Free Fire Danger by Claire Davon

can’t take any more. Sorry.” She lowered her hand. “I do want to know. But I’m getting this in large, indigestible chunks. Could you feed it to me slower, maybe over a couple of days, at least?”
    Phoenix met Griffin’s eyes again.
    “Do we have time?” It was a narrowly focused beam from Griffin to Phoenix, but she heard it clearly in her head.
    “Say it out loud, for God’s sake,” she cried, clutching at her temples. “I can hear you anyway, so what’s the difference? Much more of this mind speak and my head will explode.”
    Nobody said anything for a minute. A gentle breeze rustled the curtains of the balcony door. Down below the hill was the sound of early-afternoon traffic, thick even at this hour. Far in the distance was the sonorous horn of a barge moving across the San Francisco Bay.
    Phoenix studied her and answered the question Griffin had asked him in his mind. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Five
    Ron was sweating, but wiping the beads running down the side of his face would make his nervousness more obvious.
    The being in his hotel room shimmered as it moved. It had a jerky walk, winking in and out as if it was not quite solid.
    It was on two legs and resembled a person, but its skin was iridescent. The pieces of its hair that he could see were two-toned, one side blonde and the other red. It surveyed his cache of weapons, flicking a long, not-quite-human finger over the table.
    Finally, it nodded.
    “The firearms will do.” The hiss was more pronounced in person, and Ron fought to control a primal shudder. “You will need more explosives to put along her route. You can rig a simple timer, yes?”
    Ron said nothing, only nodding his head. He didn’t think the being was here for conversation.
    It was a good thing this job paid well. Very well.
    “Good. Arrange it.” The being shimmered again, fading out before becoming clear. Once again it was hooded, and Ron decided he really didn’t want to see its face.
    “The mayor will be here in a few days. It should be a simple thing to remove one politician, if you are as good at your task as you claim.”
    He didn’t know why this being would want the Chicago Mayor assassinated, but again, he wasn’t paid to ask questions. It was a simple enough job. He would add the explosives along her car route as requested, although he didn’t see the reason why. He could take her out easily. It was simple. Too simple.
    It tossed a necklace on the table. The thing clanked there, just an ordinary stone on a thick, inexpensive chain. The stone, caught in a brass frame, was not quite round, and an off-white color.
    “Wear that. Always. Do not take it off, under any circumstances. Do you understand?”
    Ron picked it up in confusion, fingering it. He saw out of the corner of his eye that the being was just waiting, without moving, for his answer. Instead of saying anything, Ron slipped it on, nodding in affirmation as he did so. The weight, heavier than he anticipated, fell to the middle of his chest. On instinct, he moved the chain. It disappeared under his shirt.
    The being crossed to the door, and Ron knew better than to lift his eyes to watch it go. He wanted to. Every part of him wanted this thing gone.
    “I will be in touch. Do not fail.”
    After it had left, Ron finally let out the long sigh he’d kept in, a soul-deep fear searing through him. Wiping away the sweat, he shuddered. He had decided long ago that death did not frighten him.
    But this being did.
    * * * * *
    World events could be mind-numbing when inspected for hours on end, Phoenix decided. It had been simpler in the old times, what mortals called the Dark and Middle Ages, before so much technology and so many people.
    He hadn’t been mortal for a thousand years. The Dark Ages were familiar to him but, in the way of many old memories, better left in the past.
    Early morning sun was coming in through the plate-glass windows when Phoenix flipped through the BBC again, bypassing American