Chapter Three – Pointy Objects
Bo held the katana in front of her like a samurai warrior, and slowly sliced it through the air. She spun into a series of choreographed, intensely precise swings. Routines like this helped Bo maintain control when she was hungry, horny, or angry. After her conversation with the Morrigan, Bo was a mixture of all three.
"You were right. The siren, the shifter, the fairy and the doctor showed up at the museum. They fell for the fake." Bo placed the real Stone in the Morrigan's eager hands.
"You do good work," the leader of the Dark replied.
"You have no idea." Bo's eyes travelled up and down the Morrigan's body before Bo could stop herself. Pure instinct was such a pain in the ass.
"Oooh, cheeky. I love a girl with spirit."
Bo twirled a lock of the Morrigan's hair between her fingers. "And I love an employer who pays what is owed."
"Touché." The Morrigan snapped her fingers and one of her hunky bodyguards stepped up, carrying a small burlap sack on a tray. "Two hundred thousand Canadian dollars, as agreed." Bo opened the bag and peeked inside, just to make sure. "You don't trust me?" The Morrigan pretended to be hurt.
"No, I don't."
"Smart girl. What's your plan now that you're rich? You can move out of that crack shack you're living in with that filthy human…"
"I prefer Clubhouse, and the human's name is Kenzi," Bo steamed.
"Or you could put that hunk of junk vehicle out of its misery…"
"She's not an 'it', she's a 'she'."
"You could buy sleeves for all those tacky leather vests you wear…"
"Watch it, bitch!"
"Or you could double your earnings by taking another assignment."
"…I'm listening."
Bo inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and listened to the katana as it whooshed undisturbed through the air. She pirouetted like a ballerina and sliced down and…
"AAAH!" Kenzi screamed. Bo's eyes flew open to see her roommate standing in front of her, holding two halves of a cardboard box, cereal streaming down onto the hardwood floor.
"Dude! You disemboweled my Honey Berry Crunch!"
"Jesus Kenz, how many times do I have to tell you NOT to sneak up on me when I'm meditating?"
"You call that meditating? I call it death dealing." Kenzi bent down to clean the sad, sad remains of her breakfast. Bo helped her finish. The last thing the Clubhouse needed was rats. "What happened with the Morrigan today?" Kenzi asked, scooping the cereal into the trash can.
"She offered me another job. I turned it down."
"BoBo!" Kenzi slapped her arm. "What the hellz?"
"She wanted us to steal from a Light Fae elder. I told her we don't roll that way."
"Of course we roll that way. Money is money, or did you forget?"
"We're not thieves, Kenz. Okay, maybe you are…"
"Dude! You just pinched the Gareth Lloyd Stone, or whatever the hell it was called, from a museum!"
"Yeah but that doesn't count. Museums steal all the time so it's more like…redistributing. Haven't you ever heard of the Elgin Marbles?"
"Is that like a playground game? Like hopscotch?"
Bo smacked herself in the forehead. "No Kenzi it's not a…that's not the point. There are rules. There's a line! We need some sort of a…a moral code or we're no better than that wolf Dyson and his merry band of grave robbers."
Kenzi stepped into Bo's personal space. "Rules are made to be broken. Lines are meant to be crossed. And I don't need a lecture on moral codes from someone who sucks people's souls out of their mouths to survive."
"First of all I don't suck souls. I suck chi. And second, that has nothing to do with morals. It's biological imperative."
"Guess what? Survival is a biological imperative. And in case you forgot, there's something much bigger and badder than the Morrigan that's going to turn us into Fae food if we don't pay him back what we owe."
"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Bo fumed at her best friend.
"Let's not point fingers, it's so petty and beneath us." Kenzi waved Bo off. "Just call the Morrigan. We'll make some coin, and finally be free. Okay?"
Bo growled and snatched her cell phone from the counter. "Since when are you the boss?"
"Oh, honey," Kenzi patted her on the arm, "I've always been the boss."
Doctor Lauren Lewis had a unique way of working through her anger. And boy, was she feeling pissed off right now. She stared at the target, shaped in the silhouette of a human being, and pictured the Succubus' face right on top. "Make a fool out of me, will you?" She muttered to herself. "We'll see about that."
She pointed the bow toward the ground, and placed the shaft of the arrow on the rest. Using three fingers, she attached the back of the arrow to the string, then raised and drew her bow in one fluid movement. She calculated the distance to the target. Fifty meters. "Steal our loot, will you? Hand it off to the Morrigan so she can show it off around town?" She listened carefully to check if the Central Air was on – it wasn't. There was no wind movement to account for here in the basement of the Ash's Compound. "Embarrass me in front of my team?"
She felt the fletching feathers tickle her cheek. "Well let me ask you something. Do you feel lucky punk?" She narrowed her eyes. "Do ya?" The bare muscles of her upper arms strained. She took a deep breath to settle her movements and then…
…ZING…THWAK! The arrow flew through the air and lodged itself in the target board…
…and missed the head by six inches.
"Oh come ON!" She threw her hands skyward in disgust. Behind her, she heard a slow clap. She turned to see Dyson approaching.
"I've always worried that archery was a dying art. It's good to see that some people are at least trying to keep it alive."
"Typically my aim is more accurate, I assure you." Lauren strode to retrieve the arrow, her footsteps echoing through the empty chamber. She yanked it from the target board, hopped into an 'en-garde' stance and pointed the arrow at Dyson. "I also fence, did you know that?" She took a couple of swings at him, but he dodged easily.
"I've always wondered where got your spectacular muscle definition," Dyson teased
"Hey, these guns don't come for free." She made a muscle and waggled her eyebrows. Dyson simply shook his head. Lauren tossed the arrow at him. "Think you can do better?"
Dyson lazily picked up the bow, strung it, and shot a perfectly aimed arrow right into the cutout's forehead.
"Show off," Lauren muttered.
"Lauren, I was a warrior for at least six of your human lifetimes. I can shoot in my sleep." He pulled an envelope from the pocket of his black leather jacket, and handed it to her. "But I'm not here to show you up, as much as I do enjoy it."
"What's this?"
"An invitation to a reception honoring our new Ash."
Lauren's eyes scanned the elaborate, calligraphic, handwritten card. "But this is being held by the Clan Zamora. It's hosted by Sturgis Santiago, Hale's bigot of a father. Humans won't be welcome here…"
"You will. Special dispensation from the Ash herself."
Lauren leaned back, and looked Dyson up and down. "How did you manage that? I assume it involved boot-licking of some sort."
"There was certainly licking, but I don't recall boots being a part of the equation."
Lauren rolled her eyes skyward and groaned. "You and Hale. I could write an entire dissertation on the voraciousness and eccentricity of Fae libido."
"Go ahead. You could be the Alfred Kinsey of the Fae world."
"It never ceases to amaze me that your kind can live for hundreds of years, yet still display the emotional maturity and social intelligence of thirteen-year-olds."
"The mind reels," Dyson grinned. "Don't you even want to know why we're going?"
"Please, do tell." She smiled sarcastically, and went to retrieve the arrow again. Dyson followed.
"The Llangareth Stone has two siblings…the Orsedd and the Siancyn. According to folklore, whoever holds all three holds the key to incredible power. The Orsedd is currently possessed by Arthur Naia, head of the Cradoc family. He wears it around his neck at all times, and he will be attending this get-together. Trick wants a stone for himself. Badly. And he wants to make sure the Morrigan doesn't get her hands on all three."
Lauren sucked in her breath. "Stealing from a Light Fae elder is a big step up from plundering a museum. Or infiltrating a black market auction. Or digging up antiquities in the Yukon. I'm not so sure about this Dyson."
"Trick's right. If the Morrigan gets her hands on the stones, we'll all be screwed. Think of it as a public service. Anyway, speaking of 'screwed' I haven't told you the best part. Your girlfriend is going to be there."
"Girlfriend?"
"The Succubus from a couple of days ago. Bo. She's on the guest list."
Lauren crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned. "How did she manage that?"
"Succubi have impressive powers of...persuasion. It'll have been quite easy for her. I'm sure she'll be there for the Orsedd, same as us, so we need to be careful. And by we I mean you. She already has her hooks in you."
"Does not." Lauren strung her bow and pulled it back, aiming once again for the imaginary Bo face. Dyson put a hand under her elbow, and gently lifted it up a half-inch.
"I know you too well to believe that for a second, Doc. You're infatuated."
In Lauren's mind, the face on the target morphed from Bo to Dyson. She let loose with the arrow, and it lodged itself right where his big fat wolfy mouth would be. She grinned. "Bullseye."