The Ryu Morgue (A Jane True Short Story) (Trueniverse Book 2) (2 page)

Not an option
, she reminded herself automatically. She’d long since gone down the rabbit hole and she’d never climb out again. Besides, she owed it to her mother to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

Ryu stirred in the chair beside her, obviously gathering himself. A second later, the loud crash of a gong echoed through the chambers and the gargantuan golden doors creaked open.

The little frog-man appeared, dwarfed by the huge doors as he leaned around them, and gestured frantically for them to enter.

Maeve wiped her palms on her slacks as she stood. She’d dressed in a cream suit with a gold shell underneath…a nod to the Gold Court and a far cry from the navy and black she always wore at the Initiative. From what she’d heard of the Monarchs, she thought they would appreciate a more snappy approach, so she’d also worn her towering gold heels.

Heels that also gave her about three inches on the bloodsucker she was forced to work with. Ryu, however, had merely raised an eyebrow at her sartorial choices, commenting, “A very nice look on you.”

“I wore it for myself,” she’d snarled, wishing she’d worn one of her plain, dark suits rather than anything Ryu appreciated. Then he’d given her one of his charming half-smiles—which she’d wanted to scratch off his face.

Maeve walked toward the door where the frog-man was still frantically gesturing, Ryu falling into step beside her. He walked close to her, as if shielding her, and she only just managed not to tell him to fuck the fuck off.

Maeve was hotheaded, but not entirely stupid. Despite her brave words, she was terrified of the infamously brutal Gold Court.

“Breathe,” Ryu reminded her,
sotto voce
, placing a hand on the small of her back. It made her stiffen her spine and square her shoulders, reminding her to stride next to him rather than scamper at his heels.

The room they entered was incredibly bright, the only color the gray stone floor and, at the very far end of the room, a golden sunburst decorating the back wall. A white strip of carpet led straight to the dais she could see at the end of the impossibly long room, a clear trick of either perspective or actual magic, since the hall couldn’t be this big and fit the mansion’s dimensions.

They walked and they walked and they walked. After what felt like long minutes of walking, she glanced at her companion. Ryu still smiled, but it looked strained, his jaw clenched in irritation.

They’re fucking with us
, she thought.
They don’t even know why we’re here and they’re already fucking with us.

Eventually, the curious treadmill effect stopped and they began to gain on the dais. Ryu looked as ambivalent about this as Maeve felt, however, as it meant they’d meet the Gold Monarchs that much sooner.

Suddenly there they were, standing at the feet of two regal Queens, resplendent in golden robes. According to Maeve’s files, the light-haired one was Ailish and the dark-haired one was Ruth. Both looked utterly inhuman in their stillness.

Ryu dropped automatically to one knee, bowing his shining head in wholehearted subservience. Maeve, however, followed the protocol taught to all human agents of the Initiative when confronted with supernatural monarchy.

She did bow, but it was the slight inclination of head and body usually seen employed by rockstars, thanking the audience for having listened to the glory of their own efforts.

The Gold Monarchs’ two sets of eyes flicked toward Ryu as if compelled by the same brain. Then they flicked to Maeve, where they lingered. Nothing changed in their affect, of course—they were far too old and Alfar for any sort of emotional display—but the room became noticeably colder.

“You brought us a human, Ryu Baobhan Sith,” the dark-haired Queen said, the light-haired one picking up her sentence as she dropped it.

“Although we cannot begin to think why you would do such a thing.”

Ryu gave her a look that said
let me handle this
. Maeve felt a surge of irritation but quelled it.

Play nice with the horrible Alfar
, she thought.
Get them on side
.

“This is Maeve Henderson,” Ryu said. He still knelt, but he did lift his head to speak. “She is my colleague in the Initiative.”

Again, as if pulled by the same marionette strings, the Queens’ heads cocked sideways.

“Colleague?” said the dark one.

“Initiative?” said the light.

Maeve bit back a sigh. The Initiative had sent multiple envoys to the Gold Court and everyone in the supernatural world acknowledged the jig was up: humans, or at least human governments, knew about supernaturals. The Gold Court was just being obstreperous, acting like they had a choice in the matter and that outside affairs had nothing to do with them.

It was Maeve and Ryu’s mission to get them to admit that history had happened and to start playing ball with the Initiative. Without getting themselves killed.

“As I’m sure your Highnesses are aware, given your excellent information network,” Ryu said smoothly, appearing completely unruffled, “we are no longer capable of hiding our existence from the human governments. Indeed, as I’m also sure you are aware, we’ve discovered they’ve been keeping tabs on us for quite some time.

“While we’re still keeping the general population as much in the dark as possible, until such time as they are ready for full disclosure or we are capable of hiding ourselves again, we must work with the most powerful echelons of human society toward either of these two ends. Hence the Initiative.”

Neither of the Monarchs changed expression, and yet Maeve had the distinct impression they were amused.

“In olden times,” began the dark one, her eerily uninflected words picked up by the light one, “we did not worry about a means to an end.” Both leaned forward, and the conversational volley passed to the dark one. “We
were
the end.”

The hair on Maeve’s nape bristled. “Well, slaughtering humanity isn’t really an option this time,” she said, her voice strong and very, very dry, despite the fact her stomach plunged into her shoes the moment those two sets of dead eyes flicked toward her.

“It speaks,” said the light one.

“How droll,” said the dark.

Ryu shot her a look that begged her to keep her trap shut.

“Slaughtering humanity is
always
an option,” said the dark, to which the light one gave an odd huffing sound. Maeve eventually realized the sound was a laugh.

Great
, she thought.
Alfar humor
.

Ryu took a step forward, putting Maeve slightly behind him. It was very gentlemanly for a murderous, blood-sucking fiend, but she knew her flame-haired head would still be a perfect target above his own silky dark crown.

“My Queens,” he said, “there is no doubt of your power or your infinite will. But times have changed and humanity is no longer ours to control. We need your cooperation in the Initiative, not least because your territory is so vast. And we value your experience, your wisdom. Your voice is needed in the debate over how best to handle the current situation.”

Bullshit
, thought Maeve.
We really want eyes and ears on the ground in your Territory, so we can have a heads up if you crazy fucks decide to take matters into your own hands and turn San Francisco into a bloodbath.

The two Monarchs looked at one another. Maeve had no idea what they would do. They’d sent two previous human envoys of the Initiative home so thoroughly glamoured that they’d had a hard time recalling their own names, let alone what their mission had been or what had occurred at the Gold Court. These humans’ supernatural counterparts had come back so frightened they’d promptly quit the Initiative and moved overseas.

Since Ryu was, technically, another Monarch, the Initiative had sent him to tackle these recalcitrant Queens. That said, he was a Monarch by vote and not a hereditary Alfar leader, and the majority of his governance was completed through a democratic senate—hence his ability to work with the Initiative. So there was still no guarantee they’d listen, as they probably considered him an upstart, rabble-rousing nobody.

Although we’re still alive and I still know my name
, Maeve thought.
That’s progress.

“A bargain,” said the light Queen, beginning one of their weird badminton-game speeches.

“You will do something for us.”

“And we will consider your request.”

“That is our best offer.”

“Unless you would like to leave us the redhead.”

Maeve shivered and Ryu gave a firm shake of his head. “We will keep the redhead,” he said, “although we would like to know more about this bargain.”

Both Queens smiled, a slow, chilly smear of their lips that showed their teeth but absolutely no warmth.

“We do not negotiate. Take our offer or leave the redhead.”

Ryu’s shoulder stiffened but he nodded. “Will you tell us more of your offer?”

“Sebastian,” said the dark Queen, and the frog-man hopped up out of nowhere.

“Tell them what is expected,” said the light Queen.

And then the two Monarchs sat back in their throne, their faces going blank as if they’d turned into statues.

Maeve and Ryu bowed, his extravagant and hers as minimal as she could make it. And then they turned to follow Sebastian, who ribbited them back the way they’d come.

THREE

“We’ve got a poker, amongst other problems,” Sebastian said, then ribbited.

“Shit,” Ryu swore. Maeve looked confused.

“A poker,” Sebastian repeated, in the loud, slow way obnoxious people used with the deaf or foreigners.

Maeve’s sharp-featured face flushed with annoyance and her eyes narrowed at the frog-man.

She’s hot when she’s angry
, Ryu thought, biting back a smile.
Which explains why she’s so hot. She’s always angry.

“What is a poker?” she asked, turning to Ryu. Her words were clipped. Ryu knew she hated showing any ignorance of the supernatural world.

“A poker is slang for a human under the influence of, er, a very specific type of magic.”

“Which is?”

“Usually some type of sex magic.”

“Oh,” she said, clearly taken aback. “So, like, glamoured?”

“Maybe. But there are other things out there that work some powerful sex juju. And pokers are very specific.” He scrubbed a hand through his short hair, wondering how best to broach this subject with a woman who thought all supernaturals were depraved assholes, when clearly such magic was indeed the work of a depraved asshole.

“You know when you open up Facebook,” he began, “and you see those random stories about people, um, getting intimately acquainted with inappropriate objects? Like picnic tables or pool floaties?”

She nodded, her ginger brows rising slightly. “Yes, I’ve seen those.”

“Well, those are either really messed-up humans or they’re humans who’ve come under the influence of some of this powerful sex juju...and they’ve lost their inhibitions, shall we say.”

“Pokers,” said the frog-man, nodding sagely. “Ribbit.”

“So some of you people,” Maeve said to Ryu, her voice growing chillier and chillier, as if she’d plunged it into a deep freeze, “do magical stuff to humans that makes them try to have sex with things they shouldn’t have sex with?”

“It’s not common practice,” he said, “And we frown on it, believe me.”

“You frown on it,” she said, and he realized his mistake.

“I mean, we punish the perpetrators severely. We know how bad it is, obviously.”

“And what do you do about the humans?”

Ryu blinked. “What do you mean?”

“What do you do about the human, who has been arrested for publicly fornicating with a picnic table? What happens to that guy?”

Damn
, Ryu thought, suddenly feeling an unwelcome surge of guilt.

“Er,” he began, but Maeve cut him off with a snort and a short, sharp chopping gesture.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, turning as far away from him as she could toward Sebastian. “Tell us about this ‘poker.’“

Sebastian began talking, but Ryu was so furious he could only keep half an ear on what the frog-man was saying.

How dare she
, Ryu thought as Sebastian droned on about a spate of humans dead by decidedly unnatural means. It wasn’t like humans were any better behaved toward each other. Look at their wars, their genocides, their weapons of mass destruction. Look at 4chan! While individual supes might wreak havoc occasionally, humans as a species were far worse to each other than even the most jaded, bloodthirsty supernatural.

“But the thing is, none of the deaths have anything in common, except that they’re unnatural,” Sebastian droned, his speech punctuated by the occasional ribbit. “They died of all sorts of different scenarios...”

She hates us
, he realized about Maeve.

“...there have been a few pokers...”

Like really hates us. She’s...magicist
. He looked at her long, strong back. Her hands were still clenched into fists at her side.

“...but other strange things. A woman who ate herself to death...”

He tried to think about what he knew about Maeve. They’d met a number of times, and she’s always been very, very cold to him. She was cold to the other supes in their squad, but she was especially cold to him.

“...and a child who jumped off his school because he said he was Superman...”

Maybe my good looks intimidate her?
As usual these days when he thought something outrageously arrogant, he saw Jane True’s face, laughing at him. He scowled. He’d enjoyed being arrogant, and his halfling ex had ruined that for him.

“...a grandmother who was shot robbing a bank...”

Maybe she just doesn’t like supes and she really doesn’t like me because I’m the head of that half of the squad
. He thought back to their interactions. He had been a bit overbearing, a bit flirtatious, as was his wont. And she was a human, to whom he was probably a bit dismissive.