Owl and the City of Angels (55 page)
Read Owl and the City of Angels Online
Authors: Kristi Charish
Yeah, somehow I didn’t think they were tailing Rynn as much as they would like to think they were. I’d be willing to put money on them being in for a surprise.
“And you are correct. Incubi are notoriously hard to kill—even when they’re weakened like our reports indicate he is.” Her eyes perked up with renewed interest as she regarded me.
Maybe supernatural wasn’t above her pay grade.
“Is that why he’s hanging out with you?” she asked. “We’ve been trying to figure that one out. Never ceases to amaze me how far off psych exams can be. Never pegged you for someone to fall in with an incubus, but then, one never can tell. We never figured you for someone to go rogue.”
“What do you want?” I said, pronouncing each and every syllable so she got the idea I wasn’t interested.
She pulled out a folder and placed it on my coffee table, one that Alexander’s vampires had trashed with knives and I hadn’t yet had a chance to fix.
“You’re a very difficult woman to find, Ms. Hiboux. If it hadn’t been for your escapades through Bali last year, we would never have picked your trail back up.” She looked up at me. “Lucky us.”
I wracked my brain. I’d covered my tracks well—I know I had. Hell, Carpe had even said I’d covered my tracks . . .
On top of the file was the one thing I hadn’t counted on. A printed cell-phone snapshot of me getting off a flight in Bali as my alter ego, Charity.
“How?” I said, holding up the photo.
“Oh it took us a while to piece everything together. That’s why I wasn’t here two months ago. You’re very good.”
Not fucking good enough apparently . . .
“We want to hire you,” she said, and pushed the file towards me.
I snorted. “Go to hell.” Like hell I was working for them. I’d be better off having them ship me off to Siberia and throwing me in a jail cell. At least there was a chance I’d escape from Siberia. Working for them? That’d be like letting a cancer keep growing.
My refusal didn’t bother her one bit. In fact, she smiled. “We thought you might have that sort of response, which is why I have leverage to negotiate.”
She pulled a file out of a black leather briefcase and handed it to me. It was a professional folder, expensive and leather-bound. Inside was a contract.
“It is perfectly legal,” she said. “I suggest you have your current employer vet it so you can be assured how serious we are.”
“What is it?”
“A very detailed and complex legal document.”
“The short version. For the disgraced and retracted archaeology thief in the room, please.”
“It is a contract exonerating you from any wrongdoing during your research tenure and in any of your activities since then. It also includes a provision to accept your thesis, as well as award your degree and admission back to the IAA ranks.” She paused to let that sink in. “It also gives you the choice of several project sites, fully funded. The Ephesus site you applied for during your last year is listed there as well.”
The contract felt hot in my hand—and not some remnant from the curse but because the IAA didn’t make deals like this, regardless of whether they were in the wrong.
This was blood money.
On top of that, I didn’t for a second believe they had any intention of keeping their word.
I glanced back up at the agent. “You can walk yourself the hell out of my apartment before I throw you out.”
“Don’t you even want to hear what the job is first?”
“No, you already know too much about me, and I already know too much about you.” I tossed the contract back on the table. “And you forget; I know you guys don’t keep your word. I signed one of these two years ago.”
Her smile faltered at that. “That contract was unfortunately never recorded by Dr. Hill and was missing until quite recently. We regret any inconvenience that might have caused you and as a result are waiving responsibility for your activities over the past two years. Of which there are many.”
I pointed down the hallway. “Right now I want you out of my apartment,” I said. The woman smiled and stepped by me, gun still out but no longer aimed. “I’ll just leave this with you, shall I? In case you change your mind.”
There was a threat veiled in there. “Just remember, lady, I’ve got more problems with supernaturals than I can handle. You barely rate a sweat.”
The smirk was back but not nearly as pronounced as before. “That’s right, you do have a habit of pissing off . . . well, everyone.”
I watched her until she reached my door, then she slowly turned on her heels. “Aren’t you even curious what we want?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“World Quest,” she said.
I shrugged, trying to convey nonchalance. “Open the computer and log on. Can I have my IAA pardon now?”
“Not the game,” she said. “The IAA wants you to find the developers.” And with that, she let herself out.
Shit. I locked the door behind her and ran a program that swept my place for bugs before picking up the file and opening it.
Two hazy head shots that looked vaguely like the developers’ characters, a list of IP addresses of last known locations . . .
I had no interest in finding these guys. The IAA could take their shiny get out of jail free card and stick it back through their black hearts. I knew from experience their deals weren’t worth the paper they were written on.
I’d have tossed the file in with the rest of the garbage except for the note at the bottom. “Oh you got to be fucking kidding me . . .”
They weren’t just contacting me. If it had just been me, I’d have had no problem ignoring it.
They’d opened up a bounty on the World Quest developers.
Acknowledgments
Thanks go out to my husband, Steve, and my friends, Leanne Tremblay, Tristan Brand, and Mary Gilbert, who read each and every chapter. I don’t know if I would have finished the book without their feedback and encouragement.
I also have to thank my agent, Carolyn Forde, who picked my manuscript out of the slush pile; Alison Clarke and Adam Wilson, who both saw something in Owl; and my editor, Sean Mackiewicz, for his keen eye and hard work. There are many other people who have mentored and encouraged me in my writing career over the past few years, but this space is small. Thank you all!
Finally, there is one nonhuman without whom this book would never have been written, and that is my cat, Captain Flash, on whom the character Captain is absolutely based.
About the Author
Kristi is a scientist and science fiction/fantasy writer who resides in Vancouver, Canada, with her spousal unit, Steve, and two cats named Captain Flash and Alaska. She received her BSc and MSc in Molecular Biology and Biochemistry from Simon Fraser University, and her PhD in Zoology from the University of British Columbia. Kristi writes what she loves—adventure-heavy stories featuring strong, savvy female protagonists.
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Also by Kristi Charish
Owl and the Japanese Circus
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Kristi Charish
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First Pocket Star Books ebook edition October 2015
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Contents
