Suicide Kings, page 23
“If everybody here besides you dies, who gets their assets?” Gabriela says.
“I do,” Amanda says. “And then we have a shitstorm on our hands. The problem with seats of power is that somebody’s got to sit in them. We’d have a mage war started within a couple of days at most. Honestly, it wouldn’t be a big one, the heavy hitters in the family are all here, but it’d be pretty brutal.”
“This is all great, but it doesn’t tell us who’s doing any of this,” I say. “Let’s just fucking kill all of them. Do you want to kill them? I want to kill them.”
“I want to kill them,” Gabriela says.
“Stop it,” Amanda says. “Both of you. That is not a goddamn solution and you fucking know it. This is my shit. Feel free to walk away at any time. But if you don’t, then no wholesale slaughter. I’m serious.” I know it’s not familial attachment that’s keeping her from letting Gabriela and I go whole hog on them with knives, so why—Oh.
“They’re a buffer,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “Those fucking people, those backstabbing motherfuckers out there, whether they realize it or not, were protecting me and my dad. They’re constantly dealing with the rest of our family trying to take them down. If anyone wants to make a run for the throne, they’re going to have to go through them first.”
“Because none of them would let the inheritance go to anyone else,” Gabriela says. “You think of something?”
“Maybe?” I say. “I don’t know, yet.” Something about what Amanda just said is poking at me, but it’s still too vague.
“What do you want to do now?” Gabriela says.
“Act like nothing’s happened,” Amanda says. “They’ll figure out Hans is dead, at least Otto will, as soon as Eric walks in the door for dinner. But whoever hit Bigsby doesn’t necessarily know that they’ve been found out. Hopefully, they tip their hand and I can be done with this bullshit.”
“When do you want me to join the festivities?” I say.
“On time. Cocktails at seven and then dinner at eight.”
“I can’t promise I won’t kill Otto again,” I say.
“Can you at least not do it until after dinner?” she says. “It’s a family etiquette thing.”
“I can see how killing each other over dessert could be a faux pas.”
“Speaking of,” Gabriela says. “We’ve only got a couple of hours to get ready, and that’s not a lot of time.”
“Hair and makeup?” I say.
“Defensive wards and traps,” Amanda says. “You might want to consider coming armed.”
“Always am.”
They leave, but Gabriela stops at the threshold, looks back at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she says.
“Let’s call it intact,” I say. “I’ll be fine. Just some things I have to sort through I thought I was done with.”
“Finish the conversation later?” she says.
“Absolutely.” She nods and closes the door behind her. I stagger against the dresser. Everything, and I mean everything, stuck behind my not accepting I was human comes flooding in. A laundry list of regrets, pain, people I’ve hurt, lives I’ve destroyed. Deaths in my wake too high to count.
What’s really fucked up? I can’t think of a single goddamn good thing.
* * *
—
The last time I wore a tuxedo I got the shit kicked out of me by an earth mage who was hired muscle for a guy smuggling kids with talent out of the U.S. Human trafficking with a side of magic.
Real piece of work, this guy. He’d take orders from customers, find a kid who fit the bill and have them kidnapped and sent to his mansion in Savannah and then get them on a boat out of the port to points unknown and horrible.
The mom of one of the kidnapped kids heard I was somebody who would do jobs nobody else would touch, mostly because I was stupid, crazy, and have a soft spot for lost causes.
So, smuggler guy, he’s a mage, but honestly not that powerful. Only thing he’s got to show off is his money. He’d have these Jay Gatsby-level extravaganzas. I manage to score an invite. I get to the party, drink a little, mingle a little, break into his second-floor office, set off a silent alarm.
Yeah, that last bit wasn’t really part of the plan. I get worked over hard. Pissed blood for a month. My face was so swollen and purple I looked like an oversized plum.
I come to with smuggler guy and earth mage standing over me. By the way, don’t fuck with earth mages if you can help it. They pretty much just know one trick, but that trick is to wallop the shit out of you with half a ton of conjured granite.
They’re not happy. They don’t even bother asking me questions. They don’t care who I am or why I was breaking into the office. It’s irrelevant. I’m about to disappear.
They try to bury me in a landfill. Did you know there are a lot of dead things in landfills? Yeah. Who knew?
Anyway, I add their corpses to the already abundant collection, get the kids out, hand over records for a bunch who’ve already been shipped overseas to the one kid’s mom. I get paid. Then I pass out for a week.
I gotta say, I look a hell of a lot better in a tux now than I did then. Because I still have my face and the last one was a rental. But mostly because I still have my face.
Tonight’s festivities are drinks, dinner, and then the family, soon-to-be family, and legal representatives go off into a big fancy room and yell at each other about how the Werthers are going to conduct themselves for the next ten years.
I suspect the majority of the yelling is going to be about Attila’s death and Amanda’s new role as head of the family. There will be at least one attempt to marry her off to Tobias, which Gabriela’s fiancée status should cut off pretty quickly.
I wouldn’t put it past the lawyer, Jonathan, to pull some obscure family law out of his ass that they’ll argue over for two or three hours.
If things start to go sideways, Gabriela will text me, I’ll kick my way into the room, and we start killing everybody. I like the simplicity of it. As plans go, it’s kind of hard to fuck up.
The trick is going to be getting through drinks and dinner.
It’s a different room than the one we were in for lunch, though it seems to sit in the same spot. I take a minute before heading in to listen in to what’s happening.
“I’m sure he’ll be along soon, Mother,” Otto says. “You know Hans. Never on time for anything.”
“And that horrid man, what was his name?” Helga.
“You know very well his name. After all, you were almost his grandmother.” Siobhan.
A slap. Holy shit, an actual slap. I thought people only did that in bad eighties television shows. I’m tempted to wait and see if this is the start of something fun, but I should probably get in there.
“Sorry I’m late. Got held up. Siobhan, Helga,” I say, greeting them as if I actually give a damn. “Otto, are you all right?” Otto is slack-jawed. He closes his mouth with an audible snap, which of course draws everyone’s attention.
The room is large enough that people can spread out but not so large that they could get out of range of a hand grenade. The ones I expect, Liam, Siobhan, Helga, Gabriela, Amanda, a miserable looking Tobias, and a difficult-to-focus-on Jonathan.
“Can I get you a cocktail, sir?” Bigsby says, appearing at my elbow. No, you freaky death machine, you may not.
Instead I say, “An old-fashioned.”
“Just a moment, sir,” he says, and vanishes. Amanda is talking to Jonathan. No, Amanda is being talked at by Jonathan. She somehow manages to look completely engaged, bored, and murderous all at the same time. It’s kind of impressive.
Everybody’s got an effortless elegance that makes me feel like a clumsy waiter in the lounge car on the Orient Express. Even Otto, who is staring at me through slitted eyes, looks great. Having a head helps.
My eyes reach Gabriela and snag. She’s wearing a red, floor-length, one-shoulder dress with a slit up the side and red stilettos. Her hair is gathered in a bun with two hair sticks holding it in place.
“You’re gawking,” Siobhan says. She’s left the conversation with Helga and Otto. I don’t know if she was the slapper or the slappee, but everybody’s acting like nothing’s happened.
“I am not gawking,” I say, tearing my eyes away from Gabriela. I take my drink from Bigsby, who’s come out of nowhere and then vanishes.
“Uh huh. I noticed Otto shit the proverbial brick when you walked in and Hans didn’t,” she says. “You like dramatic entrances, don’t you?”
“Only when they’re funny,” I say.
“I don’t think he’s laughing.”
“I am.”
“I have come to the conclusion that you are a singularly dangerous person, Mister Carter,” Siobhan says. “I just can’t tell if the danger is knowing you or merely being near you.”
“Could be either one,” I say. “It would explain my sex life.”
“A pity. Enjoy the evening. I think it’s going to be very interesting. You should mingle. I’m sure Otto would love to have a chat.”
“I’ll get there eventually.” She heads off and I start toward Amanda, making a point of keeping Otto in view the whole time. I don’t think he’d try anything, but then, he is an idiot.
I don’t get very far before Liam slides in front of me. It takes a lot not to whip out the razor and see how fast I can cut his head off.
“Mister Carter,” he says. “I was hoping to catch you for a moment.”
“You might have to try harder,” I say. “I’m a slippery bastard.” His laugh is about as genuine as a knockoff Rolex.
“So I’m given to understand. How have you found my family’s hospitality? Enrolling you into any schemes?”
“A little attempted murder,” I say. “Nothing serious. Hey, I wanted to ask you. You mentioned you’d been out in Vegas not too long ago.”
“Ten years ago. After the last conclave,” he says, “yes.”
“I’m wondering how, when your brother kicked your ass off the continent.”
“Ah. Quite simple. We were all given some time to, how did my brother put it? ‘Get the fuck out.’ I took the opportunity to do some sight-seeing.”
“This is after you murdered Amanda’s mother,” I say.
“Unjustly slandered,” Liam says. “I have agonized over her death for years and only wish I could have stopped whoever would do such a horrible thing.”
“You don’t seem all that shaken up about it now,” I say.
“You might not have noticed, but this family’s been rocked by tragedy over the last few days,” he says. “A man can only grieve so much. I’m sure you understand.”
“Your brother’s death must have come as a shock.” And if you believe that then I’ve got a bridge in New York for sale.
“It did,” he says. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to speak with you about. Seeing as you’re the specialist, I was wondering if you had any insights into what happened to Attila.”
“He’s dead,” I say. “Beyond that, I’m still looking into it.” And I’m looking real hard at you, pal.
“I see. There’s quite a bit about necromancy I don’t know. I’ve heard you can sense death.”
“When it happens, yeah.” Like a twist in my guts, usually so small I don’t pay much attention. Get me around enough of them, like when the fire storm turned L.A. to ash, and it’s a different story. When Vernon went up the pain was so intense I passed out for about six hours.
“Fascinating. Well, please do let me know if you find anything else?”
“I’ll pass that along to Amanda,” I say. “Speaking of, if you’ll excuse me.”
“By all means,” he says, stepping aside. “I hope we have an opportunity to talk again soon.”
“Count on it.” I step past him, every instinct screaming to not let him get behind me. I really wish Amanda would let me kill him.
I come up behind Jonathan, who’s so engrossed by the sound of his own voice as he talks at Amanda that he doesn’t notice me until I whisper in his ear, “Of all the people here, you’re the one I can kill right here, right now, and nobody would bat an eye.”
He freezes. “Excuse me,” he says. “Thank you, Miz Werther. It was very nice talking to you.” He slinks away, and even though there are only a handful of people in here I lose track of him immediately.
“Thank you,” Amanda says. “I was almost going to kill him myself.”
“I’m sure he’ll give you a reason before the evening’s out. How are you holding up?”
“Not nearly drunk enough for this shit,” she says. “How about you?”
“Trying to shake a memory of gramps and Helga banging each other in a hotel room in San Diego. It’s like a fucking earworm. Literally.”
Amanda stifles a laugh, covering it by sipping her drink. “Resurrection has some unintended consequences.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Hey, once the conclave ends, how much time do these yokels have to get out of the country before you sic the dogs on ’em?”
“Dad would give them a week. I’ll be giving them a lot less. Why?”
“Something Liam said. He was in Vegas after the last conclave for a bit. My name kept popping up.”
“Something I should know?”
“Later. When we’re not surrounded by sharks. I was just wondering if he could be telling the truth.”
“Certainly possible. How are you doing? You were dead for almost a minute. I was afraid Gabriela was going to shatter your rib cage.”
“I’m well enough. Nothing a little Adderall and Oxycontin can’t fix. What exactly did you do, anyway?” It was more than shocking my heart or filling my lungs with air.
“I oxygenated your blood. Really more that I turned your blood into oxygenated blood. Slight difference. Created air in your lungs. I restarted your heart by reshaping the atria and ventricles in turn until the blood was flowing and then put it back to normal. I’ve done it before.”
Changed my blood. Created air. Reshaped my heart. I think back to what other magic of hers I’ve seen. Created pills out of nothing. Or rather, I thought they were conjured. Transmogrification makes more sense. And if that’s her knack then she’s a hell of a lot more powerful than I realized.
It would be a faux pas to ask if I’m right. A lot of mages don’t want anyone to know what theirs is. Understandable. If you know your enemy’s strengths, you can figure out their weak spots. If she wants me to know, she’ll tell me.
“Appreciate it,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says.
Bigsby appears in the middle of the room and rings a little chime. “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner will now be served in the dining hall.”
“Are you going to actually let it serve us food?” I say.
“I don’t see any way around it,” she says. “I also think it’s not likely he would do anything. Bigsby will announce if there’s anything hinky with the food before we eat, and nobody in there isn’t going to use their own magic to see if anything’s poisoned.”
“Good point,” I say. “And if it happens to kill any of your relatives it narrows down the field.”
“That’s what I like about you, Eric. You’re such an optimist.”
The dining hall has this trick where it feels enormous and cozy at the same time. We’re seated at a long table with place settings for five courses. There aren’t any centerpieces, giving everyone a perfect view of everyone else. In other words, there’s no cover. Something as mundane as a candelabra might not be useful in a gunfight, but it can really make a difference in a mage fight. When you’re slinging magic around, everything can be a weapon and everything can be a shield.
I am sitting uncomfortably next to Helga on my right and Liam on my left. Gabriela is across from me with Otto and Siobhan to her left and Tobias to her right. Amanda is at the head of the table. An empty seat is next to Helga.
Some weird etiquette rule that partners don’t sit next to each other is what’s separating Gabriela and Amanda, but it’s the best arrangement under the circumstances. We’re both sitting next to the biggest threats so if things go south we can go on the offensive right away.
Otherwise, the seating arrangements look like they’re intended to make the guests engage in awkward small talk. Might as well get the awkward train going. I turn to Helga.
“Palm Springs. The Desert Oasis Hotel. Three nights in 1948. You wailed like a banshee.” Helga’s face drains of all color. She was pretty white to begin with, but this is a shade that would put a clown to shame.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, choking out each word. She takes a sip of wine and pulls herself together. “I’ve never been to Palm Springs.”
“No? Huh. How about Catalina?”
“I’ve heard how that who—how Amanda’s fiancé brought you back using Robert’s corpse.”
“Nice save,” Gabriela says. Helga ignores her.
“If you have his memories,” Helga says, “then try digging into them a little more and see what you find. There’s nothing you can say that will hurt me more than he did.”
That, I wasn’t expecting. “I’ll make a point of it,” I say. Now I feel like an asshole. Then I remind myself that she, along with every other one of these fuckers, no matter how human they might act, would love nothing more than to see this room turn into a reenactment of the Red Wedding.
“I would love to hear that tale,” Liam says. “She won’t tell any of us. I understand it is très embarrassant. If you do dig that particular memory out, please regale us with it.”
“Liam,” Helga says, “I was so sorry to hear your wife wasn’t going to join us. Also surprised you couldn’t find some desperate twink to take her place for the long, lonely nights.”
