“No problema. Ron’s in court all
afternoon. It was just going to be me and
the crickets.” She tried to sound
lighthearted, but her smile didn’t light up
her face the way it usually did. As
always, she looked lovely enough to be
garnering a fair number of stares, but she
didn’t even notice. That was so not
Dawna. Her suit today was a deep
crimson. The jacket had an embroidered
collar and a little peplum that drew
attention to her tiny waist. The knee-
length pencil skirt was just long enough
to be modest, showing off a terrific set
of legs. Her dark hair was loose,
hanging in a sleek, shining curtain down
her back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
I didn’t believe her, but I also knew
that pushing was pointless. She’d tell me
when she was ready. But she would tell
me. Dawna’s the kind who needs to talk
things through. Still, it might not be the
kind of problem you’d want to discuss in
a public place that had both video and
audio surveillance.
We exited into bright sunshine and I
immediately felt my skin starting to burn.
“I hope you’re parked close. My
sunscreen’s worn off.”
“Crap, they don’t let anyone park
within a block of the building. Get in the
shade and wait,” she ordered. “I’ll come
get you.”
It made sense, so I was happy to
agree. I ducked into the shadow of the
building and felt the painful heat of my
skin ease almost immediately. I closed
my eyes for a second in blissful relief.
Most of the time I’m okay with the
“new me.” Some of the siren stuff is
actually cool. The vampire healing is
great. But if a genie gave me three
wishes, my very first one would be to go
back to being a normal human.
I waited, expecting Dawna to come
around the corner in her little Chevy
hybrid. Instead I saw das Humvee pull to
the curb.
I say “das Humvee” because this
wasn’t any old Hummer. No, this was a
macho man’s wet dream—the full
military-sized
model,
completely
customized. It was huge, glossy black,
and ostentatious, with lots and lots of
chrome that glared blindingly in the
afternoon sunlight.
“Holy crap.”
The passenger door swung open. “Get
in.”
“What the hell?”
She gave an impatient gesture. I
dashed across the sidewalk and hefted
myself inside.
It wasn’t easy. I’m a tall woman, but
this thing was big. I couldn’t imagine
how Dawna had managed it, especially
in a skirt and heels. I especially couldn’t
figure out how she reached the pedals or
how she’d managed to lean across the
length of the front seat to open my door.
As soon as I had my seatbelt fastened,
she pulled away from the curb, traffic
parting in her path like the Red Sea
parting for Moses.
Sitting there, I couldn’t quite see to
the next county but I could certainly see
over all the other cars into the next
block. I drive an old Miata, an itty-bitty
sports car that’s slung low to the ground.
Riding in the Humvee was a totally
different experience.
“I hate this damned thing,” Dawna
muttered. “It’s so freaking huge. It’s
impossible to find a place to park.”
Yeah, that would be a problem—
assuming you weren’t willing to crush
the lesser vehicles that dared get in your
way. But damn, the interior was nice.
Unlike military models used in the field,
this had real leather, real wood, lots of
gadgets. It even had the after-market
button with shielding spells. How cool
was that?
“Then why are you driving it?”
“Chris insisted.” She said it bitterly,
not a good sign. “He said that if I was
going to be spending the day with you,
tank. And I shouldn’t hesitate to use the
shielding spell, either. And see that blue
button over there?” She pointed to a
button that, like the shielding spell
trigger, was after-market, but—also like
the shielding spell trigger—very well
installed. “That’s a panic button. We
press that and the Company descends on
us for a rescue.”
“Really? No kidding?” Okay, that was
freaking cool. John Creede had a disk
like that, which he carried around in
case of emergency. But to have it built
into a car? Awesome. No, I don’t like the
Company. They’re one of those private
mercenary and magical contractors that
do all sorts of Soldier-of-Fortuney
things that countries don’t want to get
their hands dirty handling. But a panic
button to save one of their people? That
appealed to the gadget geek in me in a
big way. It was cool. It just was. The
moment I got “people,” I was going to
have one.
“No kidding.” She smiled in spite of
herself. “Chris isn’t just a medic, he’s
got an actual healing gift. That’s really
rare. And last year he bought into the
Company. He’s a junior partner now.”
I didn’t know what to think about that,
let alone what to say. “Um, wow. How
do you feel about that?”
We were at a stop light, so she gave
me a long, level look. “About as happy
as he feels about my working for you. I
mean, he likes you and everything. But
he says being around you is like riding
out a hurricane, a coup, and a bomb
attack simultaneously.”
Uh-oh. Not good. “Crap.”
The light changed, and we surged
forward.
“Don’t
worry.
I’m
not
quitting.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“Oh good. Because I’ve been thinking
about doing something, and I was kind of
counting on your help.”
“What?” She didn’t say “what now”
but her tone of voice implied it.
I winced but plowed on. “I’ve
become too high profile to get many
bodyguarding jobs as an individual.”
There was no escaping the fact that
business has been down. I hadn’t taken
the Mexico job just as a courtesy.
She nodded in agreement, but kept her
eyes on the road. Apparently driving
something this much bigger than she was
used to took quite a bit of attention.
“And subcontracting the help
I needed
for a bigger job didn’t work.”
Understatement of the decade. I started
drumming my fingers on the armrest
nervously. Why was talking to Dawna
making me nervous? Because what I was
about to say was big, and I wanted her to
agree. It should have occurred to me
before now that she might say no, but it
hadn’t. Just like it hadn’t occurred to me
that Chris, who was my friend, damn it,
wouldn’t want his bride-to-be hanging
out with me.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m expanding the business. I’ll hire
my own people, send them out on
individual jobs, work with them running
the bigger ones.” I took a deep breath. “I
was hoping you’d want to go in with me.
I can’t meet with female clients because
of the whole siren thing.” Sirens make
normal, fertile women irrationally angry
and jealous. It’s biological. “You’re
better with people than anyone else I
know.”
“So, a glorified receptionist.”
“No. A partner. Seventy-thirty. You
handle the office end and the computer
research. I handle the staffing and
action.”
She was so startled she hit the brakes,
hard. We were lucky not to be rear-
ended. Amazingly, nobody hit us. Hell,
nobody even laid on the horn. They just
adjusted, driving around. Being behind a
car that obviously costs six figures or
more tends to make drivers more nimble.
I know it does me.
“A partner?” She looked at me, wide-
eyed. But when she spoke again, her
voice was only a little bit higher pitched
and breathy than usual. “Why not fifty-
fifty?”
“Because I’m putting up the building
and the money. This is going to take a lot
of cash to pull off.”
She started the vehicle moving
forward again, keeping her eyes on the
road. “Then it’s probably a good thing I
deposited the check from your aunt, for
protecting Adriana. It’ll make a good
start. And hey, if she makes it up the
aisle safely, you’ll earn the bonus. That
should give us more than enough to get
started.”
Us. She’d said us. I found myself
grinning hugely. And a check from my
aunt! I’d have to remind Dawna to send
her a contract—though, knowing Dawna,
she already had.
“But I’m not taking less than sixty-
forty.
You need me. Your people
skills … well, they sort of suck.” She
pulled smoothly into the right turn lane,
all shock gone, her expression growing
almost smug, dark eyes sparkling with
mischief.
I knew that look but wasn’t sure
where she was going with it. “What?”
Smugness grew into a grin. “I can’t
wait to tell Ron.”
16
Dawna had brought me a printout of
Olga and Natasha’s schedule for the day,
e-mailed to her by Helen Baker. While
she drove to the tow lot, where we’d
redeem Emma’s car, I scanned the sheet
of paper. Protected by several agents
each, Adriana’s bridesmaids were
spending the day doing interviews. I
hoped that would keep them safe and out
of trouble until it was time for us to meet
for dinner.
After returning Emma’s car to her at
school, getting my knives from the police
station (they wouldn’t release the gun, it
was evidence), and checking my bank
balance—Lopaka’s check had caused it
to rise quite nicely—we hit the drive-
through at Arby’s for a pair of French
dip
sandwiches.
Dawna
ate
one
sandwich, setting the second aside for
later. I drank the au jus from both of
them. We chatted about the new business
plan, kicking ideas around. I’d call
Roberto as soon as I had a chance, and
get him started on the paperwork for our
new partnership. Then it was on to my
favorite store.
Isaac and Gilda Levy own a shop that
carries high-end magical weapons,
extremely high-end spelled clothing, and
jewelry.
The jewelry is
Gilda’s
contribution. Isaac does the spell work
and tailoring. It started out as a small
place, tucked in beside a dry cleaner in a
neighborhood that was just a bit off of
the beaten path. But the store had grown
over the years I’d known them. They
hadn’t moved, but they’d expanded into
the spaces on either side, and the
resulting emporium was now fairly
large, bright, and airy.
Gilda Levy met me at the door and
gave me a huge hug, squeezing me tight
enough that the various gems on her
many
necklaces
began
digging
uncomfortably into my chest. Gilda is
not a beautiful woman in the traditional
sense. She’s short, standing all of four
foot eight inches. She’s nearly as wide
as she is tall, with wiry salt-and-pepper
curls that are moving more to salt as the
years pass. But she’s got a smile that
could melt the polar ice caps and there
are laugh lines at the corners of her
bright, dark eyes. She practically buzzes
with natural energy, zipping from here to
there: always busy, always productive.
She wears designer clothes in bright
colors and enough bling to make the
most overdecorated rapper jealous.
Today she was in a pale turquoise
pantsuit with a cream, turquoise, and teal
striped silk blouse left unbuttoned to
show
just
the
right
amount
of
decolletage, which she had accessorized
with about ten pounds of jewelry.
“I’m so glad you’re safe. We’ve been
worried sick about you.” She gave a
delicate shudder that made the bangle
bracelets she wore jingle. “Terrorists.
Our Celia targeted by terrorists. What is
the world coming to?” She turned,
looking over her shoulder, and called
out. “Isaac, Celia’s here. Do you have
her new jacket ready? She’s damaged
this one.”
She was right, of course. The
explosion had done more than stain and
rip the fabric. The spells Isaac had
worked into the jacket had probably
been destroyed. But they’d done their
job. I didn’t have so much as a bruise
from the blast that had destroyed most of
the auditorium. I wondered if the FBI
would pick up the tab for the restoration.
Isaac came to stand in the doorway
between the front of the shop and his
workroom. “It’s ready for the final
fitting. And just in time, from what I
hear. Come to the back and I’ll finish it
up. You’re wearing your holster?”
I shook my head. “No. The police kept
my gun as evidence.”
“You’re not unarmed?” He gave me a
stern look.
“I have a Glock in an ankle holster,
and I’m wearing my knives.”
“Good. But that doesn’t help us with
the fitting. Gilda…”
“I’ll take care of it, dear.” She
scurried off to the weapons department
with Dawna following in her wake. I
followed Isaac into the workroom.
The outer shop is bright, open, and
designed to catch the eye of the
customers. Every article is lit and
displayed to its best advantage. Isaac’s
workroom is a much more personal
space. There is a silver casting circle
eight feet in diameter in the center of the
room. Inside it are three platforms of
various heights that always remind me of
the medal stands at the Olympics, but
which actually perform a much more
prosaic function. Having the client stand
on the low dais puts most of them at the
perfect height for Isaac to hem and tailor
a jacket. The “second place” dais is
great for hemming skirts. The highest one
is just right for hemming the legs of
trousers and tailoring them to fit
perfectly to disguise an ankle holster. I
remember how excited Isaac was when
he had them built. No more crawling
around while he performed both
mundane tailoring and complex spell
work.
Along the walls, outside the circle,
are cube-style shelves in unfinished oak
that contain books in multiple languages,
various spell components, and sewing
equipment. In one corner, an old wooden
roll-top desk sits next to a beautiful old
sewing machine. A high-definition
television hung from a mounting attached
to the ceiling that could be rotated to
face anywhere in the room; it is
primarily used to keep clients from
getting bored during long fittings.
At the moment it displayed a talk
show. I recognized the guest—one of
Adriana’s bridesmaids, the lovely
Princess Olga. I’d never seen the hosts
before. Not a surprise really, since they
were speaking Ruslandic.
“I really wish I was better at
languages,” I complained as, at Isaac’s
gesture, I climbed onto the appropriate
platform.