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I gave Camille a long look and flickered my gaze to Hanna and then to Roz. She furrowed her brow, took a quick peek at both of them, then lightly shook her head at me. But she was smiling.
As we finished dinner, Menolly entered the kitchen. We filled her in on everything that had happened during the day while we helped Hanna clear the table. Afterward, while Hanna and Marion started on the dishes, Morio pulled out the computer and called up the blueprints.
While he was fiddling with them, Menolly floated up to the ceiling—she liked life at the top of the world. “Asteria won’t even think of discussing the spirit seals?”
I shook my head. “We expected Queen Asteria to shoot down our concerns. She’s going to do whatever she wants. Even if it fucks up the portals further, there’s not much we can do about it. And really, what can we do? Steal the spirit seals back and hide them…where? They’re probably safest where they are right now.”
Camille paced back and forth, gesturing toward Menolly. “The problem is, they aren’t being protected—not the way she promised. When we took her the first one, Queen Asteria promised to hide them away, to keep them under lock and key. If they’re out and about, they could be targets.”
“And again—what can we do about it?” I paused, not wanting to bring up a sore subject, but we had to address it. “What about Father?”
Menolly cleared her throat. “So you say our dear pater is on the outs with Tanaquar? She must have found another lackey who’s more useful. But I’m surprised she didn’t just add a paramour. It’s not like we’re naturally monogamous.”
Camille ignored her, turning to me as she shrugged. “What about him?”
“Do you…did you want to talk to him?”
“Just because he’s no longer dipping his wick in Tanaquar’s pussy? You think that because she dumped him, I’m going to be all touchy-feely? That I’m going to excuse what he did? Until he comes begging me to forgive him, until the day he admits he fucked up and that he’s sorry, you can bet our father isn’t getting a free pass from me.” She dug in the cupboard and pulled out a box of cookies, biting into one before tossing the package to me. Obviously this was the wrong avenue of discussion to focus on.
“Right.” I caught the Oreos and pulled out a handful, passing them around. “Let’s focus on tonight. Morio’s got the computer ready. Let’s plan out our raid.”
We gathered around the computer.
“Okay, somebody has to stay home. We need Morio and Camille together, for their death magic. And Smoky and Shade. I’m going, and Menolly.” I looked around. “That leaves Chase, Trillian, Vanzir, and Rozurial.”
Menolly shrugged. “With the extra guards, I’d say we can get away with just Trillian and Chase here. Chase, would you mind hanging out for the evening?”
Chase let out a sigh. “Always the babysitter. Ah well, I haven’t seen Maggie for a while. And if a call comes in—if somebody blows something else up—I’m going to need to head out anyway, so sure. Trillian, you up for a game of chess?”
Trillian rolled his eyes. “I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back, Johnson.”
“Bring it on.” Chase lifted Maggie out of the playpen and cuddled her as Trillian started to set up the chessboard on one corner of the table. Maggie pinched Chase’s nose and licked his face. He laughed and tickled her tummy and then sat down with her in the stove-side rocking chair and began to sing a lullaby to her.
The rest of us went over the plans. The Energy Exchange had several hidden rooms in the back, as well as the connections to Underground Seattle. It was hard to tell from the schematics whether they had cordoned off a part of the underground tunnels for their private use, but it seemed likely.
Morio pointed out the route to get there, which ran through parts of Underground Seattle. Back in the late 1880s, a glue pot caught on fire and the resulting blaze destroyed twenty-five city blocks. When they went to rebuild, they decided to (a) build out of stone and brick rather than wood and (b) regrade the streets one to two stories higher than they’d been. The resulting tangle created a maze of buildings; some that had escaped the blaze were now two stories belowground, reachable only by ladders. So as the new roads were built, the businesses relocated to the new street level and what had been the storefronts and streets now existed hidden, below the main city. Part of the labyrinth was still reachable via an underground tour, but a great deal of Underground Seattle had been forgotten, left to the Supes who made it their home.
“So, do we go in the front or come in from below?” Morio asked.
“If we go in the front door, they’ll have time to escape.” I stared at the plans. “The only thing is…the ghosts. We may have to face ghosts down there again. Ivana Krask couldn’t have gotten all of them. Could she?” I turned to Menolly.
“No. She got the ones around the area where we were chasing the serial killer, but that was it. I doubt if she’s been back down there on her own.” She glanced at Morio. “You okay with going back there?”
Morio shivered. “I admit it, I’m not that thrilled about the idea, but I’m not about to shy away. I’m not going to panic.”
Vanzir was leaning against the doorjamb. “We should take Shamas. He’s a sorcerer.”
“Good thinking. He should be home soon, but I’ll call him.” Camille crossed to the corner where she could phone him without our chatter interfering.
“So, we go in from below. We sneak through the tunnels, come up the back way. Which means we’ll get a chance to see their dirty secrets first. But we have to be prepared for guards.” I held up Lysanthra. My blade shimmered and sang to me. She was sentient, alive, and tingled in my hand. The longer I’d been a Death Maiden, the stronger my connection with the blade had become.
Menolly glanced at the clock. “We should head out. Any word on Shamas?”
“He’ll be here by the time we’re out to the cars. He was just turning into the driveway when I called.” Camille pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She was wearing an Emma Peel catsuit, with a leather bustier over the top and a short skirt that wouldn’t impede her movement. Her ankle boots were grannies, laced up, with kitten heels.
I’d changed into a pair of well-worn jeans that bent easily with my movements, and a V-necked tee, over which I pulled a denim jacket. My boots of choice were a pair of steel-toed hiking boots. Menolly wore her usual black jeans and long-sleeved turtleneck, and Doc Martens.
The guys were decked out in their usual fare; Roz flashed us with his freshly stocked duster, and it looked like he had a bunch of new toys in there.
