Whisper of Shadows (The Diamond City Magic Novels) (11 page)

“After, they couldn’t wake the boy—the only survivor. He was bloody and bruised all to hell. The local LEOs took pictures of the scene and the kid and sent them out over the wires, hoping to get a name. The next thing you know, the boy vanishes and the locals can’t seem to remember a damned thing about what happened.”

“The boy was Price? And you think he was responsible?” My mouth was dry. What kind of power erupted in a three-year-old that allowed him to create such deadly destruction?

“It’s impossible to tell from the pictures we have. But word of his return came just after that, and Oriana Price turned up in Wisconsin with a Belize passport stamp. She claimed amnesia. She’s never changed her story, though some suspect that she had a hand in the kidnapping. Anyhow, if Price was responsible for the devastation, you see why Agent Wolfe might be interested in his talent, and why we tend to be cautious around him. If he could do that at three years old, what could he do now that he’s a grown man?”

“But why arrest him now and not years ago if they thought he was a threat?”

“Maybe to put pressure on his brother. Maybe to lure you into working for them. Maybe they thought his power was manifesting. I don’t know.”

At that point, Arnow pulled up to Mel’s gates. Or rather, what used to be gates. Since I’d left, they’d turned into a solid wall of plate steel with razor-sharp barbs all along the top. Jamie and Leo had been at work on them. I couldn’t see a seam where they might open, no rollers or tracks.

Arnow looked at me. “What now?”

I got out of the car and went up to the gray steel wall. I pressed one hand flat against the frigid metal, and knocked loudly with the other. Not that the sound made a difference. Jamie or Leo would be monitoring the wall for invasion or visitors. They’d be able to read through the metal that it was me.

After a moment, a split crept up the middle of the wall, with hinges on the sides and room on the bottom to allow the new gates to swing open. I pushed them wide enough to let Arnow drive through. Before I could shut them, the steel drew back and reformed into the solid wall. I got back in the car.

“Handy,” Arnow said.

We drove around to the main house. Since I’d left, a new door had taken the place of the one the FBI had broken down. This one was made of steel. Price’s SUV was still parked outside. Taylor’s bright yellow Lexus slotted in beside him. Arnow parked next to Taylor, and we both got out. We’d gone about two steps when the door opened and Jamie, Leo, Mel, Taylor, and silver-eyed Dalton came out.

I eyed Dalton warily. He gazed back without any expression. What was he doing here?

Taylor pulled me into a hug, then stepped back, wrinkling her nose. “You smell,” she declared.

“You try hiding out in a trashcan with spoiled food loaded up on your head, and let’s see how fragrant you get,” I returned, squeezing her tight.

“A trash can?” Jamie repeated, next in line for a hug. He held me at arm’s length, looking me over. “Those aren’t the clothes you left in. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you inside.”

“Who’s your guest?” Mel asked, taking her turn at hugging me. My throat knotted as I pressed my cheek against her hair. She was my rock. I always knew I could depend on her. She was smart and calm and didn’t let her emotions get the best of her. I needed her to figure out what to do next.

“This is Special Agent Sandra Arnow of the FBI,” I said as I reluctantly let go of my stepmom.

Taylor scowled at Arnow. “What’s she doing
here
? With you?” Venom dripped from her words. I couldn’t blame her. Not after all that had happened.

“She says she’ll help me with Price in exchange for me helping her to find some missing people.” I glanced at Jamie, Leo, and Mel. “You all might remember her from when she got Josh involved in Tyet affairs and attacked Touray’s stronghold with me in it, and set me, Price, and Touray up to get captured by a cohort of Tyet sociopaths.”

I didn’t mention her holding me at gunpoint in the parking garage. I caught Taylor’s questioning look and gave a little shake of my head. At the moment, that detail wasn’t important.

“Amazing. She doesn’t appear to be insane,” Leo said, eyeing the grungy-looking agent.

“Obviously appearances are deceiving,” Jamie replied, his eyes slivers of blue glacial ice. “Otherwise she’d not show her face here.”

Both of them knew full well all she’d done during Josh’s kidnapping.

“She’s a psychopath,” Taylor said.

“Likely,” I agreed. I glanced at Dalton. “She’s not the only one.”

His mouth twisted downward. I turned away.

“Can we discuss this inside where it’s warm?”

I wasn’t worried we were being observed or that the FBI was listening in. I could feel the house’s security magic tracing through the air and knitting through the ground. For the first time since I could remember, all the systems were fully engaged. The equivalent of DEFCON We-Aren’t-Coming-Out-Alive. The density of the security web made every hair on my body prickle. Inside the house would be more insulated against the effects.

“By all means,” Mel said, leading the way. She now wore wool pants and low boots, with an indigo sweater.

Instead of taking everybody into the sitting room of the earlier debacle, Mel led us into a salon with white French-style furniture and a variety of purple accents. She called it the Lilac Room. Glass doors led out onto a red brick courtyard with a fire pit and intricately wrought benches, courtesy of Jamie. A Mother’s Day gift when he was in college.

Mel stood in the doorway as everyone trouped inside. I halted on the threshold, eyeing the white sofas and chairs. “I know you don’t want me in here. I’m covered with dirt and who knows what else.”

“Take a shower,” Mel said. “I’ll arrange some something to eat and coffee.”

I hated to delay, but I needed a few minutes. I wanted to clear my head, and I wanted to see if I could reach out to Price through the spirit realm. For that, I needed privacy. I nodded. “I won’t be long.”

I started to leave, but my gaze hooked on Dalton, who stood broodingly in a corner, arms crossed, and scowling. “What’s
he
doing here?”

Mel’s forehead crimped and then smoothed. “Sam sent him. He thought Dalton could be useful.”

“And you just let him in?”

“They say you should keep your enemies close.”

“Is he the enemy?” I wondered. Was my father? He’d tampered with my head, supposedly for my own good. Like Arnow, he thought any means justified the ends. Maybe Dad wasn’t
the
enemy right now, but as far as I could tell, he wasn’t a friend. I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but I knew he wasn’t going to let me have any choice about it. Not if the past was anything to go by. Of course, my dad was Mel’s husband. I had no idea how she felt about him turning up after all these years. If I were her, I’d be ready to cut his balls off.

Mel’s brows rose. “You think we can trust him?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “We can trust him not to be trustworthy. He’s Dad’s minion through and through. On the other hand, Dalton has skills. I can’t afford to turn down any help at the moment. Not if I’m going to rescue Price.” I paused. “And Touray.”

The corners of Mel’s mouth turned down in a slight frown. “Gregg Touray? Clay’s brother? What happened?” She shook her head as if the question wasn’t important. “Whatever has happened, he isn’t your responsibility. He’s got plenty of soldiers and staff.”

Except he was. Embracing Price meant embracing the people he loved. Once free, he’d be off to rescue Gregg with or without me. On top of that, Touray had made himself a decoy tonight so I could escape. I owed him.

I grimaced. “Yeah, Touray is my responsibility.”

When had my life turned into a soap opera? Pretty soon I’d find out that an international billionaire-spy-sheikh uncle I never knew about had fathered Price and that Taylor was pregnant with Touray’s illegitimate baby, and Dalton was the reincarnation of Jack the Ripper.

Suddenly I wanted a very strong drink. A shower was going to have to do. That, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

Mel’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? You’ve spent your whole adult life avoiding the Tyet and the law, living under the radar. Now you’re bogging deeper into the Tyet world every day. Is that really what you want?”

I lifted my shoulder. “I love Price. Price loves his brother. I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“You do, but the fact that you can’t see it means that you’ve already chosen. So that’s that. Hurry and shower.” She put her hands on my shoulders, meeting my gaze. “Understand one thing. You will
not
be doing anything alone. Whatever it takes, we are going to help.” It was both a promise and an order.

I almost cried as I pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” I whispered. It’s not that I had believed she wouldn’t help, but I’d expected that she’d put up limits for how far she was willing to go. After all, she worked for the FBI. She was a white hat and I, at best, was gray. Rescuing Price meant breaking laws. I’d expected she’d have lines she wouldn’t cross, not for me, and especially not for Price or Touray. But she’d deliberately given me a blank check. No conditions. It was almost more than I could handle without bursting into grateful tears.

She squeezed me, then gently pushed me away. “Go. Time is nobody’s friend right now.”

I nodded and went to clean up. Whatever my father had done to me, he’d given me an enormous gift in Mel, Taylor, Leo, and Jamie. He might be as reliable as a wet paper bag, but I could depend on them. They’d never let me down.

Chapter 8

MEL KEPT A ROOM for me complete with a variety of clothing and shoes, plus my favorite toiletries. I decided I’d shower before trying to find Price. I held out hope the water would refresh me. I needed all my brain matter to be as awake and energetic as possible. I downed a couple of aspirin before stepping under the hot water. I like it just on this side of blistering. Jets from all sides warmed my muscles and got the blood flowing. I soaped up and washed my hair. I was back out and dressed in under fifteen minutes.

My headache had subsided a little bit, for which I was thankful. I sat on my queen-sized bed and folded my legs. I took several breaths to steady my scrambling pulse and dropped into trace sight.

Everybody has trace. It’s a little streamer of colored light that follows you everywhere. You can null it out and it will disappear, but otherwise, any tracer can see where you’ve been. For most tracers, by the time a few hours have passed, they can no longer see the streamers. Very few can see dead trace—the gray ribbons of the dead. As far as I know, I’m the only one.

I was wrapped in a tangle of ribbons. Mel’s dark pink rippling with pearl, Jamie’s dark brown spun around with egg yellow, Taylor’s scarlet and gold, Leo’s emerald, my own silver green. There were more—many more—but I focused on the most important: Price’s. A streamer of burgundy streaked with blue.

I reached into the chill of the trace dimension and gripped it, wrapping it around my hand and drawing it back out. The cold went up to my elbow and shoulder, making them ache. That was fast. It had only been a couple of days since I’d been rescued from Percy and been healed. At least my body had been fixed up. I’d stretched my magic to its limits, and I still hadn’t fully recovered. Inwardly I shrugged. Bodybuilders stretched themselves all the time. The process built muscle. Runners pushed harder and longer and faster. Their pain was a sign of growth. Well then, I was growing.

I smiled to myself. Always better to look at the bright side. At least it was less depressing than the what-could-go-wrong side.

My smile faded to a frown. Normally I can sense things through a person’s trace, especially strong emotions. I could feel nothing from Price. Life energy still flowed through it, but it was like he was on the other side of a wall I couldn’t reach through.

I licked my suddenly dry lips, fear for him thrilling through me with new urgency. ’Til now, I hadn’t had a chance to really think about what he was going through, what the FBI might be doing to him. I’d been distracted. I couldn’t dodge the terror anymore. The helplessness. Only maybe I wasn’t helpless. Maybe this would work. Please God, let it work.

When I’d previously travelled along my own trace, I’d sent my power out along its length, following it to Taylor’s hangar, where she was being held prisoner by Percy. This time, I wanted to go wherever Price was, which theoretically should be easier, since I didn’t have to figure out a spot to stop and get off. I was powerful enough that nulling out his trace couldn’t keep me from following it. Which meant if I could get to him, I could pull him out of prison. Providing he could survive crossing through the spirit realm.

Given what he was likely facing from his interrogators, I figured it was worth the risk. To both of us.

Taking a breath, I collected my power. It readily welled up. Maybe I’d been more right than optimistic with the notion that stretching my limits had strengthened me. I kept pulling until I practically vibrated. Holding his trace in both my hands, I sent a massive pulse along its length. This time I couldn’t really follow. Not the way I could along my own trace. I was aware that my body stayed on the bed, while my mind fled after the magic I’d launched. I’d had to wait until I was somewhere safe to try this. Otherwise someone could come along and kill me or kidnap me before I could return to my body to fight.

Price had been nulled the moment he left the house. Though his trace faded, I could feel it, an organized thickening, a fluttering of sparks spinning away in a cable of life. I told myself not to be reckless, but urgency made me rush. In the end, I doubted it would have made a difference how fast I went.

One second I was sizzling along his trace, the next I crashed into something solid. My spirit seemed to explode. Or that’s what it felt like. Searing pain flared along my shattered self. On the bed, my body snapped backward so hard I launched onto the carpet. I convulsed. I went completely rigid as I arched off the floor. My spirit self fluttered and buzzed like a flock of drunk moths. Electric, razor-winged, venomous moths. I pulled on them, willing them to return to me, but I felt like someone had shaken my head before banging it on concrete. I hung on the edge of unconsciousness, my mind a shredded tangle of yarn bits. I couldn’t put two thoughts together.

Instinct saved me. That and sheer bullheaded determination. I
wasn’t
going to die or go insane. I
wasn’t
going to fail Price. I
wasn’t
going to give up. I
wasn’t
going to lose this fight.

Gradually I reeled all the bits of myself back, following Price’s trace like a lifeline. It was a lifeline. When I could think, I made my body relax, collapsing flat onto the floor. Instantly cramps snatched up clumps of muscle and twisted them viciously all along my back, legs, and shoulders. My knee and ankle joints locked under the onslaught. I must’ve held them so rigid that relaxing triggered the cramps.

I rolled over onto my stomach and made myself get up. I staggered back into the bathroom and grabbed a cup from the cupboard and drank down several glasses of water. Then I forced myself to stagger in a circle around the room, lifting my arms and stretching as best I could until the cramps eased.

When I was done, I peeled off my sweat-soaked clothing and took another shower. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and kick, and if it would have helped, I would have. But I needed to hold my shit together. I hadn’t really thought I’d be able to pull him out through his trace, I reminded myself. Still, I had to squeeze my eyes hard to keep the tears from falling.

Mechanically I washed, then left the shower and dried off. I avoided looking at myself in the mirror. If I looked anything like as bad as I felt, I didn’t want to know. I also swallowed four ibuprofen for my sore . . . everything. The aspirin from before my shower wasn’t going to cut it. Hopefully a few gallons of coffee would take care of my exhaustion.

After I got dressed again, I returned downstairs. Even I could tell I was smelling a whole lot better than earlier. I wore my usual uniform of jeans, tee shirt, hiking boots, and a light jacket. I hadn’t taken the time to dry my hair, instead letting it hang loose around my shoulders. In my pocket was a ponytail elastic for later. When I returned to the Lilac Room, Taylor, Jamie, Mel, and Leo clustered at the far end. Dalton listened in from a few feet away. Arnow stood looking out through the French doors, though I didn’t doubt she was absorbing every word.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Everyone faced me. I had an urge to run, just like a kid caught shoplifting. I forced myself to stand still. Like it or not, I was in charge of this mess. I’d come up with the outlines of a plan in the shower, but it was risky at best, suicidal at worst. Just another day at the office lately.

“You look like crap,” Taylor said. “What did you do?”

That she knew I’d done something was testament to how well she knew me. “I tried to reach Price through his trace. It didn’t work.”

“You can’t go doing that kind of shit on your own,” Jamie said, looking pissed.

I wasn’t in the mood for brotherly love, at least not the kind that tried to wrap me up in cotton and Bubble Wrap. Before Leo could gang on, I went on the offensive.

“What exactly were you going to do to help me?” I asked. “Not much anybody could do. I decided the reward outweighed the risks and took a shot.” I shrugged. “Didn’t work. Time to move along to plan B.”

“We’ve been discussing what to do,” Mel said, interrupting Jamie’s heated response. She motioned me inside and gestured at everyone to sit. She brought me a cup of coffee from a pot on the sideboard, liberally adding sugar and cream.

Manna from heaven. I sipped and about melted.

Mel returned to her seat. “Agent Arnow has kindly filled us in on your activities. Taylor and I have a few things to add. Taylor?”

She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I spent awhile talking to Agent Henry.”

I frowned at the reminder and glanced at Arnow. “You said that Agent Dante Wolfe was behind the arrest, but we met Ezra Henry. He said he was in charge of the case.”

Arnow nodded. “There’s always two agents in charge on a Rice arrest. One takes lead on the interrogation, the other runs the other side of the case—gathering intel, interviewing witness, and pursuing the investigation. Throughout the interrogation period, the two maintain constant communication. There’s not a lot of time and it’s critical that they work all the angles simultaneously. Often what one learns will enable the other to make inroads and vice versa. Wolfe runs the Diamond City office and wanted to question Price personally, so he assigned Henry to the other side.”

The fingers of my empty hand curled into talons. It was all I could do not to rip her face off. She made it sound so civilized—question Price. As if they weren’t doing unspeakable things to him. Less than a week ago I’d been in the clutches of Percy Caldwell. He’d burned my arms with cigarettes and later cut off my thumb. It had been one of the most painful and horrifying experiences of my life. I knew to the bottoms of my feet that Price’s suffering would be ten thousand times worse.

I felt myself starting to shake with my fury and fear for him. I tamped it down. I needed to be as cold as Arnow if I was going be of any use to Price.

“Okay,” I said, looking at Taylor. “What did Agent Henry tell you?”

“Nothing,” she said. “He wanted to milk me for information. He kept asking about Price’s talent and what I knew about it. He also asked about you and your relationship with Price and Touray.”

“So what’s—” I started.

“Let me finish,” Taylor snapped.

I bit my lips. “Sorry,” I said. Sitting on the couch didn’t feel the least bit like helping Price, and I itched to
do
something. But first we needed a plan, which meant talking and listening.

Taylor’s expression softened. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be all right.”

She met my gaze, her blue eyes determined. That I wouldn’t have to suffer what she’d suffered in losing Josh. She knew my fear and love and helplessness. She’d been there. I nodded, and she abruptly came to sit beside me, lacing her fingers in mine and squeezing. I held on to her tightly as she continued.

“As I was saying, he didn’t tell me anything, but just before I left, he got called out. That gave me a chance to poke around. We were in an interview room with an adjoining door. I peeked inside the other door and found his real office.

“One whole wall was devoted to Price and Touray, with all kinds of notes and photos and strings connecting them. A picture of Dad was in the middle, with you and me on the side. Above were Mel, Leo, Jamie. Below was your mom. It was a crime-scene picture from when she was murdered. There were more pictures on the side of people I didn’t recognize. The weird part was that Dad was in the middle of everything, like he was the one under investigation.”

I shot a look at Dalton. “Why is the FBI interested in Dad?”

His shoulders lifted. “I don’t know what drew the FBI’s attention to your father.”

“You’re lying.” I let go of Taylor and stood up.

His expression hardened. Dalton was a warrior and a soldier. He had his marching orders from my dad, and I could tell he wasn’t going to give up information or abandon his duties just because I didn’t like him. Not that I planned to give him a choice.

Dalton was wearing a trace null, but no others. Good for me, bad for him. He stared at me as if daring me to make him move. All right, then. Time to throw the dice.

“Leo? Jamie? A bit of help, please?”

Every bit of metal that Dalton carried on him melted away. More flowed over the ground and dripped down from the ceiling. In moments he was encased in a filigree cage made of razor wire. My brothers didn’t like him either.

“If you can’t be honest with us, then I don’t want you part of this.” I looked at Mel. “Should we continue this conversation somewhere else?”

She rose. “Absolutely.”

She started out of the room, and I followed without another glance at Dalton. Leo put a hand on my shoulder. Jamie slid an arm around my waist and hugged me to his side. He was all solid muscle, which was comforting.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said against my ear. “We won’t let you down.”

I nodded, my throat knotting. I wanted to believe we could do this, that we could rescue Price and then Touray. But we were going up against both the FBI and a powerful Tyet syndicate. Did we have even a snowball’s chance in hell?

“Stop,” Dalton growled from his prison.

I did, but didn’t turn around, barely daring to hope. “Why?”

“You need my help.”

I turned halfway. “You’re a liability. The smartest thing for me to do is leave you here so I don’t have to worry about when you’ll stab me in the back.”

His mouth pulled flat, and his jaw knotted. His eyes seemed to flash with internal light. “Your father sent me to help you. He doesn’t want you falling into the wrong hands.”

He must have realized that was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it. Fall into the wrong hands? Like I was some sort of
thing
? I felt heat steaming up from my belly and suffusing my face.

“Your father loves you,” Dalton said, changing strategies. “He doesn’t want you ending up hurt.”

I wanted to believe him. Deep down, I desperately I wanted to think my father loved me and was fighting to keep me from harm. But I didn’t. I felt like a piece on a chessboard. If that’s all I was, I wasn’t going to be a pawn; I was going to be the queen or a knight or a rook. Somebody with power. Somebody who could run the board. Maybe my father loved me in his own peculiar, twisted way. Maybe he thought scrambling my brain and stealing my memories was a sign of that love. Not me.