The Glassbreaker Goes Home (The King Henry Tapes), page 11
“It ain’t funny.”
“I am sure it is not forever, my friend. You will no doubt find some way to slip free . . .”
“Condolences from Horatio Vega, I’m fucking touched. Fair warning: you start making marriage metaphors again and I’m gonna punch you.”
Vega more than chuckled. “I will restrain myself then, though I admit divorce was the metaphor that sprang to mind—”
“Seems like I gave you what you wanted,” King Henry stopped him short, “so how ‘bout you tell me about my vampire problem now?”
Vega smiled like the slimiest politician that ever politicianed.
Made King Henry’s knuckles start itching. How many of them rumors about me being some out of his depth prisoner did you spread, Vega? Maybe I punch you for each time you did it? he thought to himself, but surely some of it showed on his face.
Vega’s smile didn’t break. “One more question.”
“Got forty-five minutes of anima,” King Henry warned him aloud this time. “Want me to use it on the Vamp or want me to use it on you and your boys?”
“That would not be as clean of an outcome as you expect. Either aimed at me or at our dear vampire spy, should they exist . . .”
“They better exist after all the hoops I just jumped through, Horatio.”
“Do you really need to make yet another demonstration of your power?” Vega wondered in surprise. “Is that all you are? So much progress lost, perhaps—”
“Based on how much you’re dicking me around, seems like you need another one. So why not another for the Vamps too? Hell, throw in the Fresno Police Department since we both know Ribera is down the street snapping pictures, ain’t she?”
“Such a beautiful night,” Vega lamented sarcastically, “Why end it in a jail cell?”
“Also seems you need to learn to give me credit for knowing what I can and can’t get away with,” King Henry kept on threatening.
“What will your Valentine think?”
“She ain’t ever tried to stop me from doing what needs done. But for her serenity of not having to deal with the aftermath of me snapping your neck . . . fine.”
Vega’s grin ate buckets of shit. “One more question then?”
“One more question, Coyote King. Push anymore and maybe I don’t just stop worrying about repercussions; maybe, just maybe, I call Val to help out.”
King Henry might have been busy elsewhere and missed the Eureka firework show, but whatever Vega saw Val do sobered him quick. “Risking your love’s life so quickly . . . we could not be more different in that regard, my friend. Women are the caretakers of the next generation. They are to be protected and cherished. They should never step foot on the board, much less be used in a gambit.”
“Mancy made Val as strong as she is, so no matter how much some primal mundane part of me wants to lock her up in a tower, thinking mind that has accepted the supernatural in all its wonders knows that’s an impossible futility. ‘Specially since if I did, she’d just blow up the fucking tower . . . and then she’d be really pissed.”
Vega found the analogy distasteful. “You think your sister is caged? I have pampered her like few women have ever known! She is my queen! She is—”
“That your last question?”
“No, it is not. My last question . . . concerns your child.”
“Jumping the gun on that one, Horatio.” By a decade, please.
All the humor drained from Vega’s face, just like sentimentality had earlier. “What would you do if I continually approached your son and told him about the wonders of the Coyote Nation? What if I . . . meddled? What if I turned him against his destiny for my own gains? What would you do to me then, brother-in-law? Worse than what you have threatened just now, yes?”
Didn’t need to actually answer, so King Henry didn’t.
Instead, he just snarled.
“For whatever reason, the Mancy is strong in your family. So you wonder . . . will my nephew be a mancer? Cease with your wondering. He will never be a mancer,” Vega declared. “Nicholas Vega is the Coyote Prince and one day he will be the Coyote King after I am gone. You will not fill his head with any other possibility. If you do . . . we will no longer be family, you will never see my Josephine again, and you need not worry about Divines, because this mortal will put a bullet through your skull long before they stir themselves to action.”
King Henry’s snarl with full predator’s grin to match the fierceness in Vega’s posture. “Now there’s the real King of the Coyotes you’re always hiding around me.”
“Family necessitated my ascent, Glassbreaker, and for family I will still perform whatever heinous rites are required.” Vega nodded with passionate agreement at his own words. “If I must, I will even sacrifice a limb of that very family so the heart might keep beating on.”
“What if he’s an Ultra?” King Henry threw out a very possible outcome.
“Even if he was a Maximus, I do not care in the least.”
“And other children? Since Josephine so badly wants to give you more of the turdflowers?”
“If you had three or four . . . or even five . . . would you let even one become a Coyote?”
No reason to answer that question either.
“Are we in agreement on these terms?” Vega pushed, his hand not out to receive payment but to seal the deal.
King Henry didn’t move.
At some point in their face off, Sharp had exited the SUV. Now he even went so far as to put a hand in his coat. “You know how many guns I’ve shattered over the last couple years, you Eternal Order fucktard?” King Henry yelled. “Lost count ages ago. One of the easiest conjurations I got. Val’s sister could do it and she’s fifteen.”
“Take my hand, my friend,” Vega offered again. “Let’s end this problem before it begins, yes? Your blood for the Mancy, mine for the Totem, joined in peace, accepting of each other’s ways. What could be a more fair and just outcome?”
“Letting our kids decide their own future, maybe?” King Henry snapped back. Window curtain moved, no idea if it was Val, Susan, JoJo, a mix, or even all three.
Vega showed no mercy. “Did you get to decide your future?”
“I just did two weeks ago.”
Vega shook his head. “Two weeks ago was fated from the moment of your birth and you know it. If it was anything at all, it was merely your price and the acceptance of that truth.”
“Maybe,” King Henry spat, “maybe. Still . . . ain’t I suppose to hope for a better future for the kiddies and all that? Ain’t that what you were talking about early with all that about molding Nick? Or was that just lies and manipulation of belief too?”
The hand stretched out. “I am being fair. More than fair. You are playing the hypocrite and you know it. Do you think it so horrible a thing to be Coyote? Much less to be a Poly-Shifter? I’ve told you of Paine’s experiments, but I have only hinted at my true strength and you know it. What more could you want for your nephew? The Totem will even assure Nicholas a life free from Madness!”
“Like it did for Hector?” King Henry verbally kicked the man in the balls.
Vega’s nostrils flared. “Hector was weak.”
Would have been easy if JoJo hadn’t just pulled the same shit. Papa and Mama Coyote both on the same page with the little one, ain’t they?
And who the fuck was he to tell someone how to raise their kid? With JoJo at least he could feel like it was being put off, like he could talk her around to it at a later date, but this . . . this was political.
Nope, ain’t your kid.
But as much as it pissed him off, as much as Fate fucked with him, as easy as a mundane life might have been . . . the Mancy meant something to King Henry. He wasn’t Old Mancy, his acclimation to the Learning Council was gonna be rough, but . . . if Val and him did have kids and one popped out mundane, would he be disappointed? Yeah. A selfish part of him wanted to share anima’s wonders with his own children. With his nephew . . .
Not your kid.
Neither was Christmas Ward. Or Max Lamont. Or . . . seventy-three, that was the number of children and adolescents rescued from Paine’s madhouse. Ain’t just the research center or Suze I’m paying the price for . . . all those kids too. He fought against it his whole life, but in the end, Val was right about him. He cared. He gave a shit. Ain’t a cynic, just a smashed down optimist trying to get a single ounce of mojo to work with.
Problem was . . .
Not your kid.
Why Vega was such a tough bargainer. Lies, truth, it all got fucked up when his mouth started yapping. Man was right about if someone tried the same shit with King Henry’s brood. World would’ve got violent really quick. Blood, dust, and buildings collapsing type of violent.
The hand.
It was the fucking hand.
If Vega just nodded over our agreement then maybe I could stomach it. But he put out that hand . . . hand that ain’t straight up, oh no, not like how I bargained with Ceinwyn. No . . . hand ain’t offered in friendship, it’s offered as a slap to my face. Just another Coyote King game, like all the others he’s played since I met him.
The hand and that politician’s smile.
Vega knew it. Knew what the real hold up was and still he left it between them.
King Henry finally stood up from the porch step. Vega found his feet with him, something-extra giving the man a grace you didn’t often notice in men his age. No popping knees for Horatio Vega, no sir. Bastard even cheats time.
Across the yard, Sharp still had a hand on his gun, hidden inside his coat. Rather kill you than shake that hand, so best not flinch, Snake Boy. Ribera probably thought King Henry was about to get wacked.
Vega’s smirk twisted and just as smoothly as it had first extended, his hand dropped. Another gut punch in a conversation of gut punches. “Fair deal, my friend?”
Fair, but that didn’t make it right. Especially for the Tit Sucking, Whine Machine.
Just words, ain’t it?
Grasping that hand proved impossible, even saying the words taxed King Henry to the limit. “Fair deal,” he spat.
Vega’s smirk twisted into a grin, only half fake this time. “Wonderful! It does lighten the heart to settle these trifling differences so far in advance, doesn’t it?”
Didn’t feel light, felt heavy. Felt like he needed to grab some weight and fling it so far he never had to see it again. “Maybe you can tell your man to stop touching himself now?”
Vega glanced at Sharp, which seemed to be enough, since the bodyguard immediately nodded and returned to his seat inside the SUV. “We will have to do this again,” Vega said as if the whole conversation had been social pleasantries and not verbal warfare. “A get-together I mean. When Nicholas is older, of course. And when your future affairs are finally settled. Perhaps your worries about the Three Queens and what they stole will also be settled by then, or . . . we can at least hope so.”
“Yeah, feeling real hopeful right now,” King Henry growled as deep as he’d ever growled.
“Or perhaps we can have another at the Ranch, as was earlier offered. No vampires within a hundred miles, I assure you.”
“Just a metric fuckton of Coyotes.”
Vega’s grin cut, if not as sharp as either Ceinwyn Dale or Obadiah Paine. “And as we have spent all night affirming: your family.”
“Family, family, family, keep going and you’ll start to sound like a Fast and the Furious movie, Horatio. Family! Am a little interested in seeing your First Lie Ranch though, I do admit. T-Bone told me your mansion has these balconies . . . suppose it might be fun to piss off one of them.”
“Oh, you would not be the first,” Vega was all gaiety again. “Full moon feasts are always rather eventful.”
King Henry pointed at the house across the street. “Vampire. Best for your health if you deliver an info dump worthy of all the hoops I just jumped through.”
And deliver Vega did, “Since no one could speak of anything besides your declaration to the Guild after it happened and as I must apologetically admit that the Divine Court’s intelligence and information webs are perhaps even superior to my own, there can be little doubt that said incident was the triggering event for the house’s new tenant, especially since they arrived almost immediately following your appearance in London. The corporation that made said purchase is one familiar to me and is often used by the Divine Court’s diplomatic arm.”
“Nii-Vah, not Inanina then,” King Henry whispered, eyes no longer glaring daggers at Vega but back on the house in question. The problem that needed solved now.
“As to the inner workings of the Court, you are more of an expert than I am, sadly,” Vega actually grumbled.
“You’re sure the Vamp’s a Gentle? How?”
Vega reached into his suit jacket and promptly produced a picture. “Such visual confirmation is quite worth the concessions I asked of you, wouldn’t you say?”
Motherfucker planned this ‘fuck you’ so far out he even had show-and-tell! Reluctantly, King Henry grabbed the photograph and gave it a quick look-see.
“You are familiar with her, I believe?” Vega landed another one of his judo chops.
Yes, King Henry was familiar with her.
Gentlewoman Moore. The tiny blond thing with the too expressive face who kept crossing paths with him too often for comfort. First time King Henry met her, she’d been working at the San Francisco Vampire Embassy. During the latest, she’d given evidence against him in Massey’s bullshit artificial court. That was Nii-Vah? He’d been sure it was Inanina fucking with him.
Wanted me in my place, Peacekeeper? That it?
King Henry had never found Moore threatening in the least. Annoying, sure, but given the way Annie B scared the holy fuckballs right out the woman’s mouth . . .
Still, Moore was a vampire. With hundreds of years on her too. Had to have some respect for her. Don’t get cocky kid and all that shit. Especially when you looked at that photograph. Old Man Price was also in it. Bitch talked to my father. Bitch sized him up. Sniffed and salivated as his blood pumped so close to her . . . oh, Moore, you dun fucked up, sweetheart!
Old Man Price even had a lawnmower next to him.
Bitch got my father to mow her fucking lawn for her.
Of course she’d want to stay out of the sun. Summer heat must have been miserable for her.
House even had that massive AC unit atop it.
Premium.
Too premium for this neighborhood.
Too premium for the house in question, surely, what with the way it kinda rode the top of the roof like a rodeo cowboy on a bull . . .
“We’ve met,” King Henry finally grunted.
Vega seemed pleased that his information had been so accurate. “May I offer some advice on how to solve this predicament without the obvious bloodshed you usually aim to—”
“Nope,” King Henry quickly cut him off. “Got it, thanks.”
See, he could occasionally hold back on calling a person a ‘fucktard.’ Although, damn did Vega deserve someone whispering it in his ear every five minutes. Had a fucking picture . . . should stuff it up his ass is what I should do! Or rip off that fucking hand he wanted me to shake so badly.
“Killing her would be . . . unwise,” Vega kept pushing, still manipulating. “As much as I dislike vampires, far more than even you do perhaps—”
“Got it,” King Henry repeated. “Really. I’m good.”
Did Vega not want him to kill Moore? Maybe.
Did Vega want him to kill Moore? Also maybe.
Thus: don’t listen to Vega!
No, I do not need your tacked on insurance for my television set, you fucking annoying ass nerdherder, so fuck off!
Vega relented his pitch with a sigh, but couldn’t help but add, “Violence did not solve the Curator problem, my friend, and it will sadly not solve the vampire problem either.”
“Oh, I agree with you, Horatio. Alliance building, compromise, and all that civilized shit did have a part to play, yes it did. But let’s not pretend all those machine guns didn’t come with you to Eureka and trust me, I violenced the fuck out of Obadiah Paine, just like I will Catherine Hayes, just like I will at least some of the Divines, I reckon. Hell, I might even violence a dragon or two for dessert!”
“And do you plan to violence the one poor Gentlewoman abandoned to Siberia, for this is how all Vampires see cities without a functioning Embassy in their civilization?” Vega sought some insight.
“Depends on how she responds.”
Vega smirked a bit. “I hesitate to point out that you do not have the best personality for calm improvisation.”
King Henry shrugged another full-on I-don’t-give-a-crap. “Time to test how much I’ve actually grown up then, ain’t it? Can’t tell me I’m learning and then pull back now, Horatio!”
He wasn’t worried about that, not really. Lot of anger had boiled up with all Vega’s bullshit, of course, but King Henry could already feel it wafting away as the night brought on a slight breeze. Knew what he was about now, knew what he had to do.
Think I sat too long though, cuz damned if I can’t feel either my right ass-cheek or my right testicle. Not like he could do a little leg shake what with Vega standing across from him, was it? You still in there Prince Henry? Speak up, buddy!
“There’s also the matter of our other spectator,” Vega just kept on helping. “She will need to be dealt with as well. Perhaps you are unaware, but—”
“Got it,” King Henry declared again. Felt so good to have a proper problem to solve, he even did do a little leg shake to sort the downstairs about, Vega watching him or not. Yeah, I’m a wild fucking beast. But at least I don’t walk in a circle before I take a shit!
“It would be no trouble at all for me to help with this, one call would handle the problem,” Vega still didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
Just a tiny bit suspicious.
Very annoying for sure.
I said no warranty, nerdherder, and I meant it! And no, I do not need an eighty dollar ‘gold’ edition HDMI cable! Offer me batteries, motherfucker, I dare you! Offer me batteries and see what happens!
