The Eldritch Conspiracy (16 page)

“So, a glorified receptionist.”

“No. A
partner
. Seventy-thirty. You handle the office end and the computer research. I handle the staffing and action.”

She was so startled she hit the brakes, hard. We were lucky not to be rear-ended. Amazingly, nobody hit us. Hell, nobody even laid on the horn. They just adjusted, driving around. Being behind a car that obviously costs six figures or more tends to make drivers more nimble. I know it does me.

“A partner?” She looked at me, wide-eyed. But when she spoke again, her voice was only a little bit higher pitched and breathy than usual. “Why not fifty-fifty?”

“Because I’m putting up the building and the money. This is going to take a lot of cash to pull off.”

She started the vehicle moving forward again, keeping her eyes on the road. “Then it’s probably a good thing I deposited the check from your aunt, for protecting Adriana. It’ll make a good start. And hey, if she makes it up the aisle safely, you’ll earn the bonus. That should give us more than enough to get started.”

Us. She’d said us. I found myself grinning hugely. And a check from my aunt! I’d have to remind Dawna to send her a contract—though, knowing Dawna, she already had.

“But I’m not taking less than sixty-forty. You
need
me. Your people skills … well, they sort of suck.” She pulled smoothly into the right turn lane, all shock gone, her expression growing almost smug, dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

I knew that look but wasn’t sure where she was going with it. “What?”

Smugness grew into a grin. “I can’t wait to tell Ron.”

16

D
awna had
brought me a printout of Olga and Natasha’s schedule for the day, e-mailed to her by Helen Baker. While she drove to the tow lot, where we’d redeem Emma’s car, I scanned the sheet of paper. Protected by several agents each, Adriana’s bridesmaids were spending the day doing interviews. I hoped that would keep them safe and out of trouble until it was time for us to meet for dinner.

After returning Emma’s car to her at school, getting my knives from the police station (they wouldn’t release the gun, it was evidence), and checking my bank balance—Lopaka’s check had caused it to rise quite nicely—we hit the drive-through at Arby’s for a pair of French dip sandwiches. Dawna ate one sandwich, setting the second aside for later. I drank the au jus from both of them. We chatted about the new business plan, kicking ideas around. I’d call Roberto as soon as I had a chance, and get him started on the paperwork for our new partnership. Then it was on to my favorite store.

Isaac and Gilda Levy own a shop that carries high-end magical weapons, extremely high-end spelled clothing, and jewelry. The jewelry is Gilda’s contribution. Isaac does the spell work and tailoring. It started out as a small place, tucked in beside a dry cleaner in a neighborhood that was just a bit off of the beaten path. But the store had grown over the years I’d known them. They hadn’t moved, but they’d expanded into the spaces on either side, and the resulting emporium was now fairly large, bright, and airy.

Gilda Levy met me at the door and gave me a huge hug, squeezing me tight enough that the various gems on her many necklaces began digging uncomfortably into my chest. Gilda is not a beautiful woman in the traditional sense. She’s short, standing all of four foot eight inches. She’s nearly as wide as she is tall, with wiry salt-and-pepper curls that are moving more to salt as the years pass. But she’s got a smile that could melt the polar ice caps and there are laugh lines at the corners of her bright, dark eyes. She practically buzzes with natural energy, zipping from here to there: always busy, always productive. She wears designer clothes in bright colors and enough bling to make the most overdecorated rapper jealous.

Today she was in a pale turquoise pantsuit with a cream, turquoise, and teal striped silk blouse left unbuttoned to show just the right amount of decolletage, which she had accessorized with about ten pounds of jewelry.

“I’m so glad you’re safe. We’ve been worried sick about you.” She gave a delicate shudder that made the bangle bracelets she wore jingle. “Terrorists. Our Celia targeted by terrorists. What is the world coming to?” She turned, looking over her shoulder, and called out. “Isaac, Celia’s here. Do you have her new jacket ready? She’s damaged this one.”

She was right, of course. The explosion had done more than stain and rip the fabric. The spells Isaac had worked into the jacket had probably been destroyed. But they’d done their job. I didn’t have so much as a bruise from the blast that had destroyed most of the auditorium. I wondered if the FBI would pick up the tab for the restoration.

Isaac came to stand in the doorway between the front of the shop and his workroom. “It’s ready for the final fitting. And just in time, from what I hear. Come to the back and I’ll finish it up. You’re wearing your holster?”

I shook my head. “No. The police kept my gun as evidence.”

“You’re not unarmed?” He gave me a stern look.

“I have a Glock in an ankle holster, and I’m wearing my knives.”

“Good. But that doesn’t help us with the fitting. Gilda…”

“I’ll take care of it, dear.” She scurried off to the weapons department with Dawna following in her wake. I followed Isaac into the workroom.

The outer shop is bright, open, and designed to catch the eye of the customers. Every article is lit and displayed to its best advantage. Isaac’s workroom is a much more personal space. There is a silver casting circle eight feet in diameter in the center of the room. Inside it are three platforms of various heights that always remind me of the medal stands at the Olympics, but which actually perform a much more prosaic function. Having the client stand on the low dais puts most of them at the perfect height for Isaac to hem and tailor a jacket. The “second place” dais is great for hemming skirts. The highest one is just right for hemming the legs of trousers and tailoring them to fit perfectly to disguise an ankle holster. I remember how excited Isaac was when he had them built. No more crawling around while he performed both mundane tailoring and complex spell work.

Along the walls, outside the circle, are cube-style shelves in unfinished oak that contain books in multiple languages, various spell components, and sewing equipment. In one corner, an old wooden roll-top desk sits next to a beautiful old sewing machine. A high-definition television hung from a mounting attached to the ceiling that could be rotated to face anywhere in the room; it is primarily used to keep clients from getting bored during long fittings.

At the moment it displayed a talk show. I recognized the guest—one of Adriana’s bridesmaids, the lovely Princess Olga. I’d never seen the hosts before. Not a surprise really, since they were speaking Ruslandic.

“I really wish I was better at languages,” I complained as, at Isaac’s gesture, I climbed onto the appropriate platform.

“Ruslandic is not one of mine, but Gilda is fluent. She prefers to watch in the original language when she can, as translations are so often bungled.” He held up a needle and pointed it up at me. “Did you know that American English has the most words of any language in the world? And yet, they never seem to be able to adequately translate a word that has only four or five meanings in a foreign language.”

Gilda was fluent in
Ruslandic
. Really. How … awesomely useful. Oh, the wheels in my mind were free-spinning. “Isaac, do you carry audio equipment for surveillance?”

*   *   *

I looked hot. Men stared and women glared as I followed the maître d’ through the trendiest of trendy L.A. restaurants to the private dining room where I’d be meeting the princesses. I wore a tight, bloodred dress with a sweetheart neckline. The hem came to my knees and there was a little slit so that I could walk. Three-inch heels in black matched the jacket I wore and the purse I carried. They also matched my shoulder holster as well as the hilts of my knives and my gun. But nobody would see those. Actually I thought the handbag kind of ruined the look, but I’d had to pick one large enough to hold a netbook.

I made up for the bag with my jewelry. It was perfect—understated and elegant. Each of the individual pieces was spelled: the bracelet was also a microphone so that Gilda could hear everything that went on. I just had to be careful not to bump things as I ate. My earrings were speakers so that she could translate the Ruslandic for me. The gear had set me back a fair amount of money, but, by God, tonight I’d know what Olga and Natasha were saying and whether or not I needed to be worried about them.

I felt like a spy in a 007 movie. I even had my very own thug. Agent Baker was on her way back from Serenity, so my secret service escort tonight was Agent William Griffiths. He was a big, imposing redhead, and looked almost as good in his suit as I did in my dress. I’d take him to a premiere anytime.

He didn’t bother checking the room. It had already been done. Instead, he waited until I was seated at the elegantly appointed table before going to stand discreetly by the door.

I’m a casual-dining kind of a gal. I like old-fashioned diners and places like La Cocina, which might be described as dives—if you didn’t mind risking your health saying it in front of the owners. But I’ve been to high-end restaurants on dates, and heaven knows the amount of time I’d stood where Griffiths was now, on the edges, making sure the beautiful people stayed that way. I know what to do with all the various pieces of silver and crystal, and I can even manage my skirt when the maître d’ pushes in my chair without looking awkward. But I still, secretly, feel more than a little out of place when I eat in places like this. Everything was so perfect: candlelight, fine linen, watered silk wallpaper. I felt a little like a kid playing dress up.

Olga and Natasha, however, were born to this sort of thing. They strolled in together. Olga’s head was held high, her posture almost angry, demanding attention. Natasha, on the other hand, looked pensive. Her whole body language was off. She didn’t seem afraid as much as worried and distracted. They were an odd pair. Not friends. No, I decided, they were more like acquaintances, thrown together by chance. But that wouldn’t keep them from teaming up on someone if they felt it was to their advantage. I’d seen that already.

I started with small talk, in English, while the staff filled our water glasses and set out fresh-baked bread that smelled like heaven on a plate. “How did the interviews go this afternoon?”

Natasha opened her mouth to answer, but Olga talked over her. “It is boring. Always the same questions. Very … what is the word? Tedious.”

Bullshit. I’d seen most of Olga’s interview while I was being fitted for my jacket and this dress. She’d loved every minute of the attention. With Gilda translating, I’d been able to watch and listen as she ever-so-carefully tried to make Adriana look bad. Olga never said anything directly insulting—she was far more subtle than that. But she managed to shade her answers in such a way that the public—particularly the Ruslandic people—would be watching my cousin very warily.

Natasha hadn’t been much better. She’d expressed wide-eyed concern over attending the bachelorette party I would be throwing for my cousin. She’d heard scandalous things about such affairs. It was a perfect ploy, playing to the religious and conservative elements. Never mind that I hadn’t scheduled any such party. Now I had to either give one or figure out a good reason not to—or the press would report that we’d caved to conservative pressure.

Dawna suggested that she might be sincere since, after all, a bachelorette party is a pretty standard custom. I didn’t buy it. I’d been shopping with Natasha. Either she’d been doing a fine job of acting when she picked out the racy bridesmaid’s dress, or she was lying now. I was betting the latter.

They were making trouble. But it wasn’t the deadly kind. Just pettiness. I would’ve thought it was the result of the siren effect if I didn’t know for a fact they both wore an anti-siren charm. Maybe it was just bitchiness, or regular old jealousy. Whatever the reason, the result was the same. If there was any time in the schedule where it could be shoehorned in, I was going to be throwing a party. There’d be live tweeting by a planted reporter. And I was going to make damned sure it was sedate and boring enough that nobody could accuse anyone of misbehaving. If there wasn’t, well, we’d just find another form of damage control.

“Well, maybe you won’t have to do any more interviews,” I suggested with saccharine sweetness.

“Most unlikely,” Olga sneered. “This is the wedding of the century. The press are insatiable.”

“Then you’re still planning on being part of the wedding party? I’m so glad.” I tried to sound both sincere and chirpy. I’m not sure how successful I was at it.

Olga gave me a very unfriendly look over the rim of her water glass. “My father has reminded me that it is a great honor and my
duty
to be part of the wedding.” Ah, duty. But was it her duty to celebrate it, or destroy it?

“Natasha?” I made it a question.

“I will not let fear control me. We have skilled guards to protect us. These…”—she paused, searching for the right word in English—“villains will not succeed.”

“Oh good. I’m so pleased. I was afraid I was going to have to talk the two of you into going through with it, but apparently you’re already on board.” I was smiling so hard my face was starting to hurt.

We were interrupted by the waiters bringing in the soup and salad course. For me, consommé and a bowl of applesauce. I waited until the waiters left before continuing. “The two of you probably know that my cousin has put me in charge of getting the bridesmaids’ dresses.”

They didn’t answer, just stared at me. Natasha’s face was expressionless. Olga’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. She didn’t like that news. Not a bit. I think she believed she could work her way around Adriana. I wasn’t so sure about that, but I did know that
she
knew she wouldn’t get around me.

“I’ve brought a computer with me. After we finish dinner, you can look at the dresses I’m considering and we can make a final decision.”