Page 35

TWO

Sorsha

I was starting to notice that Omen’s station wagon had a particular smell to it. I inhaled deeply where I was sitting in the back seat, trying to place it. A hint of charcoal, a little salt, something a bit chalky, and a note that was maybe… meaty? Brick-oven pizza, I thought, except it was hard to picture Bossypants chowing down on a slice in his beloved Betsy. Anyway, the scent was too dry, no tomato-y juiciness.

While I contemplated the lingering odor, Ruse, who’d kept his physical form, gabbed away at his boss about the hacker he’d worked his charms on.

“Managed it over the phone,” he said, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed behind his head. “It only took a few minutes before we were such close friends she’d happily delve into an obviously stolen computer. A little internet tracing shouldn’t be any problem at all. The original effect won’t have worn off much yet, so it’ll hardly be any work.”

“Wonderful,” Omen replied in a voice so devoid of emotion I couldn’t tell whether he was truly pleased or being sarcastic, but Ruse’s commentary had reminded me of another responsibility. I owed my one actual close friend a call.

I settled deeper into the worn leather cushioning of the back seat, which I had to admit was pretty comfy, and pulled out my phone. Vivi had inadvertently gotten herself tangled up in our conflict with the sword-star crew despite my efforts to keep her out of the line of fire. Okay, maybe even because of those efforts. My caginess had gotten her so worried about me that she’d tracked me down while we were following the bad guys and blown our cover. Since the baddies would have seen the car she was driving, which belonged to her grandmother, I’d ordered them both to go into hiding.

Vivi picked up on the first ring. “Sorsha?”

Hearing her vibrant voice sent a wash of relief through me. “The one and only. I take it you’re still hanging in there out at that cottage?”

“Yeah, just bored.” A matching relief sparkled through her laugh. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ve been spinning out crazier than a cuckoo bird in a blender wondering what’s going on.”

Vivi had a way with metaphors. I cracked a grin. “Well, we solved one bit of the problem, but we’ve got a much bigger part to tackle next. The assholes who murdered Meriden are still on the loose, so you’d better hang tight.”

“Actually…” I could practically see her twirling one of her tight ringlets around her index finger. “All this time cooped up gave me a chance to think about return strategies. I might have figured out a way I could come back—and give you a real hand—without doom raining down on me.”

My chest tightened a little at the idea of my best friend back here in the line of fire, but I’d promised her I wouldn’t keep shutting her out like I had before. And to be fair, staying clammed up hadn’t protected either of us in the end. Vivi had grown up with parents who knew about and wanted to protect the shadowkind. Not the same as being outright raised by a fae woman like I’d been, but while she wasn’t quite as comfortable with supernatural beings as I was, she did have a pretty clear idea of what she was signing up for.

“All right,” I said. “Lay it on me.”

“Well, I figure the main way these people have of identifying me or Gran is through her car. What if I go to the police and report that it was stolen a few days ago? I’ll park it somewhere sketchy but obvious, maybe even call in an anonymous tip too so they’ll find it fast, and then Gran has her car back but it sounds like we weren’t involved in anything it was used for lately. Smooth as butter on a porcelain vase.”

“Hmm.” I kind of wanted to pick that plan apart so I had an excuse to keep Vivi where she was safe, but the truth was it sounded pretty solid. “Are you sure the baddies couldn’t have seen it parked at your Gran’s house in between your scouting missions? Besides the car, what about the questions you were asking Meriden’s neighbors?”

“Nah, I parked it in a paid lot overnight just in case. And when I talked to the few people I spoke to in person, I had my hair covered by my hood and big sunglasses on—I don’t think they could give a very accurate description of me. I can be a little stealthy.”

I hesitated, wavering between the guilt over shutting my best friend out before and the guilt I knew I’d feel if I led her into more danger.

“Come on, Sorsh,” Vivi wheedled. “Let me pitch in. You let me know what you need, and I’ll be there, no other messing around.”

She might be safer here in the city with a cover story for the car than she was staying in hiding with the sword-star bunch believing she was involved. “Okay. Handle the car thing like you said, and then don’t do anything you wouldn’t normally do until we have a chance to talk more in depth.”

“You’ve got it.” She made an air-kiss sound. “Ditto.”

“Ditto,” I replied, my smile coming back. Our shared love of corny movies included Ghost , which had inspired our trademark farewell.

As I hung up, Omen was just pulling up to the corner on a residential street. He glanced back at me, his gaze as intense as ever. “It never occurred to you that I’d expect you to keep quiet about our activities.”

My shoulders tensed automatically. “That was my best friend—the one who already knows all about the shadowkind and that I’m onto something big?” He’d gotten most of the story in roundtable fashion from the four of us last night. “She’s been advocating for beings like you her whole life through the Shadowkind Defense Fund. There may be ways she can help. After what she saw yesterday, she knows how serious the situation is.”

“Having one mortal in the mix is bad enough.”

“Well, she’s involved now, so you’re shit out of luck.”

I kept my tone flippant, but Omen’s eyes narrowed anyway. “If she compromises our mission, I’ll ensure she can’t interfere anymore.”

My whole back stiffened. “You don’t have to worry about that.” And if you lay one hand on my bestie, you’d better believe the next place you’ll find that hand is rammed up your ass.

Ruse cleared his throat and pointed to a house on the far corner of the block. “That’s the place. Basement apartment, separate entrance. We want to encourage our hacker friend to dig up anything she can about the sword-star group’s activities, right?”

“Particularly anything that could tell us where they’re operating from,” Omen said. “Any regular hunting groups or meet-up spots for their business dealings. But you don’t need to remember all that. I’m coming with you. After everything that’s happened, I think each of you could use plenty of supervision.”

“Sure. Absolutely. The more the merrier.” Ruse chuckled, but he’d tensed at the implied criticism.

“Thorn. Snap.” Omen peered into the shadows next to me. Before he’d opened his mouth again, the other two shadowkind had emerged, so abruptly I found myself squeezed against the door to make room. Thorn could have used a whole back seat to himself.

Snap gave me an apologetic peck on the temple before turning to his boss with an eager gleam in his eyes. “How can I help?”

“I want the two of you patrolling the streets, making sure no one has followed us or takes too much interest in Betsy here. And since I’d like to keep this ‘merry’—Sorsha, you’re coming with Ruse and me. It may be useful to have a mortal around in this particular situation.”

I rubbed my ears in disbelief, but his impatient gesture and Snap’s proud beaming suggested I’d heard him correctly. “You’ll see how much she can help,” the devourer said. He pressed another kiss to my cheek before vanishing back into the shadows with Thorn.

“I’m sure I will,” Omen said without much enthusiasm, and shoved open his door.

Somehow I suspected Omen’s request was more about not trusting me alone in his car—as if I might shred the cushions like some kind of wild animal… or, well, like Pickle—than about him developing any respect for my talents. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. The sooner I proved those talents to him, the sooner he’d put a lid on his condescending comments.

“This mortal is a little… quirky,” Ruse said in a low voice as we walked over to the house he’d pointed out as the hacker’s. “And I picked up on a certain amount of defensiveness about that. So, let me recommend that you keep any opinions about her clothing choices and décor to yourselves.”

He’d called ahead so the woman would be expecting him. As he knocked on the back entrance that was down a flight of stairs from the backyard patio, I braced myself not to react to head-to-toe goth-gear, a raver’s rainbow hair and glitter, or possibly a furry costume. It takes all sorts, after all.

I still wasn’t prepared.

“Into the Cavern! Quickly!” hissed the figure who opened the door. A figure in full purple latex bodysuit complete with a yellow blaze of lightning on the chest, a glinting black utility belt, matching black vinyl platform boots, and a black cape she whirled with a dramatic swish .

Our hacker apparently saw herself as Superhero of the Cybernet, with all the trappings. I managed to keep my expression blasé as we stepped into her apartment, but it was a near thing.

She’d modeled the “Cavern” after the Bat Cave: a huge array of computer screens at one end, glass cases holding a couple of costume changes and assorted comic-book-esque weaponry next to it, slate-gray paint from concrete floor to ceiling, and light streaming in hazy beams from a circle of pot lights mounted overhead. A moped decked out with metallic black plating leaned against the wall by the entrance. Hoo, boy.

I brushed against the moped as we squeezed into the small space between all her equipment, and something flicked against my arm with a scaly swipe. I clamped my mouth shut before I could yelp in surprise, but Ms. Super Hacker here must have noticed.

“Don’t mind Freddie,” she said briskly, and plopped into a massive leather chair with an arched back that looked more suited to a super villain than a hero. I squinted at the moped and made out a hunched form with scales that blended into the black seat and the gray walls.

She had a pet chameleon. Named Freddie. Right. I should have brought Pickle along for a playdate.

The hacker chugged from an energy drink sitting on the workspace in front of her and waggled her fingers over one of her three keyboards. This one had a green glow around the elevated keys. She glanced up at Ruse with a grin. “What can I do for you tonight?”

The incubus obviously didn’t need to do any more charming. He propped himself in front of the farthest screen and gave her a languidly warm smile in return. “It might be a little tricky, but I’m sure you’re up to the task. We can’t have anyone noticing what you were digging into, though. Our lives could be at stake.”

The woman’s expression turned more solemn. She nodded briskly. “You can count on me. I’d give my own life before I let those I fight for come to harm.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ruse said wryly. “We have reason to believe there are people in this city looking to purchase supernatural beings of particular power, as well as hiring mercenaries of some sort for security details. We’d also like to check for any mentions of activity around a construction site last night.”

He gave her the address and a few other details that might help narrow down her search, and she dove into the world wide web as enthusiastically as if it were the Fortress of Solitude. The glow of the screens turned her pale face almost luminescent.

There didn’t appear to be anything for me to do here. Of course, it wasn’t as if Omen was contributing in some brilliant way either. He drifted over to the display shelves, running his finger over what looked like a ray-gun and then lifting a katana to study the arc of its blade.

“Hmm,” Ms. Super Hacker said, more to herself than to us. “This could be—oops, no, I didn’t need to see that many boobs all on one lady… What about—oh, that’s a shipment of counterfeit plushies. Hmm… Yikes. ‘Seeing you waiting at the bus stop, I couldn’t help succumbing to the radiation of your smile’—nope, definitely not, lots of luck with that missed connection, weirdo. Hey, this is an interesting thread.”

She leaned even closer to the screen, as if she might climb right into it in another minute or two. I ambled a little closer, but she was opening and swiping away windows too fast for me to make out much of what she’d unearthed.

Omen was still exploring her display cases with a rustle here and a clink there. I glanced around the rest of the room, searching for an opportunity to show I was more than dead weight. A stack of ramen packages sat on a little shelving unit in front of the moped. Maybe I could offer to cook her up a snack?

Wait, was I reading that right? She had… barbeque octopus balls flavor. And let’s not forget the evergreen classic, mocha cheddar corn. Where the hell had she picked up those? More importantly—I averted my face so she wouldn’t see me wrinkle my nose— why ?

She tapped away at the keyboard some more with a rattle like machine-gun fire. I turned to examine the arsenal Omen had found so fascinating—just as he swiveled away from the cases with a metallic flash.

The curved dagger he’d picked up sliced across my bare forearm. A stinging pain sprung up along the line he’d carved. I did yelp then, yanking my arm back toward me so fast a fresh pang echoed through my other shoulder with its bandaged wound. Blood welled along the cut.

Omen swiveled the weapon in his hand with a practiced grace and set it back on the shelf. “I didn’t see you there,” he said, in the least apologetic-sounding apology ever, and grabbed my hand to yank my injured arm into one of the streams of light. “Let’s see the damage.”

Ruse had straightened up, eyeing Omen warily and me with a warmer concern. “We can’t have you carving up our mortal. Are you all right, Miss Blaze?”

“It isn’t much more than a scratch,” I had to admit, but the pain was still nibbling across my skin with a similar sensation to the prick of Pickle’s claws. Omen was studying the wound as if he thought he’d find the meaning of life in the slow seeping of my blood. An uneasy quiver raced down my spine.

Had that really been an accident, or had it been some kind of test to see my reaction? If it was a test, what in Waldo’s name was he looking for?

And had I passed?

Our superhero had glanced up. Seeing my arm, she turned slightly green. She jerked her gaze away, her balance wobbling in her seat.

Fainting at the sight of a tiny bit of blood—not a great quality in a caped avenger.

“There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” she said in a tight voice, waving toward a door in the far corner. Ruse hustled over there while Omen raised my arm to catch the light better. He was frowning as if I’d managed to disappoint him somehow. Had he expected me to produce skin of steel?

Whatever he’d intended, he definitely didn’t look remotely worried about my well-being. As Ruse returned, brandishing an adhesive bandage, my stomach knotted. Omen dropped my hand and stepped away, all trace of emotion vanishing.

I couldn’t trust him, clearly—couldn’t rely on him to care whether he chopped my arm in two. And as long as Bossypants held me in such contempt, I couldn’t totally count on my trio either. As much as they’d supported me, they still followed his orders. They’d never leave me in danger on purpose, but all it would take was one risky situation where they couldn’t get to me fast enough because he’d occupied them elsewhere, and my ass would be kaput.

As long as the shadowkind quartet were the only people at my back, at least. Vivi was coming home—and maybe I should start thinking about what other allies I could round up who’d follow my lead more than Omen’s.

Ms. Super Hacker must have recovered from her blood-induced queasiness. She let out a cry of victory and drummed her hands on the console in front of her.

“I’ve got something. Someone’s set up an exchange to happen in just a couple of days—potent creature of unusual inclinations. Isn’t that exactly what you were looking for?”

A hint of a smile curled Omen’s lips, but I couldn’t say I found it reassuring. “I believe it is. Let’s hear the full story.”