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“What did you do in the ISA, Daniel?” I didn’t expect him to answer. That kind of information would most likely be classified under a need-to-know basis. And I was right.
“Sorry, Menolly, but that’s NTK.” He shook his head and his gaze cleared. Apparently, our glamour wasn’t having the usual effect, and ten-to-one, he’d been trained against brainwashing and that was how come he kept phasing in and out.
With a nod, I sat back, unsure of what to say next. Really, we were attempting to interrogate him, which was rude considering he was a guest and our relative, but the truth was: We needed to know what was on the table. Just then, Vanzir entered the room. He looked a little flushed, as if he’d been rushing.
He sauntered over to Daniel, and held out his hand. “Dude, nice to meet you. So you know I’m a demon.”
Daniel shrugged. “It has crossed my desk that you are, yes.”
“Well, my good man, it’s crossed my desk that you’re a thief.” That was Vanzir. Blunt and to the point.
Daniel jerked, his eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“Personal shopper, my ass.” Vanzir turned to Camille. “Seems your cousin here has been hiding a rather lucrative career from the police. Perhaps he’d care to come clean unless he wants the authorities to know that he’s one of the most influential, talented cat burglars—for want of a better term—of all time.”
Epic. Silence. Nobody seemed to know what to say, least of all, Daniel. He sat there, silent, a quixotic look on his face.
After a moment, Camille cleared her throat. “Daniel, is this true?”
He shrugged. “You might say that. I suppose now that the cat’s out of the bag, we’d better talk about it. I was going to tell you anyway, when the time was right. Truth is, it occurred to me that forming an alliance with you might benefit the both of us.”
An alliance with a thief. That was a new one, though we’d allied ourselves with far stranger people. And creatures.
“How about you tell us what gives first? Then we’ll decide what to do.” We were back to a place where I was comfortable—leaning on people.
Daniel grinned. “Don’t go all fang-gurl on me, Menolly. I’m not afraid of you. I respect you, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve been up against worse than the likes of you over the years.”
Curious now—the fact that he knew about everyone in the house combined with his lack of fear made me want to know more—I motioned for him to continue.
“Since your friend here decided to investigate me before I could break the news myself, and since I have a feeling there’s no way I can get out of this house without coming clean, then here it is. Vanzir—it is Vanzir, correct?”
Vanzir nodded, nonplussed.
“Very well, then. Vanzir has somehow managed to find out my trade. I pose as a personal shopper, and in a way, that’s the truth. I take commissions from many powerful and influential men and women around the world. And then, I do my best to fulfill their desires.”
“Thief for hire.” I couldn’t help but smirk. It had such a ring to it.
He winked at me. “I prefer to think of myself as a procurer of wondrous and rare commodities. As I said, I belonged to the ISA for ten years, and what I did there, I will never tell anyone. Some memories you do your best to forget. After ten years, I quietly resigned, citing my health, and went about business for another five—cultivating contacts in the art circles, in the antiquities world, among jewelers. I’m blessed with a natural charisma, which against your Fae glamour seems a bit sparse and tacky, I’ll admit. But trust me, I can charm my way into almost any social setting.”
As he spoke, his voice took on a rhythmic cadence. After a few moments, I realized he wasn’t bluffing when he said he had a natural charm. Daniel was gifted, and while he was an FBH to the core, he’d been blessed with the gift of oration.
“So what made you decide to turn thief?” Smoky cut him off, and while he had a smooth, silky voice himself, it was almost as though something big and huge had rammed itself through Daniel’s story.
Daniel gave him a sideways glance. “I have expensive tastes. There aren’t many ways a man can make money. Real money. Good money. The kind of money to keep me situated in the lifestyle I’ve chosen. And I prefer not to steal from those who can’t afford it. I consider my liberation of these objects to be… well… let me just say—most of the items I procure for my clients are investments, more than beloved treasures. I sleep very well at night.”
He sat back, waiting. I glanced at Delilah, who had cocked her head and was staring at Daniel with a bemused look. Camille’s expression read differently. Hands on her hips, she leaned forward.
“Nice whitewash. But really, dude? Let’s face it, you’re a high-class thief, just like a call girl is a high-class prostitute. Only the hooker comes by her money honestly and provides a necessary service.”
“My services are necessary—”
“Oh, please.” She stuck out her tongue and made a pfftting sound that was reminiscent of Delilah and her hairballs. “Necessary for who? Will your clients die if they don’t have that Monet?”
“No, but I might. Consider this: I might die if I don’t make sure they have it. My clients are not prone to being disappointed. On the rare occasions I failed to procure what they wanted, I learned the hard way just how rough some of those high-and-mighty genteel moneyed types can be.” He chuckled, then took off his jacket and pushed up his sleeve. The scars on his arm were nasty. Nasty enough to make even me wince, though it was hard to tell what had happened to him.>Okay then, that was promising. Not. I didn’t much like the sound of any of that, and I had no doubt that if Lowestar Radcliffe was able to wake up this demigod, we’d all be in for a world of hurt.
Using the URL, I followed the path back to see if there was any information about what it was I was looking at. The trail led me to an entry about an archaeological find deep in a group of caverns in Mongolia. Among the antiquities discovered there were a group of scrolls, one of which I’d been reading. They had all been scanned in, but only some of them translated—hence I’d lucked out by finding that one in particular. Who knew what the others held? But by what I could piece together, it appeared that Suvika had originated as either a Mongolian or a Finnish deity—the former seemed more likely.
Considering the power-crazed lust the Khans had possessed, it didn’t seem surprising to find Suvika attached to that culture. Feeling like we had a little more of a handle on things, I finished my notes as the doorbell rang.
