And then he was gone, pillow and all.
“That sonofabitch,” Vivien railed, throwing her hands up.
“So you’re losing the war huh?” I was grateful for a distraction from my talking sword problem. Which was an even greater distraction from getting off on Xander’s magnificent boner.
It was a Russian nesting doll of distractions.
“I ain’t losing nothing,” she said, holding out a finger. Vivien was incensed. “It isn’t over until it’s over.”
As amused as I was by their hijinks, my mind travelled back to the disastrous Monopoly game between me and Xander. Had it been fun?
I enjoyed winning, and it brought out both of our competitive streaks, but I wouldn’t necessarily call it fun. It was exciting though.
Then I thought of what happened right after the game. That had been fun. Until I realized what I’d done and it wasn’t anymore. Shame washed over me again, but I swallowed it down.
Talking sword first.
Vivien led me to the garage and her cherry red Range Rover with the special tinted windows in case she got caught out in daylight. In no time, she drove us far off the strip to a warehouse. I knew this place. She’d brought me here once before.
We headed to the very back of a dusty factory to a freight elevator. Vivien pulled the cage aside and smashed the button. The cage jerked then descended at a painfully slow rate.
“I didn’t bring any Doritos or bananas,” I said casually. This wasn’t my first visit, but that didn’t put me anymore at ease. Vivien had been down here plenty of times before me, but that didn’t mean either of us enjoyed what was to come.
“I didn’t have time to grab them either.” Vivien was silent for a beat. “I’m thinking we won’t need a bribe though. Not this time.”
She was likely right. If anyone knew about the blade it was the person we were about to see. And based on our past interaction, this person may have a vested interest in Bob.
When the elevator finished its descent, Vivien yanked the cage open. Overhead fluorescents turned on with heavy ker-chunks, lighting a darkened hallway.
A camera dropped from the ceiling, along with an automatic gun. It honed in on us, ready to strike if we made a wrong move.
“What do you want?” A familiar yet irate, tinny voice demanded from the microphone.
Vivien nodded at me.
I stepped forward though my hackles rose under the sights of a weapon. “I want to know more about the blade of bane.”
Silence.
I looked over my shoulder at Vivien. She nodded again, encouraging me to go on.
I sucked in a deep breath before saying, “It speaks to me.”
Another beat, and then the camera and gun zipped back up into the ceiling. I let out a breath.
We continued to the big double doors Vivien wasted no time sliding open. On one side there was a thirty-foot wall of fifty monitors. Some of them played anime, others played the news, but the majority appeared to be live footage of streets, shopping malls, or other public places.
The other half of the room looked as if someone had plucked a cozy grandmother’s room and popped it in here. A girl lounged amidst the floral couches and chairs surrounding an antique coffee table. A large decorative rug cushioned the setup from the cold concrete floor.
A mixture of must and potpourri hung heavy in the air.
The high-backed chair in front of a long table of electronics and keyboards swiveled around.
A heavy-set woman in her late fifties squinted at us suspiciously. She spoke with a thick Filipino accent that was clipped with her impatience. “So, the blade speaks to you, does it?” Echo. We’d met before.
“Oh no, not her,” Bob cried, clearly unhappy.
“Oh, quiet you,” Echo shot back.
