War-N-Wit, Inc. – MeanStreet, LLC (6 page)

Mi
chael and Gabriel both settled back in their chairs.

“No worries,” said Gabriel. “I know where mine is.
Vegas. And I know who’s going to be there. Tomorrow. If I can just steer ‘em to the right place.”

Chapter Eight

I frowned as I settled into the front seat of the SUV. So far everything had run smooth as silk. We were flying into Vegas from Jacksonville, Mom and Dad would arrive about the same time from Atlanta. But something was wrong. Something was missing. I did a mental run-down of the checklist. All luggage loaded? Check. All pending War-N-Wit, Inc. jobs done? Check. Pine Whisper Plantation’s caretaker
par excellence
Buddy McAfee all set to look after all the animals while we’re gone? Check. And for us, that just wasn’t normal. What was missing? Oh, yeah! Ringtone signaling incoming trouble—magic world, Chad’s past law enforcement affiliations, whichever. Sometimes both, but gotta have at least one. And there it was, coming in loud and clear from the dash. Check. The nerve-pinging tingle from the theme for
The Twilight Zone.

“
Knew it was too good to be true,” Chad said. “Answer it.”

“Hello?”

“Yo, whut up?”

Standard greeting of Gabriel Smith. At least, that’s the name he went by. G for short.

“You tell us, G.”

“You don’t have to sound so cautious. I don’t bite.”

“Much,” said Chad.

“I resent that. And besides, I was just calling to wish you a good trip. And send good wishes to your brother and sister. Glad Spike finally broke out of the closet.
Been meaning to call and suggest you introduce him to us but I just haven’t had a chance. We can always use some more of the good ones, Spike and Stacy’d be welcome.”

“We’ll be sure to relay the message,” I said.

“Have a great time in Vegas, do the Strip right. Oh, and while you’re there—”

“I knew it.” Chad shook his head mournfully.

“Hey, it’s nothing! We just got wind one of the magic shows playing right now might be using some low-level magic to con some of the audience. Nothing big, just since you’re there anyway—”

“I
hate
magic shows. Remember?”

“That’s a hell of thing for the
guy so many people call Magic Man to say.”

“G, you couldn’t
pay
me enough to go near a magic show.”

“Uh, honey?”

“What?”

“Sorry to tell you this, but Mom loves magic shows. There’s three playing on the Strip right now. Stacy’s already told her about ‘em.”

“Should I groan now?”

“’Fraid so. She’s planning to hit every one of ‘em. Which one’s using the low-level magic con, G?”

“Magician by the name of Damien. So you’ll keep an eye open for us?”

“Sure,” I said. “No problem.”

I hit “End” and settled back in my seat.

“You don’t have to go to the magic show. I don’t much care for ‘em myself, never have, but since Mom does, we’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

“How so?”

“Stacy’s Bachelorette Party. Such as it is. I mean, if a girl’s getting married with a big traditional wedding,
they have last-fling parties too, you know. But since all of Stacy’s close friends are like—not in Vegas, we decided we’d just do it ourselves. Stacy and Mom and me.”

“
You didn’t have one.”

“
I was runnin’ from Mom and big planned weddings. Didn’t give Stacy the chance or even option of coming.” And in retrospect, that’d been a damn good thing. “But since we’re having a modified party girls-night-out, we’ll just do the magic show then. Mom’ll love it. And you won’t have to suffer through it.”

“Don’t know as that’s such a great idea. G said some low voltage magic was going on, you know.”

“Thought I was some high voltage magic. You don’t think I can handle a magical con by myself?”

“You’re high voltage everything
, baby girl. Period.”

“Glad you agree. Then that’s settled.”

“Okay. I guess.”

Ignorance is such bliss. If I’d known then what I know now—I’d have done the same damn thing, I’m not even goin’ to lie about it.

* * *

“Right this way, madam.” The waiter ushered the raven haired beauty in slinky black to the corner table. “Mr. Smith’s already ordered your cocktail. I’ll be back with you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, that’ll be lovely.” The madam in question slipped fluidly onto the proffered chair.

“Sera, my dear. Turning as many heads as always, I see. I love to see the looks on all the men’s faces when you walk in a room.”

“
I don’t know why you still use Smith.” Sera picked up her Marguerita and licked the salted rim delicately. “None of the ‘Smiths’ would piss on you if you were on fire.”

“Sera! No need for crudity. Doesn’t go well with that elegant demeanor. I use it because they use it. And like it or not—and I know they don’t—we’re still brothers. They can’t deny me.
They took a lot. Can’t have the name back.”

“
Still don’t know why you’d want to use it.”

“Because it’s mine. Now, on to business.”

Sera frowned. “We’re in
Vegas
, Luce! All you want to talk is business?”

“For now. And we have a busy night.
We still have to hit Paris and Bejing.”

“The other breaks?”

“Of course. Have to have one in each division. Concentrated attack. Those little whispers of yours in Jerahmeel’s ears! Just perfection, my dear! He thinks it’s all his idea, just like he’s supposed to.”

“Male stupidity. Never ceases to amaze me. Why he thinks the head demon from the Razkaal Dimension would ever think to contact
him
if they wanted to take over earth I’ll never know. I mean—who even knows his name? Here on earth even? Let alone in the Razkaal Dimension.”

“Well, you know how it is.
Pride goeth before a fall
. As I know from personal experience. Working from the shadows is
much
more effective, but wisdom comes with experience. That’s the beauty of little brothers. Still bothers him, that
nobody knows who I am
thing.”

“And that means even whatshisname—‘cause I’m not even going to try to pronounce it—thinks all this is just his idea, too?”

“Kaxchotx.
Ka-chat-x
. Don’t offend our allies. Yes, of course he does. It’s all his idea and he and I together will rule a new dimension created from his and mine. Just like Jerahmeel thinks all I want out of this is the MeanStreet Division, like I’d just hand over the other two.”

Sera laughed.
“Talk about having your head up your ass! That’s some kinda stupid. Both of them.”

Lucifer sighed.
“So true, my dear, so true. But then again, a Razkaal’s demon’s ass is a bit hard to find. Very odd shapes they have. But you’re not any kind of stupid, are you?”

Sera licked more salt from the rim of her fine crystal stemware. “Not hardly. Give me designer clothes—it gets
really
tiresome running around in that cat fur all the time—fine crystal, good china, a few diamonds and a penthouse apartment. Oh, and a Lamborghini, of course. I’m good.”

“A wise woman’s worth is above rubies.”

“Don’t think that’s exactly how it goes.”

“Close enough.” The band swung into
That Old Black Magic
. “Oh, just listen! They’re playing your song, dear. Let’s dance.”

* * *

“So let me get this straight. I’m dead. And I’m an
angel?
” Micah led Mia through the halls of MeanStreet, LLC.

“
In a nutshell. And this is the Intelligence Department.” Micah opened a door and ushered her in. Two rows of computer stations stretched its length. The computer terminals rivaled any American corporation in cutting-edge technology. Dings announced incoming emails and fingers flew over the keyboards. “Manned 24/7.”

“
Who are those guys?”

“Angels, of course.
Computer geeks’ heaven for sure.”

“
They don’t have wings.” Mia glanced over at Micah. “And you don’t have any wings, either, not right now. So—angels have different assignments?”

“
We don’t walk around with our wings spread all the time. Sort of defeats the anonymity thing. And of course we’ve all got different assignments. Humans have different talents in life. That doesn’t change in death.”

“And my assignment? What do I do?”

“You’re a field angel, of course. You work the streets. All that acrobatic, gymnastic talent. Can’t let it go to waste.”

“But that parrot that flew in?
A parrot angel?”

“Well—thing is, angels aren’t limited to one form. We can take any form we need to
get the job done. I tend to like black cat form myself. Sleek, supple, blends in well with the shadows. I do use dog form occasionally but humans tend to pay more attention to stray dogs. A cat running around by itself doesn’t attract much attention. If I wanna get in close and personal with an assignment, oh, yeah, a dog’s the ticket. If I wanna stay low, can’t beat a black cat. And Harold—the parrot—well, he’s not an angel. Exactly. He’s—”

“The other guy—G?—called him a second chancer.”

“Yeah. Some folks don’t really meet full angel criteria when they actually—well, die. But there’ve been things in their life or in their death that kinda demand they have a second chance to be. Take Harold. One of the greatest con men ever lived. Bilked folks outta hundreds of thousands of dollars. Never hit the big-time, though. ‘Cause deep down, his heart still cared more for others than for himself.” Micah led her out the door and back into the hall.

“I’m a thief. Have been most of my l
ife. So why am I an angel and not a second chancer?”

“And moving right along, this is the break room.” Micah opened another door.
A break room like any other, coffee pots full and steaming. A snack dispenser in the corner, though it didn’t have any cover over the front and snacks were free for the taking. A refrigerator, an icemaker, a dishwasher. It took a few minutes to notice the food and water bowls on the floor, the bird perches hanging from the ceiling, the birdseed dispensers scattered about. A block of cheese sat on a saucer on the counter. “Sure is quiet today, nobody’s around.”

“Nice to know I’m nobody, Micah, thanks a lot!” A gray mouse poked its head around the side of the cheese block.

“Charlie! Sorry, man, didn’t see you there!”

Charlie lifted the shard of cheese in his paws to his mouth. “Whole point. Less folks see of me, the better I like it. Way easier to operate that way. Who’s the dish?”

“This is Mia. Don’t scare her, she’s still—acclimating.”

“Nice to meet you, Mia. See you around.
Good to see ya, Micah, gotta get back!”

“
Good seeing you too, Charlie. Hang in there.”

“You know it, man!” Charlie disappeared into a miniscule hole under the counter.

“So—angel or second-chancer?”

“Anybody up here in animal form is a second-chancer. They can’t change. Until they’re ready to move up.”

“You didn’t answer me. Why am I an angel and not a second-chancer?”

“Because you are.”

“You. You did something. I heard you. Sort of. While I was coming to. Arguing with the big guy. About me.”

“Mia, the reason you died, the
way
you died—you didn’t have to, you could have walked away, but you didn’t. You charged right in without a second thought once you’d made sure back-up was coming—no, you’re an angel. Not a second-chancer. Don’t give a damn what the big guys say about it.”

Mia scrutinized his face closely. “How’d you die?”

“’Scuse you? That’s kinda personal, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. How?”

“Maybe later. Okay, we’ve hit the high-spots. I’ll drop you by the Ladies Lounge and wait for you to freshen up. ‘Cause from the look on G’s face while Harold was telling us about those body-snatching demons, I’m thinking your first training mission’s gonna be a lot more ‘mission’ than it is ‘training’”.

Chapter Nine

Gabriel swung his chair back around to face Michael.

“Well, that went a lot better than I expected.
In some ways, anyway. It rankles, sending them in blind. But they’ve got to be relaxed enough not to throw out danger flares and scare the Razkaal demons off.”

Michael
paced in front of the desk. “Guess you did okay, pulling ‘em in and stringing ‘em along. So what’s the real plan?”