Game of Cages

“What does it do?” Well-Spoken hurried toward him and peered at it over his shoulder.

I glared at Yin. “Wait for it,” I said.

It took less than a minute, but eventually the fire alarm clanged. His gunmen looked nervous, but Yin was greedily delighted. “An arson spell?”

“I don’t recognize it, sir.” Well-Spoken had to shout over the alarm. “I don’t even recognize the style.”

“Is it …” He searched my expression. When he strained his voice, his pitch went quite high. “I have heard that the Book of Grooves is in this part of the world. Is this from the lost Book of Grooves?”

I looked him straight in the eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said truthfully.

He looked flustered for a moment, then his smug expression returned. “Of course. I forgot to bargain for its provenance. Have no fear, Mr. Lilly. My people are very good at their jobs. I’ll have my answers soon enough.” He waved his men out of the room and backed away.

“Of course, you forgot to bargain for the keys to those handcuffs!” It was his parting shot, and I let him have it. I kicked the door shut.

Bound was still kneeling on the floor. Yin had abandoned him, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I bent low, passing the cuffs under my feet so my hands were in front of me, then peeked into the living room. No one put a bullet in my head. They were gone. Through the front window I could see black smoke pouring from one of the units across the way.

I was suddenly very tired. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was dinnertime. I needed sleep, and while I wasn’t desperate enough to lie down here, it would have to be soon.

Bound was still crouching there. The fire across the lot was growing strong. I dragged him to his feet. Together, we hustled out the door.

We hurried toward the arched exit, keeping as far from the fire as possible. Glass shattered somewhere behind me. I shielded my face and dragged Bound past the office.

The fire engine screeched to a stop at the entrance to the motel, while the clerk waved at them with a windmilling arm. I pulled Bound through the arch and off to the side, but we’d been spotted. A firefighter jumped from the back of the engine and ran toward us.

“You two!” he shouted. “Get to a safe distance, but don’t leave the area. We’re going to have some questions …”

He noticed the handcuffs and stopped talking. Then he looked again at Bound’s torn clothes and hunched, face-to-the-ground body language. He didn’t know what to say.

“What?” I said. “We’re consenting adults.”

He frowned, then pointed to a place well away from the fire. “Go there. Stay.” Then he turned and ran through the arch.

“How did you get here so fast?” I called, but he was already gone.

I laid my hand against the stone arch and called my ghost knife. I held it close and said, “Come on.” Bound followed me.

We went farther than the fireman wanted, hurrying by the people filing out of the bar to watch the flames.

With the ghost knife, I cut the cuffs off—carefully. I didn’t know what effect the spell would have on me, and now was not the time to experiment.

I dropped the cuffs into a planter. People were coming out of the stores, and I didn’t want any more attention than necessary. Then I saw Yin step into the Maybach. His driver closed the door for him and got behind the wheel.

Movement off to my right caught my attention. It was Tattoo sitting on a Megamoto. I felt the sudden flush of fear that comes from finding myself too close to a guy who wants to kill me, but he was watching Yin. He hadn’t even noticed me.

As the trio of BMWs rolled out of the parking lot, Tattoo stuck a piece of toast in his mouth and pulled his helmet on. He didn’t have a cast over his thumb or ankle, and I was sure I’d broken both. Damn. All that work and nothing to show for it. He started his bike and followed Yin’s people.

Without thinking about it, I bolted away from Bound and ran toward Tattoo, ghost knife in hand. Yin was a bastard, but Tattoo was worse.

It was no use. The cars were out of the lot and Tattoo was only fifty feet behind them, too far away for me to use my ghost knife.

Bound was standing where I’d left him. I pushed him against the wall and patted him down. His gun was gone. He let me take his passport and billfold. He had credit cards, foreign cash, even a notepad and pen. None of it interested me, and none of it was worth taking.

“Hey,” I said. He wouldn’t look me in the face. “Hey. Where’s Catherine? Your boss said you had her, but she got away. Where did she escape? What did you do to her, you asshole?”

He said something I didn’t understand. He repeated it again, and I realized he was saying: “Help me.” Apparently, that was the only English he knew.

“Sure thing, buddy. Sure thing.” I smiled and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Yin’s ghost knife didn’t leave him enough vigor to smile in response, but he did look relieved.

I took the notepad and pen out of his billfold and wrote: I don’t speak English but I do like to start fires. Please arrest me. Then I tucked the billfold back into his pocket, gently put the note in his hand, and gestured toward the men by the bar. He started walking meekly toward them, note held in front of him.

I didn’t stick around to see how that would turn out.

As I approached the Neon, I passed a pair of old hippies watching the fire. It was still going strong. One of