“Still, she figured it out. Was the answer beyond you? Or did you just want to give her something to make her feel better after converting The Moscow into an ice palace?”
“Astute,” Monty answered with a nod. “She is a gifted mage. Her solution is elegant and only requires a slight adjustment. It was limited by her focus on the crystalline formations of ice.”
“So you knew how to make the shortcut?”
“Every teacher shows the student what they need, not everything the teacher knows,” Monty said and started walking off. “Be careful, Simon.”
“You too, Monty. Go shut down that mage—I’ll deal with Rocky.”
He walked off and faded into the night, disappearing with one of his mage camouflages. I pulled up to the NYTF cordon, where I was promptly stopped by a bored-looking officer.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to turn around, sir,” the officer instructed in standard checkpoint speech. “This area is closed off and dangerous to the public.”
“Sure,” I said. “Have you seen the reason you’re keeping the public away?”
“I just follow orders. Director said I get overtime by standing here. That’s good enough for me.”
“Actually, that’s not good enough,” I said, getting out and opening the rear suicide door. “You need to be on point tonight or innocent people might die.”
“Yeah, sure. Who are you, again?”
Peaches stepped out in dramatic hellhound fashion, massive head first, then enormous paws. The officer took a few steps back when Peaches stared at him. He looked from Peaches to the Dark Goat and let his shaky hand rest on the holster of his weapon as the blood slowly drained from his face.
“You don’t want to do that—trust me,” I said, reaching slowly inside my jacket. I flashed him my ID. “Director Ramirez is waiting for me.”
The officer, whose name-tag read, Landis grabbed his shoulder radio without taking his eyes off of us.
“I have an unidentified person at the south cordon who says he’s here for Director Ramirez,” Landis said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “He’s accompanied by a large canine—I think. Over.”
“That’s Strong,” Ramirez’s voice barked over the radio. “Let him through.”
Landis, now completely alert and semi-ready to bolt, nodded and waved at me to come through the cordon.
<Don’t forget to be polite and smile at the officer.>
Peaches bared his fangs with a growl, and Landis backed up several feet.
“Shit!” he said, nearly pulling out his gun. “What kind of creature is that?”
“The kind that will chew your arm off, if you pull out that gun,” I said, walking past the cordon. “Keep on your toes, Officer Landis. There are worse things out here tonight.”
“Fuck me,” I heard the officer say as we kept walking down the street. “That is not a dog.”
<Did I scare him?>
<Yes, but that fear will probably keep him alive tonight, so good job.>
<Good enough to get an extra sausage?>
<No. Life is not measured in sausages. Besides, you just ate.>
<I deserve an extra sausage because you pulled me away just before I spoke to the beautiful guardian. I could tell she was thinking I was cute.>
<She was thinking no such thing. Besides, what were you waiting for—an invitation?>
<Well, I did rescue her. It’s only fair she talk to me first.>
<Boy, if you want to ever have a chance of being with Rags, let that notion go right now. Next time you see her, bring her a sausage and just talk. Don’t wait for her to speak first.>
<Do you think that will work?>
<I’m not an expert, but…>
<True. Your female wants to hurt you. I don’t want the beautiful guardian to hurt me. I don’t think you are the right person to speak to—even if you are my bondmate.>
<My female wants to hurt me? What are you talking about?>
<Your female, the angry lady, wants to hurt you.>
<How do you know that? You can’t possibly know that she…>
<I’m a hellhound and your bondmate. I know who wants to hurt you.>
<Right. Anyway, I’m not taking personal relationship advice from a hellhound. It’s not the same.>
<What’s not the same?>
<Human relationships and canine relationships—very different.>
<Then, why do you want me to take your advice? We are bondmates, but you aren’t a hellhound or a canine.>
I was about to answer, but I didn’t have a good response. Peaches the Hellhound Zen Master had outmaneuvered me. I blamed the lizard.
<That’s actually a good point.>
<I will ask Frank what he thinks about this.>
<He’s not a canine, either.>
<True, but dragons are wise. At least wiser than most humans.>
<Frank is closer to a wiseass, and he’s not a dragon. He’s a lizard.>
<He is not…>
“Strong!” Ramirez yelled when he saw me. “Get over here!”
<We’ll discuss this later.>
TWENTY-THREE
We made our way through the bustle of activity to the command vehicle.
“Took you long enough,” Ramirez said, smoothing out a map on the small table. “Where’s Tristan?”
Personnel moved around us, managing the cordon and response teams.
“I dropped him off a few blocks away,” I said, looking at the map. “He’s tackling this—”
“A few blocks away?” Ramirez asked, his voice booming through the vehicle. “The monster is not a few blocks away, it’s over here!”
I gave him a look and waited for him to calm down. It usually took a few seconds before he calmed down enough to listen. The command vehicle had become deathly still in response to his outburst.
“Everybody out,” I said in a voice that gave no other option. “I need to speak to the Director alone for a few.”
Everyone hesitated until Angel gave them a slight nod, at which point they poured out of the vehicle in a rush.
“Strong—” Ramirez started.
“I don’t work for the NYTF”—I pointed a finger at his chest—“and neither does Monty or Peaches.”
“I know, I’m so—”
“Then, tell me what the hell has you so stressed out that you think screaming at me is going to fix the situation, Angel?”
“It’s the job, Strong. I’m sorry I yelled at you. This job has me wound up.”
“You’ve been doing this for years. What are you talking about? You’re the best Director the NYTF has had.
