'Spit it out, Chavez, or I'm likely to pass out before you get the chance.'
'Reports have been coming in for the last hour, chola. Gates are opening all over South Central.' Fifteen Honey's healing magic had me up and limping around with a cane within a couple days. I'd taken Papa Danwe's walking stick. The black wood was carved into the likeness of a cobra twining around the shaft, and its hooded head worked in silver formed the pommel. The stick had some juice, and I thought it was the least he could do.
A guerilla war had broken out all over South Central L.A. Our battle plan had become more of a counterinsurgency operation since the other gates opened, and near as I could tell, we were losing. I'd become so fixated on the Hawthorne gate that I'd never really considered the possibility of others. It had been an obvious, terrible mistake. It was even worse, because I'd known they didn't have to be huge, permanent structures like the one in Hawthorne. I had one of them tied off to a sports bottle in my kitchen.
In hindsight, it seemed a perfect match for King Oberon's way of thinking. Give your enemy a big shiny to focus on, and he won't even notice anything else you're doing. He'd been playing Three Card Monty with me since this whole thing started. I was getting hustled.
We'd lost a lot of soldiers in the past thirty-six hours or so. Our guys had no real protection against fairy magic, so even when we could find the sidhe and pick a fight, it usually ended the same way. I'd seen enough. The changeling had been right-King Oberon was coming, and there wasn't a hell of a lot I could do about it.
Our efforts hadn't been a total failure. It was looking like the Seelie Court would end up controlling most of Papa Danwe's former territory, but at least they wouldn't have ours. Not yet. And with a little time, I might be able to give my outfit the defenses they needed to make it a fair fight.
It could have been worse, but it still wasn't good. I couldn't see the future like my mother, but what I could see didn't look all that bright. King Oberon would bring in more and more of his sidhe, consolidating his power in Inglewood and Watts and slowly expanding from there. We'd be mired in a guerilla war for months, maybe years. That's what King Oberon had been trying to avoid. By decapitating our outfit, he'd have been able to move in and fill the power vacuum while seizing the largest territory and the deepest juice supply in L.A. Instead, he'd gotten a quagmire, but it was a quagmire he'd probably win, eventually.
I slammed my fists down on the conference table. I crumpled the map in my hands and swept it aside. I looked at Chavez, who had a cell phone glued to each ear, taking reports and issuing orders to the front. I looked at Amy Chen and Ismail Akeem, who were taking a breather and licking their wounds before heading back out to the war. Sonny Kim and Ilya Zunin were still out there somewhere. They'd brought in their outfits with us, as promised, and they were dying as fast as we were. Even Anton was in the trenches, doing what he could. I got up and headed for the door.
'Where are you going, boss?' Chavez asked, momentarily pulling himself away from the cell phones.
'China,' I said, and walked out.
When I got outside, two men were standing by my Lincoln. Black suits, black ties, white shirts, sunglasses. One was medium height and build with a shaved head and a ruggedly handsome face. The other was larger, with close- cropped black hair, a square jaw and a dimple in his chin. The guy with the dimple was leaning against the trunk of my car.
'You should see the last guy who leaned on my car,' I said as I limped up to them. His expression didn't change, but he stepped away from the Lincoln.
The bald guy came forward and flashed an ID at me. 'Ms. Riley, I'm Agent Lowell and this is Agent Granato. We're with the Department of Homeland Security. Special Threat Assessment Group.'
I peered at the ID and then looked at him. 'Stag? Really? Are you guys serious?'
Lowell, the bald guy, flinched a little, but Chin Dimple didn't seem to get the joke. 'Ms. Riley, we'd like to talk to you about the recent…disturbances…in this part of Los Angeles.'
'What disturbances? It's always like this. The tourists mostly stay in Anaheim.' I looked at the guys. They were both sorcerers, and both had a fair amount of juice. By the looks of him, Lowell could have been one of my big hitters.
'Ms. Riley, we know of your associations, and we know what's happening here. It's our job to evaluate the MIE, gather intelligence and recommend an appropriate response.'
He was doing the Mr. Clean thing to me, so I just looked at him. He didn't seem to know what I was waiting for, though, so I finally had to ask the question. 'What's an MIE?'
'Major Incursion Event,' Granato answered. 'Our concern is the national security of the United States. And the welfare of its citizens, of course,' he added, somewhat belatedly.
I nodded. 'Well, what do you want from me?'
Agent Lowell answered. 'Ms. Riley, the U.S. government-part of it, anyway-is aware that we're moving into a period of global instability. We're aware that we can't stop it. Our goal is to manage the transition as effectively as possible.'
'Hope they pay you well for that.'
Lowell shrugged. 'It's a government job. Ms. Riley, are you aware of the role the Mafia played during World War II?'
'Yeah, I guess. They were recruited by the government to do their part for the war effort-use their influence, help gather intelligence, mostly in Italy.'
'That's right,' Agent Lowell agreed. 'We'd like you to do the same.'
'You guys have some juice,' I said. 'I guess the government can handle it.' Maybe the outfit wouldn't have to save the world after all.
Lowell looked at Granato and then back at me. 'Ms. Riley, as far as we know, Agent Granato and myself are the only two practicing sorcerers in the federal government. Our organization has compiled a great deal of information, but as you are aware, knowledge is not enough.'
So much for the cavalry riding to the rescue. 'Let's say I'm interested. What do I get out of this?'
Agent Granato scowled. 'You get a chance to serve your country in a time of crisis. Isn't that enough, Riley?'
'Serving my country and serving my government-or part of it-isn't necessarily the same thing.'
'I understand, Ms. Riley,' Lowell said. 'Uncle Sam's reputation isn't what it used to be.'
I shrugged. 'Everyone's got a crazy uncle in the family.'
'Understand this, though. The government isn't some monolithic entity that speaks with one voice and acts with one hand. It's just people-people with different ideas, making difficult decisions that have pretty serious consequences. They need good information, good advice. It's our job to give it to them, and you can help with that. If they don't get it, bad decisions get made and really bad things happen.'
I remembered what Rashan had told me, and an image of a mushroom cloud over Los Angeles sprung into my head.
'And of course,' said Lowell, 'we could ensure that your business operations are not a priority for the federal government.'
'Done,' I said. 'But I'm not going to start voting Republican.'
Agent Lowell laughed. 'That won't be necessary, Ms. Riley. For now, we'd just like to know how this thing is going to go. Can you contain this MIE?'
'I don't know. But I'm about to find out.'
When I got back to my condo, I pulled up a chair at the kitchen table. The tiny sidhe warriors were sitting at the edge of the lagoon. One of them was nibbling on a fruit, and the other seemed to be napping.
'Hey guys,' I said.
'What do you want?' asked the one with the fruit. His voice sounded like one of the Chipmunks. The other opened an eye and looked at me.
'I want to arrange a sit-down with your boss. Thought y'all might be able to help me with that.'
'A sit-down?'
'Yeah, you know, a parley. Negotiations.'
Sleepy sat upright. 'You would have to free us from this prison,' he said. 'We cannot contact our king from this place.'
'I could do that,' I said, 'if you delivered the message for me. Just one of you, though. The other one has to
