“Get to the part about the hummingbirds,” Marla said.
“It’s almost whimsical, really, when contrasted with the amount of blood they spilled.” Hamil said, “But the Aztecs believed that the souls of dead warriors could return to Earth in the form of hummingbirds, and occasionally butterflies.”
“Shit,” Marla said. “There were some hummingbirds spying on us earlier today.”
Hamil grunted. “Do you really think there’s a connection? It’s more likely they’re just someone’s familiars, yes?”
“Of course,” Marla said. “But…it’s intriguing. Little yellow frogs, hummingbird spies, stolen statues…”
“Little yellow frogs?” Hamil said.
“Never mind. Or, rather, I’ll tell you later.”
“I did see something more about the hummingbirds,” Hamil said. There was the sound of flipping pages. “Yes. Hummingbirds are warriors for the sun god, whose name you would find even more unpronounceable than Tlaltecuhtli’s.”
“Huh,” Marla said, and there was a world of interested speculation in that single syllable.
“Marla,” Hamil said, “I’m sure you’ve stumbled into something fascinating, but remember—”
“I know. I’m not here to get mixed up in local politics, I’m just here to find that certain something we need. But somebody killed Lao Tsung, and I have good reason to think that same somebody also stole a statue of Ms. Toad.”
“Oh, dear,” Hamil said. “I should have known this wouldn’t be a simple shopping trip.”
“Yeah, well, I’m following a lead, and I might be able to get…that item we’re looking for…tonight. If I can, I’ll forget all this other stuff and come home right away.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Hamil said. “Let the West Coast take care of itself, hmm? It’s not like they don’t have sorcerers of their own—silicon mages, geomancers, tidal shamans, jellyfish-witches, I’m sure they can handle whatever’s going on. You just stumbled into someone else’s fight.”
“Sure,” Marla said. “But it looks like Lao Tsung stumbled into it, too, and if I have the chance to stomp whoever killed him…”
“Understood,” Hamil said.
“Where do things stand with Susan?”
“Ah,” Hamil said. “Unchanged. I tried to arrange a meeting with her, but she isn’t taking any visitors, especially not any who are connected with you. I’m afraid she knows you’re aware of her plans—the way you left town so quickly, it’s a natural supposition for her to make. And our source in Susan’s organization was found crawling in the street this afternoon with his hands and feet cut off and his tongue and eyes removed. We tried to put him out of his misery, but Susan had cast a protective spell on him, and we can’t hurt him physically at all now. He’ll live for another six months, at least. I think it’s safe to assume that she discovered he was giving us information.”
“Shit,” Marla said. “Give the guy a lot of morphine, would you? If needles won’t break his skin, pour laudanum down his throat. Keep him comfortable. You know, when I find out one of my employees has betrayed me, I just kill them. Simple, direct, effective. Why does Susan have to be so fucking dramatic?”
“I’m sure it points to a fundamental sense of insecurity on her part,” Hamil said. “Be safe, and hurry back.”
“Will do,” Marla said, and flipped her phone shut. Frogs, hummingbirds, angry body-switching Chinese sorcerers, little guys in 19th-century hats, and now primordial earth-monsters. This trip was not going as smoothly as she’d hoped.
4
Marla hammered on the bathroom door. “Rondeau! It’s time to go!” It was nine o’clock already, and even if Finch didn’t show up until later, Marla wanted to get the lay of the land before she faced him. They’d stopped by the hotel so Rondeau could change, and then he’d insisted on taking a shower.
Rondeau yelled something unintelligible from the bathroom. He’d been in there for half an hour, enjoying the endless stream of hot water. Marla couldn’t really blame him—she’d indulged in a long shower herself during the dull afternoon. She’d almost forgotten what real water pressure felt like. Taking a shower at her apartment was like being spat on by an irate camel.