8

Veruca stood in the bathroom doorway, her cellphone cradled next to her head. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to follow half a conversation between her and our mutual boss. She had tried to convince me that her phone wouldn’t blow up if I touched it, but I wasn’t one to chance fate. From what I heard, she had updated him on the death of the curse woman, without saying anything she wouldn’t want the FBI or NSA to hear. I suppose all assassins must have their own “clean” jargon, but it was still odd to hear. The way she spoke, I would have thought she was Valente’s art buyer rather than his hitman, err, hit-woman.

“No, sir. The only statue I wanted would have forced me to buy the whole lot. I just bought the one painting and put bids in on two others.”

Pause. I didn’t get the whole statue part, but I supposed the painting stuff meant she had killed one and injured two more. Either that, or she really was his art buyer, too.

“They’ll have to be shipped ground. The gallery was off-grid, regular hippie types. We may have tax problems. I doubt the gallery will file receipts with the IRS.”

The Old Ways people didn’t seem like the type to call the cops? If that’s what she meant, I’d have to agree. At least a quarter of them looked like they might be illegal immigrants. Still, didn’t everybody call the cops after a murder? This was Oklahoma, not South Central, or Bogotá. Then again, I didn’t even see any lightbulbs out there, let alone telephone lines.

“Yeah, I had to have help finding the place. The cab driver was a real wiz.”

Me?

“I’d have to check…Fisher Cabs, I think.”

Definitely about me.

“I don’t have to. He’s still sitting out front waiting. It’s hard to find a good cabbie in this state.”

Veruca walked over to me, her hand outstretched to offer me the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

I shook my head. “I really don’t do cell...”

“This time you do. You don’t say no to him.” She held it up against my ear.

“Hello?” I grabbed the phone and Veruca draped her arm across my chest as she dropped down on the bed behind me.

”Mr. Fisher, I must say this is a surprise. Miss Wakefield is treating you well, I presume?” Lucien Valente’s voice came through crystal clear.

“Yes, sir. Umm…but I don’t know much about art.”

He grunted. “Ignore all that. I keep trying to tell her that these phones can’t be tapped, but old habits die hard. You can speak freely.”

“Can’t be tapped? Could they intercept the signal?”

“Only if they knew what they were listening for. I’m not an R&D guy any more than I am a magic guy, but the designer assures me nobody else on the planet is using this type. You can say whatever you want. How did you meet up with Miss Wakefield? Last I talked to her, she was taking a few days vacation time.”

I tugged at my collar and tried to ignore Veruca purring over my shoulder. “Miss Deluce bet me I couldn’t conjure up her phone number. I called Miss Wakefield up and we hit it off, once I got past all the death threats.”

“Called her? I wasn’t aware she was carrying a regular phone. Let me talk to her again.”

I slid the phone behind me. “Yes, sir.” Pause. “Yes, this line.” Pause. “No clue. Aren’t you glad I’m still just your art buyer?”

She handed the phone back. Valente sounded both puzzled and irritated. “Fisher? How the hell did you pull that off? These things can only call each other, not regular phones.”

My voice cracked as I responded. “Magic. I used a gremlin-built cellphone and told it I needed to talk to Veruca Wakefield, Inner Circle of Valente International. The fairies took care of the rest.” Veruca nibbling on my neck was not making conversation easy.

The silence that followed was long enough to convince me my anti-cellular juju had caught up to me. But eventually Lucien said, “My compliments, Mr. Fisher. You used magic to find the woman who cursed me? Fairies help you with that as well?”

“No, sir. A basic tracking spell. Probability magic, actually. A lake spirit clued me in as to where to start looking, but the spell took over from there. Do you want the details?”

“No, Mr. Fisher. That won’t be necessary. Do we owe the fae anything for the phone call or the tip?”

“No, sir. I don’t get in debt with them. I pay as I go.”

He sounded genuinely impressed. “Finally, a little competence. You wouldn’t believe what the Seelies tried to charge me for a deal one of my past wizards made with them.”

“Kids?” I guessed.

More silence. “Maybe you would believe.” He paused. “So where are we on the curse? Is it over?”

“No, sir. I killed one of the wendigoes, but it’s a family: mother, father, and child. I took out the adult male.”

“Are you sure it’s dead? From what I know of most supernatural beasts, they are remarkably resilient.”

I had to stifle a laugh as Veruca’s fingers probed my ticklish vulnerabilities. “Yes, I’m sure. I took its head, if you’d like it mounted for a souvenir.”

He did laugh. “I think I would. Tell Miss Wakefield to send it to me. She’ll know where and how without attracting unwanted attention.”

I relayed that to her. She huffed, but obediently hopped off the bed to find it. Valente continued. “Tell me how it died, Mr. Fisher, and what plans you have for the other two.”

I did, though I was selective about what I said regarding Tia or the Eye of Winter. “That’s about it, Mr. Valente. Duchess is setting up the company picnic for Tuesday night. I’m sure the wendigoes will want to eat, but they’ll give my sanctuary a wide berth. I’ll work out something else, though.”

“No, you won’t, Mr. Fisher. I think your role in this particular adventure is at an end.”

I choked on that. “I’m fired?”

He chuckled. “No, quite to the contrary. You’ve proven too valuable an asset to risk in combat. Will any fire and steel suffice or is magical ground also a prerequisite to killing them?”

“Any fire and steel. You have to burn off the ice cloud that surrounds them. That makes them about as dangerous as any large wolf. But, sir…they’re fast and they’re good at sneaking up on people. They like to retreat if things aren’t going their way. I wouldn’t want to see Veruca try to take them alone.”

“Veruca is likewise too valuable. I’m sending a Corporate Response Team to you. You will brief them and they will handle things during the party. Keep it simple for them, they are former military, but you don’t have to pretend the wendigoes are just normal animals. They’ve faced supernatural-level threats before. Make sure the team understands their tactics, their tendencies, and the importance of fire and steel. The CRT will handle the rest.”

“And then what?” Truth be told, I was a little disappointed. I still wanted a piece of the monsters for what they did to Dorothy.

“After you brief the CRT, come home to Boston. I need you here. I’ve needed the advice of a real wizard for some time now.”

That prompted me to ask something that had been gnawing at me. “Sir, with all due respect, why did you hire so many fakes before me? I mean, I haven’t heard Duchess or Veruca say a single nice thing about any of them.”

“A valid question, Mr. Fisher. The fae courts insisted on it. They refused to treat with my emissaries unless they were wizards, something about ancient traditions to keep. Most of the talented ones are already in the employ of the military, so I had to make do with what I could find.” The short silence that followed felt contemplative, as if Lucien was debating how much to tell me. “I can’t afford to lose the fae courts, Colin. FBI, CIA, Interpol, they could turn on me and I could handle it. On the other hand, the faeries scare the hell out of me.”

My mind returned to the forgotten whispers of the Eye of Winter. I shivered despite the heat radiating from Veruca’s body. “Me too, Lucien. To tell the truth, I would think anyone who isn’t frightened by them is either a liar or an idiot.”

Veruca kissed my shoulder. “Let me talk to him, Colin.”

His voice came from my other side. “I heard that. Put her on.”

Veruca leaned back as she took the phone from me, but her legs snaked up around my stomach, preventing me from leaving or turning around to face her. She wasn’t applying pressure, but I got the feeling she could make this hurt if she wanted to. “So are we keeping him?”

A second passed. “Good.”

Another. “Absolutely. Not a doubt, sir. He’s the real deal. He downplays himself, but I suspect he could go rounds with any of the guys Cell Thirteen is using.”

This time Lucien’s response must have been longer. “Understood, though I may have trouble getting him on the plane. He’s a little bit technophobic…and he has a smoking car. It would be a shame to leave her here.”

Her grip loosened, her big toe absently stroking my thigh. “Actually, sir, remember that favor you owe me? I’d like to collect. Let me act as his bodyguard whenever you don’t need me elsewhere. I’ll drive back with him and make sure nothing unfortunate happens to him.”

I would’ve given the rest of my chocolate supply to hear whatever Valente said in response. “Yes, sir, that favor.”

A pause. “It’s not a little thing. Not to me.”

The pause that followed nearly drove me insane. “Yes.”

“Insanity is a short drive for us.”

The phone appeared over my shoulder again. “He wants to say goodbye to you.” Coming from his private assassin that phrase scared me, but I didn’t feel in mortal danger.

“Yes, sir?”

Lucien’s voice sounded deeply impressed. “We will talk when you get here, Mr. Fisher. Whatever it takes to keep you in my employ, it can be arranged.”

“I already told you my terms, Mr. Valente. Freedom of conscience and Sarai. The paycheck is just the icing on top.”

“I will have a file ready for you when you arrive with everything I can find on the girl. Do you need your second check deposited before you arrive?”

“No, sir. It can wait.”

He laughed. “Sorry, that wasn’t what I meant to ask. I’m afraid Miss Wakefield has me a little flustered. Her request caught me by surprise…you haven’t bewitched her mind, have you?”

“No, sir. I wouldn’t. I think she just has that effect on people.”

“She saved my life once.” He paused to compose his thoughts. “Apparently, staying attached to you is worth my life, as she has decided to call in the debt. Is that acceptable to you?”

I turned around to face her and her upper thighs loosened their grip to let me. I stared down into her eyes, watching them shift from a silvery blue to a deep emerald. We each knew what the other was, but neither was pulling away. It wasn’t love, but then again, maybe that’s what love really is: knowing and staying anyway. I kissed her lightly on the lips, before bringing the phone back up to my mouth. “Yes, sir, that’s acceptable.”