“Who does Mirgeth run with?” Felon shook his head.
“A freelancer formerly with Lucifer,” Balg said and smiled with yellowed carnivore teeth. “Don’t misunderstand me, my wolf. Mirgeth isn’t the target. This is family business. I want you to hit the Incubus who has been rather successfully foiling my attempts to woo the young maiden. With him prodding her every fucking night, why send flowers?”
Woo. Felon knew what that meant. The Incubus was interfering with Balg’s attempt at manipulation or outright possession. Incubi and their female counterparts, Succubae, were Demons. They were a subclass of that Infernal type, much like Cherubs were of Angels.
He nodded. Felon knew that Incubi were dangerous creatures that could use sexuality as a weapon. Not Fallen, but killing them wasn’t easy.
“I’ll need access to her home. And there’s the chance she will see me. I don’t like that and if she’s yours, I can’t put a bullet in her.”
“Of course not, Felon. No. No. No bullet’s in her-please! Remove the Incubus. I understand there is a great deal of risk. But like anything,” Balg said with a chuckle, “you will have a price, Felon. Do not worry about access to her bedchambers; I have a copy of her house key for you. And I know her habits and patterns. I watch her,” he said huskily, a string of saliva suddenly running past his fangs. “I shall tell you exactly when you can enter her home.”
“ You whack him,” Felon growled. “Family. You’ve got the right.”
“Actually, Felon he is family.” Balg’s eyes glowed along with his cigar. “Stahn is a relative of mine. I suppose a nephew in your terms. I would be uncomfortable punishing him personally.”
“Price,” Felon started, before any more information was imparted. The assassin didn’t want to know the rest until his price was accepted.
“Of course.” Balg’s smile resembled a snarl. “Fifty thousand dollars in lost Incan gold. That is the ore value, some of the artifacts are worth twice that, should you endeavor to sell them as is .”
“Eighty grand in ingots,” Felon said. He wasn’t interested in fencing antiques. “Forty up front delivered to the Coastview Hotel by six tonight.” He lit another cigarette, turning to conceal the shiver that ran through his hands.
Eighty grand and you take the starch out of that little prick.” Smiling, Balg drew a tube of rolled parchment from his coat. “The customary contract.” He handed it to Felon.
Moving under the flickering fluorescent, Felon unrolled the parchment. He scanned it while searching an inner pocket for his magnifying glass. The assassin had bargained for information about such an item with another employer. A special film on the lens showed any magic script. He went over the contract with the treated glass. Balg’s invisible seal was there, a disemboweled ram crucified on jagged swords, but that was customary. He put the glass away.
“Pen.” The Demon reached around him. Felon took the steel quill from the heavy hand, and punctured the fleshy part of his thumb with it. Dark blood seeped up the length of the nib. He signed and handed the quill to Balg who drew some of his own blood and signed.
“Very well, Felon.” Balg put the contract away, before giving him an envelope. “The address, her habits, and the key I mentioned are inside.”
Felon shook the envelope.
“It’s a pity you can’t kill him slowly,” Balg said, bloodlust bringing more saliva from his fangs. “But I understand the limitations of your abilities.”
“I will remember your interest in my limitations.” Felon slid the envelope into his coat. “When?”
“Kill Stahn tonight.” The Demon’s lips drew back in a grotesque grin. “You may have to leave town soon. Everyone’s talking about the Cherubs. Paid for one and he whacks the other for fun.” He showed his canines. “Contact my office uptown for the rest of your fee.”
Balg faded out of sight. The magical fires flickered and were gone. The assassin shivered on his way up to the car. Felon got in, started the engine, and turned the heat up to full. He would look in the envelope when he saw the gold.
14 – Distraction
Mr. Jay had a thing for women. That’s what he called it: a thing! Dawn regretted asking him about it. “Look at them, Dawn. How can I love just one?”
Well what was that supposed to mean? Dawn didn’t understand his wandering eye so it frightened her and being permanently prepubescent left her little to work with.
“You won’t understand,” he explained whenever the subject came up. “You aren’t built for it-and you may never be. The whole business must be alien to you-picture books or not. Understanding why is irrelevant.” A spider of his fingers ran through her hair. “They are honey to me. And I’m a bee.”
Well what was that supposed to mean? Dawn liked honey too and loved finding it on their travels in broken hives and abandoned houses. But she didn’t think she was a bee. She loved honey, but knew it could be trouble. Dawn warned, “Too much will give you a sore belly.”
“If only, darling,” Mr. Jay moaned wistfully. “If only.”
It was because of his thing for women that she still didn’t know why the men were chasing them. In her heart of hearts the forever girl knew that his thing for women would never harm her; but it filled her with dread just the same. She just didn’t understand it. So she was sometimes overwhelmed by a fear that Mr. Jay would one day prefer the company of women to hers. Dawn felt queasy just thinking of the things women could do. She’d heard enough from some of the older kids at the Nurserywood. And a bad one Kevin once showed her a magazine. Yuck!
Dawn’s inner voice suggested that Mr. Jay might meet a nice woman who would like Dawn-perhaps a woman like her mother. But the forever girl hesitated to accept that. She just couldn’t take the chance.
Dawn contemplated these notions where she hid under the stairs that led up to this new woman’s apartment. Waiting was okay; she did a lot of waiting. And hiding too, there was lots of that. Mr. Jay was her only friend, and she knew he cared about her-in fact he went out of his way for her. His thing was beyond her and she had to learn to let it go.
This woman had caught Mr. Jay’s wandering eye not long after the taxicab dropped them off. She was dark-haired and of a pre-Change twenty or so-though Dawn was never good at guessing grownup ages. This woman showed off her bumpy woman’s body in tight black clothing and wore sunglasses. Sunglasses? The forever girl couldn’t believe it. The sun hadn’t broken cloud in a hundred years.
It was Dawn who first caught the woman’s eye-dressed as she was as a dark-bearded midget.
“How sweet!” the woman trilled from the doorway of a coffeehouse. “Such a cute little man.” She dropped to her knees so quickly that it startled Dawn-her nerves still blazing from the chase.
“Forgive me, little friend!” The woman gasped, shocked by the speed with which Dawn had moved. The forever girl watched her from behind Mr. Jay’s knees. “I just wanted to see your face!” The woman rose to her full height, eyes locking on Mr. Jay’s before exclaiming, “Your little friend is shy!”
“Wouldn’t you be?” The magician looked her up and down replying. “Frankly, the world has become a frightening place for me!”
The woman regarded him quickly before replying, “For me also.” Her features softened as she smiled down at Dawn’s bearded features. “I’m so sorry.”
Dawn only managed a suspicious half-smile and growled assent before Mr. Jay began, “We’re entertainers…”
His voice took on a tone that Dawn knew all too well. He had a voice for entertaining on the sidewalks and one for talking to Dawn, and another voice for talking to women. After a few minutes discussion, Dawn discovered that the woman’s name was Carmen, was marooned in the City after the Change so long ago, and still didn’t know if her parents in Paris were alive or dead.