The reminder of the night they met made Li do a double-take, but instead of gawking like a lesser fool might, he grabbed Nhyssa's hand and spun her to the lingering music of the festival and was now facing the direction she'd indicated pulling the dark mistress closer with his free hand by the hip still holding her other hand. She was free to pull away, the maneuver allowed Li to see the woman sitting atop the dias with the hosts of this little shindig. The woman was familiar but he wasn't sure why. He'd never seen her before, and he barely knew the others up there.
This was not his usual scene. And if it weren't for Nhyssa he'd not be here anyway. But he smiled at his company. "Making herself right at home it seems. Just like the Almaz. I wonder where her pet is." Li closed his eyes and said a small mediataion in his mind so that the power would leap into his grasp. It was dark and powerful and the last time he'd encountered the woman she had all sorts of little tricks up her sleeve, and monsters like the wolf man were more than possible. And here he hadn't brought a gun. Better safe than sorry Li thought to himself. "Have you been stalking new friends, my dear?" Li teased in her ear. And in a more serious tone "How can I help?"
A pull on the cigar tingled his lips a moment before releasing the puff to the heavens. Mik's classless excitement was not unshared by Ryker, even if he only nodded in agreement. In the distance, the charades were on display for all to see. Somewhere among the heads would dart the little wobbly noggin' of one Yun Kao, so Ryker imagined. Japanese filtered like giant carp lazing around the bottom of a pond, waiting for tiny drops of bait before attacking.
"My dealings with our previous colleagues are not going well. I think it's time to split up mommy and daddy for good. You're good for a fight, Mik, want to make a scene? And before you ask what I have in mind, well, I leave the genius to your faculties."
Lips didn't grin around the stub of the cigar, even if one eye seemed to glint with amusement. The other was too dead to express much emotion either way.
Warmth filling Mik's lungs, he stopped one of the wandering servers and snagged a drink, spiced rum as it happened. Good enough. He dipped the tip of the cigar into the drink and pulled a drag. The flavor of the leaf filtered through the darkly sweet mixture and he sighed contentedly.
"Fuck, man. This is some good shit." Cigars were meant to be enjoyed slowly. The experience was where it was at. The slight buzz he held only enhanced the feeling. He'd let the power go.
Sometimes, if he held the power too long, normal life felt boring. He'd known enough addicts in his life to know that your brain could get jacked because things got boring. Harder and more drugs. More sex. More porn. Desensitized you.
Let's just say that Mik no desire to be limp when opportunity came because he fucked up his brain chemistry or whatever. He figure the power was probably the same.
Small doses.
He eyed Ryker. Kinda hit despite the scar. Course the guy didnt swing that way. No matter. Plenty of fish in the sea.
Nah, they were here for some trouble. "I always have ideas. Lady Luck has some fun planned tonight, I'm guessin'. Beware, though. She's a bitch. Fuck you over as easily as anyone else."
He laughed and took another drag, smoke lazily drifting from his nostrils, curling and whirling slowly. Another sip. Fuck but rum and cigars where amazing.
Anyway..." Yeah, I'm down. Just let me know who mommy and daddy are. I've been known to be a matchmaker." He winked. "And a home wrecker. All the same game, really."
He looked out into the crowd, taking stock of who was out there. One big burly guy caught his eye. Cop, obviously. Cheap ass clothes maybe gave it away. Or the way they walked. He wasnt sure. But totally a cop. Cute, though. Square jaw and broad chest definitely dripped testosterone.
Ryker nodded with approval. He checked a wallet quickly, roaming to social feeds covering their current event. It took a few moments, but through the very public showings, he saw the other end of the crowd. The Yakuza and Yun Kao were together. Mikael had questions, and Ryker showed him the answer on the screen. He’d recognize their mutual friends, and probably her company too. “Mother and father,” a slithering smile tugged his lips.
Ivan wandered around. The street music faded and grew as he walked around, traditional decorations lining the streets and make shift pavilions. Children laughed and ran through the crowds and the smells of food wafted as he passed food trucks or servers with trays.
If he didn't know better, it would seem like a street street fair. With one difference. Yakuza were everywhere, tattoos visible on faces and necks. Occasionally, he saw a man with a missing finger. That tickled a memory but he couldn't place it. And sometimes, he saw other officers in plain clothes. One or two he knew- one of whom he was surprised was Syndicate. Then again, the woman probably thought the same of him. Natalia was a single mom. He could only imagine the leverage they held over her- probably a mixture of threats as well as some help for her and her child.
It made him think of Zara. If they threatened her in any way, Ivan would bring such destruction down on their heads. He was reminded of the Almaz, there at the end of the fight, ripping down the lighting fixtures in one act of pure rage. He sensed warmth over his shoulder, the power beckoning. He knew where Yun Kao was. He was not as weak as he once was. He had practiced. He remembered Volodin's attack in the market when he was with Zoya. One channeler was an army.
The idea tempted him. But...better to have back up. Ryker was around here. The man seemed dangerous even if he couldn't channel. Interesting to think on, anyway, even if he didn't go that route. He remembered how Danya had looked at him, bruises and cuts still visible on his face. He couldn't be irresponsible. He had them to think about.
But it was because of them that he wanted out. As long as he was stuck, they would be in danger. Back and forth he went, an endless loop in his mind.
Finally he saw Ryker standing next to some guy in dark red leather jacket. He frowned. Not like they could have a private conversation in front of a stranger. Still, he walked up, nodding in greeting. "Hey Ryker. Thanks for the invite." Course Yun had been the one who told him he had to be there. After a moment, he stuck his hand out in greeting to the other guy. "Name's Ivan."
Lillian sighed gently. Save for her chin, her face was shadowed by the loose, fur-trimmed hood over her head, but in that shadow, Viktor Lih could see a smile.
“I rather thought,” he whispered, “that smiling was something you hadn’t planned on doing out here.”
“Dear boy,” she muttered, “let me have a moment of nostalgia in peace. It’s been a long time. I’d forgotten the flavor of this place.”
Lih paused. Whatever flavor the aging diplomat was detecting was entirely lost on him. As far as he was concerned, this particular time of year in Moscow smelled of baked goods leaking from the taiyaki stalls, and cooked meats, spices and musky perfumes, and a general humid, dusty odor of air that had been processed through the AC filters too many times.
“I don’t think I’m really getting the charm,” he decided.
Lillian rested a gloved hand on his arm. “It has a certain character, Vitya. You smell muggy filth, I breathe in the life, zest, the aroma of a deregulated, free trade zone. I smell the frontier, the challenge of the beyond. I smell a truly vigorous market where venturers can gather and do business away from government scrutiny.”
She glanced around at her younger companion, who was in plain clothes. “No offense,” she added.
“No taken,” he replied. “When were you last here?”
“Ages ago. But it hasn’t changed. I’d forgotten it. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. Again, no offense.”
“Again,” said her cop companion, “none taken.”
They moved along the tents set up for street vendors to a stairwell leading up to the high line. Lih had to admit that what this place lacked in sophisticated smells, it more than made up for in visual impact. It had taken them ages to reach higher grounds through the crowds, but the view alone was worth the trip.
The view from the high line park was uncompromisingly strange. The sense of scale was terrifying. He was used to looking down on people from his 6 foot height, or from display screens. Now he stood on the very threshold of an elevated park, not even a high one, and could look around to see lights, yellow and tiny, glowed at pinprick windows in the darkness. Nearer at hand, vendors lay sheathed in their stalls, umbilically linked to the marketplace via the lit lanterns.
With the contrasting point of reference like Lenin’s statue in view, Lih’s mind balked a little at the dwarfing size of the festival, and by extension his city, and by further extension, the CCD.
And then, in turn, his tiny, inconsequential self.
Lillian ignored him. She was flicking through the displays projected to her wallet, manipulating the images with her gloved hand. She seemed preoccupied.
Every few minutes there was a brief flash of light. These emissions were just precursor flashes. Soon they would advance to fill the sky with blooms lasting hours. That was fireworks, when the people feasted and drank while the skies blazed.
He looked for Ivan, for the scarred man from Boda’s and the bar the other night. Nada.
“How is your search going?” she asked.
“It’s taking too much time,” Lih complained tersely.
Lillian chuckled. “What’s your problem? Got a hot date waiting?”
“Screw you, Lillian.”
Ah, banter. While Lih was always unfailingly polite and courteous to any strangers he encountered, he teased family and friends. But, Lillian considered, “screw you” lacked a great deal of the expected Lih finesse.
“What’s up?”
He shrugged and glanced at her. “Sorry,” he said.
“Nothing to be sorry for. You’re on edge.”
“I don’t know why it’s taking so long to find Ivan,” Lih sighed. “These fireworks aren’t helping. I still don’t know why we can’t just march into these tents and flash my badge and—“
“Look out there, Vitya Lih,” she pointed, indicating on the screen. The display image dissolved and changed. Now it showed an overview of the festival through several of the traffic cams. “Look at all the people gathered there. I see yakuza, rogue mercenaries, traders, and that?” She leaned over and tapped a few keys, swinging the image around to show more of the street itself. “They’re making a dramatic entrance. Arriving in style. Mysterious! What’s that? And that? And that over there, that big pavilion? That’s a quarter mile away, to give you some sense of scale. A fair number of people here care less for your authority… That’s what this outlandish festival means.” Lillian said.
“Maybe,” Lih said.
“You CCD bunch are only tolerated visitors here. Rumors have it that once in a while a visitor would go missing, lost forever after taking a wrong turn somewhere, or perhaps taken by the spirit of the festival as a payment.”
“The stuff you know.” Lih mocked.
“You wouldn’t believe.” Lillian replied.
Oh.My.God! This guy was fucking hawt!! Those eyes and that jawline? Damn! Guy was huge too. I mean, Mik knew he was no slouch or anything, but the guy was like a head taller than him with massive shoulders and muscles that strained his cheap suit. He lazily smiled as he shook the guy's hand. Ivan.
He cocked his head playfully, eyeing him up and down. His smile became a smirk. "You are indeed. 'Ivan the Great' looks like to me." A goofy laugh. "Nice to meet you doll. I'm Mik." And a wink. Not that he really got that vibe from Ivan. But hey, you never knew. And if he made him uncomfortable, well...that could be fun too. It happened some time.
And then he took a swig of his drink, feeling the fire going down his throat. The party was going well and Mik was suddenly feeling antsy. There were some fireworks going off overhead, their explosions punctuating the night's sky and the sound of music and laughter. Oh yeah, the Spider had gone all out. In the back of his mind, he saw the Lady smirking at him, eyes sharp like daggers, daring him. He winked at her- she wore Ori's face at the moment, black shirt and jeans hugging so tight that he soooo wanted to peel them off. Not that he'd dare. Those blood red tipped nails would rip his throat out, given a chance. Well, maybe he would risk it.
So Yun was romancing the Yakuza, huh? Suddenly Mik wanted to play. And maybe show off a bit. He flicked his lighter, the flame sparking to life, his eyes going distant and dilating hungrily, filled with reflected flame. Suddenly everything came to life and he inhaled the power, felt it suffuse him. Fuuuuuuck, but this was better than getting high. Better than sex.
Yakuza. Hmmm....well, he knew the difference, of course. Triads weren't Yakuza. Japanese rather than Chinese. Still, this was a street festival. And he thought he remembered they had a thing for them too. Threads of earth and fire, air and water, flowed from his fingertips as he wove a large dragon, a kite, connected to him like a string. It fluttered and came to life as he controlled the lines like a marionette, sending it skyward to swoop and soar about the crowds.
He was in ecstasy, flying about the crowds, watching and hearing the cries and cheers. Probably they all thought it was part of the show.
Well, fuck yes!, it was part of the show. Mik was on display. Only once did he glance at Ivan's shocked face and wink. The dragon dipped but he caught it in time. Yeah, better not do that. The Lady laughed at him in delight. You bitch! he thought, as he laughed along with her. He knew he looked and sounded crazy.
Like he fucking cared.
He twirled her and she laughed, a genuine trickle of pleasure completely removed from her reasons for being here tonight. Li’s hands were welcome, and the hunger grown in Nhysa’s expression unabashed. Dark eyes roamed the shadows cast against his face, lingering on the bite of his lips. For the accusation she gave a throaty laugh, and did not deny it. The girl was a trifling curiosity, really. Given her deportment at the Almaz and the flagrant use of her abilities, she was the sort of problem Nhysa might one day be sent to clear up, but Nhysa rarely cared about such things unless she was told to. She was loyal to the Custody, but it was not loyalty pulling the strings tonight.
“Help?” she repeated, amused. Given what she knew of his extracurriculars, she wondered if Li assumed her interest to stem from some misplaced desire to protect the crowds from a channeler in their midst. The woman had already proved herself dangerous, of course, but tonight she was but one possible spark in a powderkeg. Nhysa felt the shadows bristling, and though she knew the cost she ignored it for now. It was not an explanation she could share, and even if Li seemed deliciously different from his brethren, exposing her strange company was not on tonight’s agenda. For her own part it was a fairytale curiosity, following breadcrumbs through a forest. She was here to see what would happen.
A ribbon of light caught her attention, then, and her chin tilted to watch the dragon twist and soar above. How utterly delightful. A trick of the power, presumably, though she was blind to its construction. Her gaze followed the tail down to its creator cavorting through the gathering. Brave or stupid, and most likely ignorant. It made her smile all the same.
Oriena watched without truly seeing. Her thoughts buzzed an insistent and relentless pressure, like she was on a bad trip, so she mostly ignored the hum of conversation around her too. Aside from the perfunctory welcome Yun said little, which was just as well.
We must be strong.
We are hungry.
Release us, Lady of Sorrow.
An oath was made.
An oath was made.
An oath was made.
Ori rubbed a hand over her face.
She is human.
She is weak. She cannot sustain.
She will break.
She cannot break.
Then blessed quiet. For a while at least. She laughed, tipped her head back in the chair and beheld the dark sky above. Abruptly she remembered bleeding on the ballroom floor, cut off from the one perfect thing in this world, because of him. She remembered his eyes. Fucking hellfire eyes.
Anger flared, and she was not sure if the emotion was hers truly, or a manipulation.
An oath was made. I fucking know.
A wisp of trailing fire caught her attention then, resolving into the form of a dragon that soared and dipped and spiralled above the crowds. She recognised the devilish-grinning face half-glimpsed below. Another time the gall of the spectacle would have amused her, but with the hive splintering her thoughts into a thousand pieces she only felt tired. Her fists uncurled. Her gaze flickered to the woman beside her.
“Does is scare you, Yun? A world in which a man can call fire to the sky with a thought? Such a man might steal your empire from beneath you without even trying. I hope your claws dig deep." A cruel smile hooked her lips, but the words were spoken idly, not in threat. She would have felt if Yun had any power of her own. Once such inferiority would not have interested her, but the scales of balance had tipped since Nikolai Brandon announced himself to the world, and Oriena tipped with them. "Self-styled gods. Not invulnerable, though."
Mikhail was chomping at the end of the leash to be freed. Ryker got it. He was eager to ruin the night as well. Their target was identified, and Mikhail was about to be unleashed when Ivan finally found them. Mikhail was abruptly distracted. Mik would fuck anything on two legs it seemed. Maybe four if suitably curvaceous. A weakness in the hot-headed channeler to be sure. Ryker didn’t intend to use it against him, but notes were appropriately made in his mind. Just in case.
“Ivan, don’t be overly flattered by Mikhail. He hits on everything.” Ryker was a poor wing-man, and rather hoped to elicit some sort of irritation out of the jovial joker.
It was clear that the blackmailed cop was rather confused by the addition to their party, so Ryker went on to explain. “A mutual friend of our mutual friend. Ivan, this is Mikhail. Rather good in a fight, assuming you’re on the same side.” He himself held no grudge against their previous tryst. It was a rather memorable night after all.
The ebb and flow of power warped his senses about then, and Ryker’s meager gaze sought the sky for explanation though he sensed the originator as Mikhail alongside him. Just for good measure, Ryker’s knife was suitably stowed away, but he slipped his hands into his pants pocket just for reassurance.
The light show was impressive, and the perfect introduction between Mikhail and Ivan, explaining the presence of both. Yet it was only Mikhail that knew Ryker could also channel, as well as his apparent handicap.
His voice fell quiet, the best place for clandestine discussions was in the middle of a crowd. Nobody would notice. He snagged a passing hot-dog, paid up and offered the snack to the two boys. “Our goal is not to simply disrupt the street fair. We want to drive a wedge between the blooming alliance. One of you works Yakuza. The other works the Syndicate. Start a conflict. When it comes crashing down, make sure both groups think the other betrayed them.”
And what would he be doing, he imagined they were thinking as he finished off the sausage. “I’ll stick to Yun Kao like fly on paper.”