Cold Reign (Jane Yellowrock #11)(38)

I’d gotten too close. Around me, time stuttered and Gee’s staves moved several inches in a swing that would have impacted the side of my head had I not ducked. Instinctively, Beast pulled on the bubble of time and it stabilized. Now that . . . that was interesting. And I had seen how she did it.

I gripped my staves and went behind Gee. Without touching him, I set the hard wooden shafts in two delicate places—assuming his bird had parts like humans did—leaned in, and the Gray Between dropped. Sound slapped my eardrums like two palms clapping on the side of my head. I yanked the staves up and back, snapping one stave between Gee’s legs and one against his throat, yanking him back against me and applying pressure all at once.

Gee made an eep and froze in place. His breath made a whistling noise. A blood-servant hooted approvingly. Others applauded slowly, as if still trying to figure out what they had seen. Or hadn’t.

“Enforcer,” Gee greeted me, motionless and formal.

“Bird Man,” I greeted him back, softly. “How’s it shaking?”

“I have nothing that shakes. I am healthy. And you, Enforcer? Are you well?”

“I’m good. Okay, how about this. You drop your staves, I let the pressure off your nuts—you do have nuts?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “At the moment in a most uncomfortable position.”

“Continuing: I let you go, we bow to each other, and we chat off the record.” I hoped this took us from formality and fighting and into conversation.

“You wish to gossip?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Agreed.”

Gee dropped his staves. I stepped back and crossed my hands at the waist, the staves sweeping out behind me. We bowed in that formal manner and I set my sticks on the floor.

“Would the Enforcer care for tea?”

“I would.”

Gee snapped his fingers and Brenda Rezk inclined her head. It looked like the security person from Atlanta was learning how to be a servant, which was part of every good blood-servant’s job. She was a prideful but resolute woman, determined to move up in Leo’s ranks and doing a fine job of it, though serving tea didn’t look like her cup of the beverage. The fact that she was working directly with Gee, however, suggested that she might be up for the number one or two security spot when the new Master of the City took over in Georgia.

I placed my staves into Brenda’s hands and followed Gee from the gym into the cleaner-smelling hallway. Less sweat and blood and fighting pheromones and more soap, shampoo, food, coffee, and tea scents. Gee led the way to the small room that was used as a consultation room and gestured me to one of the sofas. I had few happy memories of this room simply because bad stuff had happened here. But I took a seat and tea was delivered by a gray-liveried servant wearing white gloves, overseen by Brenda. Tea and little sandwiches and a small plate of fruit. Beast sneered. I ignored her.

When the servants left, Brenda closed the door behind her, guarding the hallway and our privacy. I said, “I think I whupped your butt in there, dude.”

Gee poured tea and pushed the sugar and cream to me. I wasn’t the patient type except when hunting, but I managed to not look up. I added sugar and cream, tasted, added a bit more of each, wasting his time as he was wasting mine, and settled back with a satisfied sigh. The tea was good.

“You twisted time,” he said mildly.

“I did.” It had been caught on tape a few times. It wasn’t like it was a secret.

“Only arcenciels can twist time.”

“And Brute,” I said.

“The werewolf?”

“Werewolf touched by an angel. And me. Also touched by an angel.”

He thought about that as we sipped and ate sandwiches. They were nearly as good as Bruiser’s cucumber sandwiches. They’d have been better with beef and bacon, but no one had asked me.

“I see,” he said, after an extended time.

“Angels and arcenciels and Anzus were on Earth and interacting with humans at about the same time, and of them all, only arcenciels could be trapped and their magic used. Only arcenciels could become magical slaves.” They could be trapped in quartz crystal and their time-altering gifts melded to the will of the owner of the crystal. I’d seen it. I wondered if arcenciels were the mythical source of the djinn trapped in bottles for their magic, though the rainbow dragons were trapped in crystals, not lamps. “Did you know a winged dude named Hayyel?”

Gee’s mouth turned down in distaste. “I am not permitted to speak of messengers, celestial warriors, creatures of light, or time.”

There didn’t seem to be much to say to that, and Gee looked like he was thinking hard. I waited him out and sipped some more. It was really good tea. Only the best for the suckheads and their employees. I poured myself a second cup and warmed Gee’s cup.

“I may not offer to speak of many things, but in return for that information I will gift you answers,” he said at long last.

Meaning that if I asked questions, he might be able to respond. “Goody. Two for starters: Why is Troll helping Ro Moore? What do you know about the storm overhead?”

“Tom, the primo of the heir of the Master of the City, Katherine, is helping Ro Moore, the heir’s new Enforcer. It was decided that all our top three Mithrans should have Enforcers. This will increase their importance to the European Mithrans. You will have an Enforcer as well.”