Page 28 of Gates of Tartarus

“That should help,” Emlyn agrees. “I’ll get someone on it. Well, at least we know that your ability still works. Monday must have been an aberration.”

Seef leaves a short while later saying he’ll see us on Friday. On the way home, Emlyn and I discuss my upcoming visit to Gaia Headquarters. I’m pretty excited. I Googled it last night, and I’m slightly in awe of Elizabeth Cole. It turns out that Gaia is an international charity helping not just the homeless and addicts, but victims of trafficking, and she basically built it from the ground up. Seef told us that she’s agreed to try to help find people trafficked by Kronos, so his theory that she doesn’t like law enforcement is pants. I think she just doesn’t like overbearing tossers, and in that she has my full support.

First Dates

Wednesday, 7 November – Kailani

Today sucks. It’s extra grey – like a layer of grey on top of grey with a side of grey for dessert. I love thunderstorms and lightning, even rainfall when I can curl up by the fire with a book, but the weight in the clouds above looks ominous, and there is a bite in the air that feels like teeth. Parking my bike regretfully beneath the overhang in the precinct lot, I kick the tire affectionately, knowing there’s almost zero chance of me taking it home tonight.

Fucking Uber’s gonna be a fortune, I think.Really smart, Kai. Everyone warned you not to buy a bike in Seattle, but no. You had to be a hardass.

Still, not my beloved bike’s fault. I shoot a look around, making sure no one is near me, then I pat the handles lovingly and croon to it softly, “You’re a good bike. Yes, you are.” Sue me. Gemma’s allergic to dogs and I’m allergic to cats so I can’t have an actual pet to baby, and my motorcycle feels as close to true love as I think I’ll get in this life. Grabbing my case off the back, I throw it over my shoulder and dig out the paper I had picked up from the corner seller. Three pages in there’s a headline about a small trafficking bust in Ohio, and it has some ties to a group here in Washington. It’s weird to be excited about the arrest of traffickers, but it gives us an in to a group we’ve been watching, so I’m feeling good as I head into our conference room.

“Madds!” I chirp happily as I walk around the corner, not looking up from the day’s paper, “there’s some movement on the…” I screech to a halt. “Uuuuugh. It’s too early for your face, Tennireef,” I moan, having completely given up on niceties.

He frowns at me briefly before flashing his pearly, pearly whites at me in what I assume is meant to be a charming smile. “Too early for my... face?” he queries, some version of hurt lacing his tone. “What could that possibly even mean? It’s –” he checks his watch, “7:30 in the morning?”

“You look like Ross from Friends when he bleached his teeth,” I say bluntly, and his politician grin turns slightly more feral.

“Delightful as always, Ms. Reed,” he growls, before taking a deep breath and smoothing his visage back into his smarmy, practiced public one, marred only by the slight smirk where a smile would normally be.

“Tennireef…”

“Please, Kailani, James. We really can’t be at loggerheads like this all the time.” He motions towards himself. “Whatisit about me that offends you so much? I assure you I find this… as frustrating and uncomfortable... as you do. I don’tlikenot beingliked!” For the first time, real frustration enters his voice – frustration and anger – and it wipes a little of the Stepford Wife from his appearance.

“I don’t likeyou, Jimmy.” He winces at the nickname, and I grin at him, teeth clenched in more of a rictus grimace than an actual smile. “Youare what I don’t like. And you can’t change who you are inside; even though you change your personality like clothes, it’s what’s beneath that is so offensive.”

“I am a committed public servant,” he says, voice tight, jaw flexed, smile strained. “I have dedicated my entire adult life to helping people. I have donated more money in a month than you make in a year to help the people of this state. I have never, despite your department's best attempts, been officially accused or convicted of a crime. I have planned and organized over two dozen fundraisers for displaced women; I’ve volunteered at homeless shelters and soup kitchens.” His voice is growing steadily more angry and significantly louder. “I take annual trips to help with Habitat for Humanity, have worked on three government committees to increase funding for the impoverished… I worked overseas at the Calcutta Center founded by MotherFuckingTeresa! So I’ll ask again,Reed: what the FUCK is your problem?”

By the end he’s shouting, voice thin with rage, eyes narrowed, hands clenched, and he takes a step towards me, eyes lit from within. All hints of the genial playboy have been stripped away, and something darker and more dangerous uncoils in its place. Subconsciously I take a small step backwards, dropping into a fighting stance, poised on the balls of my feet, and we stare at each other for a long moment. There’s no retreat in my moment, just readiness, and Tennireef knows it. But we’re locked in a stalemate. Neither of us can afford to move – he’d lose all credibility, and I’d lose my job. So we stay, barely breathing, violence shimmering in the air between us.

He steps back suddenly, and stiffly, arms moving like a marionette to fix an imagined wrinkle of his tie, then smooths out his jacket. “I’d be a bit more careful if I were you, Kailani,” he says quietly now, voice light with an almost maniacal cheerfulness. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you if you make the wrong person angry, you know. I think you may have a tendency to underestimate the wrong people. It’s really something you should watch out for.”

Looking him over carefully, I nod, and surprise flashes across his face. “I think you’re right, James,” I reply slowly. “I’ve definitely been underestimating you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

He pauses at the tone in my voice, hearing something he obviously likes, and rapidly changes tactics. “Really, Kailani,” he says tiredly, almost sadly. “Wouldn’t this all be easier if we were friends? Or had some kind of understanding between us? I’d like you to see that I’m not as bad as you think I am. What can I do? Seriously.”

“Well,” I begin cautiously, trying to figure out the best way to play my hand. Things have escalated rapidly in the last few minutes, and I feel off-balance. “I don’t like the polished politician. You read as plastic.” I hesitate, then purposefully let a little reluctant curiosity enter my tone. “Ifyou’re willing to drop the act, itmightbe nice to see a bit of what’s beneath the facade. A million other people can’tallbe wrong.” Knowing I can’t switch my approach too quickly if I want this to work, I inject the edge of sarcasm into my words. “If you’re intent on creating a working relationship,andyou could be normal for an hour or two, we can go grab some lunch together after my meetings this morning. But it has to be at least tolerable. As Tennireef theSenator… no. But I’m willing topossiblyentertain the idea of James thePerson.”

A sort of triumph twists his face, and his smirk relaxes into a genuine smile. “I’d really like that. I can have my assistant book us something nice.”

“Not necessary,” I protest. “There’s a lunch cart in the courtyard…”

“Oh Christ, no. I finally get to take you out? I want to impress you, Kailani. Not treat you to a sandwich from a police precinct.” He laughs dismissively and picks up his phone, muttering hurried instructions into it. “Right. We’re booked. The Table for two o’clock.” He pauses for a moment, looking worried. “Does that work for you? It’s elevated American cuisine.”

I wave self-deprecatingly at my outfit. “Uh, James. Not dressed for that.”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “No one’s going to notice what you’re wearing, Kailani. Your face commands all the attention. You could wear a burlap sack and look like a goddess.”

Internally I roll my eyes.Jesus Christ. This fucking guy, I think, but externally I smile and shrug in silent, seeming appreciation of his comment.

He watches my response, then sighs. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, though. Let me see what I can arrange.” Making a second call, an almost mischievous smile crosses his face. “Does Friday work better for you?” he asks, and I nod, thinking I can bring a change of clothes to work with me. “Wonderful. We’re booked for dinner at The Table on Friday evening. 7:30. I can send a car for you.”

“Ah, I thought we were doing lunch…” I begin, and he smiles.

“We were, but the chef heard it was for me and wanted to do a special tasting menu. I couldn’t turn it down. You don’t mind, do you? He’s won two James Beard Awards!”

I’m about to reply when Jonah’s sweet energy caresses my shields moments before he enters the room. He greets me, and Tennireef turns to smile at him. Jonah instantly recoils, holding his hands up to his face, and says frantically, “No! Demon! Demon!” before erupting into freaking adorable giggles, which set me off completely, though I try – well, mostly try – to stifle my laughter.

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