Chapter Two
Jonah Malone was a gangster. Or a mobster. Probably a whole lot of words that ended in “er.” He had clawed his way to the top, and then discovered that he didn't actually have a head for business. All of his enterprises were failing, not just the one MacLaine had purchased, and Jonah was reverting to his old thug ways to handle the frustration.
It had been a simple thing to schedule an appointment to see him. I simply sang to the receptionist over the phone, and she found a spot for me that very day. Then I walked into Jonah Malone's office, closed the door, and sang to him. In five minutes, he had completely forgotten why he wanted to kill MacLaine. He also decided to sell off his remaining businesses, and get out while he could. Perhaps meditate more. I figured why not help improve the guy while I'm messing with his head?
I walked out feeling relaxed, and satisfied with a job well done. I had video taped Jonah's “change of heart”, and sent it to Cer, who would pass it along to MacLaine as confirmation. Within ten minutes, MacLaine had transferred my payment into my account. I could finally go home. Maybe I'd have a Mai Tai on the plane as a special treat. Hell, maybe I'd have two.
I was on the way to the airport, when Cerberus called.
“Got another one for you, El.” Cerberus didn't bother with a greeting.
“I'm tired and cold, Cer.” I sighed. “Give it to someone else. I'm going home.”
“No one else can handle this. It's bad.”
“How bad?”
“Blooder army bad.”
“That's pretty fucking bad.” I made a face at the phone.
“Yes.”
“Fuck.”
“Yes.”
“Whose army?” I asked.
“Some guy named Lincoln.” Cerberus's voice had a shrug in it.
“Like the president?”
“Yep.” He didn't offer anymore info.
“Where is this army going? What do they want? Who's the client?” I huffed. “You wanna give me anything without me pulling your fucking canines to get it?”
“Whoa, easy now,” Cer chuckled. “You're turning me on, Elaria, sweetheart. You wanna stop in Denver and make good on some of your promises? We can fly to Kansas together after your failed attempts at pulling my pearly whites.”
“Kansas!” I nearly screeched, causing my driver to look back at me in concern. “It's fine. I'm fine,” I told the driver. To Cer, I said, “I'm not going to Kansas. Who do you think I am? Dorothy?”
“You'd look cute in a little gingham dress,” he offered.
“The only way you'd get me in gingham is if you put on a collar and let me call you Toto,” I shot back.
“For you, baby? Anytime.”
“Great.” I rolled my eyes. “Now we have our next couple's costume planned.”
“No, really.” I could hear Cerberus smirk. “I look good in a collar.”
Cerberus and I had been playing this mating game since we met, back when I was sixteen, and we'd never concluded it. Part of me wanted to see if he was as good as he implied, but the other part of me knew our friendship was worth too much to risk it. Plus, we did business together, and everyone knows that saying about mixing business with Percocet. Or something like that.
“Look.” Cerberus got serious. “The guy is an old friend of mine. He's a blooder, a gheara, but he keeps his people in line, and they don't cause any trouble. He's one of the good ones.”
“I don't know about a blooder being good, but I'll believe the bit about him keeping his people in line.” I chuckled. “It's not like you hear a lot of vampire stories originating in Kansas. I didn't even know that Kansas had a Beneath. I thought they'd all flown away to Oz.”
“Banning's a tough one. He fought his way out of Europe, and now the fuckers are coming for him.” Cerberus didn't even acknowledge my jokes on the Beneath, aka the paranormal community. Which he knew irritated me. I put effort into my comedy; the least he could do was acknowledge it.
“Lincoln doesn't sound European,” I noted dryly.
“He's not.” Cer finally laughed. “He's a local hire. Mercenary.”
“Ah,” now that I could relate to. “So the guy is just doing a job. I can't hold that against him.”
“Yeah, but he contracts with the Falca all the time. Those elitist bastards wouldn't even bother to come to America, and kill Banning themselves,” Cer huffed. “Lincoln, what kind of stupid merc name is that?”
“So what do you want me to do?” I rolled my eyes, something I did a lot when I talked to Cer. He had a thing about names, especially professional ones, and was always going on about them. And the fact that I didn't have one.
“Ma'am? We're here,” the cabby called back to me.
“Hold on, Cer.” I stuffed my phone into my purse and pulled out some cash for the driver. I hurried out of the cab and over to a semi-secluded bench, then pulled out the phone again. “You there?”
“Why do you always shove your phone in your purse when you put me on hold?” Cerberus grumbled. “Just press the fucking hold button. You think I like listening to all your lady loot knocking against the mic?”
“I'm going to hang up,” I threatened.
“Fine,” he growled. “I can get you ten million for the job.”
I nearly dropped the phone. Ten million was twice my assassination fee. But then I thought about it. An assassination was one person, and Cerberus was asking me to kill . . . Wait, how many blooders was he asking me to kill?
“How big is this army?” I asked.
“I'm not sure,” he muttered.
“How big, Cer?”
“Big enough that a gheara blooder can't handle it with his entire gura backing him,” Cerberus snapped.
Blooder,
