Magic Grave

'You wouldn't tell me what you preferred,' he said mournfully, his pitch low and husky. 'I had to improvise.'

*** *** ***

'What are you?' I kept my sword between me and him.

'Does it really matter?'

'Yes, it does.' When people said shapeshifter, they usually meant a person afflicted with Lyc-V, the virus that gave its victim the ability to shift into an animal. I'd never seen one who could freely change its human form.

Saiman made a valiant effort to shrug. Hard to shrug with several pounds of chains on your shoulders, but he managed to look nonchalant doing it.

'I am me.'

Oh boy. 'Stay here.'

'Where would I go?'

I left the bedroom and checked the rest of the apartment. The only remaining room contained a large shower stall and a giant bathtub. No kitchen. Perhaps he had food delivered.

Fifteenth floor. At least one guard downstairs, bullet-resistant glass, metal grates. The place was a fortress. Yet he hired bodyguards at exorbitant prices. He expected his castle to be breached.

I headed to the bar grabbed a glass from under the counter, filled it with water, and took it to Saiman. Changing shape took energy. If he was anything like other shapeshifters, he was dying of thirst and hunger right about now.

Saiman's gaze fastened on the glass. 'Delightful.'

I let him drink. He drained the glass in long, thirsty swallows.

'How many guards are on duty downstairs?'

'Three.'

'Are they employed by the building owners directly?'

Saiman smiled. 'Yes. They're experienced and well paid and they won't hesitate to kill.'

So far so good. 'When you change shape, do you reproduce internal organs as well?'

'Only if I plan to have intercourse.'

Oh goodie. 'Are you pregnant?'

Saiman laughed softly.

'I need to know if you're going to go into labor.' Because that would just be a cherry on the cake of this job.

'You're a most peculiar woman. No, I'm most definitely not pregnant. I'm male, and while I may construct a vaginal canal and a uterus on occasion, I've never had cause to recreate ovaries. And If I did, I suspect they would be sterile. Unlike the male of the species, women produce all of their gametes during gestation, meaning that when a female infant is born, she will have in her ovaries all of the partially developed eggs she will ever have. The ovaries cannot facilitate production of new eggs, only the maturation of existing ones. The magic is simply not deep enough for me to overcome this hurdle. Not yet.'

Thank Universe for small favors. 'Who am I protecting you from and why?'

'I'm afraid I have to keep that information to myself as well.'

Why did I take this job again? Ah yes, a pile of money. 'Withholding this information diminishes my ability to guard you.'

He tilted his head, looking me over. 'I'm willing to take that chance.'

'I'm not. It also puts my life at a greater risk.'

'You're well compensated for that risk.'

I repressed the urge to brain him with something heavy. Too bad there was no kitchen – a cast-iron frying pan would do the job.

'I see why the first team bailed.'

'Oh, it was the woman,' Saiman said helpfully. 'She had difficulty with my metamorphosis. I believe she referred to me as 'abomination'.'

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. 'Let's try simple questions. Do you expect us to be attacked tonight?'

'Yes.'

I figured as much. 'With magic or brute force?'

'Both.'

'Is it a hit for hire?'

Saiman shook his head. 'No.'

Well, at least something went my way: amateurs were easier to deal with than contract killers.

'It's personal. I can tell you this much: the attackers are part of a religious sect. They will do everything in their power to kill me, including sacrificing their own lives.'

And we just drove off a cliff in a runaway buggy. 'Are they magically adept?'

'Very.'

I leaned back. 'So let me summarize: You're a target of magical kamikaze fanatics, you won't tell me who they are, why they're after you, or why you have been restrained?'

'Precisely. Could I trouble you for a sandwich? I'm famished.'

Dear God, I had a crackpot for a client. 'A sandwich?'

'Prosciutto and Gouda on sourdough bread, please. A tomato and red onion would be quite lovely as well.'

'Sounds delicious.'

'Feel free to have one.'

'I tell you what, since you refuse to reveal anything that might make my job even a smidgeon easier, how about I make a delicious prosciutto sandwich and taunt you with it until you tell me what I want to know?'

Saiman laughed.

An eerie sound came from the living room – a light click, as if something with long sharp claws crawled across metal.

*** *** ***

I put my finger to my lips, freed my saber, and padded out into the living room.

The room lay empty. No intruders.

I stood very still, trying to fade into the black walls.

Moments dripped by.

A small noise came from the left. It was a hesitant, slow clicking, as if some creature slunk in the distance, slowly putting one foot before the other.

Click.

Definitely a claw.

Click.

I scrutinized the left side of the room. Nothing moved.

Click. Click, click.

Closer this time. Fear skittered down my spine. Fear was good. It would keep me sharp. I kept still. Where are you, you sonovabitch…

Click to the right, and almost immediately a quiet snort to the left. Now we had two invisible intruders. Because one wasn't hard enough.

An odd scent nipped at my nostrils, a thick, slightly bitter herbal odor. I'd smelled it once before but I had no clue where or when.

Claws scraped to the right and to the left of me now. More than two. A quiet snort to the right. Another in the corner. Come out to play. Come on, beastie.

Claws raked metal directly in front of me. There was nothing there but that huge window and sloping ceiling above it. I looked up. Glowing green eyes peered at me through the grate of the air duct in the ceiling.

Shivers sparked down my back.