Magic Graves

Page 17

"Do you stock herbs?"
"Yes," he said.
"Do you have water lily?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Laboratory, third cabinet."
"Good." I rolled off of him. I'd have only a second to do this and I had to do it precisely.
Saiman got up to his knees. As he rose, I threw a fast right hook. He never saw it coming and didn't brace himself. My fist landed on his jaw. His head snapped back. His eyes rolled over and he sagged down.
Lucky. I ran to the lab.
It took a hell of a lot of practice to knock someone out. You needed both speed and power to jolt the head enough to rattle the brain inside the skull but not cause permanent damage. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even try it, but these weren't normal circumstances. Walls were curving in to eat me.
If I did cause too much damage, he would fix it. Considering what he had done to his body so far, his regeneration would make normal shapeshifters jealous.
Third cabinet. I threw it open and scanned the glass jars. Dread mugged me like a sodden blanket. Ligularia dentata, Ligularia przewalski... Latin names, why me? Lilium pardalinum, Lobelia siphilitica. Come on, come on...Nymphaea odorata, pond lily. Also known to Russians as odolen-trava, the mermaid flower, an all-purpose pesticide against all things unclean. That would do.
I dashed to the door, twisting the lid off the jar. A grey powder filled it - ground lily petals, the most potent part of the flower. I slid open the lock. The ward drained down, and I jerked the door ajar.
Empty hallway greeted me. I hurled the jar and the powder into the hall. A woman wailed, smoke rose from thin air, and Badzula materialized in the middle of the carpet. Skinny, flabby, filthy, with breasts dangling to her waist like two empty bags, she tossed back grimy tangled hair and hissed at me, baring stumps of rotten teeth.
"That's nice. Fuck you, too."
I swung. It was textbook saber slash, diagonal, from left to right. I drew the entirety of the blade through the wound. Badzula's body toppled one way, her head rolled the other.
The weight dropped off my shoulders. Suddenly I could breathe and the building no longer seemed in imminent danger of collapsing and burying me alive.
I grabbed the head, tossed it into the elevator, dragged the body in there, sent the whole thing to the ground floor, sprinted back inside, and locked the door, reactivating the ward. The whole thing took five seconds.
On the floor, Saiman lay unmoving. I checked his pulse. Breathing. Good. I went back to the island. I deserved some coffee after this and I bet Saiman stocked the good stuff.
*** *** ***
I sat by the counter, sipping the best coffee I'd ever tasted, when the big screen TV on the wall lit up with fuzzy glow. Which was more than a smidgeon odd, considering that the magic was still up and the TV shouldn't have worked.
I took my coffee and my saber and went to sit on the couch, facing the TV. Saiman still sprawled unconscious on the floor.
The glow flared brighter, faded, flared brighter... In ancient times people used mirrors, but really any somewhat reflective surface would do. The dark TV screen was glossy enough.
The glow blazed and materialized into a blurry male. In his early twenties, dark hair, dark eyes.
The man looked at me. "You're the bodyguard." His voice carried a trace of Russian accent.
I nodded and slipped into Russian. "Yes."
"I don't know you. What you do makes no difference to me. We have this place surrounded. We go in in an hour. " He made a short chopping motion with his hand. "You're done."
"I'm shaking with fear. In fact, I may have to take a minute to get my shivers under control. " I drank my coffee.
The man shook his head. "You tell that paskuda, if he let Yulya go, I'll make sure you both walk out alive. You hear that? I don't know what he's got over my wife, but you tell him that. If he wants to live, he has to let her go. I'll be back in thirty minutes. You tell him. "
The screen faded.
And the plot thickens. I sighed and nudged Saiman with my boot. It took a couple of nudges, but finally he groaned and sat up.
"What happened?"
"You fell."
"Really? What did I fall into?"
"My fist."
"That explains the headache." Saiman looked at me. "This will never happen again. I want to be absolutely clear. Attempt this again and you're fired."
I wondered what would happen if I knocked him out again right there, just for kicks.
"Is that my arabica coffee?" he asked.
I nodded. "I will even let you have a cup if you answer my question."
Saiman arched an eyebrow. "Let? It's my coffee."
I saluted him with the mug. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law."
He stared at me incredulously. "Ask."
"Are you holding a woman called Yulya hostage?"
Saiman blinked.
"Her husband is very upset and is offering to let us both go if we can produce Yulya for him. Unfortunately, he's lying and most likely we both would be killed once said Yulya is found. But if you're holding a woman hostage, you must tell me now."
"And if I was?" Saiman rubbed his jaw and sat in the chair opposite me.
"Then you'd have to release her immediately or I would walk. I don't protect kidnappers and I take a very dim view of violence toward civilians, men or women."
"You're a bewildering woman."
"Saiman, focus. Yulya?"
Saiman leaned back. "I can't produce Yulya. I am Yulya."
I suppose I should've seen that coming. "The man was under the impression he's married to her. What happened to the real Yulya?"
"There was never a real Yulya. I will tell you the whole story, but I must have coffee. And nutrients."
I poured him a cup of coffee. Saiman reached into the fridge and came up with a gallon of milk, a solid block of chocolate, and several bananas.
Chocolate was expensive as hell. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had some. If I survived this job, I'd buy a couple of truffles.
I watched Saiman load bananas and milk into a manual blender and crank the handle, cutting the whole thing into a coarse mess. Not the chocolate, not the chocolate... Yep, threw it in there too. What a waste.
He poured the concoction into a two quart jug and began chugging it. Shapeshifters did burn a ton of calories. I sighed, mourning the loss of the chocolate, and sipped my coffee. "Give."
"The man in question is the son of Pavel Semyonov. He's the premier volhv in the Russian community here. The boy's name is Evgenii and he's completely right, I did marry him, as Yulya, of course. The acorn was very well guarded and I needed a way in."
"Unbelievable."
Saiman smiled. Apparently he thought I'd paid him a compliment. "Are you familiar with the ritual of firing the arrow?"
"It's an archaic folkloric ritual. The shooter is blindfolded and spun around, so he blindly fires. The flight of the arrow foretells the correct direction of the object the person seeks. If a woman picks up the arrow, she and the shooter are fated to be together."
Saiman wiped his mouth. "I picked up the arrow. It took me five months from the arrow to the acorn."
"How long did it take you to con that poor guy into marriage?"
"Three months. The combination of open lust but withholding of actual sex really works wonders."
I shook my head. "Evgenii is in love with you. He thinks his wife is in danger. He's trying to rescue her."
Saiman shrugged. "I had to obtain the acorn. I could say that he's young and resilient, but really his state of mind is the least of my concerns."
"You're a terrible human being."
"I beg to differ. All people are driven by their primary selfishness. I'm simply more honest than most. Furthermore, he had the use of a beautiful woman, created to his precise specifications, for two months. I did my research into his sexual practices quite thoroughly, to the point of sleeping with him twice as a prostitute to make sure I knew his preferences."
"If we get out of this, I need to remember never to work for you again."
Saiman smiled. "But you will. If the price is right."
"No."
"Anyone will work for anyone and anyone will sleep with anyone, if the price is right and the partnership is attractive enough. Suppose I invited you to spend a week here with me. Luxurious clothes. Beautiful shoes." He looked at my old boots, which were in danger of falling apart. "Magnificent meals. All the chocolate you could ever want."
So he'd caught me.
"All that for the price of having sex with me. I would even sweeten the deal by assuming a shape preferable to you. Anyone you want. Any shape, any size, any color, any gender. All in total confidentiality. Nobody ever has to know you were here. The offer is on the table." He placed his hand on the counter, palm down. "Right now. I promise you a week of total bliss - assuming we survive. You'll never get another chance to be this pampered. All I need from you is one word."
"No."
He blinked. "Don't you want to think about it?"
"No."
He clamped his mouth shut. Muscles played along his jaw. "Why?"
The TV screen ignited. Evgenii appeared in the glow. Saiman strode to the screen with a scowl on his face. "I'll make it short." His body boiled, twisted, stretched. I shut my eyes. It was that or lose my precious coffee. When I opened them, a petite red haired woman stood in Saiman's place.
"Does this explain things enough?" Saiman asked. "Or do I need to spell it out, Evgenii?"
"You're her?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe it."
Saiman sighed. "Would you like me to list your preferred positions, in the order you typically enjoy them? Shall we speak of intimate things? I could recite most of our conversation word for word, I do have a very precise memory."
They stared at each other.