Must Love Hellhounds

out and tell her their findings.
    In the meantime, she would have happy daydreams of Trovis on a deserted Pacific island in 1937 in the middle of nowhere.
    “If this proves to be true, you have experienced amazing magic,” the veiled magician told Amelia, who looked heartened by the greeting.
    “Well, thank you very much, sir,” she said. “I’ll try to make myself useful. I don’t guess you can send me home? Not to the island.” She shuddered. “But to America? In my own time?”
    “Not at this moment,” said another magician, “but maybe we can work on it with your help.”
    “Sure,” Amelia said.
    “Crick,” Flechette said, “we will take you to the medical rooms. Was your mission achieved?”
    “Yes,” he said. He was glad of the two men who came to help him down the steps, but he turned to look back at Clovache and Batanya. “And I was very satisfied with the service.”
     
     
     
    A week later, Batanya and Clovache had returned to their favorite courtyard to spar with each other. First they used weapons, then they wrestled. They were sweaty and limber and pleased with themselves when they were through, and though Batanya pointed out a few mistakes her junior had made, they sprawled on the grass in the sunlight in good harmony.
    “How is Geit?” Batanya asked.
    “Glad to see me again, and very vigorous in telling me so,” Clovache said, smiling to herself. “Did I hear someone knocking on your door at night?”
    “Unexpectedly, yes.” Batanya grinned, which made her scar more obvious. But who cared?
    “Do tell?”
    “Our client,” Batanya said.
    “Oh, my honor! Then you’ve experienced . . .”
    “Oh, yes,” Batanya said, her voice rich with satisfaction.
    “I didn’t get a very good look in Lucifer’s chamber,” Clovache said, “being in imminent danger and so forth. How is he all . . . arranged?”
    “Very satisfactorily,” Crick said, dropping onto the ground beside Batanya.
    “How are you today, Harwell Clansman?” she asked.
    “Very well, Britlingen.” He smiled down at her. “But I have to go to Pardua to give Belshazzar his conjuring ball, now that I’m well enough to travel.”
    “Will you be there long?”
    “Depends on how much Belshazzar believes me.”
    “What, do you need a sworn statement?” Clovache said. “We were there, we saw the conjuring ball, we saw you retrieve it, and in fact we came within a breath or two of losing our lives for it. Though it turned out to be quite handy, if you can concentrate. That’s all I did, you know, concentrate on where I wanted to go.”
    “Ah, but am I taking Belshazzar the same conjuring ball that we retrieved?” Crick said. “That’s what he’ll wonder.”
    Clovache gaped at him. “And why would you not?” she demanded. “Oh. Oh, it’s very valuable. But he commissioned you to steal it!”
    “And what am I?”
    “A thief,” Batanya said, without opening her eyes. “Dear Crick, you are a thief.” Her hardened hand slipped into his bony one.
    After that, they all enjoyed the blue sky and the floating clouds, the light breeze that stirred their hair. Perhaps they were all thinking about how excited the magicians and the mechs had been when they’d seen the conjuring ball; how they’d peppered Crick with questions, most of which he couldn’t answer, about the ball’s properties and history and operation; how they’d disappeared with it for a few days, taking Amelia with them, to “make sure it still worked.”
    “Be careful along the road, and come back when you can,” Clovache said, when she got up to take her gear into the castle.
    “Oh, I will,” Crick said. He lay back in the green grass, smiling gently at Batanya. “I’m thinking of taking an apartment down the hill, in Spauling.”
    “Really?” Batanya said. “That’s very interesting.” She was on her feet. “Invite me to the housewarming, will you?”
    “You’ll be the only guest.”

Angels’ Judgment
    A GUILD HUNTER NOVELLA

    Nalini Singh

Cadre of Ten

    The Cadre of Ten, the archangels who ruled the world in all the ways that mattered, met in an ancient keep deep in the Scottish Highlands. No one—human or vampire—would dare trespass on angelic territory, but even had they felt the need to give in to the suicidal urge, it would have proved impossible. The keep had been built by angels, wings a prerequisite for access.
    Technology could’ve negated that advantage, but immortals didn’t survive eons by being