Page 131 of Junk Magic

“If I ask for more, I’m going to need authorization—”

“So, get it.”

“—from the old man! Who is already on the warpath after hearing what you did. And by now he’s had time to read my report. It’s why I scarpered before the bastard could find me—”

“Scarper back. Tell him what I said—”

“And he’s going to believe you?”

“Maybe not. But he’s old school—he’ll have to check it out. And he won’t let you go in there with your ass hanging out.”

“And when he asks where you are? What the fuck am I—”

“Tell him the truth. That you don’t know,” I said, and hung up.

“You guys have an interesting relationship,” Sophie said.

I was about to respond, but Jen’s third slave had just returned, and was whispering something sibilant and awful into her ear. I didn’t understand a word, but she apparently did. She looked up, biting her lip.

“It’s starting.”

“What is?’ I asked, wondering if I wanted to know.

“The thing.”

The girls took off, clambering over the hairy mountains of Lobizon’s finest, who were making noises but hadn’t yet come around. We didn’t stop to help out, or to assist a couple of room service types on the other side, who were looking unconcerned except for the fact that they couldn’t get their cart past. I followed the two well-dressed troublemakers back to the main hall, and discovered that something was happening in the big ballroom.

Or one of them, anyway.

There was a row of large rooms with unusually bland décor running down one side of this wing of the hotel. They’d been recently redecorated, part of the major refurbishment currently going on, because instead of eye searing patterns and colors, they were a tasteful beige and white. And the only bling in sight were glittering chandeliers and sconces.

It looked like the Council had taken over all of them, probably for security reasons, but also to accommodate the mass of people here for the first day of the session. That was also probably why the separators had been removed from the individual rooms, each of which could accommodate hundreds of guests. Leaving one massive rectangle that was teeming with a crowd of thousands.

But things were going down in this one.

What things, I couldn’t see, because of the crowd attempting to get in through the huge, double doors. I could have forced my way inside, but that would have made too much of a spectacle. But being polite wasn’t doing me any good, because we’d basically stopped moving while still being in the hall.

The room was already packed out, it seemed, and nobody was interested in giving up their place. So, I had no clue what was going on, except for the fact that somebody was yelling. A very familiar somebody.

“Fuck,” I said with feeling, and began being more aggressive in my attempts to worm through the crowd.

“Wait. Come this way,” Sophie said, and started pulling me in a different direction. It worked because she currently smelled like cat, something extremely unusual in this setting, which had people unconsciously drawing away from us and a few sniffing the air in disgust. And because we weren’t headed inside any more.

“Wait. Where are we going?”

“Where Jen and I were before you showed up. It’s a great vantage point.”

I hoped so, because where we were at the moment was a narrow set of stairs, obviously meant for the help. There was almost no light in here and I could touch the sides without spreading my arms. But it was short, only half a dozen flights, so maybe three stories up. And when we burst out of the top, it wasn’t onto another floor, but onto a rooftop.

A rooftop made almost entirely out of glass.

There was a narrow walkway around the sides, I supposed for repairmen, but the whole of the center were glass panes in a vaguely golden hue, or maybe that was the light coming from the room below. And it had a triangular top, extending up another story or so for dramatic effect. Part of the remodel, I supposed, as this room had had a normal ceiling the last time I checked.

But this one was better, and not just because it looked more impressive. But because it allowed me to see the trainwreck happening below perfectly. And to hear it, too, thanks to the drug coursing through my veins. Not that either of those things was helping, only I didn’t know what would.

Because Cyrus was standing in the middle of a circle of wolves, half of them in human form and half with their fine clothes shredded around them, about to get ripped apart.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

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