Authors: Unknown
Uri
glowered as he sat on the floor. His head was now level with Louis’s. He
flipped open the folder and removed two photographs: Eliot and Fiona Post.
“The
primary interest is the boy.”
The
family knew of his children?
The
picture of the situation shifted in Louis’s mind. He saw himself as a small
wheel between two much larger gears—his family and the League. He had to
leverage himself a better position or be crushed.
“What
precisely is being offered here?” Louis asked.
Uri
chuckled, and the deep rumble roiled through Louis’s stomach like nausea. “You
make this so easy. You are but a man. And what does any man desire? Power?
Fame? Wealth?”
“Yes
. . . ,” Louis murmured, hoping to get a few more seconds to think.
No
matter how desperate his situation, Louis had always managed to wiggle free,
always emerged from dung heaps smelling of roses. Save for once, of course; but
that involved a love most treacherous—so it didn’t really count.
Louis
also had his reputation to consider here. He couldn’t allow his cousin to best
him in a simple brokerage for power. He would never be able to live with
himself.
He
blinked and considered the photograph of Eliot. It had been taken perhaps a
year earlier. He was so young and so talented. Louis caught himself reaching
out to touch the picture.
What
was this? Was he feeling pity for the boy? How odd. How distressing. And yet,
something else churned inside him, a new emotion—soft and unpalatable—some
vague desire to protect the child.
“Power,”
Louis whispered without taking his eyes off the photos. “Make me the world’s
most powerful practitioner of the dark arts.”
Uri
sighed, sounding disappointed. “I expected so much more from the Master
Deceiver.” He dug through his jacket and retrieved a tablet computer. “It shall
be so: you will be made the world’s most powerful mortal.”
Of
course that was the catch: mortal.
Louis
would never regain his former glory, unless he could rob one of his cousins of
his or her power . . . but that would be like a gnat bringing down a bull
elephant.
“And
what does the Board want in return? Specifically?”
Uri
checked a few boxes on his tablet computer, filling out the form contract.
“They specifically want you to deliver the boy, intact body and soul, for the
usual rituals.”
The
“usual rituals” would remove Eliot from Del Sombra. If he was human, body and
soul would be torn asunder. If he was part of the family, the rituals would
cement his fate and translocate him to another realm where Beal no doubt had
plans for Louis’s son.
For
a split second Louis wanted to kick over the table, grab Uri by the throat, and
demand that he leave his children be.
How
foolish.
He’d
known his mind had gone soft—it was, after all, only flesh and blood now, and
addled from years of drinking. Still, something about these new emotions Louis
could not ignore.
“You
find something disagreeable?” A faint smile played upon Uri’s lips.
If
Louis refused to negotiate a deal, then the fence separating him from his pit
bull of a cousin would be removed. Uri would take his time tearing him into tiny
pieces.
“Just
considering the options. What is your timetable?”
“No
longer than three days hence at sunset will we require the boy. Else you
default on the contract—with the usual consequences.”
Louis
gave a careless toss of his hand. “Yes, of course. Soul dragged to hell.
Eternal damnation. Blah blah blah.” He leaned closer, reading the upside-down
contract. “I was more interested in my payout schedule.”
“What
payout schedule?” Uri looked up, now confused.
“You
don’t expect me to pluck the boy from the army of League agents with my bare
hands? I was thinking half down now, and half upon delivery.”
Uri
snorted. “You have your wits, Deceiver; that is all you ever needed. Giving you
half the power now makes you all the more slippery and untrustworthy.”
Louis
spread his arms in a deprecating gesture. “You honor me with your implications,
Cousin. But half it must be. If this task were easy, then why are you so
desperately employing me in the first place?”
Uri
tapped a photo of Eliot. “Because you know him. He trusts you.”
“Yes,
of course . . . you need a betrayal.” For some strange reason, it hurt Louis to
say these words.
Uri
stopped fussing with the form contract, sensing something wrong, too. “Is there
a problem with that? You have betrayed us all a dozen times before.”
“No.
No problem at all.” Louis flashed his armored smile. “What problem could there
possibly be? Other than our terms . . . which apparently are at an—”
“Impasse.”
Uri set the tablet down.
They
stared at one another. The air grew still and heavy.
“You
leave me little choice, Cousin.” Uri started to shrug off his jacket—so no
blood would spatter it. Dry-cleaning the nearly infinite inner surface would be
dreadfully expensive.
“Always
the brute.” Louis waggled a finger at Uri and set a pair of dice on the table.
Uri
halted.
“We
cannot come to an agreement,” Louis said. “So shall we roll?”
Uri
snatched the dice. From his jacket he removed calipers and a scale that
measured their dimensions and weight. “Very well. If I lose on my first toss,
standard craps rules—you shall have half your power.”
Louis
opened his mouth to argue. One could only lose at craps on the first roll if
the dice came up double ones or double sixes. Lousy odds.
But
then he realized Uri didn’t technically have to roll for anything. He was, in
fact, being generous. The tradition of dice in deal making only applied to family
members . . . of which Louis had departed when he unwillingly joined the human
race.
So
why offer him any chance?
Unless
he actually wanted to give him some edge against Beal? Was Uri still loyal to
his beloved Queen of Poppies?
This
would make Louis, by proxy, Sealiah’s pawn . . . but he could live with that. A
pawn was in the game, after all—which was a huge leap forward from where he’d
sat only a few days ago pissing himself in some alley.
“I
accept,” Louis said. “Let us see if chance favors fools.”
Uri
shot him a grin. He shook the dice and the motions of his massive arm moved the
air. He tossed them against the far wall, where they impacted with a crack and
bounced to a halt.
Snake
eyes.
“I
lose,” Uri said unperturbed. “You win.”
Louis
smiled like an idiot. He would have half his power now. He could actually do
something other than skulk in alleyways.
But
his smile faded as his gaze fell upon the photos of Eliot and Fiona, and
something stabbed the spot where his heart had once been.
What
had he done?
40
SMALL
AMONG GIANTS
Fiona
dismounted and pulled off her borrowed motorcycle helmet. She shook out her
hair.
Her
body thrummed from the ride up the coast. Robert’s Harley had the speed and
power of a rocket. She had clung to him—totally scared out of her mind,
thrilled, too.
He’d
picked her up from Ringo’s only fifteen minutes ago, and there was no way they
could have made it so far up the coast. Yet, as with Uncle Henry’s limousine
ride, they hadn’t seemed to go that fast, just that everyone else on the Coast
Highway had seemed slow in comparison.
What
bothered Fiona more, though, was when Julie and Eliot had returned from their
break. Julie looked as if she’d been crying. Eliot looked bewildered (as
usual). She’d wanted to ask him what had happened, but then Robert showed up .
. . and she’d left.
Robert
got off his bike and stretched his leather-clad body. All other thoughts faded
from Fiona’s mind.
After
holding on to him for so long, smelling leather, she wanted to go back and
cling to him some more.
Was
this really a date? So many things had happened so quickly, and little of it
made any sense. But did it have to make sense for Fiona to enjoy herself?
And
if this was her first date, she didn’t want to blow it. She unthinkingly
brushed her fingers through her hair, worrying the ends. She forced herself to
stop. She didn’t want to look like a nervous little girl.
“This
way.” Robert strode toward the trailhead.
Surrounding
the tiny gravel lot where they had parked was a forest of shadows, ferns, and
wildflowers. The sign by the trail read REDWOOD NATIONAL FOREST INTERPRETIVE
TRAIL 0.6 MILES (LOOP).
“Just
a sec,” she said.
Fiona
set her book bag on the bike and reached inside for her chocolates—just two or
three to perk her up. Her hand wavered, however, over the heart-shaped box.
She’d never felt more confident. Did she really need them? She’d never before been
able to talk to anyone other than Grandmother, Cee, or her brother. Had she
changed? Or was it just the sugar?
What
if this wasn’t really her? What happened when the never-ending box of
chocolates . . . ended?
Maybe
it was time to find out.
Fiona
zipped up the bag and trotted after Robert.
The
instant they stepped onto the path, the sounds from the road vanished. Insect
buzz, birdcall, and the nearly imperceptible sound of the air moving filled her
ears.
She’d
seen the huge trees before in books, but now just a few steps from them, it
felt different. These redwoods were giants—all silently looking down and
watching her.
“There
are sequoias in the mountains that are more massive,” Robert explained in a
reverent whisper, “but these redwoods are the tallest trees in the world. Some
grow over three hundred feet.”
They
walked solemnly along the trail, and Fiona craned her head upward, trying to
find the treetops. The redwoods filled the sky. Layers of fog drifted in and
out and added to the illusion that she was in a private world, alone with
Robert.
“I
must sound like a dork, quoting facts like some encyclopedia.”
“No,”
Fiona said, her head still angled up. “I like it.” Uncharacteristically not
looking where her feet were, she stumbled.
Robert
caught her, and suddenly his face was close to hers. The earth seemed to spin
and her heart pounded.
Robert
inhaled sharply, hesitated, then helped her stand.
“I
come here whenever I can,” he said. “Makes me feel calm, you know?”
Calm
was the last thing Fiona had felt in his arms.
But
he was now acting withdrawn from her as he had before . . . outside the
apartment building. What had he said? That he was a driver and there were rules
about “a guy like him being with a girl like her”?
The
last thing Fiona wanted to do was ruin the mood and jinx her first date, but
Robert knew things and was willing to tell her. She had him alone now, far away
from Uncle Henry and Grandmother. What was more important? Ruining the mood and
getting real information about her family? Or trying to nurture her nonexistent
love life?