Magic Rises

was shiny, almost fluorescent, and stiff. He looked electrocuted.
    I searched his eyes. No alarm. Whatever it was, it wasn’t urgent. I made some sniffing sounds.
    “What are you doing?” he asked.
    “Checking the air for smoke.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you know I dragged myself to bed less than two hours ago. You wouldn’t wake me up unless it was an emergency. I’m guessing you must’ve set the guard room on fire with your hair and now you want me to evacuate.” Kate one.
    “Ha-ha. You have a phone call, Alpha.”
    I hated to be called Alpha. Kate one, Barabas one. A draw. “Who is it?”
    Barabas looked disgusted, as if someone had just offered him some moldy bread. “The Clerk from the Guild. He says it’s about the pervert.”
    “Saiman?”
    “Yes. The Clerk says it’s an emergency.”
    Okay. “Lead on.”
    Saiman was an information broker who happened to also be an expert on all things magic. He’d also made a small fortune in shipping and other ventures. He charged exorbitant prices for his services, but because I had amused him, he had offered me a discount in the past. I had consulted him a few times, but he kept trying to entice me into his bed to prove a philosophical point. I’d put up with it until he’d had the stupidity to parade our connection in front of Curran. The Beast Lord and I had been in a rough spot in our relationship, and Curran didn’t take that exhibition well, a fact that he expressed by turning a warehouse full of luxury cars Saiman had slipped past customs into crushed Coke cans. Since then, Saiman lived in mortal fear of Curran. He avoided me and all things shapeshifter like we were a plague.
    Saiman feared physical pain, so he maintained a VIP account at the Mercenary Guild for times when he needed to use brute force. Unfortunately for him, the Pack now owned twenty percent of the Guild and I was in charge of it. I’d flagged his account, making sure I was notified about his activities. Saiman wasn’t exactly vindictive, but he had a long memory, and I wanted to make sure he didn’t spring any surprises on us.
    Anything involving Saiman would make Curran lose his temper. A pissy werelion was rather difficult to live with. He wasn’t in a great mood today anyway. We’d had some trouble with a small pack in Florida. With the Pack’s headquarters located in Atlanta, they must’ve felt far enough away and safe, so they’d made excursions into our territory and raided a Pack business. We could quash them, but it would be bloody.
    “Do you know where Curran is?”
    “He went out to talk to the Lonescos.”
    Figured. The Lonescos ran the rat clan within the Pack. The rival Florida pack consisted mostly of rats, and Curran must’ve still hoped for a peaceful resolution. Peaceful in post-Shift Atlanta was a rare luxury. “Did he seem optimistic?”
    Barabas shook his head. “No.”
    We arrived at the guardroom and Janice offered me the phone. A seasoned guard, Janice was a werejackal, about ten years older than me, with blond hair and a big smile. She looked like a soccer mom on steroids.
    I took the phone and pressed the speaker button. “Yes?”
    “Kate?” the Clerk’s familiar voice asked. The Clerk had a name, but nobody among the mercs used it. He was simply the Clerk and he didn’t seem to mind the name.
    “Yep. What can I do for you?”
    “Saiman’s been kidnapped.”
    “Aha.” Aha was an excellent word. Neither a question nor a statement.
    Janice scribbled on a piece of paper, transcribing the conversation.
    “They’re holding him for ransom. They dropped the note off at his accountant, who called us.”
    “How much do they want?”
    “A big one.”
    “A million?”
    “That’s right.”
    Barabas’s eyes went wide. Janice clamped her hand over her mouth for a second. The Guild charged ten percent of ransom for rescuing kidnapped victims. That was quite a chunk of change.
    “Where do they want the money delivered?” I asked.
    “Mole Hole, in the crater. You know the place.”
    Everybody in Atlanta knew the place, but I knew it really well. That was where my insane aunt nearly killed the lot of us and almost burned the city to the ground. That was where I had killed her and almost lost Curran.
    “Any details?” I asked.
    “I’ve got the note. It says, ‘I’ve been kidnapped. I’m under heavy guard. Please draw one million dollars and deliver it to the Mole Hole before sunrise or my attackers will see red.’”
    “Odd