cloak flaring behind her. Tall, gorgeous, lithe like a cat, with hair the color of golden silk and radiant eyes of such pure intense green he forgot to breathe. A short, muscled man who looked like he could bench-press a car moved to her left. His dark hair had been cropped short, and a long line of tattooed symbols wound about his neck, like a snake, looping over his bare arms only to disappear under his clothes. Long, black claws protruded from his fingers.
To the right, a giant of a man, pale like an albino, loomed over the blueblood's head. A woman came to stand next to him, slender, dark-haired, with pale gray eyes and skin the color of orange peel. A bald man stepped forward, carrying Tamica, one hand around her waist, the other on her throat, carrying her horizontally, like she weighed nothing. Tamica's hazel eyes stared at Kaleb in silent panic.
For the first time in his life, Kaleb seriously considered prayer.
The blueblood woman looked at him. He saw the slit pupils contract in her emerald irises. An enhanced blueblood. This was bad. This was extremely bad.
"Are you Kaleb Green, the fence?"
His throat had gone dry like a shriveled-up leaf. Somehow, he made the words come out. "I am much more than a simple fence."
The blueblood arched her perfect eyebrows. "Are you familiar with your competitors?"
"Of course."
She reached into her cloak and pulled out a purse. For a moment, she let it dangle from her long fingers, sheathed in leather gloves, and Kaleb wondered what her hands looked like. Then the purse landed on his desk with a telltale metallic clink, and he focused on it.
The woman raised her hand. "Killian."
The bald man jerked Tamica up. His mouth gaped open, the lower jaw unhinging like the gaping maw of a snake. His lips circled back, baring huge triangular teeth.
"No!" Kaleb gasped.
Tamica screamed.
The man bit Tamica's throat, ripping out half of her neck with his teeth. Blood drenched the floor. Her scream died in mid-note. The man bit again, tearing out red flesh and shreds of muscle, and dropped Tamica's body on the floor. It dropped with a soft thud onto his prized carpet.
"I require your services," the blueblood woman said. "If you agree, the money is yours. If you refuse, I'll skin you alive."
He was still frozen. Move, you moron. Do something, or you'll be next.
The blueblood woman watched him, waiting.
Kaleb licked his lips. His voice came out hoarse. "What can I do for you, my lady?"
The albino giant stepped aside. A woman with pale skin tinted with a sickly shade of green approached his desk, carrying an enormous book. She flipped the pages, and he stared at the photograph of himself, complete with his name, contact information, and a short list of his accomplishments. Kaleb's heart hammered faster. He'd never seen it, but he'd heard of it. This was Gnome's book. If the Hand had it, that meant the old bastard was dead, and if Kaleb wasn't careful, he would be joining him. Just like Tamica.
"This book contains profiles of your major competitors," the blueblood woman said. "A page has been torn from it. I need you to tell me who is missing."
OUTSIDE, the night air felt cool against Helena's skin. The Mar had torn out more than one page. The book was missing Magdalene Moonflower from the south and Clive Keener from the north. The two Edgers lived a thousand miles apart. Clever, Helena reflected. It won't save you, swamp rat. The Hound of the Golden Throne is coming for you. Dogs killed rats, and she would crush this one and take his head to Spider. It would make a fitting tribute.
Karmash and Sebastian waited for her. The situation mandated only one possible solution. She had to split her team. They both knew it, and each waited to see who would be chosen.
Clive Keener operated only a few hundred miles from their last encounter, while Magdalene Moonflower made her den all the way in the south of the continent. Of the two, Clive was a better bet.
"Karmash."
The large man stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his head bowed, his white hair dripping down. Sebastian's face was carefully impassive.
"Take Soma, Mura, and Cotier and pay a visit to Magdalene Moonflower. You may have the smaller wyvern. If you find this Mar, inform me immediately and do not engage. Observe only and do not let him know he's been found. Am I clear?"
"Yes, my lady."
"You may go."
Karmash rose, spun, and walked away, barking orders. The three agents she had named followed him into the night.
Sebastian said nothing.
"You are more capable," she said quietly.
"Thank you, my lady." Sebastian's voice was a deeper snarl than usual.
She didn't often condescend to explain her reasoning, but fostering resentment in her second-in-command would lead to a disaster. "It doesn't matter who scouts an enemy. It only matters who apprehends him. Kaldar Mar is a snake, and like a snake, he's smart and calculating. If Karmash manages to find him and stay undetected, he will wait until we arrive to capture. If the Edger outsmarts Karmash, your reputation with our people will remain untarnished by failure."
Sebastian stared at Karmash disappearing into the Edge. A low, half-suppressed growl reverberated in his throat. "I don't trust him. He doesn't care about the security of the country or the mission. He thinks only of himself."
Helena glanced at him. "He's one of my uncle's lieutenants. Do you question Spider's judgment?"
"No, my lady." Sebastian bowed his head.
She smiled at him. "You should. I question everyone's judgment, including my own. You must remember, Sebastian, Karmash is part of the Hand, which protects the colony. We're the Hounds, who defend the throne. We have a more refined sense of purpose and duty. That's why I am here, stepping into my uncle's place until he can return to active service. I must uphold the honor of our family name and do my duty to the Empire. I count on you to fight by my side."
Sebastian bowed his head. "Always, my lady."
She had expected nothing less. "Come. We travel north."