bondsman.
“There! That's what I'm lookin' for.”
Glancing up, the
Baron saw Barracuda scatter a small amount of ash from a tiny,
square white envelope in his very large hand. It drifted lazily
onto the polished wood floor.
Barracuda gave an
exaggerated snap to his fingers in imitation of the Fallen. From
the ashes, a mass of shadows rose up, one after the other, until
they entirely surrounded the Fallen's group. In a heartbeat, the
shadows took form and shape, solidifying into a host of horned and
fanged demons: red, blue, and green. The LaRue sisters strolled in
almost lazily unfurling leathery wings the same blood red as their
hair. Around them the air shimmered and in their arms, a pair of
huge, organic looking guns appeared.
Reaching under the desk, Roman pulled out a short, tasseled
spear that popped and buzzed with such dark energy it seemed to
blur the outline of its Master. Resting the weapon in the crook of
one arm, he glared at the Fallen. “The real question is, Baron, do
you know who I am? This is my house. You have crossed my threshold and I have the power to
whip your angelic ass if you disrespect me or mine
anymore.”
This time a true
smile appeared on the fearsomely handsome face of the Fallen Angel.
“Well played, Voodoo King. You are right. I have been rude to you
in your home.” He reached into the inside pocket of his velvet
suit, pulling out a small leather pouch. He stepped forward and the
host around him tensed. Holding up one hand in a placating gesture,
he slowly emptied the bag, spilling out a handful of glittering
gems.
“I should have made
my intent clear. I am, of course, willing to purchase this
information and pay well for your time.”
Barracuda didn't even look at the gems. “And if you had just
asked me nicely, I would have told you exactly what I told that
Avenging Angel for free. Who, by the way, said please and thank
you, and brought a bag of fresh rolls from La Brea bakery, excuse me very much , Mr.
Baron. Yes, I know who you are.”
With
a quick motion to the three dark beings, the Fallen transformed
them back into the large sentinel dogs. He sat down and crossed his
legs. The tension in the room scaled down several notches. “Accept
the gems, your Highness, as my apology for being so brusque. I have
been much in my own magic and forget the other gods have their own
guardians who command just as much respect. Hubris is truly a sin.”
Running his long, tapered fingers down one pant leg, he smoothed
the fine material. “This little matter is of some personal
importance to me. So if you would, please , tell me of the Reaper and,”
he kept his voice deceptively neutral, “the Avenging Angel who
pursues him.”
Chapter 9
Evie perched on top of the yoghurt shop watching
the second floor corner window in the tiny apartment building
opposite. Just six units, the place had the advantage of being only
a few steps from the beach. Its disadvantage took up the entire
first floor. A bar and grill that, judging from the decibel level
of the crowd, was generally more bar than grill. Evie sighed,
thinking how good an icy cold draft beer would taste right about
now. Maybe later. She needed a clear head. Her nerves were dancing
and the Reaper was leading every step.
Evening deepened to
night, the stars coming out in the indigo sky. Clear for now,
though Evie could see the fog bank hanging low, far out in the
distance. The clouds would move in later, blanketing the beach
towns in the coastal overcast so common to California. The noise of
the crowds along Pier Street ebbed and flowed like the waves on the
shore. Skateboarders popped, jumped, and twisted in front of the
bronze surfer statue at the end of the street, trying to out-do
each other. A police car stood parked nearby, lights flashing, the
only automobile allowed on the pedestrian mall. One of the
policemen leaned against the car, talking amiably to a couple of
fisherman with long poles heading for some night fishing off
“There! That's what I'm lookin' for.”
Glancing up, the
Baron saw Barracuda scatter a small amount of ash from a tiny,
square white envelope in his very large hand. It drifted lazily
onto the polished wood floor.
Barracuda gave an
exaggerated snap to his fingers in imitation of the Fallen. From
the ashes, a mass of shadows rose up, one after the other, until
they entirely surrounded the Fallen's group. In a heartbeat, the
shadows took form and shape, solidifying into a host of horned and
fanged demons: red, blue, and green. The LaRue sisters strolled in
almost lazily unfurling leathery wings the same blood red as their
hair. Around them the air shimmered and in their arms, a pair of
huge, organic looking guns appeared.
Reaching under the desk, Roman pulled out a short, tasseled
spear that popped and buzzed with such dark energy it seemed to
blur the outline of its Master. Resting the weapon in the crook of
one arm, he glared at the Fallen. “The real question is, Baron, do
you know who I am? This is my house. You have crossed my threshold and I have the power to
whip your angelic ass if you disrespect me or mine
anymore.”
This time a true
smile appeared on the fearsomely handsome face of the Fallen Angel.
“Well played, Voodoo King. You are right. I have been rude to you
in your home.” He reached into the inside pocket of his velvet
suit, pulling out a small leather pouch. He stepped forward and the
host around him tensed. Holding up one hand in a placating gesture,
he slowly emptied the bag, spilling out a handful of glittering
gems.
“I should have made
my intent clear. I am, of course, willing to purchase this
information and pay well for your time.”
Barracuda didn't even look at the gems. “And if you had just
asked me nicely, I would have told you exactly what I told that
Avenging Angel for free. Who, by the way, said please and thank
you, and brought a bag of fresh rolls from La Brea bakery, excuse me very much , Mr.
Baron. Yes, I know who you are.”
With
a quick motion to the three dark beings, the Fallen transformed
them back into the large sentinel dogs. He sat down and crossed his
legs. The tension in the room scaled down several notches. “Accept
the gems, your Highness, as my apology for being so brusque. I have
been much in my own magic and forget the other gods have their own
guardians who command just as much respect. Hubris is truly a sin.”
Running his long, tapered fingers down one pant leg, he smoothed
the fine material. “This little matter is of some personal
importance to me. So if you would, please , tell me of the Reaper and,”
he kept his voice deceptively neutral, “the Avenging Angel who
pursues him.”
Chapter 9
Evie perched on top of the yoghurt shop watching
the second floor corner window in the tiny apartment building
opposite. Just six units, the place had the advantage of being only
a few steps from the beach. Its disadvantage took up the entire
first floor. A bar and grill that, judging from the decibel level
of the crowd, was generally more bar than grill. Evie sighed,
thinking how good an icy cold draft beer would taste right about
now. Maybe later. She needed a clear head. Her nerves were dancing
and the Reaper was leading every step.
Evening deepened to
night, the stars coming out in the indigo sky. Clear for now,
though Evie could see the fog bank hanging low, far out in the
distance. The clouds would move in later, blanketing the beach
towns in the coastal overcast so common to California. The noise of
the crowds along Pier Street ebbed and flowed like the waves on the
shore. Skateboarders popped, jumped, and twisted in front of the
bronze surfer statue at the end of the street, trying to out-do
each other. A police car stood parked nearby, lights flashing, the
only automobile allowed on the pedestrian mall. One of the
policemen leaned against the car, talking amiably to a couple of
fisherman with long poles heading for some night fishing off
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