Hour of Mischief (5 page)

“Well of course I do.” The light switched on. I whirled around to see a man right beside the door. Funny, because this room was definitely empty a few seconds ago.

He was tall and thin with a head of disheveled brown hair and twinkling green eyes. He wore a pocket-lined, black trench coat reaching all the way down to his boots with a pocket watch for every pocket. The chains gleamed in the dim light of the torches, some of them gold, some of them silver. I didn’t know how he managed to keep them all. The guards confiscated all belongings from prisoners. Unless he was a guard but he sure didn’t look like one. I studied him for a long time before shaking my head.

“Sorry, but your face isn’t ringing a bell. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Ah, details.” The man sighed. “I hate details.” He clapped his hands together. “But why should we talk about me?”

“Because I have no idea who you are, and I’m incredibly suspicious of you?” I suggested.

“Of course you are.” The man pointed a slender finger at me. “But I’d rather talk about you. I hear you botched a supposedly simple heist yesterday.”

I flinched but tried to keep my face steely. “Uh huh? How do you know about that?”

“Oh, I’m something of an expert on thieves. I make it my business to hear about their affairs, successes and failures,” the man said. “Shame you let your team down, huh?”

I let out a hiss and lunged for the man. He laughed and danced out of the way. “Temper, temper! Hitting me won’t get you out of prison.”

I stopped briefly to consider his words and he smirked in satisfaction. Then I decided I didn’t care, and I punched him in the nose.

He stumbled back in surprise, eyes wide. “Great Abyss, what was that?”

“It’s called a metal arm,” I said, pulling off my gloves to reveal the steel appendage. Gadgets whirred and clinked beneath plates of steel as I moved my fingers. “It packs a punch. And so do I.”

Surprisingly enough, the man tipped back his head and started to laugh again. Usually, victims of my physical aggression reacted differently. “Oh, I like you. You have a lot of nerve. A lot of guts. You’re just the kind of girl I need.” He jumped back to his feet in a tick as if I had never punched him at all. In fact, his nose looked way too shapely for something recently smashed by my left fist. Usually there was a lot more blood.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m not doing anything for you. Besides, I happen to be in an inescapable underground prison. I can’t do much.”

“On the contrary, you can,” the man said. “Because I can get you out of here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yeah? How?”

“I can do that sort of thing.”

“You’re going to want to consider getting more specific really fast, bastard.” I raised my metal fist again. I itched for another good punch, preferably one to knock the smug expression off his face. “How can you expect to get me out of one of the most heavily guarded prisons in the human realms?”

The man’s green eyes twinkled. “Because I am the God of Mischief, little human.”

Now, just to make something clear, I can be accepting of a lot of things and am generally good at keeping my calm in even the most outlandish situation. But in that moment, my jaw dropped, and I blinked dumbly. “You’re. . . .”

“Itazura, at your service.” The man gave a low bow.

I stared, closed my mouth, and then punched him in the face again.

I was playing that punching card
a lot
today.

“You expect me to believe that?” I snapped.

“Great Abyss, girl! Stop using your left arm.” The supposed God of Mischief rubbed his cheek. “And I’m not lying. I got into this room without opening the door, didn’t I?”

I paused and dropped my fist ever so slightly. He had a point. That was pretty weird.

“And if you need more proof,” Itazura said, reaching into his pocket. “I also nicked the keys.”

I stared at the shiny, beautiful keys dangling from the man’s fingers, and I lowered my fist the rest of the way. Here’s the thing about stealing keys from a vigilant guard: You can’t do it. Believe me; I’ve tried and it almost ended very badly. They get these operations in the center ring of Fortuna to improve their senses. Robotic ears, enhanced vision, and mechanical limbs much fancier than my arm. Plus you couldn’t even become a member of the vigilant squad unless you passed an exam testing your skills of observation. Bottom line: you can’t steal keys from the vigilant squad.

Yet here this man stood, dangling a glimmering set of keys in front of my face. If he had managed to snatch them, he had to be the God of Mischief.

Oh gods. . . .

“I just punched a god,” I muttered, taking a step back from him. “Holy Abyss, I just punched a god.”

“Yes. Twice.” Itazura nodded, an amused expression on his face. “It happens to me more than you’d think. People just don’t appreciate me.”

“Maybe because you’re annoying.” I scowled.

Itazura laughed. “You know I’m a god, yet you still insult me. Oh, I really like you.”

“Glad to hear it.” I crossed my arms. “So, are you getting me out or not?”

“Wait, wait, little human. I have conditions,” Itazura said, holding up a finger.

“Great.”

“Oh don’t look so miserable.” Itazura leaned against the wall. “I just require the assistance of a human for certain matters. No, no.” The god held up his hand, when I opened my mouth to interrupt. “Don’t tell me to be more specific because I won’t. I will explain after you agree.”

“This sounds like a questionable business deal to me,” I muttered. “What’s the catch?”

“Catch? Whatever do you mean?”

“You know, for a god who’s supposed to be good at lying, you are
terrible
at it.”

Itazura tilted his head to the side. “Not when I don’t want to be.”

“So let me get this straight,” I said. “I agree to help you and then you help my friends and me escape?”

“No, no.” Itazura shook his head. “I’ll help you escape first and I will only help your friends escape when you have done what I ask. I’m not so foolish as to trust someone who calls
me
their patron god.” He rested a hand on my head and I swatted it away.

“You expect me to abandon my friends here and go around doing all of your dirty work?”

Itazura shrugged. “It’s the only way you can save them, little human. Whether you like it or not, no one else is going to bail you out.” He shook the keys and I bit my lip at the sound of their enticing jingle. “You could make fix this entire botched job. You aren’t going to let your anxious little friend stay down here are you? She’ll go insane pretty soon. The others will follow and so will you, as everyone does. I’ve seen many thieves get sent down here. Some of them last longer than others, but they all end up just as crazy as the next. That’s what a lifetime of this dark underground prison does to people. It will do the same to you.”

I glared at the god. “You’re a bastard.”

“I prefer to think of myself as morally ambiguous,” Itazura said. “So, do you wish to make a pact with me?”

I gritted my teeth together. The god was right, though I wanted to punch myself for admitting so. I screwed this heist up. It was my job to fix it. I had promised Sylvia I would get us out of this, but I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. This was a light, a bright, unwelcome light like the kind that wakes you up too early in the morning, but a light all the same. Besides, helping Itazura couldn’t be worse than a prison sentence.

“Fine. I’ll make a pact,” I said, holding out my hand. “But I don’t have anything sharp on me so you’ll have to do it for me.”

“My pleasure.” Itazura held up a single finger. I stared as his nail morphed into a much sharper claw. Then he took my wrist and drew the sharp end swiftly across the palm of my hand before I could go back on my decision. Crimson blood sprang to the surface of the wound but I did not give Itazura the pleasure of seeing me wince. The God then made a similar cut across his own palm. His cut oozed silver instead of red. I’d always heard the blood of a god looked like liquid starlight, but I’d never seen it up close.

“Thinking about backing out?” Itazura asked when I paused. A challenge gleamed in his eyes and I was all too happy to meet it. I clasped his hand in mine.

“Not a chance.”

As our blood mixed, a silver light flashed, briefly lighting up the room and I could feel some of the energy drain from me. Some of my control. I knew I’d placed myself at the God of Mischief’s mercy.

But it didn’t matter. I lead the Pendulum Thieves. I had to dig my team out of the ground I buried us in in the first place.

o I made the pact,” I said as Itazura nimbly unlocked the door. “Are you going to tell me what this is about now?”

“You’re very impatient you know that?” The hinges of the door squeaked as Itazura pushed it open. “After you.”

“I just gave you partial control over my soul.” I strode out of the room, back into the dimly lit belly of the caverns. “I don’t think I’m asking too much.”

“Full control over your soul actually.” Itazura closed the door behind me and started down the walkway toward the nearest stair case. “But all right, I’ll give you the details. Mind you, there are a lot of them. You might want to write this down.”

“Do I look like I have any paper nearby?” I asked irritably. “I think I can handle it.

“Fine then, I–wait here comes a guard,” Itazura said, holding up a hand. Sure enough a shadow appeared from just behind a corner. He looked down at me. “Watch and learn from the master of mischief, little thief.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to appear too curious.

Itazura took a step forward and raised his hand. Just as the vigilant guard hit the bottom of the staircase, he snapped his fingers. The lights flickered and went dark.

“What in the great Abyss is this?” the guard muttered. “Hey, who turned off the–
Ah
!”

A series of thuds, sounding vaguely fists connecting with flesh, followed by the dull thwap of a body hitting the stone floor, echoed through the dark. Another snap and the torches flared back to life. Itazura no longer stood next to me, but beside the unconscious guard on the other side of the hall.

I fought the urge to laugh. Instead I said, “Wow, you turned off the lights. Is that the extent of your godly powers?”

Itazura chuckled. “Not quite. Follow, little human.”

As we walked, he explained exactly what I had gotten myself into and the only upside to the whole thing was I got to watch the God of Mischief at work in his natural profession: Messing with people.

“You’re saying this has to do with
what
?” I asked as we stepped over the body of yet another fallen guard.

“Elder gods,” Itazura said.

“Is that another name for your Mother and Father? Or the Clockmaker?”

“Oh, neither.” Itazura shook his head. “Step back against the wall, please.”

I did, just as another guard came into view. This time when Itazura snapped his fingers the guard spun around, like a puppet on strings, and ended up walking the opposite direction. After a few steps the guard stopped and looked about as if confused. “What the. . . .”

I clamped a hand over my mouth to cover up a laugh.

The guard turned back around to continue on his way but Itazura only flipped him again. The guard shook his head. “Great Abyss, what’s going on?”