Once Lost Lords (Royal Scales, Book 1) (3 page)

There were more than a dozen crosses, horseshoes, carefully pressed
clovers. I even had rocks with holes worn through the center. The
collection covered any warding charms that superstition might allow.
Each one placed carefully on the wall in a descending pattern to the
bottom of the stairs. Some actually worked. My favorite was a tiny
cross made of pure silver. Dual function. Next to that was a set of
knuckle covers made of iron underweight coated in silver. The metals
combined in a slightly mushy exterior when fighting certain races.
Not my most violent tool, but effective, quiet, and legal. I grabbed
both. Being ready with the right equipment had allowed me to succeed
years ago. Tonight’s armaments weren’t needed for a
reputation. One was in case my ex managed to find me and was unhappy.
The other in case tonight’s job wasn’t as easy as I
hoped.

Habitually I roamed the entire bottom floor. Each room got a once
over for disturbances. Nothing felt out of place. A lot of the items
were still in boxes from my four-year exodus. Others were on shelves
for display. Dust and webs piled up in untouched corners. Everything
seemed secure.

Fourteen minutes had passed. Dawdling now would put me face to face
with my greatest worry. A cab should be available outside Julianne’s.
Seven shots meant escaping without a car would be difficult. I might
run into a wall in panic.

Twenty blocks to the east things were looking a bit better. The cabby
hadn’t talked beyond asking for a fare. No rain threatened to
ruin the walk. More importantly, Kahina was nowhere in sight. She
could have been truly happy to see me, or satisfied that I finally
dared to return home.

I had been pacing on the sidewalk since leaving the cab. Vehicles
never sat well with me. Most of my traveling took place by walking or
a bus. Hell. Buckling down and keeping busy would serve me well. Even
if the hasty escape required sitting in a car. Tonight wasn’t
the best night to try and track someone down. Panic induced
adrenaline couldn’t completely cancel out my inebriation.

One hand brought out the small pouch. The other fidgeted in a jacket
pocket with the silver coated knuckles, slipping them off and on
again. I undid the button and pulled out a cheap brass lipstick tube.
Its top popped off easily so I could peer inside. Rather than the hue
of pink or red smear-able paste there was a tiny rolled up picture.

Fine, pictures were usually a better focus than the tube. Even if it
had been used until the lipstick was gone. Well, both might serve. A
moment of concentration later I felt a pull at my left shoulder. Not
too far away, not too close, it seemed an hour out by foot, which was
good.

Eastward I went, wandering the late night with a fuzzy cloud over my
vision. Sobriety should be closer by the time I found whoever it was
these items connected to. In my haste Julianne hadn’t gotten a
chance to give me the name. Still, the pouch never lied.

Hell. I somehow left without my prepaid phone so calling back to the
bar would be tough. That was another sign of how inebriated I was. Or
of how much modern technology annoyed me. An hour or two later,
depending on the delay from my drunken stagger, I was smack in the
middle of an L-shaped apartment complex. Real low-class stuff, a
barely sanitary pool on one side, overstuffed parking lot on the
other. Cars were crammed into spots that didn’t really exist
along the grass and near trees. My tracking vision had led me up to
one of the apartments upstairs.

Full on trance mode wasn’t needed yet. The weaker the link, the
harder it was to get a solid fix. This picture was of two boys at
some sort of camp. One an elf, grumpy looking, the other an excited
human. Both with sun-drenched blond hair and the same closely cropped
haircut. Ears and their expressions were the only things different.

The lipstick tube was completely separate in its impression though it
still went to the same spot. It was almost like tracking through
triangulation. Both items tied to the same person for different
reasons.

First was a lap around the house to check for alternate exits. Some
people bolted when you tried to collect bills. Others fought back,
trying to make it difficult to push the issue. Occasionally they
sobbed. The only exit was in the form of two parallel windows that
likely went to bedrooms. Nothing to be concerned about, if he
squeezed out and fell two stories catching up would be easier. He
also left me with an entire house of things that linked back to him
if I needed something fresher than what I had.

Hopefully, he wasn’t the elf in the picture. Some played dirty,
with illusion and deceit I couldn’t keep up with. Luckily they
were a limited breed, not like some of the other species Julianne
sent me after. The official statistic was that one in twenty elves
could do illusions. From personal experience it was even less than
that. I was only human, sure I had one of the rare spin-off gifts of
tracking and other things, but it wasn’t a substitute for raw
speed or power or both. My abilities were all situational.

Both focuses went into my front pocket. I hiked up the stairs. The
cheap half rusted railing rattled as I traveled. Breaking down the
door had its uses for scare factor, but there were a lot of neighbors
and one would likely call the police.

Four minutes of knocking had an effect. Two people yelled at me to
shut up and finally the space behind the peephole lit up. A brief
flash of darkness over the hole meant someone was looking out.

“Who is it?” The voice was tired, male, timid sounding.

“I’m here to talk to you about some business ventures.”
I never thought negotiation was a bad tactic to try first. It avoided
unwanted attention and sometimes they ran. In running, they sometimes
ended up in an area without any witnesses. Sometimes they shot at me,
and that made everything I did to them justified.

“Are you sure?” It almost sounded like he was expecting
someone else. “What for?”

“A debt,” I said.

“Go away.” No denial and the objects in the pouch pointed
this way. The little guy sounded firm now. I’d lay money on him
not being older than eighteen unless he was the elf in the picture.
Years are hard to tell on them.

“I’ve got all night, and I don’t mind shouting.”
It was as close to voicing a threat as I could safely get.

“Leave me alone,” He said.

“Hey, I’m here to help you.”

“You are not here to help, you are a thug who wants to break my
kneecaps.” The idiot, what did he think I was? Some sort of old
fashioned vampire gang member? Then again it was near midnight. I was
increasingly likely to break one kneecap.

“No need. I can find you anytime, anywhere.” Talking
through the door was annoying.

“What? She has her tracker back?” He sounded strangely
hopeful.“Maybe. Let me in, we’ll work something out.”
I didn’t need to take it all back by force. Anything of value
could be pawned for a partial repayment. That kept the debt open and
collectible, and no one needed to get hurt.

“No, I would rather not,” He said.

“Suit yourself.” Plan B, I started knocking louder.
“Davie, Davie I know you’re in there.” I had no
clue if his name was Davie or not. “I saw what you did to my
little sister you raping bastard.” My voice wasn’t
exactly loud, but it held a tone like I was restraining myself. It
was the kind of comment people tended to hear but ignored, letting
things sort themselves out.

“If you don’t open this door, Davie, right this minute,
I’m calling the police.” I almost gave the impression of
shouting the last part.

“Davie!” The door opened and I could see one of the
blonds from the photo. It was hard to tell which one since his hair
was longer and a downright mess.

“What in creation is wrong with you?” He asked.

I walked inside by shouldering his thinner frame out of the way.
Practiced eyes wandered through his house gauging items for their
value. Anything worthwhile and mobile might take a trip home with me.
The elf trailed behind me, barely awake. He was muttering to himself
in elvish. The accent sounded different from the normal waterfall
noises elves spoke in.

A brief search of the house revealed he had less than I did, at least
my upstairs. There was no chance of solving this tonight unless he
had a debit card with hefty savings tied to it. I kept one hand
around the knuckles and the other checking drawers for rolled bills
or a jewelry. Oddly the thin man didn’t fight back. He wasn’t
even nervous as I wandered about the apartment getting nowhere. Maybe
he had nothing or was too tired. While his skin and voice seemed
young, the eyes looked worn down. I settled in the living room after
taking one last scan.

“Ten thousand.” Blond bastard didn’t even blink,
but he wasn’t making eye contact either. Good, my brain wasn’t
firing in one direction due to drunkenness.

“Ten thousand dollars.”

“I do not have it. Tell her I can not pay yet.” His words
were painfully crisp despite his exhaustion.

“What do you have?” I asked. Turned out the elf had a lot
of silence. My mind was too far from this whole thing to get into a
properly intimidating role.

“Alright. Here’s the friendly version. By tomorrow night,
have something. Anything to pay towards your debt. Tonight I’m
peaceful.” I said. The alcohol on my breath must be terrible.
Hopefully, work was more fun if they thought I was a crazy drunken
bill collector.

I looked around for something to cut with. A better link would be
needed for tracking him again. There was only one solid option. A
kitchen knife sat on the counter. Scary, and effective. Poor guy was
too meek and worn to deal with my nighttime intrusion. I wasn’t
feeling it either, this whole thing had been a poor excuse to get out
of the area. Still, work was work.

“Stand still.” I grabbed the knife off the counter top.
His eyes went to the blade’s edge. A sane person would have
thrown up arms, backed up, protested, the elf just put off a confused
air. He must have been sheltered by his clan until recently.

“I'll be taking a sample.” I lifted a swath of hair and
sliced away. His scalp was rudely yanked, but the elf only winced. He
seemed almost sad. Clearly I was not what he expected.

It only took one hand to get a good feel for the weight of the knife.
A quick heft of the cheap item and it was lodged into the far wall.
Blades weren’t my thing, but they were intimidating in the
right hands. That little trick had taken a long time to get down
right.

“I could call the cops.” The blond man finally found a
measure of backbone. His voice more emotionless than it was a moment
ago, perhaps it had something to do with me cutting off a chunk of
his grimy hair.

“Go ahead, call the puppies, you’re the one with debts.”

The best way to turn a bluff around was reminding them they could
crash and burn too. It helped that he didn’t know my name. I
wrapped the bit of hair around itself and put it my other pocket. My
free hand went to the set of knuckles, keeping it slipped on in case
things got crazy.

“My neighbor…”

“Doesn’t owe ten grand.” I cut him off.

“Is one of those things you called a puppy.”

A low growl crept through the thin walls, broken up by snorts and
snores. Hopefully, the neighbor was asleep and assumed my loudmouth
was part of a dream. Nothing bothered the wolves like talking trash.
Rarely did they have a sense of humor with non pack. Elves ignored
insults and tripped a descendant for the grandparent's slight.
Vampires bought out entire businesses to ruin someone’s career.
Wolves settled for kicking the offending ass all over town.

Prime time television had a show based on two real life wolf lawyers.
Producers put reinforced cages around the jurors and judge. The
show’s gimmick was getting both wolves wound up and letting
them fly. They threw around chairs, tables, and started swinging at
each other while reciting legal jargon.

“Tomorrow night,” I grabbed now uneven hair and jerked
his head up. “I’ll find you if you run.” He looked
confused then made a motion to ask something else.

I put one giant hand in his face to shush him and walked off. His
question would be the same pointless whining everyone spouted. My
brain was fuzzy beyond caring. The drunken swerve to my steps was
proof enough. I exited through the maze of parked cars, not caring at
this point about the rest of the neighbors or what the debtor did
behind my back. Tomorrow I would be sober and careful.

Eventually, these painkillers would kick in. Staggering up the stairs
this early required barely achievable coordination. The rock had
fallen down a few steps, either by drunk me or someone else visiting.
Paranoia made me do a quick scan of the basement. I set about
reviewing boxes, counting collectibles and looking for disturbances
in the dust.

Non-human invaders should avoid the charm wall. Failing that, the
silver and iron strips on my stairs would hurt others. Wolves were
often barefoot. Home defense was a careful art that I almost
compulsively built as my collection grew. Most spare money went into
protection. Each layer of defense pushed the border of Julianne’s
property rules. She owned this place, but I made it mine.

My treasures included many items. There were first edition comics,
statues with gems, rare coins, and decent artwork rolled into tubes.
A small collection of ornamental swords lined one wall. In one of the
boxes from my travels, I acquired a real sword and shield, heavy
weighted solid materials. Those items included an unfair amount of
jewelry. I could have given Kahina a gift every day for a year and
had some leftover, but I didn’t. Everything down there belonged
to me alone.

I went back upstairs and set about my morning workout. A breakfast
burrito went into the microwave and the ding of completion signaled
my readiness to face the world. Upon opening the door, I discovered a
man in a well-dressed suit and black sunglasses. He stood ten feet
from the door while outlined by a blazing afternoon sun.