The intercom chimed again. For a moment, he considered throwing it against the wall. But then, his curiosity won. Perhaps there was a deal of the century waiting on the other line. Kaleb reached over and pressed the button. Tamica’s voice came through. “Mr. Green?”
Kaleb sat up. His secretary had worked for him for six years. They were on a first-name basis. “Mr. Green” meant a client or trouble. Considering that they were currently in the Edge part of the building, the latter was more likely.
“Yes?”
Tamica’s voice shook slightly. “You have visitors.”
He pulled a Colt .45 from the desk drawer and let his magic cloak him in a pale sheen of green. His wasn’t the strongest of flashes, but it would shield him from a hail of bullets.
“Can they wait?”
“No, sir. They would like to see you now.”
She hadn’t used the code word, or he would be already gone, out through the back.
“Very well. I’ll see them.”
The door swung open, and a blueblood woman entered, her cloak flaring behind her. Tall, gorgeous, lithe like a cat, with hair the color of golden silk and radiant eyes of such pure intense green he forgot to breathe. A short, muscled man who looked like he could bench-press a car moved to her left. His dark hair had been cropped short, and a long line of tattooed symbols wound about his neck, like a snake, looping over his bare arms only to disappear under his clothes. Long, black claws protruded from his fingers.
To the right, a giant of a man, pale like an albino, loomed over the blueblood’s head. A woman came to stand next to him, slender, dark-haired, with pale gray eyes and skin the color of orange peel. A bald man stepped forward, carrying Tamica, one hand around her waist, the other on her throat, carrying her horizontally, like she weighed nothing. Tamica’s hazel eyes stared at Kaleb in silent panic.
For the first time in his life, Kaleb seriously considered prayer.
The blueblood woman looked at him. He saw the slit pupils contract in her emerald irises. An enhanced blueblood. This was bad. This was extremely bad.
“Are you Kaleb Green, the fence?”
His throat had gone dry like a shriveled-up leaf. Somehow, he made the words come out. “I am much more than a simple fence.”
The blueblood arched her perfect eyebrows. “Are you familiar with your competitors?”
“Of course.”
She reached into her cloak and pulled out a purse. For a moment, she let it dangle from her long fingers, sheathed in leather gloves, and Kaleb wondered what her hands looked like. Then the purse landed on his desk with a telltale metallic clink, and he focused on it.
The woman raised her hand. “Killian.”
The bald man jerked Tamica up. His mouth gaped open, the lower jaw unhinging like the gaping maw of a snake. His lips circled back, baring huge triangular teeth.
“No!” Kaleb gasped.
Tamica screamed.
The man bit Tamica’s throat, ripping out half of her neck with his teeth. Blood drenched the floor. Her scream died in mid-note. The man bit again, tearing out red flesh and shreds of muscle, and dropped Tamica’s body on the floor. It dropped with a soft thud onto his prized carpet.
“I require your services,” the blueblood woman said. “If you agree, the money is yours. If you refuse, I’ll skin you alive.”
He was still frozen. Move, you moron. Do something, or you’ll be next.
The blueblood woman watched him, waiting.
Kaleb licked his lips. His voice came out hoarse. “What can I do for you, my lady?”
The albino giant stepped aside. A woman with pale skin tinted with a sickly shade of green approached his desk, carrying an enormous book. She flipped the pages, and he stared at the photograph of himself, complete with his name, contact information, and a short list of his accomplishments. Kaleb’s heart hammered faster. He’d never seen it, but he’d heard of it. This was Gnome’s book. If the Hand had it, that meant the old bastard was dead, and if Kaleb wasn’t careful, he would be joining him. Just like Tamica.
“This book contains profiles of your major competitors,” the blueblood woman said. “A page has been torn from it. I need you to tell me who is missing.”
OUTSIDE, the night air felt cool against Helena’s skin. The Mar had torn out more than one page. The book was missing Magdalene Moonflower from the south and Clive Keener from the north. The two Edgers lived a thousand miles apart. Clever, Helena reflected. It won’t save you, swamp rat. The Hound of the Golden Throne is coming for you. Dogs killed rats, and she would crush this one and take his head to Spider. It would make a fitting tribute.
Karmash and Sebastian waited for her. The situation mandated only one possible solution. She had to split her team. They both knew it, and each waited to see who would be chosen.
Clive Keener operated only a few hundred miles from their last encounter, while Magdalene Moonflower made her den all the way in the south of the continent. Of the two, Clive was a better bet.
“Karmash.”
The large man stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his head bowed, his white hair dripping down. Sebastian’s face was carefully impassive.
“Take Soma, Mura, and Cotier and pay a visit to Magdalene Moonflower. You may have the smaller wyvern. If you find this Mar, inform me immediately and do not engage. Observe only and do not let him know he’s been found. Am I clear?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“You may go.”
Karmash rose, spun, and walked away, barking orders. The three agents she had named followed him into the night.
Sebastian said nothing.
“You are more capable,” she said quietly.
“Thank you, my lady.” Sebastian’s voice was a deeper snarl than usual.