Security for Hire, page 17
“I’ll do laundry tomorrow,” Val decided out loud.
She kicked off her boots, whipped her bra out from under her shirt, and tossed it in the corner. With one hand, she scratched under her boobs while she fished out her phone with the other, then flopped onto her messy bed.
Human social media was strange. Val scrolled through cat videos—what was it with these people and cats?—and her phone buzzed with a notification.
A text from a number she didn’t know. Expecting a dick pic, Val opened it warily.
Hey! Got your number from the owner of the bar. Are you working tonight? Jess.
Val grinned, warmth spreading through her chest. Jess was texting her? That had to be a good sign that she hadn’t scared off her first human friends.
Not tonight. Nice to hear from you.
Was that weird? It probably was, but Jess had read the text, so there was no chance of deleting it without looking awkward and insecure instead of just awkward.
Cool. We’re going out in Manhattan. You wanna join us?
Val glanced at her knee, still strapped in a brace, and grimaced. Anne had mentioned a long walk to reach their destination tomorrow, and she was under strict orders to rest her leg.
Sorry. Hurt my knee…
Val thought of a credible lie.
Working out and supposed to rest it tonight. I’m off tomorrow night, though.
That works too! Pick you up at seven?
Val grinned in surprise. That would be great. Thanks!
Jess followed up with a gif of a chunky male human grinning from ear to ear.
“See, Dad?” Val whispered. “I can make friends.”
She tossed her phone aside, suddenly restless, and jumped to her feet. In ten minutes, she’d tidied the apartment and was sitting at the kitchen table, energized and excited. Enzo’s ring was done. She gave it a last polish and tucked it into a cute box to give him later.
Now for something new. Val rummaged in her pouch of gemstones and pulled out a small plastic baggie containing a bunch of tiny stones that glittered as the afternoon light struck them. Moonstones. They’d come into fashion after Queen Julia was announced as the Crown Princess. She’d been engaged at the time, and her ring was a beautifully carved moonstone dragon.
The dragon was impressive, but Val didn’t have big enough gemstones to copy it. She trickled them onto her palm and stirred them with her thumb, smooth and bright against the warm tone of her skin. They clinked when she poured them out of her palm onto the black velvet she’d spread on the table.
The milk-white stones lay like stars on the velvet, and Val touched them lightly with her fingertips, acquainting herself with their size and texture and the magic that lay within them. Frode’s words came back to her, spoken so many times in that smithy that they felt like the lines of a poem. All things have magic of some kind within. They only need the right para to reach in and draw it out.
Sylthana Elves were attuned to fire, and Shajara Elves to the magic of growing things. Iron Dwarves? Well, that was obvious. Lunar Fae had the furthest-reaching power of all, with the capacity for creation and healing as well as command over the ocean. Queen Julia wore a moonstone ring, but selenite was the crystal with the greatest affinity for Lunar Fae.
Frode considered moonstone to be fit only for “trinkets.” It was softer than quartz, with a middling refractive index, used mostly for jewelry or small bits of magic. Val lifted one of the tiny stones and balanced it on the tip of her index finger, then held it up to the grimy afternoon light seeping through the window. The light was brightest where it cut through the center of the stone, like a cat’s eye.
“That’s where your magic lies, isn’t it?” she whispered, aware that she was batshit-crazy for talking to a gemstone. She closed her eyes and felt the tiny glow of latent power on her fingertip. The droplet was only capable of holding the simplest of charms, but that was what Val had in mind.
She put the stone down and reached for another box, this one filled with tiny steel chains. The links were diminutive, and her callused fingers handled them gently. She spread several out on the black velvet and then arranged the moonstones in delicate rows near the chains.
This was the fun part. Making those little chains took forever: tempering the steel, drawing it out into thin wire, then creating the chains link by link. It took hours of work. Assembling the jewelry was the part she loved.
She picked out her smallest pliers and put her loupe on the table before getting to work. Except for the careful movements of her hands, her muscles relaxed, now warm and easy. The pain in her knee drifted away. Val moved slowly as she coaxed wires into tiny frames for each gemstone. Her bevel rocker quietly tapped the steel and stone.
Val only realized that night had fallen when she had to pause to switch on the light. She blinked in surprise. The sickly yellow glow of the streetlamp in her window broke through pitch-darkness, but her dwarven eyes had hardly noticed the fading light.
Her dwarven bladder, however, hadn’t been as blind to the passage of time. She darted to the bathroom, then returned to admire her work. The necklace was all but finished. It lay on the black velvet in a series of chains so delicate that the links were almost invisible, each holding moonstones that would be almost invisible against pale skin. They’d make the wearer look like her throat was decked out in near-invisible sparkles.
Val grinned. There was only one thing left to do. She slid into the chair, ignoring the stiffness of her knee, and picked up the necklace. The thin chains slid silkily against her skin. Val bowed her head and held up the chain, concentrating on the tiny atoms of iron floating in an alloy with carbon. They responded to her touch, vibrating at attention, recognizing her authority.
Ah, iron. Most magnificent of all metals. Val didn’t have much to work with in these, but it was enough that she could suffuse it with a simple, heartfelt magic that slipped from her soul as easily as words. She felt the charm of protection take hold as a web of magical energy wove from link to link of each chain, invisible but stronger than a vampire’s claws. It was a faint echo of the magic with which Val’s armor was imbued.
She lowered the chain to the velvet and smiled. The protection charm would only extend between the necklace’s chains, but it would help. Shot through with light, the moonstones’ only magic was their beauty, but it was enough.
Val hummed an old Iron Dwarven drinking song as she arranged the necklace in a box and clipped the lid shut. She set it on the kitchen counter and dropped Genevieve’s keys on top of it so she wouldn’t forget it, then shoved her stuff aside, planted her boots on the table, and took out her phone. Time to order pizza.
Val scanned the hallway one last time before knocking on Anne’s door. “It’s me,” she called.
Anne instantly opened it. “Good morning, Val.”
“Morning. How’s your face?” Val asked.
“Fine. Same as it was when you asked yesterday,” Anne teased. “I hope your knee is ready for action.”
Val flexed it. “It’s good. Let’s get to the elevator.” She glanced up and down the hallway again.
“We won’t be needing that today. Genevieve is getting a day off,” Anne informed her. She pulled an object from her pocket and held it up. It looked like an amulet in the form of a star of life, the familiar six blunt points of the star framing the Rod of Asclepius.
Val raised her eyebrows. “We’ll be disguised as paramedics?”
“No, no. This is a portal-maker. Queen Julia arranged for me to borrow it from the PMA’s emergency medical services division.” Anne pinned it to her chest. She wore an elegant trench coat, leggings, and hiking boots.
Val’s eyes widened. “A portal-maker? Isn’t it worth several million dollars?”
“Yes, so let’s try not to lose it. Come in. This is best done where humans can’t see.” Anne stepped back and held the door.
Val stomped into the sumptuous living room, which was elegant and minimalist, all cream and fawn and white. The couch facing the enormous TV against the wall was only rumpled on one side.
“My aunt had a portal-maker during the Third Pendragon War to evacuate the Iron Hills if needed.” Val looked around furtively for any sign of James, but the only shoes by the door had heels. “It had to be kept in a safe because it was so expensive to make.”
“They’re handy, but there’s a reason they’re OPMA-issue only,” Anne agreed. “It’s vital for our mission, though. We’ve met with the Noxes, the Carbos, and the Hortensia, but the rest of the vamp families live in Transylvania, France, and Italy.”
“None in Avalon?” Val asked. “I thought all the high council families lived in Avalon.”
“Don’t forget that Avalon is younger than Earth. These vampires have lived in their ancestral homes for thousands of years,” Anne reminded her. “Also…well, they relied on humans as food for much of that time.”
“Ick.” Val shuddered.
“Yes, there’s a significant ick factor, but there we have it.” Anne smoothed the front of her coat. “It’s a stain on the history of my species that nothing will be able to erase.”
“You’re trying to fix the future, though,” Val pointed out.
“There’s little I can do about the past, but the future is my responsibility.” Anne smiled.
Val shrugged. “Not yours alone, no.”
“Thank Luna for that.” Anne checked her watch. “We still have a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Actually, I’d like your opinion.” Val pulled the necklace box out of her pocket, then hesitated, suddenly wondering if the necklace was as beautiful as she remembered it being.
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s this?”
“Uh, something I made.” Shame flooded through Val’s chest. “Actually, it’s nothing.” She shoved it back into her pocket, cheeks burning.
“Come on, Val. You can’t tease me with an Iron Dwarf-made something and then hide it,” Anne coaxed. “Let me see.”
Val swallowed. “Okay.” She withdrew the box. “I’m still figuring it out, but you’re the most stylish para I know, so I thought you might be able to tell me where I can improve.”
Anne laughed. “Thanks for the compliment.”
Val gingerly opened the lid. The moonstones glimmered on their purple velvet backing, reflecting in Anne’s pupils as they dilated against the scarlet irises.
“Wow!” The vampire gasped and reached for the necklace, then withdrew her hand. “You made this, Val?”
Warmth flooded Val’s chest. “Yeah. It’s a hobby, nothing serious. This one has a mild protection charm on it.”
“Never mind the charm. It’s stunning.” Anne took the box and leaned close to inspect it. “I love it. It’s so tasteful.”
Val grinned, relaxing. “Thanks. I enjoy making my little trinkets.”
“This isn’t a trinket. It’s an artwork.” Anne looked up at her. “Can I borrow this for a couple of days?”
Val shrugged. “I mean, sure. It’s got a mild protection spell on it, so it can’t hurt, right?”
“Not for myself.” Anne shook her head. “I know someone who might be interested in buying pieces like this if you want to make them to sell.”
Val’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yes, of course! This is stunning. You could have a great side gig with your jewelry if you wanted to.”
Val chuckled. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that. Her Majesty’s apartment’s decor needs a little updating.”
“Fae taste not to your liking, huh?” Anne smiled and snapped the box shut, then tucked it on a nearby bookshelf. “I’ll get it back to you.”
“Let me know what they say,” Val requested.
Anne chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out.” She glanced at an elegant, minimalist clock on the wall, two slender black hands on a cream surface. “Let’s get started. We have a long climb ahead of us.”
Val stared at her. “A long what?”
Anne touched the portal-maker, and Val braced herself as a shimmer appeared in the air. It expanded into a round hole in the fabric of reality. Through it, a stone path lay between thick golden foliage, and a blast of frigid air howled into the apartment.
“Let’s go.” Anne strode briskly forward.
Val buttoned her jacket and followed, gritting her teeth as she stepped through the portal. It tingled on her skin and her vision swam, making her belly pitch wildly. She stumbled, head spinning, as her boots thudded on solid stone.
Anne grabbed her arm to steady her. “Not used to portals, huh?”
“Second time ever,” Val croaked.
She blinked away the dizziness and gulped breaths of fresh, icy air, then scanned the woods by turning in a wary circle. On her right, the foliage was too dense for her to see much. She stepped between Anne and trees, then gaped at the towering landscape. These mountains felt older and wilder than the gentle foothills of the Spine. Sheer cliffs dropped sharply through the thick mass of oak and spruce trees, ending in a river that scrambled, laughing, over its pebbly bed between banks of brown grass. An asphalt road wound its way across the mountainside not far away, but Anne and Val stood at the base of a stone path that proceeded up the mountain and into the trees. Dozens of stone steps lay ahead.
“Where are we?” Val asked.
“The old country.” Anne’s lips flattened into a tight line. “This is where I grew up.”
Val blinked. “We’re in Transylvania?”
“It’s Romania now to the humans.” Anne pointed. “That’s Poenari Citadel.”
Val tilted back her head and squinted through the trees. She made out a stone ruin at the top of the mountain, so distant that she could see little other than the curves and bumps of what might have been towers.
“Uh, the ruin?” Val asked.
Anne sighed. “Don’t be fooled by appearances. Come on. These one thousand, four hundred eighty steps aren’t going to climb themselves.”
“What?” Val squawked. “How many steps?”
Anne was marching toward the first. “I hope you rested your knee!” she called over her shoulder.
Val jogged to catch up and grabbed Anne’s shoulder. “Let me go ahead. Sounds like we’re in hostile territory.”
“Not yet. Technically.” Anne hesitated.
“Yeah, but if Hugo Dragavei didn’t send those assassins, who did?” Val queried.
Anne flinched. “He is my father, you know.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m in denial, I guess.” Anne shrugged. “Go ahead. You’re probably right.”
Val strode forward, counting as she climbed. Eleven, twelve, thirteen... She tried not to admit to herself that she was breathless when they reached a flat portion of the path as it twisted up the sheer mountainside.
“I thought I was fit.” She dragged her forearm across her brow. Despite the nip of the mountain air, she was sweating.
Anne laughed. To Val’s relief, the vampire was out of breath as well. “Fit for forging iron and throwing enemies across a room, but climbing is a different story.”
“No shit.” Val grimaced, squinting into the trees. “I don’t like this, Anne. There could be enemies behind every tree.”
Anne nudged her. “That’s what you’re here for.”
“Yeah,” Val muttered. “I know.” She trudged forward, keeping her panting as quiet as she could as she listened intently, but all she heard were the trills of birds and the rhythmic tramp of their feet.
“To think I used to go up and down these steps every time I wanted to leave the castle,” Anne grumbled. “Tata wouldn’t let me get my bat license.”
Val didn’t ask. “Why in Merlin’s name are we hiking up? You have a portal-maker!”
Anne grimaced. “That’s the trouble. Poenari Citadel is one of the most well-defended fortresses, both physically and magically, in any dimension, and it’s warded against portals. Nothing but a Sphynx can get there by magical means.”
“Great,” Val muttered. “So not only are we vulnerable, but we’re also trapped if they don’t want us to leave.”
“I’m fairly sure you could punch a hole in it. Don’t worry.” Anne patted her arm.
Anne’s trust in Val weighed on her as they plodded up the next set of steps. At the top, Val shrugged off her jacket and draped it over her arm. Droplets of sweat glistened on her bare biceps, but more steps waited. A lot more.
Halfway into the climb, Anne produced two water bottles. Val chugged hers, then squashed the bottle into a ball and shoved it into her pocket as she gazed across the valley. The mountains here had an older and more robust splendor than the skyscrapers of New York City. Sheer granite cliffs were flashes of gray against the thick tangle of fall trees, their colors lighting up the mountainside.
“You should have seen the view from my window. It was quite something,” Anne told her.
Val squinted at the ruins on the summit, blinking when salty sweat stung her eyes. “I’m not trying to be funny, but I don’t see any windows.”
“Oh, you will.” Anne put away her water bottle. “Come on.”
“Wait!” Val grabbed Anne around the torso with one arm and swung her around, putting her between the vampire and the crackle she’d just heard in the bushes.
“What is—” Anne began.
Val gestured sharply. “Shhh!”
Anne was silent. Something stirred in the bushes, the snap of a twig sounded like a gunshot in this quiet place. Val slipped her dagger from its sheath and gripped it tightly, blade toward her elbow, ready to rip the threat limb from limb.
A flash of red fur made Val tense. The fox darted through the trees, sped along the rail that bordered the path, and vanished into the bushes again.
“Oh.” Val lowered the dagger. “Wait, was that a werefox?”
“I doubt it. My father still has, uh, old-fashioned views about Weres.” Anne grimaced. “Let’s not go there.”
Heart still hammering, Val sheathed her dagger, and they moved on.
When they reached the very top, Val’s knee told her all about every one of those fourteen hundred and eighty steps. They were both too breathless to talk as they mounted the last step and stood in the ruins of what had been a grand mountain fortress. Now, it was a sad, crumbling ruin. The massive walls that rose like cliffs from the mountainside had been magnificent in their day, hinting at a great citadel with three round towers and a stout keep, but time had worn at the stones until they were discolored.
