Fate's Edge

anything happened to the kids, Gaston would get them out. It didn’t make her feel any better. The whole plan was made of bubble gum and lint and hinged on luck. When she told Kaldar that, he grinned, and said, “Trust me,” as if that was supposed to make everything okay. She argued against it until Kaldar suggested a vote. All male members of the party voted against her, which meant everyone. She had a feeling that if the wyvern and the cat could’ve understood what was going on, they would’ve voted against her, too. She was surrounded by fools with too much testosterone, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
    “Why the sour face?” he asked. “Still worried about the kids?”
    “You know they need to simmer for at least a week.” She merged into traffic, heading toward the nearest mall. “We’re rushing this.”
    “We have no choice. The Hand won’t keep spinning its wheels forever.”
    Audrey shook her head. They were moving too fast. They had cash, that was true, but some things couldn’t be fixed with money alone.
    They’d taken $187,000 from Arturo Pena’s safe. They had also taken the stack of maps that showed his slave routes, which maps Kaldar had delivered in a neat bundle to the doorstep of a friend of a friend, whose business car seemed to have government plates. Even if Arturo Pena managed to pull himself back together, he would never regain the respect of his crew. They had effectively put him out of business. It was the least he deserved. And now they would spend his blood-soaked bill.
    “How long will you need at the mall?” Kaldar asked.
    “At least four hours.”
    He blinked.
    “Manicure, pedicure, wax, hair, makeup, clothes, jewelry. You’ll be lucky if I’m out of there by three in the afternoon.”
    “I’ll count my blessings,” he said. “Don’t buy anything tasteful.”
    “Shut up. Do you think this is my first time?”
     
    THE buzzer on the intercom sitting on Kaleb Green’s desk chimed with a silvery note. Kaleb Green opened his eyes. His head throbbed with the beginnings of a spectacular migraine. He could take the pills, which would turn him into a zombie for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, he had to stay lucid and upright.
    The Bosley deal was going down today, which, if the die fell right, would net him a quarter of a million dollars in the Weird’s gold. Personally, he could see no point in arming anyone in the Weird with AK-47s. Any blueblood with a decent flash would simply deflect the bullets and mince the troops into sushi. But the robber baron wanted the guns, and Kaleb would deliver and endure. He’d taken three Excedrins and four Advils, but the migraine persisted, so he had retreated into his private office and told his secretary he wasn’t to be disturbed.
    The intercom chimed again. For a moment, he considered throwing it against the wall. But then, his curiosity won. Perhaps there was a deal of the century waiting on the other line. Kaleb reached over and pressed the button. Tamica’s voice came through. “Mr. Green?”
    Kaleb sat up. His secretary had worked for him for six years. They were on a first-name basis. “Mr. Green” meant a client or trouble. Considering that they were currently in the Edge part of the building, the latter was more likely.
    “Yes?”
    Tamica’s voice shook slightly. “You have visitors.”
    He pulled a Colt .45 from the desk drawer and let his magic cloak him in a pale sheen of green. His wasn’t the strongest of flashes, but it would shield him from a hail of bullets.
    “Can they wait?”
    “No, sir. They would like to see you now.”
    She hadn’t used the code word, or he would be already gone, out through the back.
    “Very well. I’ll see them.”
    The door swung open, and a blueblood woman entered, her cloak flaring behind her. Tall, gorgeous, lithe like a cat, with hair the color of golden silk and radiant eyes of such pure intense green he forgot to breathe. A short, muscled man who looked like he could bench-press a car moved to her left. His dark hair had been cropped short, and a long line of tattooed symbols wound about his neck, like a snake, looping over his bare arms only to disappear under his clothes. Long, black claws protruded from his fingers.
    To the right, a giant of a man, pale like an albino, loomed over the blueblood’s head. A woman came to stand next to him, slender, dark-haired, with pale gray eyes and skin the color of orange peel. A bald man stepped