“All enforcers and assassins are on standby for the next two days. The Tribunal representative will be arriving, but we won’t know until that person is in the air. Henry will be running that show, so he’ll explain how it’s done.”
“All y’all come talk to me after Shane wraps up. I’ll explain the game,” Henry said.
Shane looked around. “I want everyone to familiarize yourselves with the grounds and security measures by Monday. We’re going to drill, plot, and plan every contingency. Members of the house will work with remote employees to make this happen. Everyone, take your jobs as seriously as you have ever taken them, because this sort of even could make or break this house and everything it wants to accomplish. That’s all for now. Enforcers and assassins, remember to talk to Henry before you disperse.”
Shamira scowled. If Shane meant “on standby” to include not going to visit her donors for probably the last time, he could kiss her ass. What was he going to do? Fire her?
There were a dozen or so people that she didn’t recognize who acted as Shane’s enforcers in the outlying areas of his territory. They were stretched thin since he inherited the extra land, but he was working on expanding that part of his empire as well. Shamira realized just how powerful Shane must be . . . he had a veritable army of very dangerous people at his beck and call.
Henry explained that they’d be playing a shell game, taking four identical black SUVs and one limo. The limo might or might not be a decoy, as they would decide when they got there which vehicle the Tribunal member would ride in, dividing up the rest of his or her staff as necessary as well as Shane’s people. Everyone was to wear body armor and be armed and ready to go the entire time, even when sleeping. Shamira rolled her eyes. ‘No chance in hell,’ she thought. Henry dismissed the group, but put a hand on Shamira’s shoulder.
“Listen, what’s going on between you and Shane sucks, but I need your head in this. You can see stuff the rest of us can’t.”
“Yeah yeah,” she replied. “Shadow sight and all that.”
“Actually, I meant just suspicious activity. I’ll trust good old-fashioned training over those fancy super powers of yours any day,” Henry said with a grin, though he didn’t get one in return.
“Whatever. I’m going to go visit my donors now, so –”
Henry looked annoyed. “Did you not hear anything I just said? Armor and armory until we get the Tribunal member back here safe and sound. Don’t go pissing Shane off just for the hell of it. That doesn’t mean you have to back down to him all the time, seeing as I know that’s not your style when it comes to your work, but the time goes by a lot faster when we aren’t at each other’s throats.”
Shamira realized that Henry didn’t know she planned on leaving, hence his misinterpretation of her indifference. “I promised them I’d come, and I’m keeping that promise.”
“You made a promise to Shane too. You promised you’d act as his enforcer in whatever capacity you could, and he’s called on you.” He put both hands on her shoulders. “No matter what you might think of him right now, I need you to be a professional. If it helps, don’t think of doing it for him, but maybe doing it in spite of him.”
Shamira just glared. Henry had nailed a very sore spot for her, which was her pride. Shane had wounded it, but that didn’t excuse her going back on her promise. ‘Four days,’ she thought. ‘Just four more days.’ “Fine. At least let me call them and let them know why I’m letting them down,” she said, hoping her words stung just a little bit.
She whipped out her cell phone and walked away; Arthur picked up after the second ring. He sounded disappointed that she was canceling, but understood when she explained that she was going to apparently have to work for four days straight. She promised she’d come visit them next Tuesday, even though she knew she’d have to get Shane to agree and give her one more day.
She’d consider it her severance package, since she didn’t want anything else of his. She still had fifteen-thousand dollars tucked away from when she and Henry busted those drug dealers, which would help her get set up wherever she was going. A nice apartment, a used car, and enough money until she found some new kind of employment.
Then she asked to talk to Kira, who also sympathized with having to work too hard. Shamira asked how hard it would be to trace someone’s finances, particularly if they didn’t bank at all. Kira sounded almost giddy at the prospect of doing some investigation. Apparently, she and a lot of the people she worked with check out the stocks and financial prospects of celebrities and the like for fun on their coffee breaks. She did it all the time, and promised she could even hunt down a lot of info if they banked elsewhere.
Shamira promised to provide more information when they met in person. She didn’t add that it would probably be their last meeting. She’d make sure that Sebastian had their contact number. She just hoped someone else would pick them up as donors.
“Hey!” Coramen shouted, flying up when Shamira got off the phone. “Thank you so much for recommending me to Lord Stapleton!” The little faerie got this sparkly look in her eye when she said, “Isn’t he dreamy?”
“Yeah. A real peach,” Shamira said.
Coramen looked concerned. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”
‘Besides complimenting the enemy?’ was the silent response. “No, you didn’t. Hey, I hope it works out for you. Any problems getting up here?”
“Nah. I followed the magic streams all the way up, paid my respects to their Majesties at Nature’s Glory, had sex with that cute Captain of the Guard . . . what’s his name?” she pondered, scrunching up her cute little face.
“Thorias,” Shamira replied, smiling a bit in spite of herself. “He’s a good guy.”
“Very good,” Coramen replied wickedly. Were all faeries perpetually horny?
“Listen, I gotta go get geared up. I’m on call for the foreseeable future.”
“Okay. I need to go find that Lillian person. She and Clara and I are going to adjust this freaky ward system of yours. You guys have some serious mojo! That weird magical web that you have is wickedly cool!”
“You have fun playing with magic,” Shamira finished, touching tongues with her much smaller counterpart. She watched Coramen quickly locate Lillian and Clara, flitting over and landing on Clara’s shoulder . . . that beautiful, smooth-skinned shoulder. Clara looked and started to smile, then her face fell for a moment before she smiled again. Coramen wasn’t who she’d been expecting to touch her there. Clara didn’t look over. Shamira walked away.
Shamira went and got into her armor, then picked up the rest of her gear. She had one whip wrapped around her waist as usual and the bullwhip hanging off the side. She had two shoulder holsters, each sporting a 9mm with silver hollow-points. A couple of knives in her boots and a double-barrel, silver buckshot shotgun slung over her back made her feel like picking a fight. Probably not the best thing for her current frame of mind, but Shane had been the one to demand it.
The second she stepped out of the armory, she found herself face to face with a half-dozen people she’d never met before.
“Lord Stapleton said that you’d show us the ropes,” one young man said. He smelled like humanity and Irish Spring, and Shamira really had no patience for this. ‘What is he thinking?’ Shamira wondered. It was Henry’s words that got her mind back on track, but she didn’t have to pretend to like it.
A woman spoke up. “I believe our assignment is supposed to be the patrolling the golf course. Shouldn’t be so hard.”
Shamira glared at her. “I’ve played that course. Were you ever my caddy?”
“No,” the woman replied, looking slightly perplexed.
“Lord Stapleton’s caddy? You’ve played those holes then? No? Well then you don’t have a damn idea what you’re talking about. We’ve got a couple of miles of perimeter, some heavily wooded areas, and a lot of places to hide. I’ve already been in one fight out there, and it wasn’t fun. The house and the meeting area can be accessed easily from the course. Keep that in mind before you put up your hammock and take a nap.”
‘Damn,’ Shamira thought, ‘I’m being extraordinarily bitchy aren’t I?’ The girl was looking suitably chastised, so Shamira led them outside. It turned out that there were a couple of human trackers, both former military, and a bunch of werewolves in this group. They had great senses of smell and were highly territorial, so they’d do just fine. They went over not only where possible points of access were, but also what can be seen from the exterior. Not everyone would be going for direct harm: spying was an option.
It turned out that everyone, including the woman she’d snapped at, wound up taking their jobs incredibly seriously. The woman, a werewolf, was an avid hunter and had a keen eye. Shamira felt bad about snapping, so she made her a patrol captain. All in all, they proved that Shane seemed to know what he was doing when he hired them. And she knew she’d miss this.
She released her troops in time for midnight meal, but decided to keep patrolling the area herself. The werewolf she’d yelled at, whose name was Mindy, offered to help, but Shamira sent her with the others. They needed to bond with the others.
Shamira wanted to be alone, and since there was no requirement to eat with the others, she put her feet to walking. She was looking at the moon and the lights, sketching a map in her head of the deepest shadows . . . the ones easiest for her to jump through and to heal in. And . . . and she wasn’t alone in the darkness.