9

Rock Stars and Other Assorted Denizens of L.A.

9:00 p.m., stealing artifacts; finally, my goddamned job

Rynn stopped the car just outside Artemis’s mansion.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” he asked me, mouth drawn in a tight line.

If I thought this whole plan over any more, chances were good I’d back out. I shook my head. “It’s settled. This might be the only chance to get inside without orchestrating an out-and-out B&E. And I’d rather get the artifacts now, while I still know where they are—provided I can trust Artemis not to kill me or throw the crazy drug at me.”

“You . . . can,” Rynn said, taking his time with each word. “Artemis is the black sheep of the family, but he’s never really hurt anyone. He’s not exactly what I’d call responsible, which is why you need to keep an eye on him. More likely he’ll get distracted and chase after some actress.”

Somehow that didn’t have the desired effect of calming my nerves . . .

We walked in silence across the front lawn, which was illuminated by motion-sensor floodlights. Somehow that just seemed . . . mundane for a supernatural. I mean, you pick those up at Home Depot.

“You scare me when you stop talking,” Rynn said. “It usually means you’re about to do something stupid.”

I didn’t have an answer to that one. Even Captain raised his head from my purse and meowed.

I glared at him. “You’re supposed to keep quiet.”

Rynn shook his head. “What happens if there’s a vampire at the party? You think you’ll be able to control him?”

Control Captain at a cocktail party with vampires? Hmmm, let’s think about that one. “He’s not there as a party favor, he’s there so I get a head start.” I’d noticed that while Captain only had the urge to search and destroy vampires, he showed some interest in most supernaturals we crossed paths with. I was hoping we could use it to our advantage.

Rynn shook his head. “This is going to be an unmitigated disaster, isn’t it?”

“Between you and me, the question in jobs like this isn’t if, it’s when. And hopefully not until I’m already running away with the artifacts.” And without a ballroom full of supernaturals on my tail . . .

From what Rynn had told me of the two supernatural factions—well, to be perfectly honest, there were really three, two minor and one major—it was kind of terrifying just how supernatural politics worked.

The two political sides consisted of two minorities with a few major backers—like, say, dragons. One side was dead set on keeping supernaturals away from mainstream human eyes; that was the faction Rynn, Lady Siyu, and Mr. Kurosawa belonged to. The other faction, again a minor but very vocal group, thought things were great back in the good old days, when supernaturals played warlord and kept humans at their feet . . . in some cases on their feet, as slippers. Political disputes were handled between the two minority sides. The side in charge was the one who could kick the shit out of the other side.

Everyone else? The vast majority of supernaturals, like Artemis and Daphne, didn’t like the idea of getting the shit kicked out of them by a bigger monster. They could care less who was in charge, so long as it didn’t affect their day-to-day activities and no one asked them to show up for a fight.

Putting aside the fact that minorities with big mouths ran the show, the other problem with this political system was obvious. As soon as one side weakened, the other made a play for power. Four heavy hitters for the “keep humans out of the loop” faction had been hit by Oricho’s scroll debacle a few months back, including Rynn, Mr. Kurosawa, Lady Siyu, and Oricho himself. Everyone else in North America got hit too, but according to Rynn, he and the other three took the brunt of it.

Rynn figured most supernaturals were watching to see where the tide ebbed and would flip their loyalties accordingly. Politics through apathy. Great.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Rynn said.

“Any other words of advice?”

“Yes. Watch out for Daphne. She’s dangerous. The less she notices you, the better. And whatever you do, don’t touch the items. That’s what Artemis is for.”

Well, there we were in agreement. Damn straight I wasn’t going to be touching any cursed items.

I’d have had a rebuttal to that effect, but we were at the door.

Before Rynn could knock, the door swung open. Much to my relief, no trace of incense. Artemis leaned out, dressed much as he had been the night before: leather pants paired with a black and gold torn T-shirt, and of course the prerequisite jewelry. I couldn’t be sure in the light, but it looked like the tips of his hair had been painted gold to match the shirt. He also wore a deep frown.

“Can we please get a fucking move on? As much as Daphne likes to show everyone a good time, I’d rather not have to spend all night there,” Artemis said, to Rynn more than me.

Rynn replied in supernatural, using what sounded to me like a harsh, chastising tone.

Artemis only rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes—I know. I have to bring her back, otherwise you’ll kick the shit out of me. Save the speech, I’ve heard it before,” Artemis said as he stepped past both of us and headed towards the garage, where a red convertible was waiting. “I’ll make sure I give your regards to Daphne—my guess is her response will be ‘fuck off.’ ”

Red Corvette? No, that wasn’t predictable at all . . .

I glanced up at Rynn and nodded at his retreating cousin. “How much can I really trust him?”

“It depends—”

“On?”

“How convinced he is I can still kill him.”

Great, just fucking fantastic.

Rynn kissed me quickly and whispered one last thing. “If you don’t get the artifacts by midnight, run. I’ll be outside, near the road.”

“Why midnight?”

He glanced back at Artemis. “Because that’s when the masks come off.”

“Please. People. I’m fucking bored over here!” Artemis yelled at us, gunning the engine for effect.

“Oh knock it off, I’m coming already,” I yelled back.

Artemis swore but shut up, which was the desired effect.

“Stay past midnight, I get turned into a pulverized pumpkin—got it.” I waved at Rynn and headed over to the car as Artemis gunned the engine again.

Captain mewed, and I gave the bag a pat. “You heard Rynn, Captain. Get ready for a disaster.”

I made a point of not talking to Artemis on the way over. I was watching for landmarks, in case I needed to get out fast. As we rounded onto a palm-tree-lined road that led up into the Hollywood Hills, Artemis broke our comfortably uncomfortable silence.

“I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he said.

I made a somewhat agreeable sound but kept staring at the passing houses.

“You know, this would go a hell of a lot smoother if we spoke to each other,” he said.

“Un hunh? Is that so . . .” I wasn’t having much luck with landmarks. The houses and trees were all starting to blend together in the darkness.

“Sorry?” I said, realizing Artemis had asked me a question that required more than a one-word answer.

“I asked what my illustrious cousin had to say about me. Some of it had to be interesting.”

I shrugged. “Nothing that wasn’t in the tabloids already.”

Artemis laughed. “Well, at least they’re accurate.”

I snorted. “I highly doubt that.”

“I disagree. Best news reporting in the world. They’re not afraid to get their hands dirty hacking into email accounts, phone records, cameras in hotels. Brilliant reporting,” he said. “And you must have other, more interesting questions?”

The houses started looking increasingly expensive, with more distance between the driveways and less visibility from the street. Almost there, I figured, meaning I’d only have to put up with Artemis a few more minutes.

“How is my cousin doing, by the way? Familial curiosity. He’s not one to pick up the phone.”

Oh for Christ’s— “All right, fine. You want to talk? You can start by telling me what Daphne is,” I said. That ought to shut him up. Supernaturals couldn’t talk about other supernaturals.

“I thought it’d be obvious—she’s a siren. Most of the stories are true, except for the singing, which her recording attempts debunked spectacularly. But her voice will ensnare human men and even some supernaturals. Doesn’t work on females though, or incubi, or succubi.”

I looked away from the window to stare at Artemis, who was splitting his attention between the road and me, a relatively innocent expression on his face. I say relatively, because I’m not sure Artemis did innocent.

“Seriously? Aren’t you not supposed to answer?” I said.

He shrugged. “It’s the only thing you’re really interested in. Besides, Daphne will be royally pissed if she figures out you’re one of Rynn’s.”

“One of Rynn’s?”

Artemis’s lip twitched. “Figure of speech—most incubi don’t tend to practice monogamy. No fucking point, since the more energy the better, but some integrate more with humans than others.

“The warning is relevant though. Most of them will smell incubus on you. Not exactly a problem, since most don’t know Rynn, and that’s about as good an explanation as you could have for being here. They’ll just figure you’re one of mine, but Daphne?” Artemis whistled for effect. “Well, Daphne and Rynn go back a long way, and the memories aren’t pleasant. Needless to say, a siren won’t be able to resist taking a bit of vengeance out of you.”

Artemis pulled into a driveway behind a series of other cars, all on the flashy, versus luxury, end. From what little Rynn had explained of Artemis, he had a habit of lending everything an opulent air, something that clashed with Rynn’s understated nature.

My God, I was referring to Rynn as understated . . .

Artemis smiled at the valet who rushed up to take the car.

We both got out, me feeling less confident than I had a few minutes back now that I was actually standing in supernatural central.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about from me,” Artemis said, flashing me half a smile, uncannily like Rynn, as he tossed the keys over his shoulder. “Unless you want to, that is. You know, worried about what I might do to you.” He held out his arm.

I shook my head and walked past him to where the guests were entering the mansion, which was even larger than his. “You realize that’s not doing anything for me? I’m not interested.”

“That’s not entirely true. And you’d be the first.”

“Bullshit.”

He raised his hands. “True story.”

I ignored him. Telling him I really wasn’t interested again would only egg him on. I’d known guys like Artemis at my grad school dorm—where replying itself was considered a form of flirting.

“Oh come on, is that it?”

I shook my head. I wanted to get this over with, not serve as his entertainment for the night. “I’m just disappointed. I knew grad students who had better game than you. You’re what? Two, three hundred years old at least? I just figured you’d have your routine a little more polished by now.”

Artemis dodged in front of me, blocking my way—which wasn’t hard, considering the crowd. “But that’s the point, isn’t it, Charity? Part of the game, appeal to the target’s comfort zone, just challenging you enough to get your blood going? Coming in with all guns blazing doesn’t always get the job done. Sometimes it’s the tools you leave in the box, not the ones you take out.”

I rolled my eyes. OK, this was starting to bother me now. “Just keep up your end of the bargain and get me in.”

Artemis smiled. “More than happy to. With a name like Charity, they’ll just figure you’re the call girl of the week.”

“Fuck off.”

Artemis, enjoying this way more than I was comfortable with, put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close as we reached the hostess checking guests off the list.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Artemis said. “You and Rynn asked me for help.” He winked at the hostess, who was in her early twenties, with a dark bob and flapper dress. She initially seemed indifferent, but that changed as soon as Artemis leaned in to help her find his name.

Dear sweet Jesus, I think I might hate rock stars.

I shouldn’t.

Seriously, we have a surprising number of things in common: they drink, I drink; I prefer to shop out of a catalogue, and they’re happy to wear whatever’s left on the floor in the wake of last night’s party. Definitely more parallels than tangents.

By the time the girl had checked us in, she was giving Artemis more than a friendly smile.

“Yeah, that’s not at all creepy,” I said when we were out of her earshot.

He shrugged. “Just trying to give you a bit of an education into the incubus mind, Charity.”

“And by creepy I’m including the sexual innuendo,” I whispered as we entered the ballroom. The sheer volume around us would hide our conversation in a normal crowd, but I didn’t want to be picking up the attention of stray supernaturals. “And Rynn doesn’t pull any of the garbage you just did.”

Apparently that was what Artemis had been waiting for, because he gave me a slow smile.

“That just proves Rynn’s even better at it than I am,” he said, and continued ahead of me into the expansive ballroom full of booze, dancing, art, and a mixed crowd of masked supernaturals and humans. Damn, there couldn’t be this many supernaturals in Hollywood, could there? I decided not to ask Artemis. I wasn’t sure whether I’d like the answer, and I already wasn’t happy with the direction our conversation was steering.

As much as I pestered Rynn and Carpe about supernaturals, for some reason I didn’t think I wanted to learn anything else about incubi from Artemis.

“Let’s just get this job over with, Captain,” I said to my bag. Now that we were inside, I had more important things to concentrate on. There was a hell of a lot of decent artwork in here. Say what you would about Daphne Sylph’s movie career, but the siren had taste.

My eyes fell on a tapestry hanging from the high ceiling. It depicted Viking seafarers marooned on an island with a beautiful woman who had a head full of thick red dreadlocks . . . and bore a striking resemblance to Daphne. Twelfth century, restored, if the colors and patterns used were any indication . . . if the restoration was any good, it was worth a few hundred thousand dollars . . .

I swore as someone grabbed my elbow.

To my dismay, it was Artemis. I’d figured he’d ditch me as soon as we passed through the doors. No such luck.

“Where the hell is your mask?” he said. His wasn’t one of the Venetian numbers with frills and giant noses but a flatter, simpler one in black with gold detail.

“I hate masks,” I whispered. “They cut my visibility.” I’d tried explaining that to Rynn too. “Besides, what’s the big deal? How many people are actually going to be wearing masks? Don’t they prefer having their faces photographed?”

Artemis frowned. “Not at this party. Here,” he said, and towed me to a corner. “Put it on now before anyone else notices.”

I fished the one Rynn had given me out of my purse. It was more ornate than Artemis’s, with a beaklike nose, but the real kick was the white and spotted feathers arranged around the eyes—just like an owl. I’d thought it was bad taste, but Rynn had gotten a kick out of it.

Artemis waited until I strapped it on.

“Happy?”

Artemis arched an eyebrow. “Thrilled.”

I ignored him and went back to searching the ballroom. There were two obvious exits leading outside: the hallway we came in through and a pair of glass doors that led out to the gardens, maybe a pool.

I didn’t want to get too ahead of myself planning alternative escape routes. I needed to steal the damn item first. One thing at a time, Owl.

“So tell me, what else did my illustrious cousin tell you about me?” Artemis asked.

I forced a smile. Three hallways leading out of the ballroom. Two on the opposite side of the room, which led further back into the mansion, and one that ran parallel to the gardens. Considering that one had a constant stream of waiters entering and exiting, I put my money on the other two. “Something about dragging you out of a Bangkok whorehouse,” I told Artemis.

He laughed and snatched two flutes of champagne from a passing server, handing one to me. “Did he now? I suppose that was one of my more spectacular low points, but a low point nonetheless.” He smiled, eerily reminiscent of Rynn. “I promise I’m on my best behavior.”

I downed the champagne. “Weren’t you supposed to stay sober?” I asked as Artemis grabbed another flute.

He shrugged and waved the glass at me. “I took it as a suggestion, and calling the kettle black, isn’t it? Speaking of which, you seem an adventurous, devil-may-care sort of girl. What the hell are you doing with my cousin?”

I glared. I so didn’t have time for this. “He makes a really good martini, all right.”

Artemis shrugged. “I make a great martini.”

“Dude, I saw the vodka in your fridge. Not even midshelf.” I started pushing my way into the crowd, hoping to get a better look at the halls. I tried not to think of the supernaturals I might be jostling. I also hoped Artemis would take a hint and go chase an actress.

Apparently I was way too entertaining, and he followed. “All right then, Charity—if that is indeed your name—what has my cousin told you about incubi?”

“Who says he’s told me anything? I hear that’s against the rules.”

“Hardly seems fair now, does it? Get involved with someone, to be left in the dark, rather like . . .” Artemis watched me. “. . . a possession—no, wait, I have it. Pet.” He inclined his head and watched me, a more malicious smile dancing across his features. “Yes, that’s how it is, isn’t it?”

“Not even close,” I said through clenched teeth.

Now, if I was an ancient artifact being held in a siren’s mansion, down which hall would I be? Over the left hall entrance was a fresco I recognized from the haphazard entertainment TV tour of Daphne’s private exhibit. Of course it was the only hallway being guarded.

Well, if I was a priceless artifact, that’s definitely where I would be.

Come to think of it, now that I had my bearings, the fresco wasn’t half bad either. Definitely older than I’d thought—medieval, Levant features from the Middle Ages . . .

Come on, Alix, focus, just the artifacts.

“You do know how incubi and succubi reproduce, don’t you? I’d at least expect him to tell you that much.”

“OK, not discussing my sex life with you. Besides, incubi and succubi are essentially the same species, right? You do the math.”

Artemis pressed another champagne flute into my hand. “If you’re not going to drink, at least pretend you are. And you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Genetically we’re similar enough. Succubi are the female of our species, if you care to call it that, but we’re parasitic off humans in more ways than one. Probably to make sure . . .” He trailed off, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the topic or the crowd breaking out in laughter near the glass doors.

He recovered, though. “Regardless, we use a go-between, and hence why incubi and succubi tend to integrate with humans better than ­everyone else.” He looked at me but waved the champagne flute around the crowd. “Except the dragon. But he likes humans for the treasure, and they’re so accommodating to just drop it off at his doorstep. In fact, I’ve rather got the same game going here. Women and men just more or less flock to my doorstep. Daphne has the same racket going on here, for that matter.

“You aren’t supposed to know any of that, by the way,” Artemis added as he reached for another glass of champagne off a passing silver tray. “Probably be in quite a bit of trouble if the dragon and Naga ever find out.”

Oh for— I spun on Artemis. “Then why the hell are you telling me?”

He shrugged and swirled the second flute; he had one in each hand now. “Easy. You don’t think very well of me, and unless I start dressing and behaving like my cousin—which isn’t going to happen—that is unlikely to change. I do, however, have information, and that is something you like very much.”

The way he watched me and swirled the two drinks sent a chill down my spine. “Besides, Charity, it’s more interesting this way. Especially when I hand you back off to my cousin. I’m sure he’ll be in for an earful after this. I can feel the curiosity pouring off you—oh don’t give me that look. Your poker face needs a shocking amount of work.” After a pause, he added, “I’m also curious just how far I can push the rules right now. Consider it a thought experiment, so to speak.”

“Stop the incubus bullshit,” I said.

“Now why on earth would I do that when it’s so much fun?”

“Look, don’t you have anything better to do than heckle me? Don’t you have pretty young starlets and groupies to go chase?”

“So cynical for one so young. And as a matter of fact, I need a stronger drink. Wait here,” he said before disappearing into the crowd.

Finally. As soon as I was certain Artemis was out of sight, I beelined for the hall beneath the tapestry.

Shit. I stopped short of stumbling into a group of admirers surrounding none other than Daphne Sylph. Tonight her hair was a mix of bright red and blond dreadlocks that hung down to the middle of her back. A little alternative, but she managed to make it look high fashion. She was also dressed in a floor-length white silk dress—not that I’m a fan of white, but with that hair?

She stopped laughing and scanned the crowd, as if looking for someone. I ducked behind a taller couple before she saw me, but not before I got a good look at her face. Not a day over twenty.

“Do you want me to introduce you?” Artemis whispered in my ear.

I swore and jumped back out of reflex. “Could you not sneak up on me like that? And no, I don’t want to meet her. I like my body parts attached, thank you very much.”

Some thieves like to toss in a personal touch, like introducing themselves to their victims beforehand or leaving a note—something like that. Just to let people know they really cared who they were robbing. Not me. All the personal touch does is make it that much more personal for them to hunt you down.

I nodded towards Daphne. “In her case, the camera really doesn’t lie.”

Artemis shrugged. “I suppose, though it depends what you’re looking for. Trust me, she had her heyday a long time ago. Try Rome. I think Caligula’s court was her last big coup—”

“You just said you weren’t supposed to be telling me this!”

Artemis had replaced his champagne flutes with a tumbler of clear liquor, which he sipped. “No, but I’m bored. And that’s where her feud with Rynn came in, in case you were wondering. Something about Daphne changing the course of civilization, being found out—”

Caligula? That was two thousand years ago. I’d figured Rynn had been around for a couple hundred years on account of the incubus thing, but two thousand years?

Artemis swished his glass so the ice clinked the sides. “Think it was a colossal waste of his effort, to be honest.”

I pushed thoughts of Rynn’s age aside. Even if Artemis was telling the truth I could worry about how old Rynn was later. “Why? Because we’re too stupid to figure out a bunch of supernaturals are rounding us up like cattle?”

“Nice analogy, but for your information, no. Because you all would have been dead from lead poisoning long before we ever got around to altering history.”

I looked away. Artemis was an unsettling mix. Unlike most supernaturals I run into, he wasn’t trying to kill me, but that was more a circumstance of boredom and his deal with Rynn. Out of those two, I put boredom higher up on the list. Artemis was more likely to grab a good seat while Rome burned than he was to try and stop it. Come to think of it, if he was telling the truth about Caligula, he might have done exactly that.

Oh you got to be kidding me . . . The crowd had migrated away from us, removing my cover. Daphne was looking straight at me. I swore and as discreetly as possible turned my face away and ducked behind ­Artemis. “Not that it hasn’t been a slice, but I need an opening out of this ballroom now,” I whispered to him.

He was fixated on the other side of the room. “I figured Rynn didn’t send you to celebrity watch,” he whispered back. “Don’t worry, I’ve handled it about . . .” He trailed off as he glanced down at his phone.

A commotion spilled through the glass doors that led to the garden.

“. . . now. Wonderful, they’re on time,” he said, nodding at the commotion.

Three guards, two of which had been manning the hallway, raced past us as flashes of light hit the crowd and guests yelled. Daphne strode behind them.

Paparazzi.

Bingo . . . got to love it when opportunity screams rather than knocks. Might even make it easier to sneak out of here if they lasted that long.

I spotted a pile of tablecloths by the ice sculptures—call it a thief’s instinct.

I couldn’t touch the cursed artifacts, but those should do the trick.

Oh screw it, this was my heist. If—scratch that, when—this went sideways, the less Artemis knew about the pieces, the better.

I glanced over at my drunken incubus escort. “You ready for me to reveal the great task we need you for tonight?” I said.

Artemis leaned in. “Dying to know.”

“Great.” I grabbed myself a glass of champagne and downed it in one gulp—the first had been weak, and I needed steady hands. “Now see Daphne over there?” The siren had entered into the paparazzi fray and had the photographers eating out of her hands. No one protested as she and her guards led them out back—probably to drown them in the pool.

“Hard to miss with that hair, isn’t she?”

“Fantastic.” I slapped Artemis on the shoulder. “Go keep her distracted.”

Artemis narrowed his eyes at me. “Knowing my cousin, that’s not what I picture he had in mind.”

“Well, frankly, I feel better without you breathing over my shoulder,” I said, and headed towards the now unguarded hall.

Artemis grabbed my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

“Look, Artemis—” I started as he spun me around. His expression threw me off. There was a frown etched on his face . . . and sincerity.

“Just remember, I told Rynn I won’t save you. You’d do well to remember that, and it goes without saying whatever he has you doing here isn’t worth it.”

OK, Rynn’s evil—well, more like debauched—cousin warning me away from Rynn was one hell of a tangent.

“You know,” he said, “there’s one thing that hasn’t changed about Rynn over the years, and I have to admit I admire this about him.”

I frowned. “And what would that be?”

“He always did prefer the broken ones.”

With that, Artemis tipped his head back as he finished his drink and headed off for Daphne.

As strange as his warning was, Daphne would have the paparazzi cleared shortly. No time for pondering things I really didn’t care about right now.

I grabbed the tablecloths and slipped through the hallway where treasure awaited.

I balanced my cell phone under my ear as I stood in front of the plexiglass case that held the three artifacts. “So seriously, which vial do you want me to use here? Green one, right?” I wracked my memory, trying to remember if that one held the concentrated hydrochloric acid.

“No, that’s for fiberglass,” Nadya answered. “This is bulletproof plexi, so you’ll need something stronger. Just go with the red one—and be careful. The weight sensors are still there.”

Captain was sitting on the sleeve of vials Nadya had made me take. I swore and pulled them out from under him—with minimal complaining. “Finesse is your department, not mine. Speaking of which, so is dressing up in heels and schmoozing with people. Care to explain why the hell you aren’t standing here instead of me?”

“Because I have a deep-rooted instinct to run away from trouble, not into it. Now move before the paparazzi are dealt with.” And with that she hung up the phone.

Retinal scanners, lasers, acid-proof plastics . . . In my mind, if it takes two separate PhDs to break into a box, go with the simplest method—just break the damn box and run.

Searching through the sleeve I found not one but two red vials: one with a red label on a white tube, the other with a white label on a red tube.

Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me . . .

Use the red vial, Owl. For all I knew, one of the red tubes held nitroglycerine, and I’d just blow myself up.

Nuts to this . . . Nadya could keep her chemistry kit.

“Stay there,” I whispered to Captain as I fished out a plug-in–like adaptor and headed for the nearest three-pronged socket.

The room wasn’t filled with lasers, or weight plates, or any of the stuff you hear about in the movies, but the box was sealed shut electronically to create a vacuum for the artifacts. Inside was a weight sensor.

There were two ways to handle this particular situation; the elegant way, which was dissolving part of the box with Nadya’s chemicals and taking the items, or my way. My way involved brute force and blowing the fuse box behind the vacuum. Elegance is for show-offs and thieves with way too much time on their hands—well, and Nadya, but she doesn’t count; she’s in a class all her own.

The prong in my bag would be certain to short out the fuse to the entire room—maybe even the entire building if the place was wired badly.

I plugged the adaptor into a socket near the door and turned the innocuous green light on. The entire room went dark. Including the green light in the artifact display case.

Flashlight in hand, I headed back to the case, where Captain was waiting on the pile of tablecloths.

Now all I needed to do was get the physical backup lock open. I put my flashlight between my teeth and started fitting my picks—flat, screwdriver-like tools I kept for wedging things open—into the lock.

Without any effort on my part, it opened.

Son of a bitch, it was already open—but the pieces were still in the case. Could Daphne have forgotten to lock it?

“I’m really starting to wonder what the hell my cousin is up to these days,” Artemis said.

I swore and fumbled my pick. Artemis was leaning against the doorway, holding his drink.

“I thought I told you to keep Daphne busy,” I said.

He shrugged. “It was a boring party.” He indicated the case with his drink. “And Rynn’s not one for petty thefts.”

I snorted and retrieved my pick. “Well, at least we’re agreed on one thing. This isn’t a petty theft—shit,” I said as the case hood slid back down. I didn’t want to wedge my fingers underneath with the artifacts so close.

“Are you all right?” Artemis asked.

“Yeah, everything is fine, no thanks to you sneaking up on me.” This time the glass case gave and I popped it open, being careful not to touch any of the items inside, not even the material they were laid out on. Now all I needed to do was wrap the three pieces up. What was the best angle to get them from?

“If I’d known you were here to steal something . . .” Artemis said, his brow furrowing. OK, that looked a bit like Rynn.

“You said it yourself—you’re just here to get me in. My neck is my own responsibility.”

“Again, let me point out you left out the thieving part. I just thought you were here as a spy or some other such of Rynn’s nonsense.”

I didn’t have time or inclination to justify my actions to the debauched wonder. Someone might have noticed the fuse. “Look—just stand over there and keep quiet for a second, will you?”

All right, here we go . . . I grabbed the tablecloth and doubled it around my hand. Wrap up the artifacts, nice and easy, then into my bag . . . I felt a bead of sweat form on my forehead as I layered the tablecloth over my hand one more time—I didn’t want my skin coming into contact with the pieces through some kind of supernatural ­technicality . . . I thought about asking Artemis to do it, but that struck me as a worse-than-usual idea.

I took a quick breath and readied my hands, hidden well underneath the tablecloth.

“You know, you and I aren’t that unalike.”

I stopped before I could grab the flint. So much for shutting up. “How do you figure that?” I said, my eyes on the pieces, ready to grab again, even though I could feel Artemis staring at me.

“Neither of us likes to play by the rules. They aren’t particularly fun.”

There was something about the way he said it. “Somehow I don’t think our versions of fun are on the same page,” I said.

Artemis laughed.

I held my breath as I leveled the piece of flint off the pedestal, then exhaled only after the flint was wrapped in the tablecloth and lightning didn’t strike me down. I deposited it into an airtight bag and dropped that in the pocket of Captain’s carrier only after I’d made him crawl out. No sense risking my cat getting cursed.

OK, two more and I was home free . . . now for the stone bowl . . .

I frowned. The bowl was larger and would be trickier not to touch with my bare hands. “Look, Artemis, can’t you watch the hallway or something?” Or do something otherwise useful so I don’t accidently curse myself?

“I’ll whistle if someone is on their way,” he said.

“No! No whistling. If someone comes by, just try to buy me time.” All right, big breath, Owl . . . Gripping the edge, I tilted the bowl in beside the flint piece. Captain was eyeing his now half-filled carrier. He looked up and gave me a perturbed mew.

“You’re walking out of here,” I told him. He mewed again.

Now for the grand finale. I scooped the knife up with the tablecloth. For an early Bronze Age sword, the weight was well . . . off. Very carefully I undid the tablecloth.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me . . .” Don’t get me wrong, it was a good replica, about as close to the one in photos as you could get, but checking the weight and getting a good look at it?

Close up, the etched symbols were too clean and the weight and sheen of the metal was off for the crude smelting characteristic of Copper Age transitions. If a real pro had been hired to make an authentic replica, I might not have known. Whoever had made this was almost good enough, but perhaps they hadn’t had enough time.

Well, now I knew why the case had been unlocked. Someone had beat me to the sword and, for some reason, had left the other artifacts.

No sense worrying about what I couldn’t do now. Not with a ballroom full of supernaturals. I’d take what I could get while the going was still good.

A long, drawn-out, shrill whistle echoed from the doorway.

“I thought I told you no—” I cut myself short.

It was Daphne standing in the doorway, in all her red-and-gold dreadlocked glory. She pursed her bright red lips and whistled again as she took in the surroundings—namely me, Captain, and the now empty case.

Artemis hadn’t even been able to watch the hall properly . . . and now he was nowhere to be seen.

“Wow, now look at you. I haven’t had a thief drop in on me in ages. Who sent you?” she said, her voice neither sweet nor beautiful, but carrying a deep, throaty texture you couldn’t help but pay attention to.

I swallowed. “Would you believe this is my off weekend and I just happened to crash?”

Daphne let out another sharp whistle as she considered what I’d said. “The dragon? No matter, you’ll tell me. Too bad they sent a girl though. Means I have to think out of the box, and that gets painful,” she said, and took a step forward. Behind her followed two dark-skinned supernaturals, the same kind I’d seen at Artemis’s. Together, the three of them fanned out around the room, closing me in. “Painful for you, that is. Not me.”

I had two choices: try to reason with her, or run like hell and hope the door on the other side of the room wasn’t a closet. I went with the latter. I grabbed my bag full of artifacts and bolted past the other display cases, Captain close on my heels.

Daphne let out a piercing shriek behind me, and I heard the bodyguards’ boots hitting the ground. I shunted my bag onto my shoulder and covered my ears as I ran. I thought sirens were supposed to lure you in with songs, not boil your eardrums.

I slammed into the door at a dead run, knocking it open and stumbling into another hallway. There was a staircase leading up on my right, and more hallway to my left. I went for the staircase. Most of the guards and supernaturals would be on the lower floors for the party, and I was more likely to slip out a window than bolt past a full ballroom.

That and no one ever expects thieves to go up . . . except in this case. I came to a halt on the third step as the sound of heavy footsteps hit the floor above. Big, bulky, armed footsteps. Captain hissed.

“Supernatural horde it is,” I told him.

We ran back down and turned left as the door to the exhibit room crashed open. The footsteps upstairs got louder and closer.

Captain and I both skidded to a halt.

The corner had looped us back around to the ballroom, and an entire room turned towards me.

Something told me we were past midnight. I got a good, long look in those few seconds of inaction. Goblins, trolls—recognized that one . . . I was pretty sure I saw a Naga in back. Teeth. There were a lot of serrated teeth. Black, green, white even. Not something I would have thought.

I noticed one nearby—he/she/it had reflective white skin and was tall, with black eyes and a tuft of white and green leaflets shooting out at odd angles from the top of their head.

Hunh, so that’s what a daikon demon looks like.

It’s amazing the things that pop into your head when you think you might be about to die.

Daphne screeched behind me, breaking our impasse.

The entire horde moved towards me as one as Daphne closed in behind me, her dreadlocks streaming around her head with a life of their own.

If Rynn asked me to pinpoint when everything became a disaster, this was definitely it.

“You’ve got a great art collection,” I tried.

Daphne smiled, but it looked more like she was baring her teeth—serrated teeth. Son of a bitch, what the hell was it with supernaturals and the sharp teeth? Rynn better not be hiding serrated teeth somewhere—and speaking of incubi, where the hell was Artemis?

“You know, it’s funny you stealing those artifacts from me. Considering you stole them for me in the first place,” Daphne said.

“Whoa? I’m sorry? I did not steal anything for you—especially not these,” I said, shaking the bag holding the artifacts.

Daphne only smiled. “That’s not what my paper trail says.” Louder, for the crowd, she added, “Not only does Mr. Kurosawa’s Owl steal dangerous artifacts, she sneaks back in to try and cover her mistakes.”

The way she was smiling . . . she knew I wasn’t the thief; what’s more, she knew I was being set up . . .

“Funny, considering you’re the one holding the cursed artifacts.” I knew as soon as I said it that it’d been the wrong thing to say. Daphne was way too happy about it.

“No dear, that would be you. And I was only doing the dragon’s job retrieving them from reckless and incompetent human hands.”

Screw reasoning, it was a losing battle. Whatever Daphne was angling for with the rest of the supernaturals here, she had the upper hand. Time to get the hell out.

For once, Captain was two big steps ahead of me. He bolted through what I’d assumed was a broom closet. It wasn’t—it was some sort of servants’ wing.

At this point I was game for anything. I raced after my cat.

Daphne screeched, and it sounded like the entire ballroom picked up after me. That worked in my favor—a few hundred monsters all trying to squeeze through a narrow doorway at the same time would slow the mob down.

Captain skidded to a stop along the hardwood floor halfway down the hallway and lifted his nose up to sniff the air.

“I thought you knew where you were going!” I said.

He mewed and bolted down a left arm of the smaller passage.

I swore. Not the direction I would have picked, but here’s hoping Captain could smell freedom better than me. Not that I had many options left . . . no windows or vents, and I could hear that damn horde right behind me.

At the end of the passage, Captain stopped again and started sniffing and scratching madly at the bottom of a door.

I shook my head. “Dude, I’m trusting you,” I said, and opened it. Captain shot through, and I followed after. No more than three steps in, rotting lily of the valley hit me, right before Captain howled.

Shit. Using the door handle as an anchor, I stopped. “Bad cat! Get back here!”

It was too late though. Captain launched himself at the vampire standing at the other end—dressed in a server’s outfit, of all things.

Well, local vampires wouldn’t know about the wonder of a Mau’s poisonous bite. This vampire did though. He waited until the last minute of Captain’s leap, then, faster than a human would have been able to, caught him in a canvas bag.

Damn it. Had to be one of Alexander’s. I scanned the room for something to attack the vampire with—a chair, painting, baseball-sized stone sculpture . . . The poker at the fireplace caught my eye. That’d do.

Captain shrieked, and the vampire swore in French as my cat did his best to tear his way out of the bag.

Before I could launch myself at the fireplace poker though, a bag found its way over my head—the same kind they’d caught Captain with.

I yelled and tried to push it off, but a cord pulled it tight around my neck. The lily of the valley scent got stronger as someone, not much taller than me, leaned in to whisper, “Miss me much, little birdie?” Female. Valley girl accent.

Bindi. Psychotic surfer vampire chick from hell. Before I could throw an insult at her, a baseball bat collided with my stomach, knocking the wind out of me and doubling me over.

I held my breath against the vampire pheromones. OK, Alix, think. Three vampires: Bindi holding me, the one with the baseball bat, and the one trying to contain Captain. Captain and I could manage three vampires; all I had to do was get out of the bag.

I threw my head back where I thought Bindi’s face might be and was rewarded with a crunch of cartilage and Bindi’s resulting growl. She let go of my arms, and I started to untie the burlap hood.

A sickly sweet smell hit me that wasn’t vampire pheromone. More like sweetened acetone. Ether. They’d doused the bags with ether. Shit.

I raced to get the bag off, but it was no use—the ether and pheromones permeated my lungs and nose. With the two of them mixed, I’d pass out any moment. “Captain?” I tried.

I got a mew, but it was faint; they’d doused him too.

The last thought that hit me was I hoped they didn’t hand us over to Daphne’s horde. Then again, considering my last conversation with Alexander, the horde might be the gentler way to go.