They exited the coffee shop, where Quinn’s motorcycle—a fancy, souped-up Harley that looked right out of a steampunk convention—was waiting. Devica clung to Quinn’s back as they rode, Quinn’s cat (Alastair, was it?) curled around the woman’s shoulders. Against the other woman’s objections, Devica made her drive back to her apartment.
“Clarence retrieved all of your information of note,” Quinn said, dismounting and following her up the three flights of stairs.
“I keep the best stuff out of my computer.” Devica unlocked her door quickly, despite the fact that her hands were shaking a little. “Are you kidding? Some people here have the ‘I can get your digital information with the twitch of my fingers’ power.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “And breaking in isn’t easier?”
“Well—”
About to say that she moved quite a bit to prevent breaking and entering, Devica’s breath was knocked from her throat by a punch to her solar plexus. Making a hissing noise, she dropped to the floor of her entryway. A man, dressed in black, stood poised over her. And then, all of the sudden, the man was flying back and slammed into the wall. Six arrows pinned him there.
Devica looked up to see Quinn standing with a bow where her grey umbrella had been, expression tight and grim.
“Let’s not be too hasty,” Quinn growled. “We haven’t even been introduced, yet.”
Devica coughed, standing up and moving so that Quinn was in between she and her attacker. “Who the hell is that?”
“Don’t recognize them? I don’t, either. I’m practically a tourist on your world, remember? …Clarence, see what you can—”
Suddenly, the man in black—face obscured by a hood and leather mask—broke free of the arrows, with a pained yell. He rushed the two women, still yelling. Devica let out a yell of her own as Quinn pushed her back onto the stairwell, getting out of the charge’s way.
Quinn, between a rock and a hard place, slammed her bow across the man’s face. He let out a surprised yelp, and, with a snarl, Alastair lept onto the man’s shoulder and dug his claws in with an almost-demonic hiss. The man’s reaction was much stronger this time—a shout of pain, as he whirled to dislodge the cat.
It didn’t work. Quinn surged forward while he was distracted, sucker-punching the man and knocking him to the floor.
“You’re feisty,” she snapped, pinning him with her weight. “What the hell were you doing in her apartment? And if you say, ‘I’d rather die,’ keep in mind that it will be prolonged and you won’t enjoy it—”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she closed it with a rough hand.
“I wasn’t finished. If you say some kind of devoted plug and then swallow a cyanide capsule, I’ll make an example out of you. Everyone will know what kind of underwear you have on. And if you keep silent, I’m going to start hitting you until you talk and let my cat pee in your eyes. He’ll do it, too. Capiche?”
Looking slightly more intimidated, the stranger opened his mouth again. “The messenger must not be stopped. He must be allowed to make the deal!”
Quinn growled. “Gods be damned, I forgot about fancy riddles. Look, if you’re talking about Vrole, it’s my duty to bring him back. And I’m going to. There’s nothing you can do about it, pajama ninja… and oh dammit, did you just suck down a cyanide capsule in addition to the fancy riddle?”
He had indeed gone limp under her. Devica, feeling more confused than ever, pushed by them to check her apartment for damages. But he hadn’t touched anything, from the looks of it.
Quinn wandered into the main room with a sigh. “Know of any tall poles around here?”
“You’re going to prank a dead man? I thought you were kidding!”
She smiled slightly. “Old habits die hard. And I’ve lost respect for those who are blindly loyal, especially to organizations.”
Devica shook her head and threw up her hands. “I wash my hands of that. I won’t let myself be troubled by having named the poor guy’s pole—”
“No worries, Clarence just found one anyway.” She raised an eyebrow at Devica. “You’re religious, aren’t you? Respect for the dead, all that?”
“I’ve got the usual Los Angeles religion. Spirituality.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Quinn chuckled, going back into the entrance hall. “Grab your stuff. Take your time. I’ll be right back after I humiliate this idiot’s choices in life.”
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
