“We’ll assume the leprechauns didn’t go back to the club they vanished from. Regardless, the first team will stake that one out.”
Yasha gave a single, booming laugh. “This time they can watch, yes?”
One of the elven agents gave Ian a wave as he, the second elf agent, and the human female agent who’d given Hand Crusher a hard time, got into one of the sedans.
“Mike, Steve, and Elana will be teaming with us,” Ian told me. “Mike knows our contacts in the clubs and can talk his way into or out of anything. Steve has enough mage skill to convince anyone that anything they saw has a perfectly normal—and non-supernatural—explanation. Comes in handy when things get too strange for civilians.”
“And Elana?” I asked.
“When there are dark alleys that need investigating, she goes in first.”
“Preternatural night vision?”
Ian shook his head. “Just mean.”
“And I am the extractor,” Yasha told me. “There is trouble, I am called.”
I gave a couple of slow nods. “I can see that. Why have an entire extraction team when you really only need one?”
WE took the biggest SUV in SPI’s fleet. With the huge Russian werewolf as our driver, it wasn’t like we had a choice.
Yasha drove the Suburban in silence down the subterranean “street,” and after about half a mile, he flipped open a panel on the dash, pushed a button inside, and a section of wall opened to our right that was just large enough to hold the SUV. Yasha pulled in, stopped, and turned off the engine. The doors closed behind us, and Yasha pressed a second button. Almost immediately, the car began to rise; the only sound the low rumble of some serious hydraulics hidden under us. The elevator stopped with a disconcerting jerk, and a pair of doors in front of us opened, revealing another parking garage.
There couldn’t have been more than a few inches of clearance between the top of the Suburban and the concrete slab above it. I didn’t have claustrophobia; I just didn’t like the thought of heavy things squashing me, and concrete slabs certainly qualified. Yasha drove the SUV upward through the parking deck in nearly nauseating spirals until we exited the garage on a familiar section of West Third Street, a block from Washington Square Park.
Ian Byrne took a case out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “You’ll need these.”
I opened it. Inside were sunglasses, really cool and expensive sunglasses.
“These clubs will be dark,” Ian began.
I grinned. “It’s dark and I’m wearing sunglasses.”
My stoic partner didn’t get The Blues Brothers reference; or if he did, he wasn’t amused.
“They’re not sunglasses,” he said. “Put them on.”
I did. Suddenly I could see every detail inside and out of the Suburban as if it were broad daylight instead of o’dark thirty. “Nifty.”
“Does your seer vision work with the glasses?” Ian asked.
I glanced up front at Yasha. His werewolf aura was hunched to fit in the big SUV. “Like a charm.”
“Good. You’ll be wearing those in the clubs.”
“Gladly.”
My partner gave me a quizzical glance.
“If strange men are going to see me in a strip joint, at least they won’t get to see me seeing them. And it’ll make it easier for me to ignore them and anything they may be . . . doing. I can guarantee you I won’t be looking at anything but leprechauns.”
“You won’t just be looking for leprechauns,” Ian said. “Any agents of the Unseelie Court will be glamoured as well; unless they’re using humans, in which case we’re looking for suspicious behavior.”
“There’re behaviors that aren’t suspicious in a strip club?”
Yasha snorted from the driver’s seat. “All behavior is suspicious in hoochy-koochy parlors.”
I sat up straighter and grinned. “That’s what my grandma calls ’em.”
“They’re probably the same age,” Ian muttered.
I considered that possibility. If they kept their snouts clean and didn’t go on people-eating binges, werewolves could live a long time. I studied our werewolf driver/extractor. Yasha seemed to be nice. Though as with all werewolves, I imagined that changed during “that time of the month.” Mood swings, cravings, anger, and irritability—trust me, you ain’t seen cranky until you’ve seen a werewolf trying to force down their natural inclinations during a full moon. I knew better than to ask an older woman her age, but I didn’t think a werewolf would mind; at least I didn’t think this particular werewolf would.
“How old are you?”
“Next month, I am ninety-six.” The big Russian grinned in the rearview mirror at Ian. “For surprise party you are planning, hoochy-koochy parlor will be fine, but make sure is good one.”
“For the last time, I’m not planning a surprise party.”
Yasha glanced over at me and winked. “Your new partner is very good at keeping secrets.”
I slid my Go-Go-Gadget sunglasses up on my head. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“How much do you know about leprechauns?” Ian asked.
“Just what they taught in orientation,” I said. “What they are, where to find them, how to catch one—and to watch out for those wishes. Usually a supernatural doesn’t use a human glamour unless they have a good reason. Are leprechauns up to no good, or do they interact with humans on a daily basis?”
“Yes.”
“Pardon?”
“Yes, to both,” Ian said. “Leprechauns typically work in the Financial District. They have a sixth sense about which way the market’s going to go. If you can get a leprechaun as a financial advisor, your investments are guaranteed to thrive. Though you should always get their commission amount agreed to in writing sealed with a blood-pricked thumbprint, drawn up by a lawyer mage. Otherwise, your leprechaun money manager will skim off the top to top off his pot of gold. Some of the commodities companies that went belly up a few years ago due to creative accounting?”
“Yeah?”
“Because there were leprechauns high up in the companies. They’re great at making money—but they’re even better at lining their own pockets. Vivienne Sagadraco has used leprechauns in the past at Saga Investments, but got tired of having to watch their every move. She prefers to make her own investments with the help of a team of clairvoyants.”
I nodded in approval. “Nice to know the boss doesn’t take risks with our 401ks.”
“Our leprechaun nobles shouldn’t be difficult to spot, even using human glamours. It’s a bachelor party of five guys. There can’t be that many of them making the rounds tonight. And when we get them cornered, remember that leprechauns will promise anything to gain their freedom, and their loyalties are to themselves and that’s it. To trust a leprechaun for an instant means you’re either a fool or suicidal.”
“Is like playing Russian roulette,” Yasha said. “On the upside of playing with a gun, you only lose once.”
“What if the prince and his boys decide to split up?” I asked.
“Then it’s going to be a long night.” Ian paused and looked away from me. “Go ahead,” he said.
Then I realized he was on the phone. I’d never used those little Bluetooth earphone thingies, and I wasn’t about to. They made you look like you were walking around talking to yourself. Though I could see where they’d come in handy in the monster hunting/supernatural sleuthing business. If I was being chased down by something with six legs and a hankering for people sushi, I know I’d want to be hands free.
“I am from Saint Petersburg.” Yasha made no effort to keep his voice down or to stop Ian from hearing his caller. Apparently the Russian was more interested in talking to me than being considerate of Ian. It sounded like someone was miffed at potentially being stiffed for a surprise party. Since Yasha was our driver and backup, my partner might want to rethink that.
“I’m from a little town called Weird Sisters. It’s in the far western point of North Carolina.”