I’m not sure classy is what’s needed to visit a psychic. But we can pretend to want her services. Or actually pay for her services, I suppose. Paying to have my fortune told sounded even more ludicrous than paying for dresses, but it would probably be cheaper.
Nobody answered over the speaker, but the gate swung open. I drove forward slowly toward a couple of expensive sports cars that I was even less likely to be able to identify than fashion brands. They looked like something out of a science-fiction movie, and I would be disappointed if they didn’t fly.
What services does she offer? Sindari asked.
According to the sign on her door, clairvoyance guidance, energy transformation, and intuitive advising for individuals, groups, and couples.
I do not know what any of that means.
I think it means you give her your paw and some tea leaves, and she reads your fortune. I stopped the Jeep well away from the expensive cars, doubting Weber would appreciate it if I pronged any of them with the winch on my fender.
The modern two-story house wasn’t as ostentatious as I’d expected, though it was easily ten thousand square feet on a private acre lot screened in by foliage. The slope rose sharply behind the large driveway, and the neighbor’s house on the ridge above wasn’t visible through the trees. A small immaculately kept green lawn stretched to one side of the driveway where a marble fountain gurgled, faux lily pads floating in the pool. The grassy area wrapped around the home and extended toward a bunch of patios and decks overlooking the lake. I could just make out a boat—or would that be considered a yacht?—at a private dock.
I do sense magical items here, Sindari said as we headed for the front door. He looked at a couple of cement gargoyles with magical signatures that were mounted to either side of the walkway.
More refined versions of the kinds of pieces Dimitri creates? I guessed.
Will he be offended if you call his work unrefined?
I don’t think he has any delusions about the rusty chains and bicycle wheels he recycles for his art.
The gargoyles didn’t exude any magical power to impede us, but a security camera rotated to watch as we climbed the steps.
As I rang the doorbell, Sindari stood regally—and classily—next to me. When the door opened, I was surprised to be face to face with Weber himself. I’d expected a butler or the executive assistant or some such person, though I wasn’t sure if anyone in Seattle actually employed butlers. It seemed more of an Old Money than a New Money thing.
Also unexpected was the fact that Weber had a black eye along with a swollen nose and puffy lip. He had pale skin to match his red-blond hair, so the bruises were noticeable, but he managed an affable smile. He reminded me of a young Alan Tudyk.
“Mr. Weber?” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Val. And this is Sindari.”
Weber accepted the hand clasp with a firm grip, then looked at my tiger ally. “Does he shake too?”
“No, he causes others to shake. As in the sense of quivering in their boots.”
Don’t tell him that, Sindari spoke into my mind. He’ll think I’m a monster.
I’ve heard your roar. It’s monstrous.
“That’s impressive. Is he likely to eat my dog?” Weber waved into the house, where a yappy dog was barking upstairs somewhere.
“No,” I said.
It depends, Sindari said. How annoying is the dog?
It doesn’t matter, I replied silently. You can’t eat clients’ house pets.
Sindari made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a snore.
“He agrees,” I said. “No danger to the dog.”
Sindari lifted his gaze to mine, then gave my foot a pointed look.
I ignored him. Weber was already looking at me like I was weird. Maybe my tiger wasn’t as classy as I thought.
“Where’s the meeting?” I asked.
“This way.”
Weber led me across marble floors and through halls I was positive had been decorated by an interior designer rather than a tech nerd. Earlier, I’d thought about calling Thad and seeing if he knew anything about this guy, but I decided it was unlikely their paths had crossed. Thad’s tastes ran toward decorating with science-fiction movie posters and the legions of fantasy-game miniatures he’d painted over the years. When we’d been married, he’d installed a toilet paper holder in the guest bathroom that was a knight in armor holding the roll between his gauntleted hands. I wagered he still had it.
Magic plucked at my senses, and I didn’t need Sindari to tell me that there were artifacts inside as well as outside. Weber even wore some magic on his wrists. Long sleeves hid whatever it was from view, but I assumed he had items similar to the charms on my neck thong.
Such trinkets were rare and valuable here on Earth. I’d won all except one of mine through battles and quests, but I was aware of a black market where they could be bought and sold. The last I’d heard, something like my cloaking charm went for more than a hundred thousand dollars. Chump change for Weber.
This places reeks of a canine, Sindari stated.
You’re supposed to be scoping out magic, not pet odors.
It’s impossible to miss.
Just don’t leave your scent on top of the dog’s. This isn’t our house, and it’s not your territory.
I am a supreme being. All that I survey is my domain.
The dog was still yapping from whatever upstairs bedroom it had been left in. Maybe it, like Maggie the cat, could detect Sindari from afar and was affronted by his presence.
Not the client’s house, I told him. If you scent-mark anything, I’ll find a bottle of odor eliminator and spray you down.
You would not dare.
I would dare. And after I spray you, I’ll tie the car air freshener to your tail.
I don’t know why I help you.
Because you like going into battle, and I get in fights all the time.
That must be it. It’s not your charm. Sindari sashayed close to a pedestal holding a fancy antique violin and rubbed against it, leaving his scent all over it, I was sure.
I shot him a glare, but Weber turned into a bookcase-filled office before I could again threaten Sindari with the air freshener. The shelves were full of pretentious classics instead of quality reading like Harry Potter and The Belgariad.
Weber gestured for me to sit in one of two leather chairs opposite his.
“I’ll stand. Thanks.” I took a position where my back wasn’t to the door or a window. Part of his monitor was visible, a screensaver showing the logo of some business, a newspaper with a dollar sign coming out of it.
“Is standing a tough-gal assassin thing?”
“No. It’s a pain in the ass to remove my weapons.”
He looked me up and down. I didn’t sense a hint of magical blood in him, so he wouldn’t be able to see Fezzik and Chopper as long as they were on my person. To alleviate his confusion, and because he might pay me more if he saw my cool gear, I drew Chopper and laid the naked blade on his desk. When I removed my hand, it came into view for him, and he jumped.
“Huh,” he said, then smirked and arched his eyebrows. “There are others?”
“Yes.” I returned the sword to its scabbard. “Who’s been beating you up, Weber, and is that why you need a bodyguard?” I waved to his battered face.
“I believe they were werewolves, though they didn’t get furry in front of me. They called themselves the Brute Squad. They hit hard.”
“And they’re after you why?”
Weber pulled opened envelopes out of a drawer. “I’m working on an app for the police. It was supposed to be a part-time thing on the side for a friend, but there’s been a lot of interest. Its purpose is to facilitate tracking magical beings, ideally to help find those who partake in criminal actions. It scours the social media platforms for up-to-the-minute information and triangulates locations. It’s smart enough to suss out lies and false rumors and dismiss those. It’s still in beta, and random people can’t download it, but I guess the word got out anyway. I’d been getting threatening letters from magical beings who don’t want to be tracked. I handed a couple of the letters over to the police, but I’ve mostly been ignoring them, other than beefing up my home security. I didn’t quite realize there were so many ways magical people can thwart home security.”
I skimmed through the handwritten letters. The blue cursive writing all appeared to have been penned by the same person, someone whose grasp of English was tenuous. I thought of Trogg, thought it wasn’t quite that bad. The author never referred to himself in third person.
“You didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop working on the app?” I couldn’t imagine the police offering to pay anywhere close to what this guy could make from projects in the private sector. I would ask Willard if she knew anything about Weber or his work. This app seemed like something she would be aware of.
Weber stood straight. “I won’t let someone threaten me into stopping a project. I will take precautions. Such as hiring a bodyguard. The final app should be complete and ready to distribute to the police force and other government agencies around the world in the next couple of weeks. I only need you on a short-term basis. I’ve heard you’re good and that you’ve even taken out some shifters lately.”
“Among other things, yes. My fee is three thousand a day, more if you want me to sleep here, propped outside your bedroom door.”
His eyebrows twitched. “My assistant should have told you I’m offering two thousand a day. I believe I’ve suitably fortified my modest home with protective artifacts and won’t have to worry about brutes busting into my bedroom, so you don’t need to sleep outside my door.”
“As I told your assistant, I’m already booked. For me to shift my plans around, you’ll have to pay more than I’m already being paid. And I’m going to be honest with you. I prefer to hunt and attack rather than defend. Jumping in front of people to take a bullet for them doesn’t excite me that much. If you’d prefer to just put a bounty on the werewolves who attacked you, I could find them in the next couple of days.”