Page 2 of Guarded By the Krampus

“Inanycase,” Royce went on, coming up, to take one of the coats she held, “we have places to be. You’ll check out with Sylas at six?”

“On the dot.” The smoky Nightmare Royce had hired was creepy, but never late.

And then the alarm that indicated someone was coming to the MSA lobby door started beeping softly. The three of us looked over, watching a beautiful blonde woman wearing entirely black clothing arrive. She was bundled up in a black wool coat that flared out from her hips like a cape, she had shiny black leggings on underneath tucked into stylish leather snowboots, and she was holding both a phone and a long thin cane in gloved hands as she reached for the door, feeling for the handle, before pushing her way in.

There were two things striking about her—one, her extreme elegance, she held herself like a dancer, or perhaps a marionette with a master at the strings—and the second was her blindfold, a strap of black satin stretched across her face, hiding both her eyes.

“Hello?” she asked archly, as the door slowly closed behind her. “I know you’re there. My phone has a heat sensor built in—” she said, waving it in front of herself.

Her talking made the three of us shift gears.

“Sorry about that—we were just caught off guard by your arrival,” Royce said, recovering first. “You’re in the lobby of the Monster Security Agency—can we help you?”

“I recognize you!” Serena blurted out.

The woman’s red lips curved up at their ends. “I’m not surprised,” she said coolly. “Although that does mean you’re a woman of taste.”

Serena gave a nervous giggle, and then looked to the two of us to step up. “Oh, come on!” she complained. “Do both of you live in caves?”

“Only my ancestors,” I said wryly.

Serena shook her head in profound disappointment. “This isSatin.She’s an internationally famous sculptor!” she went on, waving both of her arms. “She’s had shows at the MoMa, the Armory, and the Stutenberg!”

“Don’t forget the Auralis Conservatory,” Satin said, taking a few more steps up.

I’d never heard of her, but judging from Serena’s reaction, either she was ridiculously famous or had a cult following I’d somehow missed.

“Well then I am pleased to meet you—especially if my daughter’s a fan. But what can we do for you here, Miss Satin?”

The woman in question’s lips curved down slightly. As she began folding up her cane, I was surprised to realize that it wasn’t an affectation—and perhaps neither was her blindfold. “I believe I have need of your professional services,” she said, tucking her cane under her arm and offering a gloved hand out. Royce came up to give it a firm shake, and just then, Sylas arrived, seeping around the edges of the lobby door without setting off anything, before he coalesced.

“I’m here,” he announced, then flew across the room quickly, winding around the tree, before lifting off one of the pinecone grenades to inspect. “Christmas trees would make so much more sense if they doubled as a weapons rack.”

“Sylas,” Royce said, calling him to heel. “I think I have a job for you,” he said, giving Satin a meaningful nod.

“The hell you do,” I said out loud, surprising everyone else in the room—even me.

Satin tilted her head, and an imperious eyebrows arched over her blindfold.

“Aceon?” Royce asked, giving me a look.

“But I’m here now,” Sylas said, rising himself up to loom.

“And you canbuttout—she got here at six-twenty-nine.”

“Don’t you need to visit your mommy?” Serena whispered, in a tone of voice that said she knew I never should’ve lied.

I glared at her, before deciding to ignore the three of them. “Not this year,” I said curtly. “What’s the job?”

Satin’s red lips puckered in amusement. “I’d rather tell you in private.”

“No. That’s not how we do things here—” Royce said, attempting to step in.

“I’ve got a jet waiting,” Satin said, like that was a sentence that anyone could say, at any time.

“I don’t care—” Royce went on—so I cut him off.

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

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