“Like how you made me sit down,” he whispered.
“And shut up, yes,” I laughed. “There are a lot of races living among humans. Spellsingers are only one variety, though we are, admittedly, one of the most dangerous.”
“Other races?” MacLaine looked as if he couldn't take much more, so I took pity on him once more.
“Don't worry about that right now,” I waved a hand. “They aren't the ones who want you dead.”
“Jonah,” MacLaine growled. “I can't believe he's taken it this far.”
“Mr. MacLaine,” I said carefully, “my kind have toppled kingdoms, burned cities, changed the history of the world. I can do anything to Jonah Malone that you wish... for the right price.”
“So, from conqueror to mercenary, eh?” MacLaine chuckled.
“I have no desire to destroy monarchies or watch Rome burn–that was my Grand Aunt Adelaide's thing,” I rolled my eyes.
“Wait– the burning of Rome, where Nero supposedly fiddled . . .” He exhaled roughly. “A relative of yours did that?”
“Nero didn't own a fiddle,” I grimaced. “That instrument wasn't invented till much later. He played a cithara.”
“A what?”
“It looks kind of like a lute . . . never mind that.” I was terrible with tangents once I got talking. “Nero wasn't in Rome at the time of the burning. He hired Adelaide, just as you're hiring me. Someone else played music for her while she set Rome ablaze.”
“Someone else . . . you can start fires with your song?”
“I told you,” I huffed. “I can do anything the words permit me to do. If I sing about fire, stuff burns. If I sing about water, someone drowns. Sometimes, a whole continent,” I shook my head. I wouldn't tell him about Uncle Eilener and Atlantis. He still got flack over that fiasco.
“So you're . . . wait. Nero hired someone to burn Rome?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “Everyone hated him. After Rome burned, Nero came in with food and supplies, opening his own gardens to house people. He polished up his image while secretly deciding on a spot to build his new golden palace. It was good PR, and smart property management.”
“What a bastard,” MacLaine winced.
“Yeah, Aunt Adelaide regretted working with Nero. That's why I'm a bit more choosy with my clients,” I smirked. “But what do you want, Mr. MacLaine? What result would you like, concerning Jonah Malone?”
“I'd like for him to just back off,” he huffed. “But I don't see how . . .” He trailed off as he saw me smiling. “You can do that? Just make him change his mind? Permanently?”
“Absolutely,” I inclined my head. “And it's even cheaper than killing him. Only two and a half million.”
“Two and a half million?” MacLaine huffed. “That's more than I paid for the company.”
“Your acquaintances did warn you about my price, correct?”
“Yes, but,” he frowned, “that's when my life was in danger.”
“Your life is still in danger,” I stood. “I haven't agreed to take your case yet.”
He gaped at me for two seconds before standing, and offering me his hand again. “Two point five million is just fine, Ms. Tanager.”
“Wonderful, then we have an agreement.” I shook his hand, then started heading for the door. “And just a suggestion.” I stopped–halfway there–and looked back at him. “Fire your security team and get some professionals. Even without my magic, I could have killed them all within ten minutes. Especially the one called Jake.”
“You . . . what . . .” He blinked, and then recovered. “Alright. I'll do that today.”
“Smart man.” I smiled. Maybe he would live long enough to pay me. After all, he hadn't hired me to do his–
“How much for you to head my security?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don't have time for that, and you don't have enough money to pay me.” His face fell. “However”–I pulled a card from the pocket of my skirt and handed it to him– “this man will help you.”
“Cerberus Security,” MacLaine read, and then looked up at me. “This is the guy I called to arrange our meeting.”
I nodded.
His eyes went wide, “Please tell me this isn't the same Cerberus who . . .”
“Guarded the Greek Underworld?” I laughed. “That was a giant dog, Mr. MacLaine. With three heads, I believe.”
“Oh.” He laughed, but it sounded strained. “Just a reference to the protection skills then?”
“Yes, exactly.” I smiled. Nope, I wouldn't tell him that he had guessed correctly.
Cerberus was actually a shapeshifting god with a fondness for practical jokes and dangerous women. I'm unsure which had cost him his job. I've known him for centuries, and he still hasn't told me. I know that Hades personally kicked his old, guard dog out of the Greek Underworld. Gave him the fiery boot. So now, Cerberus watched over humans. Humans who could pay him enough to soothe his wounded, puppy pride. Cer was damn good at what he did, but he was better at defense. He lacked the subtlety for a proper offense. If you told Cer to kill someone, he would probably just punch them in the face, really hard. I doubt he'd even stop to ask if the guy needed killing to begin with. So he kept to the security side of the business, and he called me for anything beyond that. Conversely, when my clients had a bunch of buffoons guarding them, I sent them to Cerberus.
“Ms. Tanager?” MacLaine stopped me again.
“Call me Elaria.” I smiled at him.
“That's lovely.” He grinned. “You must call me Adam then. I was just wondering . . . isn't a tanager a type of bird?”
“Why, yes, it is, Adam.” I was still smiling as I left. It was
