Lady of Misrule (Marla Mason Book 8) (12 page)

“Oh, yeah,” Marla said. “We were an item, a million years ago, back in Felport. What, were you trying to hustle Bradley? At least you still have good taste.”

The incubus, or succubus, or whatever, looked like someone had hit him over the head with a flowerpot and he was still seeing little cartoon birds circling around. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He glanced at Bradley. “When I was with her,
I
was the one who got my life energy sucked out.”

“You loved every minute of it,” Marla said. “Why are you looking at me like I’m about to cut your head off?”

He cleared his throat. “Ah. You said if you ever saw me again... you’d cut my head off. Also that you’d banish me back to the Hell I came from, and if I didn’t actually come from any Hell at all, you’d have a suitable one constructed for me.”

Marla nodded. “Oh, yeah, that. Well, you did that thing. You know what you did. But that’s all acid under the bridge. Let’s forget about it.”

“I’d like that,” he said. “How, uh. How are things with you? I heard you were running Felport.”

“Nah, got exiled. Then... sorta got promoted. Cosmically speaking. Oh, and I got married.” She reached into her shirt and took out a necklace, with a simple gold wedding band dangling from it. The only thing she’d been wearing when she woke up from her month in Hell.

Inky blinked at her. “Someone married... I mean, you found someone who... I mean... Congratulations, Marla, really.”

She nodded and tucked the ring back out of sight. “Look, we’re on a save-the-world sort of timetable, so I can’t stay and chat, but it was nice seeing you. Do you spend a lot of time in Vegas? I could maybe find a job for you that’s more interesting than lurking in the creepiest casino in town.”

Inky brightened. “I... yeah, I’m usually here, uh –”

“Somebody will be in touch. Unless we screw up, and the world ends.” She beckoned to Bradley and started to go.

“Wait.” Inky touched her arm. “You mean
literally
the end of the world? Not just, uh, not to be rude, but not just the death of humankind or something?”

“Everything that lives and breathes, this time. And everything that doesn’t live and breathe. Everything, really.”

Inky looked at Bradley, who nodded glumly in confirmation. The creature slouched back against the bar. “Shit,” he said after a moment. “Well, if there’s anything I can do....”

“You never know,” Marla said. “You do have skills I don’t, though I don’t see how they’re immediately applicable. Come on, B.”

He followed her out of the casino into the tunnels. “So. You knew that... guy.”

“Long ago and far away and not wisely, but pretty well.”

“You dated an incubus.”

“I wouldn’t say we
dated
.” She glanced at Bradley and grinned. “Just because I’m a respectable married lady now doesn’t mean I was never young and horny and stupid.”

“Sure, but he’s an incubus who did something bad to you, and now you’ve forgiven him. No offense, but the forgiveness thing....”

“Respectable. Married. Lady. Forgiveness is one of the things I’m trying to learn. Besides, Inky was just following his nature.”

“But... I mean... so does
everything
. Even the Outsider is just... doing what it does.”

“I promise if Inky tries to devour the substance of the multiverse I will rescind his forgiveness,” Marla said. “And if the Outsider downgrades his mayhem plans to something as mild as secretly fucking alley witches who have supernatural venereal diseases that can cross the species barrier from humans to incubi and back again, I’ll take him off the kill list.” She shuddered. “Damn, that was itchy. It made my
soul
itchy.”

“The incubus was just saying he didn’t even know what souls are.”

“Then his must not have itched as badly as mine did,” Marla said. “Let’s go get my motorcycle. We’ve got places to go and asses to kick.”

Bradley groaned. “The thought of clinging to the back of a motorcycle for hours is exhausting, and it’ll be late by the time we get to Santa Cruz anyway. I have an alternative proposal. Let’s get your motorcycle, then maybe find a nice hotel somewhere and spend the night, and set out for the coast in the morning. We could even take the RV, and get a trailer for the motorcycle. What do you say?”

“I say you’re going soft, B. Your job ruling the multiverse is way too cushy. Sleep is for people who don’t have magical amphetamines. But it has been a long day since I woke up in the dirt.... Okay. But we’re getting on the road tomorrow with the dawn.”

“Ugh. I guess by your standards that’s merciful.”

“My greatest weakness,” she said, “is that I’m too merciful.”

Marzi in a Mood

One problem with being a little bit psychic was that painkillers didn’t do shit to get rid of headaches caused by metaphysical environmental badness. Marzi’s threshold for human interaction was so low that she made Tessa do all the work of taking orders while Marzi made the drinks, but at least Tessa had taken note of the boss’s mood and wasn’t being openly surly. Marzi had snarled at Jonathan that morning badly enough for him to steer clear of her, too, and she felt a little bad about it, but he’d forgive her. He knew something weird was going on. She’d told him about the visit from Bradley Bowman, and after listening quietly his only reply had been, “I knew life wouldn’t be boring when I married you, baby.”

Marzi was doing inventory in the pantry when her weird-shit sense tingled. She went out to the counter, where Tessa was pretending to clean fingerprints off the pastry case, in time to see Bradley come in with a woman.

She was fairly tall, with short hair, and features that were a little too strong to be called pretty. Something about the way she carried herself made Marzi think of the bikers who came into the café for beer sometimes – some of her best customers, actually. That swagger, that certainty. Plus the fact that she was wearing riding leathers and a leather coat, though instead of a black motorcycle jacket hers was long and deep brown, maybe buffalo leather. She took off her sunglasses and squinted in Marzi’s direction, letting out a low whistle. “She’s the one,” the woman said. “We’ll talk in there.” She walked off toward the Undersea Room, the one with murals of writhing sea monsters on the walls and panes of blue stained glass in some of the windows.

Bradley came up to the counter. “Hey, Marzi. Got a minute? I want you to meet a friend of mine.”

“This is the heavy artillery you mentioned?”

“If people were weapons, she’d be an elephant gun. Hell. Maybe one of those guns they have on battleships.”

“She drink coffee?”

“You bet,” he said.

“I’ll bring some in a minute. Herbal tea for you?”

“Like you read my mind.”

“That’s more your gig, man.”

He smiled, that dazzling grin that had charmed moviegoers, and went to the table.

“You’ve got the helm, Tessa,” Marzi said, and the girl grunted, clearly uninterested in her boss’s visitors. Marzi got a cup and tea bag for Bradley and poured a big earthenware mug full of good black coffee for his friend.

She found them seated at a table in the corner, underneath the coils of a leviathan. The woman had her back to the wall, facing the entrance, and
that
wasn’t a surprise – every cop and soldier and criminal Marzi had ever met did the same thing, and something about this woman made Marzi think she might somehow qualify as all three at once.

She put the drinks down and sat beside Bradley, across from the woman.

“You’re Marzi,” the stranger said. “My name’s Marla. If this were a novel, I’d say the author needed to be a little more inventive with names.”

“Reality is such a disappointment,” Marzi said.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s got its moments.”

Marla took a sip of the coffee and grunted. “Pretty good. And I used to drink coffee in Hawaii every morning, so I’ve got standards.”

“I gave you the good stuff,” Marzi said. “Blue Bottle.”

“The gesture’s appreciated.” She leaned forward, staring at Marzi’s face, her gaze disconcertingly direct. Marzi thought of butterflies pinned down on corkboard; she was the butterfly. “There’s something about her, B. What is it?”

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, boss.”

Marzi twitched a little at that.
Boss
? Was Bradley being ironic, or was she really in charge of him, somehow?

“Something... that
pulls
. Like she’s a magnet and I’m, you know, the other magnet. I can’t quite describe it. I’m only about one-fifth as gay as you are, B, so I don’t think it’s that kind of attraction – no offense, Marzi, you’re cute and all, but this is something different.” Marla inhaled deeply, as if taking in a scent, her eyes closed.

“That’s creepy,” Marzi said. “You’re creepy.”

“Sorry.” Marla opened her eyes, that pinned-down gaze again. “You’ve got a light in you. Something gods and monsters can see.”

“Marzi’s a natural champion,” Bradley said. “A little bit psychic. Touch of reweaving ability, probably. And that thing I have, where I... excite supernatural creatures? Help make them
realer
, put flesh on ghosts, make the tenuous more actual? She’s got that, too, even more so than me. Reality gets
just
soft enough in her presence that she can twist it to her advantage, too.”

“You’re a supernatural catalyst, kid,” Marla said.

Kid
? If this woman was more than two or three years older than her, Marzi would be surprised. “What’s that mean?”

Marla shrugged. “There’s something in you that supernatural creatures can feed on. Your presence gives them more weight, more strength. You make the world a more wondrous place. Honestly, it’s a wonder this place isn’t overrun with shapeshifters and psychic vampires and invisible brain-lampreys, all drawn to you. The fact that your café is sitting on a place where reality gets thin
anyway
makes it even more remarkable. I’m surprised you don’t have to kick imps off the steps on your way to work every morning.”

“I told you she got a tough reputation,” Bradley said. “She’s the magical champion of Santa Cruz. Defeated a big bad called the Outlaw. Nobody wants to fuck with her.”

Apparently I’m badass
, Marzi thought. “I don’t have a lot of interest in being a champion of anything. I just want this shadowy snake monster to stop eating people outside my front door, and Bradley says you can help me do that.”

“Oh, sure,” Marla said, like it was no more trouble than helping her get something down from a high shelf. “I’d better go take a look at this room with the door in it.”

“I’ll show you,” Marzi said.

“I’d rather go by myself. You’re... distracting.”

Marzi wrinkled her nose. “Wait, you said supernatural creatures are drawn to me. Does that mean
you’re
supernatural?”

The woman shrugged. “You might say that. A little bit. Some months more than others. It’s through the kitchen, Bradley said? Just point me in the right direction.”

Marzi rose and they followed her. She pointed behind the counter, toward the storage room beyond the kitchen, and Marla nodded and went inside.

“Can I go on break?” Tessa said.

Marzi glanced at her watch and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I’ve got it.” The girl headed out onto the deck, already deep in her phone, and Marzi took her place by the cash register. She beckoned to Bradley, and he came back there with her. Marzi glanced around the café. It was quiet, middle of a weekday, and though there were a few people camping out at tables and nursing their beverages, nobody demanded her attention. She craned her neck. The door to the storage room was open, and there’d been no screams or thumps of falling bodies, so apparently Marla wasn’t as supernaturally over-sensitive as Marzi and Bradley were.

“So what’s her superpower?”

“Hmm?” Bradley said.

Marzi lifted her chin toward the storage room. “Her. You can summon oracles, and I’m apparently catnip for monsters or whatever. So what does she do? Shoot fireballs out of her eyes? Hallucinogenic gas breath? Turns her skin into diamonds? Super strength? What?”

“I guess her power is... sheer bloody-mindedness,” Bradley said. “She just doesn’t know when to quit, so she never does. You know those movies about supernatural psycho killers, the guys who get set on fire and stabbed with machetes and run over by monster trucks, and they
still
get up and keep coming, just pursuing the final girl implacably?” He nodded in Marla’s direction. “Now imagine one of those guys is on
your
side.”

“I was really hoping you’d say super strength,” Marzi said.

“Well, she
does
know martial arts,” Bradley said.

“Oh? What kind?”

Marla emerged from the storage room. She was wearing her sunglasses again for some reason. “Screw-you jitsu.” She looked Marzi up and down, seemed to catalogue her entirely at a glance, then gave Bradley a grin. “You forgot to mention my amazing sense of humor.”

“And your exemplary sense of hearing,” he said.

She nodded. “That too.” She took her glasses off. “That’s some kind of crazy desert behind that door. Brightest sun I’ve ever seen.”

Marzi gaped at her. “You opened the
door
?”

The woman shrugged. “It’s this habit I’ve got. See a magical impossible door, open it up.”

“And the padlock I used to seal it shut?” Marzi said.

“Yeah. That. I owe you a new padlock.”

Marzi frowned. “You hiding a set of bolt cutters under that coat?”

“Nah. I’ve got a dagger that can cut through anything.” She rubbed her hands together. “Okay, B. You start figuring out how we’re going to lure the Outsider into a trap. And you and me, Marzi, are going to make sure the trap is strong enough to hold him.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“Well, when I looked through the door, this giant scorpion monster was in there looking
back
at me,” Marla said, “so I figure we should talk things over with her, don’t you think?”

Pelham Imprisoned