me,
which
led
to
a
five-minute
attack/escape/something-gets-blown-to-bits chase that final y caused the place to col apse. Unfortunately, the mage we’d been after had never been there in the first place, so we stil had to neutralize him before we could ditch each other. We managed a temporary truce. Did the job. He threatened to rearrange my reflection and we went our separate ways.”
I knew Cassandra was shaking her head because I could hear her earrings clicking together. “Does Vayl know about this?”
“No.”
Sigh. “Al right. I’l cal him. But you have to promise to behave.”
“Cassandra. I’m a total y different person now. It’l be no problem. You can promise him that. And, you know, make a deal if you have to. Tel him I’l buy him a new trumpet or something.”
“You think he’s stil that angry that he’s going to have to be bribed?”
“I don’t know. I mean, Vayl did request his help when we went to Scotland and nothing came of it. At the time he thought the Oversight Committee was responsible. I never corrected him because we were final y going somewhere with our relationship, and the last thing I wanted to say was,
‘Oh, by the way, can I tel you about the time I was a complete ass to a sensitive artist?’”
Cassandra said, “He was out of line too.”
“See, that’s why my brother loves you. Is he home yet?” New excitement in her voice as she said, “I’m meeting his plane tomorrow. I can’t wait! Is it okay if I take Jack with me?”
“Sure. Just tel him he doesn’t have to get
“Okay. And, um, I’l cal Sterling now.”
“You are the best future sister-in-law ever.” I had to sit there for a minute after I hung up before I could identify the strange new feeling making me want to jump up and pace around the room.
Nothing makes me hungrier than a gut ful of optimism. So I took Vayl’s cane in one hand and let the other brush back the sienna-tinted curtains that spanned my balcony door.
Across the courtyard, through the doors that exited the lounge, I could see people moving around inside the room.
Which meant cake could stil be snatched from under their noses if I was cunning, bold, or charming, al of which I felt were suddenly within my skil set. But just in case I needed help, I pul ed a compact from my battered black weapons bag and, from it, peeled off two fake eyelashes. Besides making me resemble Trixie the Velcro-uniformed nurse at the Silver Spurs Saloon, they gave me access to any video feeds our friendly neighborhood robokitty might want to send me.
I ran down to the second floor and knocked on Bergman’s door. He didn’t answer. I knew better than to barge in. He probably had a rocket launcher set to fire as soon as the knob turned the wrong way. So I knelt by the crack between the embel ished wood and the floor.
“Come on out, Astral,” I coaxed. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your gears purring.”
Without another noise she slid out to me, her sleek black coat in blob-array to al ow her to pass through the thumb-sized opening. “Thatta girl,” I said as we both took our typical stances. I only popped a couple of times at the knee. She sounded like a bag of Orvil e Redenbacher’s, and kinda resembled one too, her parts reinflating to catly proportions with remarkable speed. I waited. When her claws didn’t appear I said, “Aren’t you going to recalibrate?”
She regarded me with golden eyes that seemed to cross slightly the longer we stared at each other. Then she said, “Hel o!” Eerie how her lips made just the right shapes.
Bergman must’ve spent six months on her mouth controls alone.
“I’l take that as a ‘No.’ Now remember not to talk in front of Monique. You’re barely believable as it is.” I headed for the next set of stairs, glancing down at Astral as she trotted beside me. I knew if I touched her she’d feel like one of those metal ic silver sleeping bags that insulate to forty below. Which was why we’d told Monique that Astral was a weather cat. We’d unraveled this huge yarn about her already having predicted three tornadoes and a volcanic eruption. So now part of our research (specifical y mine) was to see if she could foresee sandstorms. Or flash floods. But it al had to do with her unique coat, so we’d asked Monique never to touch her, because to do so could ruin al our data.
“You know, I’d worry about there being a special place for liars in hel ,” I whispered to her. “But I’m pretty sure the assassins’ level is so much worse, it’s not even worth my time to stress over it anymore.”
Her only reply was a twitch of her inky ears to let me know she’d heard. At least she hadn’t spoken, or worse, sung out a reply. And once we got to the lounge I realized I hadn’t needed to freak about Monique at al . She’d taken off for the night, leaving Cole and Kyphas to play a game of backgammon. Wel , that seemed to have been the original idea, because the game board and pieces were al set up on the table where the cake had been. Which meant Monique had probably taken it back to the—
