Cole stood in the foyer, staring, having heard Vayl’s question. His expression caused a smile to sneak onto my face. Waving at Cole I said, “Have Berggia tel you. I’m going to get Helena ready to go.”
But before I did that I had my own preparations to make.
I stepped into my room and raided the worn black pack I used to tote weapons in. Ten pounds of gear later I whispered to myself, “Okay, so am I ready to move?” I touched Grief, stil holstered at my shoulder. Practiced pul ing the bolo that had saved my ass enough times I’d begun to consider giving it a name. Because holy water would only piss the mage off, I’d unstrapped the syringe that contained my mobile supply from my right wrist and belted on a longer contraption that held what looked like a chrome pipe. Spring-loaded just like my syringe, it was built to telescope from each end when the hilt hit my hand, so that within seconds of activation I held a stainless-steel staff almost exactly my height. Usual y it rol ed around in the bottom of the bag, used only on hand-to-hand workout days because it was great for bashing if you had to fight in close.
But girls my size tend to avoid those situations like we skip closing time at seedy bars. So I only brought it out when I needed to defend against spel s from men whose magic hated the taste of refined metal. As soon as I spun the staff, the protective runes along its length added even more oomph to the shield, al owing me time to activate my second line of defense.
On my left forearm I’d wrapped a guard that ran from elbow to wrist. Stainless steel wrapped by leather, it provided practical protection against weapon strikes and fanged or clawed attacks. Upon a specific set of hand signals, it also sent a suggestion to my attacker that he should back off before I separated his head from his shoulders. Since Sterling had designed the piece, I trusted that it worked, though I’d never needed to activate it before.
Knowing Cole, Sterling, and Kyphas were also preparing to go up against the mage, I took my time deciding whether or not Vayl’s cane should make the trip with us. It stil lay inside my trunk like a lost treasure. Final y I nodded. “Might as wel assume we’re going to succeed,” I said as I picked it up.
Holding the cane in the middle so that its blue jewel seemed to light the way, I ran to Bergman’s room and pounded on the door. “Miles! Get off your fat ass and lemme in! Work to do!”
Nothing for maybe a ful minute, during which I made intermittent loud sounds and escalating threats. And then, shuffling and whispers. Who was he talking to? Had Raoul returned Astral already? The door opened a crack. His eyebal said, “I’l be right down.”
“Okay.”
The door closed. I backed up, leaning against the wal , crossing my ankles and arms until I was comfy for the wait.
When the door opened again Monique came out, so busy rearranging dishes on her tray that she didn’t notice me.
But Bergman did. He jumped and yelped, slamming the door behind them so hard that I heard a picture fal off the wal inside his room.
Bergman and Monique looked guiltily into my grinning face.
I said, “This place has excel ent room service.” They replied at the same time.
Bergman: “We were just talking! About winter, because it’s been so long since Monique has seen snow. And sheet
—I mean sleet! Not sheets! No sheets were discussed in there!”
Monique: “He is so thin! I just wanted to offer him nourishment!”
I laughed. “Bergman, we gotta go.”
“Okay, then.” He waved at Monique like she was boarding a bus. And, hilariously, she waved back before heading downstairs.
Deciding it was time to let him off the hook, I changed the subject. “Vayl’s waiting for us. I stil have to get Kyphas and Sterling.” I glanced through the hal window into the courtyard. Our warlock was back at the gazebo. Which meant Kyphas was probably hiding from him. “C’mon,” I ordered.
His shoulders slumped. “Al right.”
Her room was just down the hal from Bergman’s. I patted him on the shoulder when we got there. “Cheer up, Miles. Didn’t anyone ever tel you that guys are supposed to be happy when they’re getting some?”
“I’m not getting any!” Bergman shouted just as Kyphas opened the door.
She arched her eyebrows at our sci-guy, who looked to be searching for handy trapdoors in the floor.
I beamed. “This night just gets better and better.” CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sterling and Cole sat waiting for me in the riad’s romantical y lit courtyard.
Cole wore a calf-length overcoat whose lining had been removed as a nod to the weather. He’d stil look weird strol ing around Marrakech dressed in gangsta duds, but it was better than walking down the street with his rifle flapping. And what a weapon. Before his death, Pete had caved to Cole’s nagging and bought him a Heckler & Koch PSG1, which was arguably the most accurate sniper rifle in the world. With it he could strike multiple targets with very little lag time in between. Ideal if the mage turned out to be less of a loner than we’d anticipated.
As I settled in across from the men, Sterling growled,
“Where’s the demon? You didn’t leave her alone with that defenseless little stick boy of yours, did you?”
“He’s more skil ed than he looks,” I said. “Besides, she’s stil under contract. Anyway, she was right behind me.” I looked. Nope. No Kyphas. Squelching the uneasy feeling that she’d fol owed Bergman, not to kil , but maybe to try a little torture like she’d done with me, I went on.
“Miles said he’d get Vayl.”
No need to explain that I needed five more minutes away from the Madame Berggia persona he’d forced on me. I knew they could see it in the way I pounded his cane onto the floor tile.
Cole patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’l find the perfect target for your frustrations tonight.” He turned to Sterling. “Unless you’re planning on blasting the bad guy with something menacing from your pocket-o’-doom?” The warlock had been hiding his hands behind his back, which made me more nervous than I liked to let on.
Now he brought out an antique teapot.
“I was expecting something a little more… penis shaped,” said Cole.
Sterling smirked. “My best stuff is designed to put the victim completely at ease before it strikes.” He tipped up the lid so Cole and I could look inside. It already contained half a cup of dried leaves and some dehydrated berries.
“When this is boiled, it’l fil the air with an odor that’l deeply relax anyone who smel s it. I have a special wax to plug our noses, which wil protect us from the other effects.”
“Which are?” Cole asked.
Sterling said, “They vary. But overal people find it hard to concentrate on a fight. It begins to seem pointless and sil y to them. So at one end of the spectrum they’l be less aggressive during battle. And at the other they’l give up al their secrets, because suddenly they love everybody.” Cole clapped him on the shoulder. “I like having you along. We should work together more often.” Sterling’s smile leaned closer to sly than I felt comfortable with. “That may have already been arranged.” I began to say, “What do you mean by that?” But somewhere around the word “do” Bergman jogged into the courtyard, completely winded from his previous run down two flights of stairs and a couple of short hal ways. Have I mentioned that he sits too much?
He gasped, “Vayl’s gone.”