Owl and the City of Angels (54 page)

The corner of her lip curled up. “Yes, well, you are the expert at bad deals, aren’t you? The cat.
Now,
” she repeated.

I clutched Captain tighter under one arm while I reached back with the other and palmed a bottle. “Over my dead body,” I said.

Her smile widened, showing a hint of fang. “My pleasure,” she said, and took a step towards me.

“Alix, no!” Rynn added something to Lady Siyu in supernatural before pushing me behind the bar as she retreated to the doorway.

“Rynn, what the hell are you doing? I could have gotten the drop on her with the bottle,” I said.

“You have to give her the cat,” he said.

“Are you out of your mind? I am
not
giving Captain to that monster. He isn’t some possession to be handed off.”

“Believe me, I know. But you made an agreement with her.”

“Yeah well, the agreement
sucks
.”

He glanced over his shoulder to where Lady Siyu waited, watching us. “Please, I’m begging you. If you don’t uphold your end of the bargain, there’ll be nothing I can do. You, Captain, Nadya—everyone will die.”

“So, what? Just give in and fork over Captain? Rynn, I can’t do that to him!” Captain was more than just my cat. He’d saved my life more times than I could count, and he’d been my best friend for the past year. Hell, that cat was the last redeemable quality I had left! I couldn’t just fork him over.

Rynn was looking worried now and hazarded another glance at Lady Siyu. He tightened his grip on my arms. “Please, I’m begging you to trust me. I swear to you, we’ll get him back, but this isn’t the way.”

Trust him. He couldn’t have started off with something easy, like falling back with my eyes closed?

Deep down I didn’t think I could beat Lady Siyu in a fight. And Rynn was right; if I couldn’t beat her, all running would accomplish was getting all of us dead. I was good at running, but I couldn’t guarantee I was good enough to evade Mr. Kurosawa’s reach—not if Nadya and Captain’s lives were both on the line.

Son of a bitch. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said to Rynn as I walked back over to where Lady Siyu waited.

I grabbed the red carrier from her hand and headed back to the bar. I held it open for Captain, and after a quick sniff he walked right in. I was starting to wish I hadn’t trained him to do that.
Come on, Alix, do this fast, otherwise you won’t be able to go through with it.
I zipped it up and pressed my face against the screen.

Sensing something was up, Captain let out a questioning meow.

“OK, I don’t know how much of what I say you actually understand, but this is temporary, I promise.”

Before I changed my mind and without sparing another look at Rynn, I walked back to Lady Siyu and handed her the carrier. Captain meowed again, this time more insistent. How the hell did I explain to my cat what was going on?

“It’s temporary,” I told her. “And if there’s so much as a scratch on him—”

Rynn added something I didn’t understand, but to be honest, I didn’t care. Captain let out another distressed meow, and it was all I could do to keep staring at Lady Siyu’s face.

She hefted the carrier over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. Spinning on her heels, she headed back outside.

With my cat.

Figuring something was up now, Captain howled and began to attack the carrier door. “Captain, I’ll get you back, I promise,” I yelled. Yeah, I know cats don’t speak English. I didn’t care.

Rynn stopped me from following her outside. I think he knew I was close to breaking my bargain. “We’ll get the cat back,” he told me.

I didn’t break away as Lady Siyu drove off with Captain. I just hoped to hell I’d put my trust in the right person this time—because if I hadn’t, I didn’t know if I’d be able to live with the price.

Epilogue

Crawling Out of the Woodwork

Two weeks later, early June, Seattle

I wound my way past the early weekend tourists out of Pike Place Market, red flames baseball cap pulled down and cargo jacket on. I fit right in. Damn, it was good to be back.

I’d been back at my apartment for a couple days now without Captain. It’d taken almost two weeks to recover from the curse, and Lady Siyu had refused to let me out of her sight. Trust me—neither of us had enjoyed a minute of it, but she takes her orders very seriously. Good thing Rynn had been there, because I’m pretty sure I would have hit her. If I never hallucinate again, it’ll be too soon—that goes double for evil incubi and curses.

Man, if Mr. Kurosawa ever gives her the OK to kill me . . .

At least a long scratch on Lady Siyu’s arm told me Captain had gotten a good swipe in, letting her know who was in charge. Lady Siyu might have my cat now, but she wasn’t keeping him. Not if I could do anything about it.

On the way back home, I passed by a pub TV screen recapping what had been dubbed the “L.A. summer zombie fiasco of 2014,” Cooper’s face pictured in the upper left corner. At the next red light, I stopped to check my news feeds. Some people said it was an elaborate publicity hoax perpetrated by Zombie Walker, while others said it was a small-scale terrorist attack. There were two things everyone agreed upon though; a citywide dispersal of LSD and the involvement of former archaeologist Dr. Cooper Hill . . .

I shook my head and kept going. Same old IAA . . . at least they’d found Cooper where Rynn and Lady Siyu had left him. Lady Siyu had wanted to kill him, but Rynn had managed to convince her the IAA would do much worse. He was right—they would.

Though I have to admit, Cooper in Siberia brightened my day . . . and it being June, Seattle was having its brief run of sun. My week was looking up.

I lugged my groceries back into my building, restocking the fridge—with food, not beer. Rynn was arriving this afternoon. I’d spent the last three nights playing World Quest—true to their word, the game designers had left our characters intact. I’d been getting back at Carpe in my own way. I’d had an item in my inventory for a while—a pair of gloves called Black Friday. They let me pilfer from the loot piles before Carpe could see what was there. Byzantine had been bleeding him dry.

I won’t pretend things were back to normal, but I think by now we’ve established I don’t do normal. I’d settled on calling this downtime. Rynn was still working for Mr. Kurosawa, but they were looking for a replacement now. And Rynn was taking a step back from overseeing my projects, instead acting as a consultant. I think Rynn might have been happier about that than I was . . .

To be honest, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to the whole “relationship thing” . . . but maybe that’s what makes it special? Who knows? I’m done with philosophizing about the ins and outs of the human mind for a few months—I’d leave that to Rynn’s hobby and worry about pretending I’m a responsible adult in a mature adult relationship.

I don’t think I’m fooling anyone, most of all Rynn.

Regardless, I’m not going to run, and Rynn will stay out of my work.

We’ve agreed to that much.

I give Rynn two days past my next job . . .

The only thing I hadn’t talked to him about after the zombie fiasco was what Artemis had told me about Rynn and incubi in general. Not for the reasons you might think though. Oh I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t wedged somewhere in the back of my head, but if I started listening to every crazy supernatural who shot their mouth off while they were trying to kill me, well, I’d go nuts . . . or take their advice and proverbially jump off a cliff.

Besides, it brought up things that went well and far past my comfort line in the sand.

As far as Cooper, Odawaa, and the lamp? It’s a hell of a lot more boring than you’d think. Rynn and Lady Siyu eventually caught up to Cooper, took the lamp, and—at Rynn’s insistence and against Lady Siyu’s inclinations—left him tied up like a present for the IAA. Like the genie legends of old, as soon as the lamp changed hands, the magic animating the zombies was broken. The invasion was over. Odawaa got away—not surprising, considering he’s a pirate. The more unsettling question was who the hell was pulling all the strings.

Someone
had told Artemis how to make wraiths, a trick that had long been forgotten . . . for good reason. It drove the incubi and succubi nuts. Artemis included. The same someone was behind Cooper, and Alexander and Daphne as well.

I did my best not to think about it. If I could help it, I planned on staying the hell out of supernatural politics. Note I didn’t say never—see? I’m learning.

The kitchen light was on when I opened the door to my condo. I could have sworn I’d turned it off.

“Rynn?” He’d texted me when his plane left a couple hours ago, but he shouldn’t be here yet, should he?

My phone rang with the ’80s video-game chime and snake hiss before I could consider it more. Damn it, my day had been looking up.

“Lady Siyu,” I answered.

“I instructed you to call once a day.”

Come on, big breath, Owl. She’s in Las Vegas, she can’t hurt you . . . much.

“I did. I texted you this morning.” Besides, the headaches left over from the curse had ebbed off, along with the dreams. I barely needed her help anymore. What I needed was my cat . . .

“Clearly you do not grasp the difference between a phone call and a text. I suggest you familiarize yourself with those terms—the internet should prove useful.”

Now she gets a sense of humor . . . “My apologies, oh great Lady Siyu, for assuming a text would be adequate when you requested a phone call.”

I dropped my groceries on the counter, headed to my kitchen window overlooking Seattle harbor, and grabbed a beer from my fridge.

“See that it does not happen again. I have sent a list of instructions for your recovery.”

“Got it,” I said. Basically a list of approved things for me to eat and not eat. Let’s just say I was glad to be as far away from her as possible. Beer was not on the approved list.

“I took the liberty of having tea delivered to your residence,” Lady Siyu continued.

I noticed the paper bag on my counter and opened it. Inside was a large glass tub of tea, along with other packets. “Found it,” I said. More out of curiosity than anything else, I opened it up and took a whiff. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is in here?”

“You will drink that tea three times a day.”

“Like hell I will. Have you smelled this?”

“I do not care what you do, or do not wish.”

Goddamn it . . . just when you think you get away . . . “This must really kill you, being forced to keep me alive. I mean, does Mr. Kurosawa enjoy sticking the knife in and turning?”

“
Silence
,” Lady Siyu said. There was a brief pause on the other end, which I used to gulp my beer. “Unlike you, I possess not only your cat but honor—” she continued.

She had to rub it in.

“As such, until I deem you fit from your most recent self-inflicted disasters, I am charged with administering your care. You will make a full recovery as per my instructions from Mr. Kurosawa, which means you will follow my diet and drink the foul tea. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a threat in her voice I didn’t like. Only Lady Siyu could turn being some kind of supernatural healer into a threat. “Or else what?” I asked.

There was that hiss—long and drawn out. “If for one moment I get the impression you have deviated from my instructions by even a fraction, I will have no choice but to travel to Seattle. You do not want me to have to travel to Seattle,” she said, and hung up.

I stood there and stared at my phone. I’d worry about Lady Siyu when Rynn got here. He’d know how serious her threat was.

I headed to my office. I was still hoping I could find something in my collection Lady Siyu wanted more than Captain, though I hadn’t had any luck so far . . .

I stopped in the doorway. Now, I know I hadn’t left that open.

Shit.

Sitting in my office chair was the IAA woman with brown hair wrapped in a bun, who’d been tailing me in Egypt and shown up at Alexander’s bar on the Sunset Strip. I took a step back and glanced at the kitchen . . . where the hell did Rynn say he’d ditched the knives? The not kitchen ones . . .

The woman stopped me though by raising and aiming a small black handgun. She was as bad as Nadya; the gun matched the suit.

I noticed my gold cuffs—Cleopatra II’s, the ones I’d lifted in Algeria—sitting on her lap.

I frowned. I hate it when people touch my stuff.

“I’m just here to talk,” she said, returning my cuffs and standing up, leaving the shadow caused by my office’s artificial lighting and lack of windows. I take preservation of my artifacts seriously.

Yeah, IAA. Just here to talk. I took another step back. Damn it, I wished I had Captain here—or Rynn, or Nadya . . .

I swallowed. “You always bring firearms to friendly conversations?” I did my best to keep my voice civil as I checked the doorways. No shadows, and they hadn’t bothered to kill the lights . . . apparently this was the only IAA suit here. I still had to stop myself from running for the front door. I would have if I hadn’t thought there was a slight chance she’d shoot me.

She smiled at that. “Never hurts to be cautious. Where’s the incubus?”

“Coming from the garage,” I lied.

There was that smile again. “We can kill him, you know.”

“Doubt that very much.”

She smiled. “I can kill you.”

I shrugged. “You’re welcome to try, though in all fairness, two vampires, a crazy, power-mad incubus, and a pack of Somali pirates didn’t manage it. My boss the dragon will be pretty pissed too.” I noted the black comm piece. Someone above her pay grade would be listening in. “Go on, check with your bosses. I’m betting you aren’t cleared to do anything more than talk to me.”

Well, maybe rough me up, but nothing serious. Kidnapping was out. Again, angry dragon.

As I suspected, someone confirmed more or less what I’d said, and her smile faltered. OK, I was on better ground than I thought.

She switched tactics. “The incubus left the airport twenty minutes ago, though my operatives are tailing him.”