Page 38 of Apollo

“Right,” Apollo muttered, because she was. Luckily, Quil looked too preoccupied with searching up the missing chunks of his mojo to notice his commanding god being force-fed a slice of humble pie.

“So, what’s the situation?” Irowen prompted. “And just to be clear, the team put actual eyes on Genny, right? A positive ID, not just a silhouette or voice? I’m guessing you hit the target out near Kobe or Fukuoka, perhaps even somewhere near Manila, if Ito decided to pay some tokuryū for this one.” She dropped her head with a contorted expression. “Oh, damn. Why didn’t I think of those little shitheads sooner? If she hasn’t even been in Japan this whole time . . . ”

Oh, she’s in Japan.

While Quil’s certainty was so prominent he practically uttered the words human style, the emphasis was more holy shit, Scooby, Mr. Wickles is really the Black Knight and not you’re going to jail forever, Catwoman. Irowen jabbed her head back up, obviously recognizing the nuance, but had no further response beyond working her mouth against silent air. The sight had Apollo’s back teeth whetting at each other again, this time as he resisted the craving to tuck her close and brush stern but gentle words into her ear.

Instead, he opted for stricter encouragement and a firmer frown. “Hey. Irowen. Listen to me. It’s not your fault that kisama made your sister his hostage. And now, we’re going to unhostage her. Right, Lieutenant Quil?”

He joined the corvid in a determined nod, but as Quil finished with a cocky little preen, he took advantage of the moment to slip a consoling hand around his little monster’s shoulder. And damn it if his gorgeous little Gamera didn’t take full advantage of the fresh nearness, leaning into the crook of his arm with enough weight to represent the grateful sheen in her gaze.

They chuckled together as Quil started a strut to rival the Rolling Stones frontman, but only for a few steps before turning up his telepathic feedback again.

Loud and squeaky-window-clear on that extra-shiny support, Godship. But just a wee heads-up-seven-up. We’ll probably have to pop-pop-pop up the sunspot watts for this charming little side quest.

Clearly just as cognizant of the bird’s sudden kidding-not-kidding twist, Irowen pulled away to stand in her own space again. “I’m not a huge fan of ‘charming’ side quests, Quil.”

Kaw had the good sense to stop the brash rock star gait. But his slow pair of steps hardly conveyed new world leader backbone either.

Shit.

“Why don’t I start this time?” Irowen interjected from obviously tight teeth. “You’re sure she’s in Japan, yes?”

Affirmative, Quil replied.

“So, Kobe or Fukuoka?” She dashed a quick look up, slightly north of the shoulder she’d just leaned on. “You have fun portals for those parts of the planet too, yes?”

The fresh desperation in her greens had Apollo clenching every muscle in his arms. Why couldn’t he just haul her close again? “Of course,” he assured. “If not directly there, then close.”

Her lips trembled. “How close?”

She’s not in Kobe or Fukuoka.

Quil was shockingly still, waiting for Irowen to flip her attention back around. Only when the poor corvid was again caught in the radar-green force of her stare did he flinch once more.

She’s in Tokyo.

The declaration sent a sizable hitch through Irowen’s stature. Apollo succumbed to a harsh shake of his own head, only now realizing it wasn’t the answer he expected.

“Tokyo’s huge,” he qualified. “Must be an outlying prefecture, then. Saitama? Kanagawa? No way would Ito get as obvious as Kabuchikō or Roppongi. Even Ikebukero is so tourist-infested now that—”

She’s not in the center of the city.

He frowned. “Then wh—”

She’s in Ōta.

Another tremor rushed through Irowen’s stance. “Ōta?” She shook her head, though the movement was more like a trance-induced swirl on the air. “Quil? Are you sure?”

Before he replied, she paced back toward the living room, where she studied the long reflecting pool he’d installed back in the twenties, lined to the right with the custom enamel panels he’d personally commissioned from Erté. Never had he thanked himself more for instructing the artist to depict stags and swans instead of the topless mermaids the Russian had first proposed. With the fresh agitation claiming every inch of her spine, the last thing his little monster needed to peruse was ruby nipples and tiny triangle underwear.

Apollo followed her, just in case she needed a supportive shoulder again. Sure, asshole. And you buy that as fully as an investment proposal from Rizon, yeah?

He grunted, dismissing his inner dickhead, while crossing the room. He had something better to contribute to the situation, at least in this moment. Solid facts.

“Ito wouldn’t try to control so much as a conbini in Ōta,” he stated. “And no way would he balls up enough to run anything more substantial. Not with the clear messaging that the Himonya jousoubu and their friends have been proclaiming across the region.”

Who, now? Quil inquired, soaring to a roost near the window. Since the perch gave the bird a better angle at Irowen’s profile than his, Apollo expanded his vigilance over that end of the room, including Quil in his watch.