The beast toppled Fergal. The sword flew to the right and clattered on the hard surface.
“Stay. No killing.”
Mongrel kept her former owner pinned to the floor while I skirted them both. Nudging the sword out of his reach with my boot, I sauntered deeper into Fergal’s lair. A few pots and pans. A canteen. A portable kerosene stove. A bedroll.
“Not much of a home,” I said. Not that I was one to talk. My flat’s most significant feature was indoor plumbing. Then again, we weren’t vampires nor did we work for them. We didn’t have the luxury of choice.
It was only when I shifted the bedroll that I found it. Jackpot. As the most valuable item in this mess, he’d wisely kept it hidden.
With the jar of honey in hand, I returned to the spot where Fergal was whimpering on the floor and rolling his head left to right to avoid the acidic spray of the beast’s slobber.
“My client would like me to pass along a message. If you ever show your face at poker night again, you’ll be leaving without your legs.”
Fergal glowered at the creature on top of him. “I’ll kill you for this, you worthless mutt.”
I cut a sideways glance at the dog. Apparently I’d be leaving with more than a jar of golden honey. When possible, I released a creature I’d won over to my side. I had no interest in becoming the Snow White of Britannia City. I couldn’t ignore Fergal’s threat though. It wasn’t fair to the dog.
I patted the creature’s right head. “Come on, cutie. I’ll get you a nice milk bone when we get out of here.”
The beast stayed put.
“Sorry. Three milk bones.”
The beast stepped off Fergal and trotted along beside me.
“Don’t even think about grabbing your sword,” I called without bothering to turn around.
I made my way to the exit with my new companion. “I have to ask—how do you maintain your balance with those heads?”
Three heads shifted to look at me. Impressive physiology happening there.
“I can’t call you Mongrel,” I said. “It’s a terrible word to call anyone.”
On the other hand, I didn’t have a right to name her and I couldn’t keep her. I felt torn. My flat wasn’t big enough to accommodate a creature of her size, but if I released her now, she’d likely return to the tunnel if only because she was accustomed to it. If that happened, Fergal would make good on his threat. I couldn’t risk it.
“Come on. I’ll find you a temporary place to stay.” I strode up the frozen escalator steps that led to the surface. “I bet you’ve never been to the Circus.”
2
Thanks to well-preserved buildings and its close proximity to other sections of the city, Piccadilly Circus was a busy part of Britannia City. A few heads turned as I crossed the junction with a three-headed dog trotting beside me. We were accustomed to monster sightings around here, but not necessarily accustomed to seeing them behave like canine companions.
I stopped at the security desk in the building known as the Pavilion. The Pavilion dated back to the 1850s and housed a music hall before it became a shopping arcade. It fell into ruin after the Great Eruption until the Knights of Boudica claimed it as their headquarters. We weren’t the only knights in the city, but because we were the only organization that was all female, we were the last call for the desperate, the poor, and the discreet. We took the jobs nobody else wanted because nobody else wanted us. I wasn’t sure when breasts became a determining factor in how well someone could wield a blade, but I recognized the valuable service we provided. People who hired us were lucky to have us.
The security guard took one look at me and shook her head. Treena was used to seeing me in one of three states: moody, bloody, or accompanied by a newfound companion.
I feigned ignorance. “What?”
“One day I expect to see a parade of rats behind you.”
“No thanks. Not a fan of rodents.”
“Maybe not, but I bet they’re a fan of you.” Treena studied my companion. “One lanyard or three for your guest?”
“Let’s forgo the lanyard today. I guarantee she’ll take an instant dislike to you if you try to put something around her neck.”
Treena made a noncommittal sound and waved us through the warded gate.
The dog kept pace with me as I approached the hub. Our headquarters was mainly open-plan except for an office designated for private client meetings, a small kitchen, an armory, and, of course, the loo. I didn’t love the spacious feel of the building, mainly because I preferred to keep to myself and the layout prevented me from hiding. I tended to get around that issue by not turning up at the office except when necessary. I met with clients in alternate locations and only returned to headquarters at times like this when I needed the assistance of the other knights and to complete paperwork. As much as I hated asking for help, the dog deserved the effort.
“Look who made a new friend.” I moved aside and made a ta-da motion with my hands. A collective groan followed.
“Not another one,” Minka complained. Minka Tarlock inherited the dark hair, bronze skin, and wide, brown eyes of her Asian father and the height and accurate nose of her Nordic mother. She specialized in spells, which was the primary reason she worked in a more administrative capacity. There was rarely time to complete a spell in the field, especially if the ingredients needed were scarce.
“Another what? I’ve never brought a Cerberus here before.”
Minka gave me a pointed look. “You know what I mean.”
Briar shuffled out from behind her desk. “I’ll get the dog bed.” Briar Niall was a shapeshifter known for her wild red hair, creamy complexion, and heart of gold. When you wanted a checklist, you went to Minka. When you wanted a sympathetic ear, you went to Briar.
“The bed won’t be big enough for that,” Minka said.
“That has a name,” I announced. At least she would as soon as I came up with something better than Mongrel.