"We've had a good run," I said. It was a great start-if that didn't get them fired up, what would? "All of us in this room, we have juice. We have power. We live a life normal folks can't even imagine.
"That life is over." I dropped it on them and let it sit there. I heard some whispering and saw more than a few unhappy faces, but mostly they just looked at me.
"Something's coming, and it's a lot worse than Papa Danwe. And after that, it's going to be something even worse…and it's never going to end." I was thinking about the Firstborn, demons, and their lust for dominion over the earth. I didn't think it was time to tell my soldiers everything I knew about what was coming. Not yet. "We're going to be asked to fight, and die, and not for our own wealth and power. That's something we've always been willing to do. We're going to be asked to die for the soccer moms and the welfare queens, the lawyers and the bums. You probably don't even like these people very much. We're not like them. We're not part of their world. We're the hidden masters of a secret underworld, and we ignore them because we can.
"We can't ignore them anymore. The world needs saving-but it's their world, not ours. It's always been their world. We've just been living off the crumbs.
"We call ourselves soldiers. Starting today, that's what we are. Starting today, we're not just an outfit, we're a secret army. We have to fight, because there's no one else to do it.
"No one's going to thank you for it. To the people you're saving, you're just another fucking monster. The only ones who are going to know you're a hero are the men and women standing beside you."
They looked like they wanted something more, but I didn't have anything else. "That's it," I said. "That's all there is. If you're thinking this isn't what you signed up for, you're right. You can leave, right now. No hard feelings. I just don't have the time to try to change your mind."
I stopped talking and pointed to the door. No one left, though a few of them shifted uncomfortably and stared at their feet. I waited long enough for it to get awkward, and then I waited some more. Now that I had them thoroughly demoralized, it was time to wrap up.
"Let's go to war," I said.
There were no rousing cheers, no oaths or vows, no dramatic salutes. They just stared at me. Then Anton waddled forward, a forgotten, half-eaten sandwich hanging at his side.
"Will we still get paid, Domino?"
There were a few chuckles, then a few laughs, and then the whole room was roaring. Anton looked around, bewildered, an uncertain smile pulling at his cherubic face.
"Yeah, Anton, you'll still get paid. Matter of fact, I'm going to give you a fucking raise." Laughter coursed through the group like the Wave at a football game. Even Rashan was laughing.
I realized Anton had accomplished something I'd utterly failed to do on my own. That he did it unwittingly goes without saying, but that didn't make it any less important. The gangsters in the room had made their choice, and most of them would stand by it. But Anton had brought them together. Anton had made them feel good about themselves, and about each other, just by being Anton. I could give them orders-my rank and my juice gave me that right. But it would take more than rank to make an army out of them. It would take a lot more than juice to lead them.
Chavez called me over to a long conference table in the center of the room. A large map of L.A. was spread out on the table. Glowing lines marked our borders and those of Papa Danwe's territory, as well as the tag networks that snaked their way through South Central and converged on Hawthorne. The location of the gate was circled in pulsing blue light.
"The strike team is ready, boss," Chavez said. "We've still got taggers out there on the street, but we've got enough juice to go when you say go. We were even able to run a couple lines all the way up to the factory grounds."
"What's Papa Danwe doing?"
"We don't know, but the pot is boiling. He's got a lot of fucking juice in there. If we're going to hit it, we got to go soon."
"Okay, I want five guys. Frank Seville, Ismail Akeem, Amy Chen." I looked over at the big hitters where they huddled together trading gossip and lies. "Pick two more, but not Wale. I don't trust that guy." Simeon Wale probably had more juice than the others, but he had a bad reputation even in a hard crowd. He also ran a crew in South Central, and he'd been a little too friendly with Papa Danwe in the past.
"That makes five anyway, boss," Chavez said. He tossed his head in the direction of Sonny Kim and Ilya Zunin. "Those guys say they're in. They insisted." Chavez shrugged. "That don't mean anything, though."
"Yeah," I said, "that's good." I waved my allies over and shook their hands.
"Thing is, boss, why just five? Everyone here is ready to go. Let's call in the fucking cavalry. Why hold back?"
"Manpower isn't the problem, Chavez. You did great with the tags, but we're still going to be sucking a dry tit compared to what Papa Danwe has in there. What juice I've got, I want my best guys tapping it." We also needed the others with their own crews. They had to get their soldiers ready for block-to-block fighting if we failed and the fairies came through.
My boss knew what I had in mind, and he started clearing everyone out. Pretty soon, it was just Chavez, my strike team and me. And Honey. She mostly kept to herself, but she didn't leave my side.
I laid out what we were up against, even though I knew they'd all heard the story by now. We studied the map and planned our approach, following the tags that stretched into Hawthorne like a clawed hand.
"If everything goes just right, it's not going to be that complicated," I said. "We move in fast and take out Papa Danwe's soldiers. I take down the wards." I was pretty sure there were fairy wards on the gate-that's why I hadn't detected them. But I was also confident the changeling's juice would allow me to take them down. I'd also have Honey backing me up.
"Once we crash the gate's defenses, any one of us should be able to destroy the hardware," said Sonny Kim. He looked at Zunin as if to say, "Even you."
"I don't like the juice situation," said Amy Chen. Amy was as petite as Terrence Cole was wide. She might have been five feet in heels, and she couldn't make a hundred pounds with a thumb on the scale. She looked impossibly young but her power was very old and very strong. The combination was exotic and sexy, but every guy in the outfit was scared shitless of her.
"I do not like it, either," Akeem whispered. He always whispered. He was Somali, some kind of witchdoctor or juju man back in the day. He said he always whispered so evil spirits wouldn't know what he was thinking. Rumor said the whispering was a side effect of repeatedly subjecting himself to ritual possession. "But what is worse? Do we attack with less juice than we would like? Or do we wait for more tags and give this King Oberon a chance to open the gate?"
No one had an answer for that. I realized that either course could be a mistake, and the mistake could be a disaster.
"I don't think we can assume Oberon will give us time to lay down more tags," I said. Akeem nodded in agreement. "But I'm also worried about the juice," I finished, and Amy winked at me. "Honey, what do you think?"
The piskie had been sitting on my shoulder, like a pirate's pet parrot, and she jumped to her feet. Maybe she was surprised I'd asked her opinion. Or maybe she'd fallen asleep.
"I wasn't told anything of King Oberon's plans. I don't know when he will come. But I think it will be soon."
"Okay, thanks, Honey."
"I'm not finished, Domino," the piskie said, sparing me an annoyed glance. Whatever else it had gotten me, it didn't seem like my promotion had earned me any deference from the people in the room. Then again, what could I really expect from gangsters and fairies? Hell, I'd been known to crack wise with Rashan from time to time.