War-N-Wit, Inc. – MeanStreet, LLC (3 page)

Chapter
Four

Lights, camera, action! Well, okay, no camera, this was a live show. Harold sat on his perch on the Vegas stage and squawked. So far, just a show like any other. Like all the past four performances. Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe Gabriel was wrong about this one. Harold hadn’t seen anything to bend his beak out of joint yet. Even if the magician’s name was Damien. And even if Damien’s obligatory lovely assistant gave new brilliance to the sheen of the gold-sequined body suit.

“
Squawk…hot mama gimme some..
” Ooops. Inappropriate but Harold just couldn’t stop himself when the stage lights shimmered off those gold-tinted stockings showcasing those legs that just didn’t bloody stop.

“Volunteers? Volunteers from the audience?” The handsome magician
, appropriately dressed in dramatic black with whirling cape, twirled his handlebar black mustache. “Can’t close the show without some volunteers! Take a tour through Magic Land you’ll never forget on our Magical Carpet Ride! Sights never seen by the human eye! How ‘bout you?” He pointed to a table in the far corner, a young couple, newlyweds at a guess, one of many such couples taking advantage of the ease of Vegas weddings. They giggled at the attention. Neither of them felt any pain, that was certain. Drunk as skunks.

“Sure! We’re game!” The guy
stood up, swayed, and grabbed for the back of the chair. He extended his hand to his lady and they made their shaky way to the stage, holding onto each other for support.

“
Observe, ladies and gents!” Damien opened the doors of the large black box. Persian carpet lined the back, sides and flooring. He tapped the sides, roof and floor with his cane. “No hidden doors, no way out! And in you go!” His black cape swirled and twirled as he and his obligatory lovely assistant herded the couple inside. “Off for the ride of your lives! Wave goodbye to the audience as you leave!” The box began a slow turn, moving in a circle, door still partially open. The magician slammed it shut just as it began to accelerate.

Harold perked up and focused.
Of course the box was on a pedestal that revolved, that wasn’t new, but it’d never turned that fast before. Blimey, it was spinning like a top! Making his stomach lurch, it was, and didn’t Damien remember those two were fairly pickled? Better have a carpet cleaner handy, that box was surely going to need one.

And was it—Harold’s eyes widened.
“Squawk! Squawk! Shiver me timbers…fire in the hole…fire in the hole!!”

The bloody box bloody
lifted
! Off the floor! One foot in the air, two feet in the air…of course, nothing magical in lifting a box off the ground. You only needed a rope and pulley system or some version of it employing thin wire that seemed invisible, but with the box moving at that speed—and anyway, it’d never done that before.

The box started coming back down, the spinning revolutions slowed. Damien stepped up to the doors
. He grasped the door handles, pulled the doors open, and swirled his cape. Empty box. Of course. It always was. That was the whole point. But this time—no, this time, Harold wasn’t a happy bird about it.

The audience clapped and called.
Damien stepped to the front of the stage with Assistant Golden Girl. They clasped hands and bowed.

“Thank you! Thank you, one and all!”

Harold looked over at the sides of the stage. At previous shows, the “volunteers” waited in the wings, ready to come out and take their own bows. Not this time. Nobody was there.

“Squawk…
no fire in the hole…no fire in the hole…whassup doc!
”

* * *

Backstage in the dressing room, Damien threw off his cape and stretched.

“I love it when we finally get moving!”

Golden Girl unzipped the side zipper of the gold-sequined bodysuit and burst out of it.

“
Squawk…what a pair…what a pair…
” Best part of the show. Harold never could stop himself when that zipper unzipped.

“Damn parrot. You’d think he
actually knew what he was saying.” Golden Girl reached for her dressing gown and slipped into it.

“Maybe he does. Seems to be the usual male reaction.”

“Sure he’s a male?”

“No, actually, I’m not. Never checked.”

Harold’s eyes widened.
And you’d bloody well better not try either, mate!

“Did you get confirmation? That the package made it through?”

“Not yet.”

“And you’re
sure
that couple won’t have anybody checking on them?”

“
Yes
, I’m sure that couple won’t have anybody checking on them. At least not for a few days. Told you, they’re here alone, not with a group, not with friends. Spur of the moment elopement, didn’t even tell anybody where they were going. Heard ‘em in the lobby when they were checking in. And about damn time, too, seems like everybody in Vegas is here with some group or other this time.”

“Good pick.”

“Oh, yeah. All that sexual energy just busting out from the seams. Couple more like that and then the finale. Saturday night, don’t wanna stretch it any further, that’s cutting it too close. Yeah, Saturday we’re outta here. We’ll go for the power at that show. Won’t matter if they’re alone or not, we’ll be long gone.”

“Speaking of seams and busting—this skin’s getting horribly tight.”

Harold’s eyes bugged. Was that a
tentacle
waving out of her hair?

“Up to you. But you know human form feels even worse if you break out of it and have to go back
in than it does if you just stay in it in the first place.”

Blimey and h
oly hell, that wasn’t just one tentacle waving out of her hair, it was three! And counting!

“I know.” Golden Girl shrugged.
“But you know what? I don’t care. Got to have a break!”

“
Squawk…invasion of the body snatchers…invasion of the body snatchers…whassup doc…squawk!
”

* * *

While all this was going on, I was half a continent away in our home at Pine Whisper Plantation, packing for a special occasion—Stacy and Spike’s upcoming wedding. In Vegas at the Little White Wedding Chapel’s Tunnel of Love Drive-Thru. On motorcycles. Can anybody say “copycat”? But I had to admit, considering the circumstances and all, nothing could be more perfect.

I almost closed
my suitcase but didn’t. Something—something else. What?

“Baby girl, you been staring at that thing for five minutes. Want me to go pull the sink outta the kitchen and throw it in there for you?”

“Nobody likes a smart-ass warlock.”

“You do.”

“Not always. Always love him though.”

“Care to prove it?”

“Not right at the moment. Need to finish packing. You think there’s any chance at all we can have just a normal trip to Vegas this time?”

“
I gave up hope several lifetimes ago anything we do or any trip we take’s gonna be normal.”

I sighed. Yeah, “ordinary” waved bye-bye to us
long ago.

“Stacy said Mom an
d Daddy were actually flying in for the wedding. Mom’s mellowing out.”

My mother’d never forgiven me for my own wedding.
All that planning she’d done, and then I up and changed a few things on her. Nothing major. Okay, so I got married in Vegas in the Tunnel of Love Drive-Thru. I’d just changed the location. And the groom. And the guest list, seein’ as how there kind of weren’t any. I hadn’t thought she’d be any fonder of Stacy’s wedding plans, either, but at least Stacy did give advance notice. And give her a chance to actually get there.

“Missed one daughter’s wedding, doesn’t want to miss both of them. But does your Dad actually know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Oh, c’mon!
It’s a drive-thru, doesn’t have to be on a motorcycle. Spike said he’d put them in his Beemer. Mom’d probably forgive either of them anything. I mean, after all, Stacy’s bringing a
doctor
into the family. Drives a Beemer and everything. Even if he does live in Vegas.”

“Far cry from a disreputable PI, for sure.”

“She’s warming up to you, Magic Man. Though I’m not surprised. That
magical
charm of yours.”

“I resent that. I would
never
misuse power just to make your mother like me. It’s natural charm, pure and simple.”

I
laughed and walked over to my dresser. I hesitated a minute and then pulled open a drawer. I licked my lips in indecision. But I couldn’t fight it. Yeah, this needed to come with me. I walked back to the bed and placed the case firmly in the top pocket of the suitcase and slammed the lid shut.

“There! All done!”

“The Tear? You’re taking the Tear of Isis to Vegas? Why?”

Back to
Resurrection.
A trip to Savannah and an encounter with the Resurrection Society a few months back crowned me the reluctant Seer of the Tear of Isis. The crystal pendant that allowed a person to see their past lives as they gazed into it. And allowed the Seer to see it, too.

“I don’t know why, okay? I just know—I need to take it.”

Chad stared at me. “Baby girl, remember what I told you at the start? That persons of power are usually a mix of talents, some a lot stronger than others?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re such a strong telepath it hasn’t even occurred to you yet, has it?”

“What?”

“That a latent talent for pre-cog’s been getting stronger and stronger with you.”

“No, it’s not. Both of us just
know
things. Knowing things is our
thing
.”

“This is different. Telepathy is looking at other people and knowing them for what they really are. Inside. Pre-cog is a premonition of things to come.”

“Other than the fact that it’ll be a miracle if this wedding goes off without getting some or all of us in trouble, I don’t know nuttin’ from nuttin’.”

“Yes, you do. Because you know you have to take the Tear of Isis with you.
You don’t know why, but you know you do.”

“
Maybe I just think it’ll look good with that slinky black sheath I bought for the Vegas shows. The one with the plunging neckline.”

“Now you’re talking magic.
Absolute. You done with that suitcase?”

“Yeah. Why?
”

He li
fted it off the bed onto the floor, enveloped me in his arms and fell backwards onto the spread.

“Got another use for the bed right now.”

“Do you now?”

Good thing I didn’t have a clue what was going on at Command Central, MeanStreet Division of the Galatic Guardian Counsel. I wouldn’t have enjoyed that interlude nearly as much.

Chapter
Five

“Yo, whut up?” Gabriel barked into the mouthpiece of his desk phone. He cocked his head, listening intently. “That’s impossible. Nothing like that’s happened in millennia.” He frowned. “Definitely. We definitely need a meet. How ‘bout four o’clock?” He frowned harder. “
No
, not Eastern Standard Time. Get with the program!
Universal
time. This is a
universal
problem. Of extremely
universal
consequences. You calling Raphael or do I need to?”

The wall of Gabriel’s office dissolved into a blaze of light
. A mini windstorm blew into the room on a flurry of beating wings, sending papers swirling off his desk. The wall reformed and Micah, in compact angel form with wings high and proud, blew into the room, cradling an unconscious body. He flew lightly over to the couch and gently deposited his cargo on it, positioning a couch pillow carefully under her head. Poor baby. She’d be awake pretty quick but that first out-of-physical body trip was a killer. Knocked everybody out.

He compacted his wings tightly, stalked over to Gabriel’s desk
and slammed a fist down on the wood.

“Good. See both of you then,” Gabriel said into the phone. He
hung up, leaned his chair back and propped his feet on the desk. “And what’s got your feathers in an uproar?”

“
Set-up!
You
set me up
! This was never a preventative mission! It was never
about
the baby! It was a
harvest
! Of a new angel!”

“And your point is?”

“You
lied
to me, G!”

“I did not! I never told you a damn thing that wasn’t true.
You’re
the one who assumed your assignment was to save the baby. And you still don’t have it right. Exactly. She’s not an angel. She’s a second-chancer.”