A Symphony of Sirens (Spellsinger Book 2) Page 11

  He believed me . . . bwahahaha.

  Torin's face, when we pulled up to the industrial-esque, grown-up playground/mall, made mostly of shipping containers, was priceless. The giant, metal praying mantis, set in the center of the park, blew fire out of its head in streams, right on cue as we exited the limousine. Torin stood gaping up at it, and I stood there smiling at Torin. It wasn't every day that I was able to shock a Shining One king.

  Container Park was probably a hit with children during the day, but at night it became a 21-and-older scene: no children allowed. I doubted any parent would have brought their child out to a park so late at night anyway, and I hoped that one look around this particular park would send parents running in the other direction, their babies clutched tight to their chests, but you never know. There's always some yahoo who slips by Nature's minimum intelligence requirement and manages to make it to adulthood. Inevitably, it's these very morons who procreate –usually in great numbers. Container Park's after-dark rules are in place to protect the unfortunate children of these special people, and to ensure the right of its adult visitors to behave like a bunch of drunken baboons.

  It was glorious.

  I took Torin's hand as we strolled past metal sculptures, street performers, and tourists playing like toddlers.

  “This is fantastic,” Torin sighed. Then his eyes narrowed. “What is that man doing?”

  I followed Torin's gaze. “Oh, he's a street magician. He's performing.”

  “Magician?” Torin guided me over to the guy, who had amassed quite a crowd. “I thought humans couldn't do magic.”

  “How can you be so aware of some human culture and not at all about others?” I asked him.

  “Do you know all the traditions of the Shining Ones?” Torin challenged me.

  “Good point,” I conceded. “This guy isn't doing real magic, it's a trick. He's a professional showman, an expert in illusions.”

  The “guy” happened to overhear me and took my words as a challenge.

  “Aha! We have a disbeliever!” He said in the tone of a Southern minister. “Come forward, Miss. What's your name?”

  “What's yours?” I countered as Torin stiffened beside me and gave the guy a hard look.

  “Right.” The magician gulped. “No names. No problem. I don't need your name to convince you that magic is real.”

  “Oh, I already know that magic is real.” I smirked. I just couldn't help myself. “But this isn't magic.”

  “So, you believe, just not in me.” The magician rallied and the crowd laughed.

  “Well, we've only just met,” I said. “It takes me quite awhile to place my faith in a man.”

  “Not even that,” he countered. “If you recall, you wouldn't give me your name, so we technically haven't even met.”

  “Show us this magic or shut up,” Torin said simply.

  “Easy now, big fella.” The guy held up his hands. “How about this?”

  The magician made a gesture and a playing card appeared in his hand –the Queen of Hearts. He then tore a corner of the card off. Another wave, and the corner and the card disappeared. He showed the awed crowd his empty hands. Torin cocked his head, narrowed his eyes, then chuckled.

  “You caught it?” I asked Torin.

  “Oh yes,” he whispered to me. “And I assume you caught his friend sliding a piece of a playing card into your shoe?”

  “Oh yeah.” I smirked. “Should we go with it or ruin this guy's night?”

  “Let's try something else.” Torin winked at me.

  “Miss, if you would please humor me,” the magician said to me, “and remove your left shoe?”

  “You mean so I can show you this?” I asked as I pulled out the corner of the playing card.

  The audience clapped and the magician regally bowed his head.

  “Would you like it back?” Torin asked. He waved a pointer finger; using onyx's ability to concentrate energy, to push the corner off my open palm and send it swirling up into the air.

  The crowd gasped and the magician narrowed his eyes.

  “Thank you.” The magician made a grab for the torn corner, but Torin blasted it again and the thing skittered away. “Funny.” The magician watched the piece settle on the pavement, then bent to pick it up. Again, Torin moved it. The magician stood and grimaced at Torin.

  “Allow me,” I said. Then I began to sing under my breath, just a quick line from Josh Groban's “You Raise Me Up”.

  My magic drifted out from me gently. The card corner lifted, up and up, till it hung suspended before the magician. He gaped at it for the space of two heartbeats before he recovered and snatched it from the air.

  “Obviously, we have a team of magicians in our midst.” He gave me and Torin a bow, and the crowd cheered.

  “Something like that.” Torin smirked and led me away.

  “I suppose that wasn't very nice of us,” I noted.

  “Perhaps not,” Torin agreed, “but it was a lot of fun.”

  “What should we do now?”

  “That”–Torin pointed to a playground full of large, foam blocks. People were stacking them up and then crashing through them like the Hulk–“I want to do that.”

  “I'll race you,” I said, a second before I ran off.

  “That wasn't fair play, Elaria!” Torin called as he raced after me.

  I dove into a pile of foam bricks and, moments later, Torin jumped in after me. I laughed up into his smiling face and pulled him down for a kiss. He rolled with me, bringing me to the edge of the playground. Torin nuzzled my nose before lifting his head to look around. No one paid us any mind; our behavior was actually tame compared to some of the others around us.

  “I have never had such fun with a woman before.” Torin blinked in realization, then frowned. “Actually, I don't think I've ever had such fun with anyone. Not ever.”

  “Not even as a child?”

  “Not even then.”

  “Then we have some time to make up for.” I sat up and surveyed the massive building blocks. “Ready for another bounce?”

  “No”–he stood and then helped me up–“I think I shall build you a monument, my love. It shall be grand. You will take pictures of it with your cellular phone so that we have evidence of its grandeur. Then we will destroy it together and bounce in the wreckage. I enjoy the bouncing, it makes my chest feel lighter, kind of fluttery.”

  “Excellent!” I declared. “I love this plan, and I love the fluttery feeling in my chest.”

  “After the bouncing, we shall slide.” Torin waved his hand out to a tower of tubes nearby. “I think sliding shall be nearly as fun as bouncing.”

  “As long as you go first, Tigger.” I chuckled. “Because you sliding down on top of me would not be fun.”

  “Are you sure?” Torin smiled wickedly.

  “Nope”–I blinked my way through a blush–“not so sure anymore.”

  “Depending on just how much fun the sliding is,” Torin said as he began to build my monument of foam blocks, “I may have to build a slide inside Onyx Castle.”

  “I guess what happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cerberus didn't make it back to the hotel room that night. He came sauntering in the next morning with a huge grin on his face and a satisfied set to his shoulders. I smiled back and he rushed over to hug me.

  “You're a miracle worker, El,” Cerberus said. “She forgave me. We're good again. I have her back!”

  “So, you're dating again?” I pushed for more info.

  “We're together again,” he clarified. “Exclusive. No more bitches for me, it's pussy from here on out.”

  “Did you really find it necessary to use the 'pussy' joke again?” Torin rolled his eyes. “How old are you?”

  “After the first thousand years, you start to go backward in maturity.” I smirked at Torin.

  “It had to be done. I don't get the opportunity to compare bitches to pussy very often, and
now I won't get it at all. I'm a monogamous man.” Cerberus looked inordinately pleased by his status shift. He took a seat at the breakfast table with us. “Can you slide me a cup, Onyx?”

  Torin chuckled, filled a cup with coffee, and handed it to Cerberus.

  “Oh, that's good.” Cerberus took a sip of the straight black stuff. “It's been a long night.”

  “For us as well.” Torin grinned.

  “Oh?” Cer looked back and forth between me and Torin. “What did you two do last night? I mean, besides each other.”

  “We played.” I shrugged. “Never mind that. Has Freya received any new information? She sent a cat to us last night about the witness she found, but she's supposed to continue to keep watch.”

  “No, I'm sorry.” Cerberus set his cup down and got serious. “The cats are on the prowl; I saw them reporting in myself. At this point, it's a waiting game. We have to hope that this guy pops up again, and that could take some time, El. We have no idea when or where this asshole is going to show his face.”

  “Cock-Man,” I growled.

  “What's that?” Torin asked me.

  “Oh, sorry”–I chuckled–“I've given him a supervillain name; Cock-Man.”

  “On account of the crowing.” Cerberus nodded. “It's a nice play on words, I like it. Now, why is it so easy for you to name others, and yet you can't accept a name for yourself.”

  “Because I'm not a supervillain,” I huffed. “Or a superhero for that matter. I'm kind of in-between. In-betweens don't need an alias.”

  “You're a marketable item, and a brand name is simply good marketing,” Cerberus said.

  I shot a glance at Torin and he smirked. Not that I didn't know Cer was money-minded, it just happened to be particularly good timing for his comment. Nope, I wouldn't be telling Cer about my new party trick. No doubt he'd want to name that too. Spell-Toss or Song-Throw, something dumb like that.

  “I don't need to market myself,” I said. “I get more than enough work.”

  “Valid,” Cer agreed. “In fact–”

  “No”–I held up a hand–“I can't take on a job in the middle of this siren thing. I just did one last night; that's more than enough.”

  “It would be hella-fast,” Cerberus cajoled, “and it's here, in Vegas. It's just some nymph call-girls–”

  “No”–I pointed at him–“hell no. I am not messing with nymph hookers and their satyr pimps. Hooves, Cer. Don't you remember the New Zealand incident?”

  “Who said it had anything to do with a satyr?” Cerberus tried to look innocent.

  “Doesn't it?” I asked.

  Cerberus grimaced. “Not exactly.”

  “I need to get back to Pyrosvesti, Cerberus,” I said firmly. “I can't be gallivanting around Vegas while my family is in danger.”

  “Okay, no nymphs,” Cerberus relented. “What about manticore mobsters? You can't ignore manticores, Elaria. You'd be doing a service to the Beneath while making some serious moola.”

  “Manticores,” Torin growled. “What the fuck are manticores doing in Las Vegas?”

  “You have a problem with manticores?” I asked Torin.

  “Fuck, El, who doesn't?” Cerberus huffed. “Fucking nasty bastards.”

  “What he said,” Torin agreed. “I have to admit, this may be worth your time.”

  Our conversation came back to me, the one in which Torin asked me how many people I had saved. I'd already saved all the realms, wasn't that enough? Something inside me clenched sourly, and I realized that unless you were a heartless bastard, there could never be a maximum limit to the number of people you should save. And I wasn't heartless. Even with the sirens in jeopardy, I couldn't walk away from a manticore situation.

  “Shit,” I hissed. “What are those foul things up to?”

  “The usual mobster racket,” Cerberus said with a smile. “But add to that murder, cannibalism, and slavery.”

  “And no one has stood up to them?” Torin snarled.

  “Manticores are just a step below gods on the beneather totem pole,” I explained. “For you, they wouldn't be an issue, but for most beneathers, they're too dangerous to face.”

  “You said they were below gods in power,” Torin noted. “So why don't the gods who live here help?”

  “You've met Freya and Osiris, what about them makes you think they'd help some beneathers for nothing?” I asked Torin.

  “Hey,” Cerberus started to stick up for Freya, but I gave him a hard look. “Yeah, alright, Freya can be a bit self-absorbed.”

  I lifted my brows.

  “Don't make me say anything worse, El.” Cer grimaced. “I just got back into her good graces, and you never know when there's a cat roaming about.”

  “Suffice it to say, the gods of Vegas won't be helping.” I looked back to Torin.

  “Hey, we can't really fault them,” Cerberus added. “You'll be getting paid for this; fifty million. Pimping out nymphs is lucrative.”

  “Wait –what? Who's the client?” I asked.

  “A bunch of satyrs.” Cerberus had the grace to look guilty.

  “This is the prostitute nymph situation?” I growled.

  “Yeah, but it's their pimps you'll be dealing with, not the nymphs. So you don't have to worry about hooves; the hooves will be footing the bill. Ha Hooves footing the bill; that's fucking hilarious.”

  “Not funny, Cerberus,” I snapped. “Satyrs are difficult whether they're the client or the target.”

  “Not as difficult as the manticores will be,” Torin noted.

  “Valid.” I grimaced.

  “Look, you don't even have to speak to any of them,” Cer reasoned. “I'll be the intermediary. All you have to do is deal with the manticores.”

  “Is that all?” I rolled my eyes.

  “Come on, El, you know you want to,” Cerberus cajoled. “You love wiping the floor with manticore hide.”

  Manticores, as you may have deduced, are nasty motherfuckers. Shapeshifting monsters with no morals, no limits, and no manners. They also have horrible hygiene. In their monster form, they have the body of a red lion, the head of a human –with three rows of shark teeth– and a scorpion tail that could shoot poisonous barbs; so poisonous they would either kill or paralyze with one shot. They were also cannibals, eating their victims and everything on them. That was one thing I could say for them, they never leave a mess behind.

  In human form, manticores looked pretty much like anyone else. Their only tell was their bad breath. It was hard to cover up the scent of rotting human flesh, and when you have that many teeth to clean, brushing can become an issue. They were originally from Persia, Iran if we're being modern, and it often made me wonder what it was about that region that made it the source for all sorts of terrorists. Perhaps it was the weather; being hot all the time can make anyone testy.

  “Very well,” I finally relented. “I'll clean up the manticore mess.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Down past the glittering red and white lights of the grand Circus Circus entrance, beneath the midway with all its screaming tourists, further down than even the lower levels reserved for employees, there was a hidden complex in the casino. This was where the manticores made their lair.

  “At least it will be soundproof,” I commented as we descended the echoing metal stairs.

  “Yeah, once we get there,” Cerberus grumbled. “I hate the sound of boots on metal.”

  “Seriously?” Torin looked to Cer in surprise.

  “It hurts his sensitive doggy ears,” I explained.

  “Don't make me regret joining you,” Cerberus growled.

  “That was your call.” I shook my head. “I didn't ask you to come along.”

  “I couldn't miss the chance of messing up some manticores,” Cerberus winced as my boot heel hit the metal just right, emitting a high-pitched clang.

  “Then stop whining like a wounded puppy,” I said as we stepped onto the final landing. “Here we are. Now, they probably know we're
coming.”

  “Cerberus smashing those security cameras wasn't exactly subtle,” Torin noted.

  “Doesn't matter”–Cerberus shrugged–“they would have heard us anyway.”

  “Are you ready, Elaria?” Torin asked me.

  “Yep.” I tapped the one earbud I'd already put in my ear and pulled out my iPod. “The song is cued, ready to play. You ready, Onyx?”

  “Let's just say that I have no intention of getting tied up in plants this time,” Torin growled. “Open the door, Cerberus.”

  “Sure thing.” Cerberus opened the door. “But you're going to be telling me about those plants later.”

  A whole pride of manticores was waiting on the other side of the metal door; all in their monster forms. And by “pride” I mean one male manticore and several females, just like a lion pride. I had been expecting males, due to the whole “mobster” reference, but I should have known better. Manticore females were even more ferocious than the males of their species. This was going to be harder than I'd thought.

  “Yippee-ki-yay!” Cerberus exclaimed as he shucked off his clothing and shifted into a massive, three-headed dog. Over thirty feet tall massive. It was a good thing the room we'd stepped into was cavernous.

  I pressed Play, and my feet started tapping to the hip-flicking, shoulder-shaking tempo of “Bang, Bang” by Jessie J and Ariana Grande. It was a good thing I got the earbuds with the over-the-ear clips for extra security because it was impossible to sing “Bang, Bang” without doing some serious head bopping. My hands lifted all on their own, not even knowing what I was going to do with the lines until I sang them. I screeched out the sexy challenge of the lyrics, fisting my hands and then flicking them open with fatal yet flippant gestures that sent my magic exploding through manticore heads. “Bang, Bang” indeed.

  Torin's hand shot out as he set an onyx shield around me, protecting me before he did anything else. I could feel the tingle of his magic settle into place. So, when one of the manticores roared and let loose a barrage of poisonous spikes in my direction, I wasn't surprised when they fell harmlessly to the floor in front of me. But that's not all Torin did. He strode forward, hands slashing through the air, knocking monsters aside as he went. Crimson fur stood on end as several of the females raced toward my lover, but Torin simply drew his hands together and sent them all crashing into one another. Human heads tried to shake off the injuries as scorpion tails clicked together furiously.