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At first I thought they were trying to. Plant a. Seed of doubt, wanting me to. Shun. My old associations. But there’s FAR more shit going on than I ever dreamed of. You think you have everything figured out, then whOOSH! the game changes.
Micro-pauses around “plant a” and “shun.” Plantation. Then he blatantly emphasized “far” and the end of “whoosh.” Far oosh. Farouche. Clever dude to leave as many clues as possible. After another dozen listens without any more discoveries, I shut the recorder off and kicked back to watch the scenery for a while.
• • •
Even limiting the “breathe and chill” breaks to ten minutes, it was well after dark when we finally arrived in Austin.
Bryce followed the navigation commands of the GPS, focus sharpening as we neared the address. I remained silent until the nav system directed us to her street, then straightened and peered at house numbers. A retired summoner living in a nice middle-class subdivision in Austin. That was more than a little surreal.
“There’s her house,” I said. “The ranch style, second on the right. Bryce can you circle the block? Everyone else, keep your eyes peeled for anything that looks off or might be a threat.”
“Can do,” he said as we drove past. Normal protection wards flickered in my othersight, but a first glance didn’t reveal anything complex or serious. The area looked like a solid middle class neighborhood that had hit its prime a decade or two ago. Not shabby by a long shot, but in decline. Well-kept houses in a mix with those in varying states of disrepair. One of the three streetlights on the block was out, and pothole repair obviously wasn’t high on the municipality’s priority list.
Bryce drove around the block, then parked several houses away from Rasha’s while he kept up a constant scan. “I don’t see anything,” he said. “Though I could easily miss something in the dark.”
“What do you want me to do?” Paul asked.
“You’re coming with us,” I told him as I unbelted. “Bring your laptop.” I climbed out of the Escalade and looked around carefully as the others got out. Eilahn parked the motorcycle behind us, climbed off, then stretched. She carefully placed her helmet on the seat and gave me an I’ll-be-nearby look before she disappeared into the shadows to serve as our outside sentry. I took Mzatal’s hand, then gave Bryce a tilt of my head to indicate I needed to talk to the lord for a minute. He apparently understood, and beckoned to Paul.
“You stick close to me, kid,” Bryce said as he walked with Paul a short ways down the cracked sidewalk. “We’re going to be hanging back a bit.”
Once they were out of earshot, I looked up at Mzatal. “We’re all upset and worried about Idris, but I need you to please not scare the living hell out of this woman.”
His mouth curved into a frown. “It is not my intention to do so.”
“Yes, I know it’s not your intention,” I said dryly. “But you’re a wee bit intimidating without even trying.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Probably better if we don’t give her a heart attack before we find out what we need to know. So, could you be aware of it and try not to radiate your usual ‘Ima gonna fuck you up’ mojo?”
“It has served well,” Mzatal stated as if reminding me.
“On Earth?” I asked, pursing my lips.
His frown lessened. “I do understand your meaning,” he said. “I will not cause her undue distress.”
“No looming, no glowering, and especially no scowling,” I stated.
He narrowed his eyes down at me. “You are stripping me of my finest devices.”
“You still have me,” I informed him with a grin. “Maybe I should do the talking, and you can be my heavy.”
A second passed before he smiled, no dou
bt needing the time to glean the mental imagery of what I meant. “I am willing to utilize this technique . . . once.”
I chuckled, relieved. “Thanks, lover.”
He slid his arms around and gave me a deep and luxurious kiss, then nuzzled my neck before releasing me. “I am now prepared to be heavy.”
“Remind me to prepare you to be heavy more often,” I said a bit breathlessly.
With that settled, we continued up the street toward her address, Bryce and Paul falling in behind us. Despite the slight decline of the neighborhood in general, Rasha’s property seemed to be well-maintained and neat.
Mzatal approached the door, stripped the warding with a single gesture, as if brushing away cobwebs, then put his hand on the doorknob. It was locked, but he smoothly worked a strand of potency into the lock, and a second later he turned the knob and stepped in.
Exhaling a breath, I followed, listening and scanning carefully, though I knew Mzatal would inform us of any threats. Paul and Bryce entered quickly behind us and closed the door with barely a click. I heard a clink of dishes in the kitchen and put a hand on Mzatal’s arm. Let me lead, I silently reminded him. The skin around his eyes tightened, but he allowed me to move in front of him.
With Mzatal’s mojo like a roiling sun behind me, I stepped through an archway into a tidy kitchen. Rasha stood with her back to us, a delicate china cup in one arthritic hand as she placed a teakettle on a burner. A simple emerald green velour robe hung over her nightgown, above fake-jeweled slippers that managed to look elegant rather than gaudy. A thick braid of white-grey hair hung past her shoulder blades, and what I could see of her face revealed fine lines and graceful aging.
Mzatal’s dark aura rolled over her. She turned and sucked in a breath, warm brown eyes widening in shock as the cup slipped from her bent, rigid fingers to shatter on the tile floor. She made a strangled noise and took a step back, fumbled for the cane that rested against the counter as her eyes went from me to the lord who loomed behind me—despite the no-looming warning. Crap, she might still have a heart attack.
