Breaking Ties (24 page)

“The Ra'keth.” He looks at his feet. “You're the Ra'keth.”

I shrug. “Well, yeah. You knew that when we met.”

“I knew, but…but I never really thought about what that meant. When you claimed the staff, you were… I finally realized what you were capable of, how there's so much about you that I don't know, that you might not even know. I…” When his eyes meet mine, they're moist. “James, I don't know if I can do this.”

Everything, even the air, suddenly feels really heavy. “Oz, are you saying that you, that we're…”

“I just don't know if I can handle this, James. I'm sorry, I just don't know. You're amazing and everything I thought I was looking for—”

“But now, it's hitting you that you're dating the guy who ends the world, who's got a target on his back and that target might include you. It's okay, I get it.” It doesn't make it hurt any less. “You, um, I get it. I uh…” I sniff back some tears. “I gotta go.”

“James…”

“I gotta go.” I push past him and run over to the car that Spence had pointed out, leaving Ozzie behind me. I don't say anything, just get in, Spencer adjusting the seat as someone taller was driving it.

“You okay?”

“
Drive.
” The engine starts, and the Coyote blinks a couple times at the ignition, then me.

“All right.” He does a U-turn and begins driving toward the City. “Might want to calm down, at least out of Dark Wizard mode, okay? We don't have to talk, I won't ask what happened.”

“He broke up with me.” I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “That's what happened. Should've figured I couldn't have something normal.” I glare at him. “And if you make one fucking rebound comment—”

“Jesus, James, I wouldn't do that. I was
joking
when I said that, what, six months ago? I'm surprised you even remember. I'm going to drop you off at Dave's, and then I'm going to shoot pool until all the bars close so you can just brood or be pissed or throw things or whatever
until
you call me and tell me you're ready to talk about it.”

I glance out the window. “That's awfully mature of you.”

I hear him mutter under his breath, but I don't quite catch it. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Just that I'll give you all the time you need. I don't recommend pulling a heist on a vampire to get over it, by the way, didn't turn out all that well for me. I'd also advise against petty theft, trying Goldschläger, telling the captain of the lacrosse team his girlfriend's ass isn't as cute as his, breaking into a chop shop to steal back an eight-year-old Civic with sticky transmission or filling a Kitsune's apartment with about eight thousand dollars worth of Hello Kitty merchandise.” He points at me without looking. “There's a smile. So no matter how shitty today was, at least you smiled.”

“Spence, why are you my friend?”

He appears to be about to say something, but stops. “Because if that's what I can be, then that's what I'll take. Like my friend Bank says, ‘It's easier to have friends than enemies.' Granted, I don't speak as many languages as he does.

“Shouldn't take us too long to get back. Need you rested and recovered since the dragons and the Fae are likely going to have a bit of a spat, not to mention the Fae are getting pissy about twin-bloods and other bullshit.”

He smirks at me. “See? You thought you could avoid getting involved, but now you know about it. Your consciousness has been raised.”

“Tomorrow, I'll worry about it tomorrow.”

“As well you should, unless we end up first against the wall when the revolution comes.” He glances at me. “Please say you've at least
started
reading it.”

I shake my head, he rolls his eyes. “I'll buy you a copy, that's a crime that needs to be corrected.”

A few seconds pass, and he looks at me again. “Just trying to get your mind off it so you don't do anything you'll regret. Actually, you're not the only one trying to get his mind off shit. Gotta wonder how many microbrews Bjorn thinks saving his life is worth. Probably worth a burger or something too. Hey, you like Skee-Ball? I could drive us to Jersey, we'll find a boardwalk, and by the time we've earned enough tickets for the teddy bear this fucking shit day will be over.”

“Spence, just…please, just drive.”

So he does, and sometime later I'm dropped off in front of the diner.

“Spencer?”

He glances in my direction.

“I'm really sorry about your dad. Let me know if you want to talk, okay?”

He nods then drives away without a word.

I go upstairs, passing Dave in the kitchen wordlessly, and collapse on my futon.

Then…then…I finally cry.

Chapter Thirty

Spencer

December 20, 11:30 pm

“Because I love you, you dumbass.” God, if I'd only said it louder in the car. But I didn't, because even though I'm an asshole a lot of the time, I don't want to be one with him. No, I didn't want to jump with glee when he told me he and Ozzie had broken up, and no, I don't want to track the Dwarf down and get the whole story. I'm pissed because they broke up. James was happy and didn't need an Emerald pulled on him, and now? He's gone full Ra'keth at least twice today. That's the sort of behavior that causes a sorcerer to need to be reminded he's human and flawed like the rest of us.

Also, telling a guy you love him within five minutes of his boyfriend breaking up with him is a dick move. That's a given. If this were a movie, I'd be driving around the City to some maudlin tracks on the radio while the camera cut between James and me to show how we're handling it. The audience would wonder why the hell I don't just go tell him I love him and that everything, and I mean everything, would be okay.

But I'm a Coyote, so chances are I'm just playing one hell of a trick on myself, that I've actually managed to convince myself that not only am I capable of loving someone, but that I love the one guy that I, as a Coyote, am supposed to trick. Maybe being half-human's enough to slide through the door, maybe it's not, I don't know. This is the sort of thing I'd ask Mom advice about.

But instead of driving around town, I'm at Under the Bridge, nursing a beer, Bjorn already fully recovered, the bar itself appearing to be fully repaired. James isn't the only one who'll brood tonight, it seems, even though just by looking I can tell at least eight fish are swimming around the pool table, and I could use the money. The car's parked nine blocks away, wiped down, in front of a building that has a couple sidhe living in it. A storm's brewing with the Fae, but like James said, it can wait until tomorrow. For now I'm content to sit at one of the corner tables and drink.

“Good evening, Mr. Crain.”

Or maybe it can't wait until tomorrow. A sidhe stands in front of the table, dressed in an off-the-rack suit, but one from a higher-end store. He's tall, but then they all are, his skin a lighter shade of blue, hair closer to midnight, likely styled in a session that cost more than I could hustle in here in a week. His face is placid, they can be hard to read when they want to be. I expect him to sit down, but he remains where he is.

“Whatever you need to tell me, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I have an audience with Her Majesty. She's quite curious as to why thirty-five members of the peerage were alive this morning, and are not as of this evening. I cannot lie to Her Majesty, but perhaps I can be…selective with the truth.” He folds his arms. “The Coyotes' pointless feuding with the Phouka was amusing to Her, but I believe as of this evening, it has ceased to be amusing. An outside force has involved itself directly in Fae affairs, attacked and senselessly murdered our kith and kin—”

“
Senselessly?
I was kidnapped and held for ransom!”

“Ah, yes.” He smiles, self-satisfied. “But you are a Coyote. A group that has long cultivated its reputation as expert liars. No respected member of the court would give your words any weight. Her Majesty will have no choice but to demand
weregild
from the Coyotes.” His smile grows wider. “Thirty-five in total.” He leans toward me. “My apologies. I forgot about your father's fate this evening. Thirty-four.”

So yeah, really want to hit this guy. But let's face it, that's exactly what he wants. “You're Cobalt Order.” I glance toward Bjorn. “Is this really the place you want to be threatening me?”

“The Cobalt Order? Ah yes, the unfortunate Order of Knights of the Realm that were butchered by your clan. It is a shame what happened to them, to fall victim to such a brazen act of war upon the Fae. What else could it be? The
weregild
will be demanded, any with ties to your clan will be investigated.” His smugness seems to intensify further. “High-ranking officials of Her Majesty's court might find themselves under a scrutinizing eye.”

Rourke. They'll go after Rourke.

“Obviously you're buttering me up. What do you want for a promise of selectivity with the truth during your meeting?”

“Direct. The stories seem correct about your kind. Fine, I will honor your request.” He goes for the dramatic pause. Asshole. “I want the Lightning Rod. A Ra'keth would accomplish our aims in the space of a breath. You need not convince him, just deliver him to us, and false assumptions about the death of the Order need never be corrected.”

I will admit that if this guy weren't allowed to make it to that meeting, possibly because he's eating through a tube, none of this deal matters. But, one, I'm not that kind of person, and, two, people like this always have Plans B through Z waiting in the wings.

So I get up, smooth out my clothes and give my answer. “I'd like you to think about what you're doing. You're standing in a commoner bar, professing to be a member of the
Cobalt Order
…” I make sure to project that last part. “And you're threatening the Agents of Fate Herself. You, a sidhe, the oldest, most regal, most noble, most
uptight
and
stagnant
assholes in the entire mythic world, are announcing you want to demand something of the Coyotes? You're opening yourself up to become ideal marks for the greatest con artists and hucksters ever put on this earth. But you want me to trade the Mark of All Marks so we
don't
get a shot at that?”

I get right in his face. “Go run to your mommy, fucker. I can't wait to tell my grandfather that the sidhe just declared open season
on themselves
. And it's
Spencer
Crain. Remember the name, because I'm going to be the one who fucks up your life until it finally dawns on you to shape up.” And then I spit in his face. “Because that's my goddamned job.”

To his credit, he doesn't wipe his face. “You've made a mistake.”

“Also my job. But so did you, Mr. Perfect. Don't worry.” I grin a bit wider, because if there's one thing I've learned about sidhe from hanging out at Under the Bridge, it's this… “It's probably just some of that human blood making itself known.”

Sidhe, according to other Fae, at least, were the first Fae created by the Ra'keth, and they're not really creations, but descendants of the Sorcerer Kings, which means no matter how many times they inbreed to keep their blood blue, there'll always be a human hanging out in the family tree, waving down at them. And when you remind them of that fact?

Well, that gets the punch thrown, which gets his stuck-up ass thrown out.

But of course, the first thing I do is leave a message on my grandfather's answering service. He might be pissed at me, but he'll probably want to know that I likely got us in even more trouble. Also, I'm wondering why the Fae see me as a Coyote even though I'm still on the outs with the clan. Sure, I see
myself
as a 'Yote, but I don't think that counts.

Does it?

Regardless, I feel a little better, kinda, so I head over to the pool tables. I can hustle some beer money, and it doesn't take long for someone to come up.

“I always wanted to play a game against Spencer Crain.”

“Yeah. And if you've heard I'm good at pool, you should see me play Karuta.” I smile halfheartedly, racking the balls. “Don't have the head for Go, but I know six players I can pay to play for me.

“I won't ask how you knew I was here.”

Shiko picks up a cue. “No one ever expects one of your clan to plan ahead. Does this mean you'll finally tell me how you stole my soul, Coyote?”

“Does it count as a favor?”

“Spencer.” She touches my hand. “Not the Feud. Not tonight. You stole my soul and returned it to me on the same night you took it. No trickster of any clan had ever managed it, and I never want it to happen again. Please.”

I chew my lip a moment. “Hypothetically?”

She smiles. “Hypothetically. How would you do it?”

“That pride of yours? That was my in.” The Fox gestures for more before I break, the balls scattering across the table. “When we first met you were playing four games of Go at the same time. I remembered that and researched your online profiles, logs of your games, sent them to someone who's knowledgeable about such things. She dissected your playing style and came up with which schools of play would likely give you the most trouble. Not
beat
you, just give you trouble. After that I found,
hypothetically
, six players to challenge you, with explicit instructions to play not to win, but not to lose.”

“To keep me playing and distracted as long as possible.” She mutters “
kuso
” under her breath after a miss.

I sip my beer, then line up my shots. “Because I noticed how seriously you take your Go. When I lifted Kazuhiro's keychain, he knew right away I'd taken it, even though he wasn't within sight or earshot. If I was going to do the same to you, I'd have to make sure all of your attention was exactly where I wanted it, because you'd know in an instant what I was up to. Hypothetically.”

“When would you have decided to start planning all of this?”

“After you got those three favors out of me. Well, it was two at the time. I knew it would be tough as hell, but the advantage I had was the time to plan, and my clan's not known for thinking ahead. So, for the first part of the trick? I would have to get to Japan without you knowing.”

Shiko
hrm
s. “Kazuhiro? He does seem to enjoy dropping you there and leaving.”

“Exactly. Kazu-kun was easy. I played the fool and he couldn't resist sending me to Tokyo. He even thought it was all his idea. You should let him know he's an easy play. Anyway, I made sure he did it before he went out on his delivery route, and lifted his phone beforehand. The second my hands were on your soul, you'd know, and you'd be after him for a portal, so I had to make sure you couldn't call him for a speedy trip to find me. Gave me time to search.”

We're out of the hypothetical now, but I don't care anymore.

“And you found my apartment.” She leans on the cue, wheels turning in her head as she watches me sink the seven, the four, the two, the one. I had a good teacher. “How?”

“As clever as you Foxes think you are, you forget you've got to interact with the human world as well. A Dog couldn't find you, a Coyote couldn't find you, another Fox probably couldn't find you.” I look at her, and she's smiling her real smile. “But you've still got to pay taxes and rent and buy food. That leaves a paper trail. It took some time, but I knew you wouldn't be on to me until I held the item in my hands. But I gotta ask, Shiko.” I'm pretty close to running the table now.

She nods curtly. “Please.”

“Why keep your soul in a picture frame?”

“I don't think you've earned that yet.”

“Can I guess?” Just the five left and then I can sink the eight and seal it.

She thinks about it a moment. “I won't say if you're right.”

“Because of the picture that was supposed to be in it? That one of you that my dad stole, that you traded in exchange for a hit on me and a 'Vette?” Only the eight left now, trapped behind the thirteen. She doesn't flinch. “It's really pretty, you in the kimono with the umbrella, all demure and elegant.” I set up the masse. “That's the real you, isn't it? Eight ball. Corner pocket.” I take the shot. “Fuck.”

She takes up position, starts making her shots. “You're aware of what I really am.”

“What you were born as, sure, but that picture, that's of who you really are inside, right? Who took it?”

“Drew it.” Three left on her side.

“Jesus, that was
drawn
?”

“By the Recluse, no less.” She glances around, and then leans against the table. “I would tell you to never love a sorcerer…” She covers her mouth politely as she briefly giggles. “But it would be wasted advice for both you and me. We cannot resist them, our kind, those who see through all our tricks are the ultimate challenge at first, and then we see how lonely they truly are. We understand them, they in turn understand us, and for a time the love is real. You cast aside thoughts of an Emerald because you love someone who sees you as you are.” She exhales, takes another shot. “And still they love you regardless.”

“Why didn't it work out?”

“The Emerald, there is always the Emerald, and when they learn of it, and they always do, it is the greatest betrayal. For them, all of it will have been a lie, and the consequences… I was lucky.”

“What happened?”

“He threw me through a mirror and I landed in Tokyo Bay. This was before Kazuhiro was born, and there were no other Kitsune who could open portals as he does, so getting back to America took several weeks, enough time to swear off humans, especially sorcerers.” She furrows her brow. “I suspect you would not be as lucky. The Recluse killed a murderous tyrant to end the world in his time. The Lightning Rod nearly allowed existence itself to be destroyed and has angered more gods than I can count.”

“But he doesn't
do
anything.”

“Exactly.”

I take a sip of my beer. “Not really following you.”

“What do sorcerers do?”

“Uh, wash dishes? Listen to obscure indie-rock mix tapes? Pay way too much attention to outdated role-playing games? Ignore seminal works of British comedic writing?”

“And?” She doesn't act surprised or intrigued by any of that, meaning she likely knows who the Ra'keth is, probably because the Kitsune have been following me and figured out who James is. I've tried to tell him that keeping a low profile isn't exactly a solid plan. Still, I'm avoiding the obvious answer.