Magic by any other name, p.15
Magic by Any Other Name, page 15
“Don’t ask why,” Kazimiera snapped. “Just take your notes.”
Georgette lowered her eyes. “Yes ma’am.”
Most of the other suites had a similar setup—a smoky lounge coated in a combination of magics. One exception was a room at the end of the hall, which turned out to be an impossibly large sauna. Peering through the steam, Georgette saw a greenish, claw-footed Akaname licking the floor clean with its snake-like tongue, and a bearded, shriveled old Bannik folding towels. Both paused briefly in their work to look her up and down.
The sauna’s wood-paneled walls extended far beyond where the edges of the room should have been, easily as long and as wide as the entire building. The ceiling was also twice as high as the ceiling of the adjacent hallway. Holy crap.
“The expansion magic on this room is massive,” she said, suddenly nervous. “I’ve … never cast a spell like this.”
“Neither had Martin when he first started here,” Kazimiera replied with a dismissive wave. “If the spell isn’t maintained, the room will shrink to its actual size, which will make it unusable. I expect you to figure it out.”
Georgette’s gut twisted. For a moment, the room around her tilted, panic threatening to consume her. Focus in, she told herself, locking her gaze onto a distant spot until the room stopped swaying. You can do this.
The last suite on the third floor was a break room for employees—the vast majority of whom were female. A Nagini with a delicate human face atop a long, striped body of green and black scales sat alone. Three Kitsune with fox ears and multiple tails conversed quietly with a deathly pale Yuki-onna, the snow demon’s lips as blue as veins. Another Selkie, a male without shirt or shoes, weaved through the room, followed by a young woman whose wet hair and damp dress hem marked her as a Nixie. A cluster of sinewy Elves, gleaming like moonlight on water, combed and braided each other’s silver hair. Nymphs of every element moved about the room.
Nursing an uncomfortable suspicion, Georgette asked, “What, um, do these employees do for your … VIPs?”
Ignoring her, Kazimiera turned to the group. “We’re short-staffed downstairs. I need one of you to work in the club.”
The Nagini slithered forward, her hand raised.
Kazimiera rolled her eyes. “Obviously not you,” she said.
Georgette started in surprise as the rest of the room, including the Nagini, laughed.
“Someone who can pass.” Kazimiera zeroed in on the Nixie. “You. Get gussied up, braid your hair so it won’t look wet, and head downstairs. And you,” she added irritably, pointing at the Selkie, “put some damn shoes on.”
The Nixie brushed past Kazimiera and the Selkie wandered off while the rest of the group went about their business. The club owner shooed Georgette out of the room and closed the door behind her while Georgette’s suspicion welled within her.
Nerving herself, she cleared her throat. “I know I’m not supposed to ask—”
“Then don’t,” Kazimiera interrupted. “Follow me.”
Swallowing the question didn’t agree with Georgette, but she obeyed and followed her boss back down the hall.
“You can sit here,” Kazimiera said when they stepped inside her office, waving Georgette to a chair. “Figure out what needs to be done.” She crossed to the window and peeked through the dark curtains. “Make a list of whatever you’ll need to—”
Gulping down her fear, Georgette blurted out, “Is this a brothel?”
Kazimiera whipped around. “A brothel?”
“Yeah.” Georgette swallowed hard, trying to stop her hands from shaking. “I-I-I don’t know if I’m comfortable with—”
“Why,” the owner asked, her eyes slicing through the objection, “would you ask that?”
“It’s just, those rooms—”
“I provide entertainment and distraction, for a price.” She walked up to Georgette, locking her in a red-shimmered gaze. “Does that bother you?”
Georgette smelled the telltale coppery aroma that clung to Vampires, making her unbearably conscious of the blood racing through her veins. But while she had never been face-to-face with a Vampire before meeting Kazimiera, she was well acquainted with feeling vulnerable. Memories of her mother’s cold stare perforated her anxiety and, to her surprise, slowed her heartbeat. Being within striking distance of a dangerous predator was not a new experience. Hell, she’d take a dozen Kazimieras over one Hazel Nichols O’Reilly.
“Yes, it does,” she said, though her voice trembled a bit. “I won’t cast spells to help keep these people locked up just so you can rent them out.”
Kazimiera’s reddened eyes bore into Georgette, the shine of them made all the brighter by the frame of her dark face. The Vampire’s lips parted. Slowly, she ran her tongue over her teeth, coming to a stop with her tongue pressing into one needle-sharp canine. Though keenly aware of her naked throat, Georgette crossed her arms over her chest.
“You don’t scare me.”
“Yes, I do,” said Kazimiera. She tilted her head, smirking. “But that didn’t stop you.”
She’s gonna kick me out, Georgette thought miserably. I’ve thrown away this chance to find Kalilah. Oh God, what am I gonna tell Ishak?
Kazimiera craned her neck forward until she was inches from Georgette’s cheek and drew in a slow breath. When she exhaled, the air coated Georgette’s exposed neck and made her shiver with fear.
Kazimiera chuckled, startling Georgette and breaking the tension of the moment.
“Go talk to my staff,” she whispered in Georgette’s ear. “See what they tell you.”
“What?”
“Go talk to my staff,” Kazimiera repeated. “Talk to whomever you like. They’ll answer your questions.” She kissed the air and sauntered to the door. “Take your time. Come back to my office when you’re satisfied.”
30
Ishak
WHEN A WITCH IN A THREE-PIECE SUIT STEPPED INTO KK Inc.’s downtown office around 11:00 a.m., Ishak decided on skipping lunch.
Even from across the street, Ishak smelled the stink of excess on the man. The witch spent twenty minutes within, and then emerged with an employee at his side who walked him to a car. Ishak found it difficult to stay inconspicuous as he followed the moving vehicle, but at least his new clothes—slacks, a buttondown shirt, and leather shoes—made for good camouflage.
Eventually, the car rolled up to a gated community in Silver Creek. Here, Ishak broke off his pursuit. The security he saw around the walled perimeter was intimidating. Furthermore, a casual glance around the neighborhood made it clear that he had little hope of blending in: all the residents were gleamingly pale.
The car containing the witch and the broker rolled through the gate and disappeared behind the walls. Ishak whipped off his shoes and socks and transformed his feet into their hyena form. Using his claws, he quickly scaled a tree and watched over the wall until he saw the car pull into a driveway. The house was a three-story picture of modernity, complete with surveillance cameras attached to its eaves. The broker led the way to the door, used a key, punched a code into a glowing panel, and ushered the witch inside. The scents on the wind were mottled but unmistakable hints of magic hovered in the air. Significant spells protected this house.
An hour later, the pair exited the house. The witch had something in his hands—a box of some sort. As he climbed into the car’s passenger seat, a distinctive whiff of Fae magic reached Ishak on the wind. He’s bought a familiar, the Bultungin surmised as he watched the car drive away. The scent was vague but distinctive enough that he could reassure himself that it did not come from Kalilah. This house is a storage facility.
After marking the location of the house with immense care—writing down the address and even drawing a map—Ishak circled the community fence half a dozen times. The extensive security not only made getting into the neighborhood challenging, but it also guaranteed that any discovered intrusion would be investigated immediately. After breaching the wall, he would have to reach the house without anyone questioning him. Then he had to get into a house that required a key and a code to enter. Assuming he overcame those obstacles, there would then be all manner of security, both magical and mundane, to overcome within. And after all that, there was still the possibility that this was not the site where Kalilah was being held.
With the odds so heavily in the enemy’s favor, he retreated. For now.
The smell of the meaty contents of the takeout container he carried kickstarted Ishak’s growling stomach on the way home. It was a short walk back to the hotel but, hungry as he was, it felt like miles.
Today was a productive day, he told himself as he rode the hotel elevator, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of stir-fried beef. Finding the location of that house is a crucial step toward finding Kalilah.
Feeling confident and optimistic, he whipped out his key card, unlocked the hotel door, and stepped inside. “Mei-Xing, are you here?’
“ Hmm ?”
“Success!”
“ Hmm.”
Ishak set his takeout container on the desk and went into the bathroom to wash his hands.
“I’ve found a new KK Inc. storage location,” he said, raising his voice over the sound of running water. “It has formidable security—”
“Ishak.”
“—but we will find a way in.”
“Ishak.”
He dried his hands and moved into the room, his thoughts split between the house and his dinner. It wasn’t until he saw the Nymph’s expression that he registered the distress in her voice.
“What is it?” he asked.
Mei-Xing sat on the edge of the bed—her back straight, her fingers gripping the comforter. Her iridescent eyes darted between him and a far corner of the room. Ishak followed her gaze and blinked in surprise. A large, black bird perched on the lampshade. The animal looked at him and issued a croak.
“What is this bird?” he asked Mei-Xing.
“There’s more,” she said.
“More of what?”
“Look with your other eyes,” she said.
He drew on his Bultungin senses and immediately saw what he had missed. Next to the bird stood a stately woman dressed in flowing robes and gleaming armor with an ornate helmet under her arm. A silver sword leaned against the wall, within her reach but sheathed.
Astounded, Ishak gazed at her slack-jawed until Mei-Xing nudged him with her foot.
“Madam,” he blurted out. “Good evening.”
She gave a regal nod. In the silence that followed, Ishak sized her up. She was strikingly tall for a woman—almost his height. What little of her skin was visible under her vestments was the color of desert sand. Her wavy hair was loose, hanging about her shoulders. Her features reminded him of his mother and aunts. Like them, she had full lips and a wide nose. Also like them, she presented herself with an air of calm authority. Very unlike them, however, she was not fully in this world, visible only to those who knew how to look.
“Who might you be?” he asked.
“My name is Delia Beauregard,” she said. Her voice was firm but lyrical, the hint of an accent he couldn’t quite identify laced through her aristocratic tone. “Or rather,” she added, “my name was Delia Beauregard. I am now Svanhild of the Valhalla Sisterhood.”
A Valkyrie. Yes, that accounted for the armor and ethereal form.
“This,” she said, gesturing to the raven, “is Senji Nakamura, my partner.” The bird cawed, rattling the lamp. “He greets you.”
After exchanging a look with Mei-Xing, Ishak nodded to the bird and then to the Valkyrie. “I am Ishak Siad.”
“ Konbanwa,” she replied with a slight dip of her head.
The smell of his takeout dinner beckoned to him, dampening his curiosity. Eager to get to his meal, he decided to cut to the heart of this encounter.
“Why are you here?”
“She and I were just discussing that.” The Valkyrie nodded toward Mei-Xing. “I had hoped to come when all three of you were here, but you’re rarely all together of late.”
Suspicion prickled the nape of Ishak’s neck. “How would you know that?”
“We’ve been watching you.”
Ishak’s jaw clenched. “Have you?”
“A necessary precaution,” she said, her voice level and calm. “By coming here this evening, we’re putting our heads on the chopping block. We had to be sure the three of you were worth the risk.”
“And what is it you want from us?”
He didn’t know what to expect when he asked the question, but he most assuredly did not expect the answer she gave. Without pause, without nicety, without ambiguity, she stated, “We want the brand.”
“The brand?”
She pointed at his wrist. Ishak lifted his arm, showing the mark. The Valkyrie nodded.
“The brand,” she repeated. “The witch brand. That’s what we want.”
“You want to be branded by a witch?” Mei-Xing asked, clearly just as confused as Ishak was.
“Not a witch,” Delia said as the raven bobbed on its perch, “your witch. We want the Hathiya spell that lets you draw on your witch’s power.”
“Why?” asked Ishak.
Delia hooked a tendril of her hair with two fingers and flicked it out of her face. She glanced at the raven, which cocked its head at her and croaked.
“Personal reasons,” she finally answered. “There’s a matter that Senji and I wish to attend to, but Valhalla refused our request. If the Sisterhood learns of our intentions …” Delia’s lips tightened and her eyes narrowed as Senji made a resonant sound deep in his throat. “They would not approve. After watching the three of you and seeing what the brand has made possible for you, Senji and I feel that it will give us the freedom of movement we need to complete our task without Valhalla’s knowledge.”
Personal reasons. Ishak didn’t know a great deal about Valkyries, but his understanding was that they had no personal reasons because they didn’t have their own person; their entire post-life existence revolved around Valhalla’s war. And yet, Delia Beauregard and Senji Nakamura not only had personal reasons, they had some that were compelling enough to make them willing to defy their superiors.
Mulling this over, Ishak turned to Mei-Xing, only to see the Nymph’s head bowed low. She had fallen asleep sitting up. He briefly considered waking her, difficult as that would be, but decided against it.
“Why should we do this for you?” he asked the visitors, casting a longing look at the bag holding his dinner.
“We’re prepared to bargain,” she replied.
“Bargain?” His eyebrows raised. “What are you offering?”
“What do you need?”
Ishak squinted at her. It struck him as an odd question. She was a Valkyrie, not a merchant. He couldn’t imagine that she was in a position to offer very much. Delia seemed to recognize his confusion.
“Senji tells me that you appear to be on some sort of mission—that you spend your waking hours watching a brokerage. You clearly have a goal. What can we do to help?”
Immediately, Ishak thought of the KK Inc. house in the gated community. All the walls, locks, and cameras in the world couldn’t stop an invisible woman like this one from entering.
“I cannot give the brand,” he said. “Only Georgette can do that.”
“We know,” Delia said. “Please convey our offer to your witch: in exchange for the brand, we will offer our services in whatever capacity they are required.” The Valkyrie swept her helmet onto her head in a quick, fluid motion. The raven hopped to her shoulder. “Senji will check in on you. You can reach me through him.” She took a step toward the window, then paused. “In our particular … situation … time is of the essence. Please contact us soon.”
And then she and the raven were gone. Ishak blinked, staring at the window. He wasn’t even sure how the pair had exited the room, only that they had left.
With a shrug, he grabbed his lukewarm dinner, plopped down next to his sleeping Nymph friend, and began shoveling it into his mouth.
As he ate, he pondered the day’s events. He imagined using Delia to get into the brokerage house. He imagined the Valkyrie, the brand on her wrist, leading Kalilah by the hand into his waiting arms. He imagined—and he hoped.
31
Georgette
THE SIREN SAT AT THE CLUB BAR, STIRRING HONEY INTO her tea. Her heart-shaped face contorted in discomfort; she kept scratching at her arms as if the sparkly material of her dress crawled with fleas.
“Can I help you with that?” Georgette asked, cautiously approaching her.
The Siren’s pearly sea-green eyes darted toward her. “What do you mean?”
“Your glamour is deteriorating.” Georgette pointed to the Siren’s sleeve. “That’s why it’s irritating you. I can fix it.”
The Siren looked the witch up and down, eyes narrowed.
Finally, she nodded and said, “Go ahead.”
Georgette gently dipped her fingers into the glamour. Envisioning a new look, she pulled a bit of the old glamour into herself and linked it to her inner power.
“What’s your favorite color?” Georgette asked.
“Purple,” the Siren said, and her face softened slightly.
Pouring her magic into the rips and holes, Georgette reconstructed the spell. The Siren’s face and short dark hair remained the same, but her clothing quivered and changed. For a moment, the old glamour dissolved, flashing a glimpse of the Siren’s feathers and scaly feet—then the new image solidified. The old dress, a tight, silver sequined number, transformed into a loose, gossamer purple material with reflective sparkles. Her scaled and taloned feet were newly coated in shapely human calves and spiked high heels.
Smiling, the Siren looked herself over, holding up her arms so that the dress twinkled in the light. “It’s nice,” she said. “Stopped itching, too. Thanks.” She peered deep into Georgette’s face as she took a sip of her tea. “I saw you earlier with Kazi,” she said. “You’re here to replace Martin?”
“I guess,” Georgette said. “Um, can I ask you something?”
Georgette lowered her eyes. “Yes ma’am.”
Most of the other suites had a similar setup—a smoky lounge coated in a combination of magics. One exception was a room at the end of the hall, which turned out to be an impossibly large sauna. Peering through the steam, Georgette saw a greenish, claw-footed Akaname licking the floor clean with its snake-like tongue, and a bearded, shriveled old Bannik folding towels. Both paused briefly in their work to look her up and down.
The sauna’s wood-paneled walls extended far beyond where the edges of the room should have been, easily as long and as wide as the entire building. The ceiling was also twice as high as the ceiling of the adjacent hallway. Holy crap.
“The expansion magic on this room is massive,” she said, suddenly nervous. “I’ve … never cast a spell like this.”
“Neither had Martin when he first started here,” Kazimiera replied with a dismissive wave. “If the spell isn’t maintained, the room will shrink to its actual size, which will make it unusable. I expect you to figure it out.”
Georgette’s gut twisted. For a moment, the room around her tilted, panic threatening to consume her. Focus in, she told herself, locking her gaze onto a distant spot until the room stopped swaying. You can do this.
The last suite on the third floor was a break room for employees—the vast majority of whom were female. A Nagini with a delicate human face atop a long, striped body of green and black scales sat alone. Three Kitsune with fox ears and multiple tails conversed quietly with a deathly pale Yuki-onna, the snow demon’s lips as blue as veins. Another Selkie, a male without shirt or shoes, weaved through the room, followed by a young woman whose wet hair and damp dress hem marked her as a Nixie. A cluster of sinewy Elves, gleaming like moonlight on water, combed and braided each other’s silver hair. Nymphs of every element moved about the room.
Nursing an uncomfortable suspicion, Georgette asked, “What, um, do these employees do for your … VIPs?”
Ignoring her, Kazimiera turned to the group. “We’re short-staffed downstairs. I need one of you to work in the club.”
The Nagini slithered forward, her hand raised.
Kazimiera rolled her eyes. “Obviously not you,” she said.
Georgette started in surprise as the rest of the room, including the Nagini, laughed.
“Someone who can pass.” Kazimiera zeroed in on the Nixie. “You. Get gussied up, braid your hair so it won’t look wet, and head downstairs. And you,” she added irritably, pointing at the Selkie, “put some damn shoes on.”
The Nixie brushed past Kazimiera and the Selkie wandered off while the rest of the group went about their business. The club owner shooed Georgette out of the room and closed the door behind her while Georgette’s suspicion welled within her.
Nerving herself, she cleared her throat. “I know I’m not supposed to ask—”
“Then don’t,” Kazimiera interrupted. “Follow me.”
Swallowing the question didn’t agree with Georgette, but she obeyed and followed her boss back down the hall.
“You can sit here,” Kazimiera said when they stepped inside her office, waving Georgette to a chair. “Figure out what needs to be done.” She crossed to the window and peeked through the dark curtains. “Make a list of whatever you’ll need to—”
Gulping down her fear, Georgette blurted out, “Is this a brothel?”
Kazimiera whipped around. “A brothel?”
“Yeah.” Georgette swallowed hard, trying to stop her hands from shaking. “I-I-I don’t know if I’m comfortable with—”
“Why,” the owner asked, her eyes slicing through the objection, “would you ask that?”
“It’s just, those rooms—”
“I provide entertainment and distraction, for a price.” She walked up to Georgette, locking her in a red-shimmered gaze. “Does that bother you?”
Georgette smelled the telltale coppery aroma that clung to Vampires, making her unbearably conscious of the blood racing through her veins. But while she had never been face-to-face with a Vampire before meeting Kazimiera, she was well acquainted with feeling vulnerable. Memories of her mother’s cold stare perforated her anxiety and, to her surprise, slowed her heartbeat. Being within striking distance of a dangerous predator was not a new experience. Hell, she’d take a dozen Kazimieras over one Hazel Nichols O’Reilly.
“Yes, it does,” she said, though her voice trembled a bit. “I won’t cast spells to help keep these people locked up just so you can rent them out.”
Kazimiera’s reddened eyes bore into Georgette, the shine of them made all the brighter by the frame of her dark face. The Vampire’s lips parted. Slowly, she ran her tongue over her teeth, coming to a stop with her tongue pressing into one needle-sharp canine. Though keenly aware of her naked throat, Georgette crossed her arms over her chest.
“You don’t scare me.”
“Yes, I do,” said Kazimiera. She tilted her head, smirking. “But that didn’t stop you.”
She’s gonna kick me out, Georgette thought miserably. I’ve thrown away this chance to find Kalilah. Oh God, what am I gonna tell Ishak?
Kazimiera craned her neck forward until she was inches from Georgette’s cheek and drew in a slow breath. When she exhaled, the air coated Georgette’s exposed neck and made her shiver with fear.
Kazimiera chuckled, startling Georgette and breaking the tension of the moment.
“Go talk to my staff,” she whispered in Georgette’s ear. “See what they tell you.”
“What?”
“Go talk to my staff,” Kazimiera repeated. “Talk to whomever you like. They’ll answer your questions.” She kissed the air and sauntered to the door. “Take your time. Come back to my office when you’re satisfied.”
30
Ishak
WHEN A WITCH IN A THREE-PIECE SUIT STEPPED INTO KK Inc.’s downtown office around 11:00 a.m., Ishak decided on skipping lunch.
Even from across the street, Ishak smelled the stink of excess on the man. The witch spent twenty minutes within, and then emerged with an employee at his side who walked him to a car. Ishak found it difficult to stay inconspicuous as he followed the moving vehicle, but at least his new clothes—slacks, a buttondown shirt, and leather shoes—made for good camouflage.
Eventually, the car rolled up to a gated community in Silver Creek. Here, Ishak broke off his pursuit. The security he saw around the walled perimeter was intimidating. Furthermore, a casual glance around the neighborhood made it clear that he had little hope of blending in: all the residents were gleamingly pale.
The car containing the witch and the broker rolled through the gate and disappeared behind the walls. Ishak whipped off his shoes and socks and transformed his feet into their hyena form. Using his claws, he quickly scaled a tree and watched over the wall until he saw the car pull into a driveway. The house was a three-story picture of modernity, complete with surveillance cameras attached to its eaves. The broker led the way to the door, used a key, punched a code into a glowing panel, and ushered the witch inside. The scents on the wind were mottled but unmistakable hints of magic hovered in the air. Significant spells protected this house.
An hour later, the pair exited the house. The witch had something in his hands—a box of some sort. As he climbed into the car’s passenger seat, a distinctive whiff of Fae magic reached Ishak on the wind. He’s bought a familiar, the Bultungin surmised as he watched the car drive away. The scent was vague but distinctive enough that he could reassure himself that it did not come from Kalilah. This house is a storage facility.
After marking the location of the house with immense care—writing down the address and even drawing a map—Ishak circled the community fence half a dozen times. The extensive security not only made getting into the neighborhood challenging, but it also guaranteed that any discovered intrusion would be investigated immediately. After breaching the wall, he would have to reach the house without anyone questioning him. Then he had to get into a house that required a key and a code to enter. Assuming he overcame those obstacles, there would then be all manner of security, both magical and mundane, to overcome within. And after all that, there was still the possibility that this was not the site where Kalilah was being held.
With the odds so heavily in the enemy’s favor, he retreated. For now.
The smell of the meaty contents of the takeout container he carried kickstarted Ishak’s growling stomach on the way home. It was a short walk back to the hotel but, hungry as he was, it felt like miles.
Today was a productive day, he told himself as he rode the hotel elevator, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of stir-fried beef. Finding the location of that house is a crucial step toward finding Kalilah.
Feeling confident and optimistic, he whipped out his key card, unlocked the hotel door, and stepped inside. “Mei-Xing, are you here?’
“ Hmm ?”
“Success!”
“ Hmm.”
Ishak set his takeout container on the desk and went into the bathroom to wash his hands.
“I’ve found a new KK Inc. storage location,” he said, raising his voice over the sound of running water. “It has formidable security—”
“Ishak.”
“—but we will find a way in.”
“Ishak.”
He dried his hands and moved into the room, his thoughts split between the house and his dinner. It wasn’t until he saw the Nymph’s expression that he registered the distress in her voice.
“What is it?” he asked.
Mei-Xing sat on the edge of the bed—her back straight, her fingers gripping the comforter. Her iridescent eyes darted between him and a far corner of the room. Ishak followed her gaze and blinked in surprise. A large, black bird perched on the lampshade. The animal looked at him and issued a croak.
“What is this bird?” he asked Mei-Xing.
“There’s more,” she said.
“More of what?”
“Look with your other eyes,” she said.
He drew on his Bultungin senses and immediately saw what he had missed. Next to the bird stood a stately woman dressed in flowing robes and gleaming armor with an ornate helmet under her arm. A silver sword leaned against the wall, within her reach but sheathed.
Astounded, Ishak gazed at her slack-jawed until Mei-Xing nudged him with her foot.
“Madam,” he blurted out. “Good evening.”
She gave a regal nod. In the silence that followed, Ishak sized her up. She was strikingly tall for a woman—almost his height. What little of her skin was visible under her vestments was the color of desert sand. Her wavy hair was loose, hanging about her shoulders. Her features reminded him of his mother and aunts. Like them, she had full lips and a wide nose. Also like them, she presented herself with an air of calm authority. Very unlike them, however, she was not fully in this world, visible only to those who knew how to look.
“Who might you be?” he asked.
“My name is Delia Beauregard,” she said. Her voice was firm but lyrical, the hint of an accent he couldn’t quite identify laced through her aristocratic tone. “Or rather,” she added, “my name was Delia Beauregard. I am now Svanhild of the Valhalla Sisterhood.”
A Valkyrie. Yes, that accounted for the armor and ethereal form.
“This,” she said, gesturing to the raven, “is Senji Nakamura, my partner.” The bird cawed, rattling the lamp. “He greets you.”
After exchanging a look with Mei-Xing, Ishak nodded to the bird and then to the Valkyrie. “I am Ishak Siad.”
“ Konbanwa,” she replied with a slight dip of her head.
The smell of his takeout dinner beckoned to him, dampening his curiosity. Eager to get to his meal, he decided to cut to the heart of this encounter.
“Why are you here?”
“She and I were just discussing that.” The Valkyrie nodded toward Mei-Xing. “I had hoped to come when all three of you were here, but you’re rarely all together of late.”
Suspicion prickled the nape of Ishak’s neck. “How would you know that?”
“We’ve been watching you.”
Ishak’s jaw clenched. “Have you?”
“A necessary precaution,” she said, her voice level and calm. “By coming here this evening, we’re putting our heads on the chopping block. We had to be sure the three of you were worth the risk.”
“And what is it you want from us?”
He didn’t know what to expect when he asked the question, but he most assuredly did not expect the answer she gave. Without pause, without nicety, without ambiguity, she stated, “We want the brand.”
“The brand?”
She pointed at his wrist. Ishak lifted his arm, showing the mark. The Valkyrie nodded.
“The brand,” she repeated. “The witch brand. That’s what we want.”
“You want to be branded by a witch?” Mei-Xing asked, clearly just as confused as Ishak was.
“Not a witch,” Delia said as the raven bobbed on its perch, “your witch. We want the Hathiya spell that lets you draw on your witch’s power.”
“Why?” asked Ishak.
Delia hooked a tendril of her hair with two fingers and flicked it out of her face. She glanced at the raven, which cocked its head at her and croaked.
“Personal reasons,” she finally answered. “There’s a matter that Senji and I wish to attend to, but Valhalla refused our request. If the Sisterhood learns of our intentions …” Delia’s lips tightened and her eyes narrowed as Senji made a resonant sound deep in his throat. “They would not approve. After watching the three of you and seeing what the brand has made possible for you, Senji and I feel that it will give us the freedom of movement we need to complete our task without Valhalla’s knowledge.”
Personal reasons. Ishak didn’t know a great deal about Valkyries, but his understanding was that they had no personal reasons because they didn’t have their own person; their entire post-life existence revolved around Valhalla’s war. And yet, Delia Beauregard and Senji Nakamura not only had personal reasons, they had some that were compelling enough to make them willing to defy their superiors.
Mulling this over, Ishak turned to Mei-Xing, only to see the Nymph’s head bowed low. She had fallen asleep sitting up. He briefly considered waking her, difficult as that would be, but decided against it.
“Why should we do this for you?” he asked the visitors, casting a longing look at the bag holding his dinner.
“We’re prepared to bargain,” she replied.
“Bargain?” His eyebrows raised. “What are you offering?”
“What do you need?”
Ishak squinted at her. It struck him as an odd question. She was a Valkyrie, not a merchant. He couldn’t imagine that she was in a position to offer very much. Delia seemed to recognize his confusion.
“Senji tells me that you appear to be on some sort of mission—that you spend your waking hours watching a brokerage. You clearly have a goal. What can we do to help?”
Immediately, Ishak thought of the KK Inc. house in the gated community. All the walls, locks, and cameras in the world couldn’t stop an invisible woman like this one from entering.
“I cannot give the brand,” he said. “Only Georgette can do that.”
“We know,” Delia said. “Please convey our offer to your witch: in exchange for the brand, we will offer our services in whatever capacity they are required.” The Valkyrie swept her helmet onto her head in a quick, fluid motion. The raven hopped to her shoulder. “Senji will check in on you. You can reach me through him.” She took a step toward the window, then paused. “In our particular … situation … time is of the essence. Please contact us soon.”
And then she and the raven were gone. Ishak blinked, staring at the window. He wasn’t even sure how the pair had exited the room, only that they had left.
With a shrug, he grabbed his lukewarm dinner, plopped down next to his sleeping Nymph friend, and began shoveling it into his mouth.
As he ate, he pondered the day’s events. He imagined using Delia to get into the brokerage house. He imagined the Valkyrie, the brand on her wrist, leading Kalilah by the hand into his waiting arms. He imagined—and he hoped.
31
Georgette
THE SIREN SAT AT THE CLUB BAR, STIRRING HONEY INTO her tea. Her heart-shaped face contorted in discomfort; she kept scratching at her arms as if the sparkly material of her dress crawled with fleas.
“Can I help you with that?” Georgette asked, cautiously approaching her.
The Siren’s pearly sea-green eyes darted toward her. “What do you mean?”
“Your glamour is deteriorating.” Georgette pointed to the Siren’s sleeve. “That’s why it’s irritating you. I can fix it.”
The Siren looked the witch up and down, eyes narrowed.
Finally, she nodded and said, “Go ahead.”
Georgette gently dipped her fingers into the glamour. Envisioning a new look, she pulled a bit of the old glamour into herself and linked it to her inner power.
“What’s your favorite color?” Georgette asked.
“Purple,” the Siren said, and her face softened slightly.
Pouring her magic into the rips and holes, Georgette reconstructed the spell. The Siren’s face and short dark hair remained the same, but her clothing quivered and changed. For a moment, the old glamour dissolved, flashing a glimpse of the Siren’s feathers and scaly feet—then the new image solidified. The old dress, a tight, silver sequined number, transformed into a loose, gossamer purple material with reflective sparkles. Her scaled and taloned feet were newly coated in shapely human calves and spiked high heels.
Smiling, the Siren looked herself over, holding up her arms so that the dress twinkled in the light. “It’s nice,” she said. “Stopped itching, too. Thanks.” She peered deep into Georgette’s face as she took a sip of her tea. “I saw you earlier with Kazi,” she said. “You’re here to replace Martin?”
“I guess,” Georgette said. “Um, can I ask you something?”
