Breaking Ties (16 page)

“A Bard born outside of the court? Outside of the Phouka? It is unheard of.”

I decide not to tell him that I'm not the only Coyote Bard out there. He appears to be having enough trouble handling the idea of one.

“All right, we need to prioritize. I don't suppose you know where we are?”

He shakes his head.

“Maybe why we don't have a guard? We're both outside our cells, that usually raises a red flag.”

I look both ways down the hall and find a couple more doors along the wall that open to similar rooms as ours, though these are empty. At this point, for ease of reference, I face the wall where I came out of my cell and decide that in front of me is north, behind me south, left is west, you can figure out the rest. At the east end, there's a wall with some boxes stacked against it, and the west?

A stairwell that leads up to a door. At least I know we're in a basement. I curse it, the lock breaks, and the door opens to…

I shove it a bit harder, and the door opens to…

I kick the door a few times, shove against it with my shoulder, and the door opens to…

“God damn it!” I kick the door again. And again. It won't budge. “What'd they do, wall us in?” I sling a few curses at the door, and then actually curse the door. It falls backward, heavily, out of its frame, the hinges rusted and brittle. I have to react quickly to make it topple down the stairs rather than flatten me.

And the door finally fucking opens to…

A brick wall.

“Ask a stupid question…”

Chapter Eighteen

Ozzie

December 20, 9:40 am

“God, have you tried this?”

He has an amazing smile, lights up his whole face. I reach for the slice, and he pulls it away with a laugh, grinning all the while. “Uh-uh. Get your own, this is mine.”

“It's some mom-'n-pop that I heard about.” I take a bite, and it's heaven on a crust. I know it didn't actually taste this good, but I push that feeling away, wanting to stay in this moment as long as I can. “You should try the garlic knots.”

He manages a grumpy expression for a few seconds. “I was going to but
someone
ate them all.”

“Probably the Coyote. They're all thieves. Dirty, dirty thieves.”

He rolls his eyes, but I rest my forehead against his, our eyes meeting. We kiss shortly afterward, everything blurring until we're in my bedroom, sweat soaking our bodies. I'm moving inside him, slow and easy. I always take my time, make sure to get it right, hit all the right spots. I don't think he's used to slow and gentle, he always finishes before I do.

“Oh God, it's so warm.”

I finished a couple seconds ago. I can't manage more than a grunt muffled by my lips grazing over his spine. Everything's perfect now,
right
, like it is every time, no matter who's doing what or how we've contorted ourselves together.

“Yep. Fresh from the smelter.” I wink, even though he can't see it, but he laughs, relieved and exhausted. “James?”

He wriggles against me, and I continue kissing along his back, the nape of his neck. “I love how you do that.” I wrap my arms around him, squeeze him. “I love how you make me feel safe. Like it's just us.”

“I love you, James.”

“What?”

I smile. “I love you, James.”

There's a few seconds' pause, and he starts to pull away, making me gasp as I exit. “Okay, get off of me. Ugh.” He finally turns, and his face is one of incredulity. “Seriously? You
love
me? What, you thought I was going to say it back?”

He gets off the bed, laughing as he does, dressing. “Sure, you're a decent lay, but I'm the
Ra'keth
. You honestly think I'm going to settle for a half-breed
Dwarf
?”

His laughter grows louder, almost to the point of hysteria and…no.

No!

James, don't do this to—

I gasp for breath, my heart pounding in my ears as my eyes open, every part of my body sore, and not just because I'm on a cheap futon. In my sightline is a large stack of books for Dungeons & Dragons, as well as a fair share of AC/DC posters on the wall, so at least I know I'm at James's place. On the floor is a silk bag with the butt of a shotgun sticking out.

How did I get here?

“You're up.” I rub my eyes, and Dave waddles his way into my view. “You owe me twenty bucks for the cab ride.”

“Cab ride?” Why would I have called a cab? I feel like I got dragged behind a truck for a good mile. I pat my pockets, find my cell. Apparently I did call the diner. What happened before that? Why didn't I just drive…?

“Aw damn it, I wrecked the Benz.” I sit up, reviewing the other details, remembering.

“You sounded drunk off your ass when you called.”

“That was shock. I was in an accident. A…” I remember something big and red, “…dragon hit us.”

“Us? Was James in the car with you? Where is he? That damned Azure has been tight-lipped ever since I found her up here.”

“No, the Coyote was in the car with me.” That sonuvabitch, I
knew
I was right about him making moon-eyes at James and… “Aw shit, the Fae got him.”

He went with them, so they'd spare me.

Sonuvabitch.

“This complicates things a mite.” I rub my temples, still a bit woozy as I get to my feet.

“You sure you should be up and about?” The dragon nudges me back toward the futon, but I wave him off.

“May only be half-blooded, but I'm still dreamblooded. I ate plenty while I was asleep.” He looks confused, so I continue. “Whole reason mortals ain't supposed to eat Fae food is 'cause it's made from dreams. Human dreams, really, and nothing will ever taste as good. Everything normal just gets tasteless, except for us Fae. We're made of dreams, so dreams sustain and heal us. I won't bounce back as well as my father would, but…” I take a deep breath, my ribs aching in protest, but I push through it. “I'll get by.”

“Need any help?”

A dragon offering help to a Dwarf. These are truly crazy times.

“I'll give you a call. I might have to take you up on that offer. You said an Azure's here?”

“Popped out of nowhere and left soon after without a word. Wouldn't answer any questions, but she muttered something about…” He snorts a bit of smoke. “Doesn't really translate. Wasn't a positive comment, that's all I can say.”

“Doesn't matter. I need to talk to a couple people. Try to head off a dragon hunt before it happens.”

“A
hunt
?” Flame tandems with the snorted smoke this time.

“The Ra'keth's gone, the Cobalt Order's getting help from a dragon, and the Riordan's
consort
was taken by probably the same people. Her Majesty won't stand for it, Dave. They'll call for blood, and it'll be open season on dragons.”

“How'd they get the Rear don's concert? Why the hell does that matter?”

I rub my face a couple minutes, remember how James likes to run his fingers through my beard, remember when he tied a bow into the braid and I had no idea until I got to work.

“The Riordan. He's Her Majesty's storyteller, and his chosen consort is…well…” I shrug helplessly, “…the person he…you know…”

The dragon shudders at the thought. I've been kind to him, never telling him what James and I do, and he and I have kept such things out of the game as well.

“And that consort is the Coyote. I can't imagine how he conned his way into
that
, but the Riordan needs to be informed of the circumstances, if he hasn't been told already. It's going to be difficult enough getting a meeting with Robert O'Rourke. I also have to be the one to deliver the bad news.” I glance at Dave as I steady myself. “There will be consequences for this, and it's anyone's guess who'll pay the price. The court hasn't had to worry about anything other than Fae matters for the last few decades. Now there's an active Ra'keth, and vampires and hunters and tricksters and even twin-bloods are starting to get a little recognition. Hell, we've got a twin-blooded
knight
out there now, Sir Simaron Gray of the Benedict Shores. Times are changing, and sidhe
hate
change.”

A few more breaths and I've got my feet. A good Dwarf is an immovable object if he plants his feet right. I would've been a hell of a lineman if my father had let me join the high school football team. Or go to high school instead of a bunch of tutors. Or been tall enough to join the team.

“I'll go set up the meeting. I'll let you know if you need to close up the diner and go into hiding.” I leave without another word, taking what little I apparently brought with me, already aware that I'm going out in bloodstained and slightly scorched clothing, every limb giving me a talking-to, but still following orders.

I head to the 65th-and-L station, since I'm without a car, and take a minute to dig my UTA pass out of my wallet, since I rarely use the thing. The Blue Line arrives after a few minutes, on time as always, and I find my seat in the front car, next to a circle that was carved in the floor. “Marvin?”

The scant few strap-hangers in the car give me a glance, but ignore me. Let 'em think I'm crazy. “Marvin? You awake?”

“Greetings, friend of James!” The voice is irritatingly cheery, coupled with a limey accent, which goes against the robot for whom he's named.

“I need to get down to Grunstadt, could you shave a couple minutes off the trip? It's for James.” According to James and the Coyote, you have to be specific about how fast you want him to go, otherwise he'll throw a tantrum. I don't know if they're telling the truth (especially not in
that one's
case), but I'm not going to risk having front-row seats to a commuter train having a manic-depressive episode. “Thanks, Marvin.”

“Right away!” The lights even brighten as he picks up some extra speed. Nice to see that someone's in a good mood, and I won't tell him about what happened to his two favorite people, to keep him in that mood. Last thing the City needs is part of the Blue Line driving himself sick with worry.

It'll take a few minutes to get down there, and I'll admit I'm not excited about the idea of telling the Riordan his consort has been taken, especially after how things were left between me and the Coyote. He admits to being in love with my boyfriend, and then gives himself up to the Cobalt Order to save my ass. Even if I weren't a Dwarf (we've got a code, you see), I couldn't leave him twisting in the wind. I was raised proper, so I'm going to do the right thing and get his huckster ass back safe and sound.

Because I'm not going to win James by default, damn it.

I take out my cell phone and begin the series of calls that will eventually get me on the line with Her Majesty's social secretary, who can arrange a meeting with the Riordan. More than likely I'll be pacing back and forth in front of his building for the next hour and a half, but there are protocols to follow.

The first link in the chain hangs up on me the moment I give my full name. The House of Bremenschmeid is respected in the court, but it mostly goes to my father and grandfather. Sidhe aren't impressed by a business degree, they want to see weapons that can cut through concrete and armor that can withstand dragon breath. This is the reason I'll likely never be married.

So I proceed to the Emerald Towers in Grunstadt, find a place to loiter, and I make the call I've been dreading.

“
Ja. Hier Dieter.
”

“Dad, it's me. Could we do this in English? There are things I need to say and my German's rusty.”

I hear a sigh on the line. “Too much time with your mother. Should have taken more of it in school.”

“The cute girls were taking Italian, can we not get into this? I need to see the Riordan.”

He chuffs, and I hear the clinking of an empty glass.

“Dad, are you drinking?”

“Have
been
drinking. I lost a friend, Oswald. I am not in a mood to do favors.” I hear him pouring, likely Steinhäger, into the glass. “I am in a mood to think. He had children, Oswald. Sons. I have one. A layabout.”

“Dad, we are not getting into that, this is important. I need you to make a call to get me an appointment with the Riordan. They'll do it for you.”

“A son who has forged nothing of note, who dallies with a man while I attempt to find him a wife.” Damn it, James and I weren't as secret as we would have liked. I need to derail this before it goes down the old familiar route and we hit all our marks and I hang up in a rage.

“Dad, the Benz is wrecked, I was knocked off the road by a dragon, the Cobalt Order shot up the rest of it and nearly killed me, and likely would've finished the job if the Riordan's consort hadn't offered to be taken in my place. I'll say it again. The Riordan's
consort
has been taken by the Cobalt Order. They're not just a nuisance anymore, they've openly attacked a member of the court and your own son.”

I hear a soft crack, and see that the screen of my cell phone has a line through it now, but the call is still live. “
Hörst du mir jetzt zu?
”

“
Ja. Sprechen.
”

“The Riordan has to be informed what happened to his consort, and I can't just go to his apartment to tell him, and I don't want to delegate this information, given that he'll want details. So protocol has to be followed, I need an appointment, and they're not going to give one to me without you doing me this favor.” Dad won't ask why I don't just tell someone farther up the chain about this. This would be a hell of a thing to hold over the Riordan.

“It will take a few minutes. Wait there.”

He hangs up a second afterward. It's the best I could hope for, to tell the truth. I lean against the building, my chest still complaining with aches and pains. I must look a damned sight, given that I didn't have time to change my clothes, but hopefully the Riordan will appreciate my priorities.

After several minutes, a tall man in his midthirties with dark hair, dark eyes and very tanned skin emerges from an early-model Corvette, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the Jaguar logo across his chest. It doesn't take him long to notice me. When he finally speaks, his voice has a thick Irish brogue. “Dwarf.”

I point at myself, just to be sure.

“Yeah, you. You looking for me?”

I nod, then remember to bow. “Thank you for taking the time to see—”

He waves a hand. “Clearly there's something you need to tell me, given your appearance. So shall we spare the pleasantries? I'm a Phouk,
the
Phouk, if we're going to be formal about it, but I'm hardly a sidhe. Speak plainly, Dwarf.”

“I don't see how speaking plainly will help here, Riordan. I need to tell you something important, but I'm afraid how you'll react when you're told.”

At that, he smirks. “And do you believe I'll take this news better if you deliver it in soaring prose and iambic pentameter? Neither of us are peacocks…” A slang term for the sidhe that's never used in polite company. “Simply tell me. You have nothing to fear.”

I take a deep breath. “Your consort, Spencer Crain, has been taken by the Cobalt Order, they've got a dragon working with them, and the Lightning Rod is missing.”