The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Page 11

  Bruno’s expression was thoughtful. I could tell he was going through everyone on staff in his mind. He turned to Emma. “Em? Who’s tested the highest in the GAs?”

  “Jan.” She turned to Rizzoli. “No question. Jan Mortensen is one of the graduate assistants at the university. He’s a powerful mage and the most secretive person I know. He always works magic by himself, and he always cleans up even the tiniest trace of his workings once he’s done. I’ve never met a mage as careful as him.”

  “I’ve never worked with him,” Bruno admitted. He sounded surprised, like it should have occurred to him that it was unusual, but it hadn’t before.

  “No,” Em said. “And that’s weird all by itself. Because Sloan’s been having you work with everybody. You do amazing artifact work, better than even our tenured professors of magic.” Wow. I do believe he actually blushed at the compliment. Admittedly, Emma is pretty stingy with praise.

  She continued, musing almost to herself as she spoke. “But Jan’s never even seemed interested in spending any time with you and keeps avoiding me when I try to schedule it. But there’s a good chance something he worked on is in Dr. Sloan’s office somewhere. Sloan was his advisor last year.”

  “We will need to question this Jan.” Dahlmar spoke softly, but his voice sent chills up my spine. I’d had a chance to see some of Dahlmar’s retainers in action. And while they’d never done anything untoward, I got the distinct impression they would, just as soon as the setting was a little more private.

  “No, Your Majesty.” Rizzoli stepped onto the X as Bruno vacated it. His voice was as hard as granite, and about as warm. “We will need to question him. The attack was on American soil. We will be happy to cooperate and share information, but we are the lead investigators and are in charge.” He stepped off of the X, and in what was probably the most carefully planned “accident” of his career, stumbled and wound up stepping on the red button on the power strip, bringing the video conference to an abrupt end.

  Just as well. Because while the king hadn’t had a chance to say anything, his expression said more clearly than words that he’d do what he damned well pleased. Lopaka’s face had looked much the same.

  It seemed a lot of powerful people really wanted to talk to Jan. We’d just have to see who got there fastest.

  14

  I slathered myself with sunscreen—Emma kept extra bottles on hand for me—and checked my weapons while Rizzoli called for backup to meet him at the university. Rizzoli, Bruno, and I walked out toward the cars, leaving the others behind. We were halfway across the parking lot when the guys exchanged a look. Rizzoli turned to face me, pulling his hand out of his pocket; he was holding something that I couldn’t see.

  “What?” I looked from one man to the other, trying to figure out what was going on.

  “Sorry, honey. You’re not coming. Not this time.” Bruno didn’t sound sorry. He sounded smug. I’d barely opened my mouth to argue when I heard the crack of a spell disk breaking and found I couldn’t say anything.

  I’d been hit with a full body bind. I couldn’t move a muscle.

  The bastard.

  Once upon a time I’d suggested this exact spell to Creede. He’d worked out the kinks and started mass-producing different variations. The one favored by law enforcement froze all of the major muscles, but left the heart and lungs alone. Some people could even manage the occasional finger twitch. The binding lasted for ten minutes—long enough for the bad guy to be cuffed and put in the back of the squad car. From what I’d heard, John had been making a fortune off of them. They were certainly useful. I wasn’t surprised Rizzoli stocked them. I was just surprised he’d use it on me.

  “He’s right, Graves,” Rizzoli said. “You’re sitting this one out. I respect you and you’re capable as hell. But you’ve been named a target by these guys and you’re a civilian. I can’t risk it. I wouldn’t be taking DeLuca here if I didn’t need him for permission to search the office. I am sorry.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Of course that didn’t make me any less pissed when I watched him walk over to my Miata and let the air out of two of my tires.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Emma stood in the doorway, glaring from Bruno to Rizzoli and back again. Kevin, a step or so behind her, was chortling.

  “She’ll be fine in ten minutes,” Bruno assured her. “And you know how Mortensen feels about her, and even vampires can be killed by magic. Do you really think she should come along?”

  Emma’s lips tightened into a thin line. “No, but that’s not the point.”

  Bruno didn’t argue. Instead, he picked me up at the waist and carried me into the shade, where he leaned me against the trunk of a tree like a freaking surfboard. Leaning over, he gave me a quick peck on the lips.

  I have never wanted to knee a man in the crotch so badly in my life. He had no idea how thankful he should have been for that full body bind. Not a clue.

  “Gotta go. Love you.”

  Emma came out to stand beside me, looking grim, as Bruno and Rizzoli drove away in Rizzoli’s car. She showed me the set of keys she was holding. “They didn’t disable my car. When the spell breaks, you can take it. But you have to promise me you’ll be careful. Jan is powerful, smart, and he really does hate you. I don’t know why.”

  I would’ve promised … if I could’ve. As it was I just stood there like a freaking statue, my mouth partially open. I was so furious I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t even do that. I was so completely helpless. Every second stretched into eternity. Emma, bless her heart, stood next to me, waiting, offering moral support.

  Finally, finally, the binding spell wore off, releasing me so suddenly that I stumbled and would’ve fallen over if Emma hadn’t caught me. It took probably five more minutes for the cramping to pass enough that I could have any hope of walking to the car.

  “Bruno’s going to be pissed if you let her go,” Kevin said. The whole time Emma had stood beside me, he had been leaning casually against the doorjamb with Paulie sitting calmly at his feet. He didn’t sound like he was going to interfere or like he was passing judgment. It was just an observation.

  “Bruno DeLuca can kiss my lily-white ass,” Emma snapped.

  Kevin shook his head. “Whatever. I’m staying out of it.”

  “Good,” Emma and I snarled in chorus. Raising his hands in surrender, Kevin backed into the house, pulling the door closed behind him and giving himself plausible deniability if Bruno tried to give him a hard time later.

  I climbed awkwardly into Emma’s little subcompact. My muscles still weren’t behaving normally. Fortunately the car had an automatic transmission. I wouldn’t have to try to handle the clutch or shift gears once I got it backed out of its parking spot.

  Emma pressed her keychain into my hand after I strapped on my seatbelt. “Be careful.”

  “I will. I promise.” I meant it, too. I’m not invincible. The events in Mexico showed me that all too clearly. But I wasn’t going to sit back and let Bruno get away with pulling a stunt like this. No way. If I did that he’d feel free to do it again, or something else he considered “necessary” or “for my own good.” Screw that—twice—with something sharp.

  It was a long drive from Emma’s to the university, long enough that I was able to calm down and think by the time I reached the edge of campus. Oh, I was still furious, but it wasn’t the blind, unthinking rage that had overcome me when that spell disk cracked open.

  They shouldn’t have done it and they’d both be getting hell from me about it later.

  But that didn’t change the reality of the situation.

  Dominic Rizzoli was a federal agent. He was smart, tough, and experienced. He was in charge of an investigation to capture a terrorist. He was entitled to give the orders. More to the point, his talent—and greatest gift—was intuition. He knew where to be, when to be there, and who he needed with him.

  If I went against that, I’d be doing to him exactly what Creede had done to me, and I’d be ris
king lives doing it.

  It was a bitter realization. It hurt, and I hated it. But it was the truth. So, rather than pull up to the parking lot and flash my FBI consultant’s badge at the security guard standing there, I drove past and parked in the first shady, curbside spot I found. It was a no-parking zone, but I didn’t plan to stay long.

  I had just started trying to figure out exactly what I was going to do next when Okalani stepped off the curb less than thirty feet ahead of me.

  The last time I’d seen her, she’d been a pretty girl of fifteen or so with exotic features, dark brown skin, and hair that would’ve been kinky-curly if it hadn’t been kept cropped close to her skull. She’d looked and acted like a kid. Now, even though not that much time had passed, she looked older, harder. The baby fat had left her cheeks and there were harsh lines at the corners of her mouth.

  Holy crap.

  I threw open the car door and started climbing out, calling her name.

  She turned, and when she saw me, I had microseconds to recognize the expressions that flickered across her face. Recognition, guilt, and terror. She turned, as if to someone standing beside her, though there was no one there. As she did, I saw something flicker at the edge of my consciousness. It was something familiar, yet foreign. I started toward whatever I saw … and smelled something I’d smelled before.

  Okalani’s eyes went wide with horror. “No!” she screamed, and leapt toward me, blocking me from reaching past her.

  Our fingers touched, the briefest of contacts, and I felt the world lurch sideways.

  When everything was still again I found myself in a darkened room lit only by the little red dots from plugged-in surge protectors and a crack of light around each of four doors. Not much light to see by, but I don’t need much. Besides, I knew where we were. I’d been in this room dozens of times while attending the college. We were in one of the auditorium classrooms.

  Okalani was with me, her breathing harsh. Not from the effort, from tears.

  “Were you the bait? To get me close enough to murder?” I kept my voice level even though I wanted to shout at her. I had a feeling I knew exactly what had just happened. It was that little turn that gave it away. If she hadn’t done that I would never have noticed the man-shaped shadow that stretched along the ground beside hers. A shadow that seemed to have no source … and he’d made the same mistake Bruno had. I could smell his cologne, a very unique, European scent that wasn’t often encountered in SoCal. Jan Mortensen. He’d been using magic to hide himself, but forgot those two telling details. Lucky for me. If he’d stuck around a little longer when I’d gone to visit Bruno in his office, I might be dead now.

  Okalani sobbed. “I couldn’t let him … they said you were evil and needed to die, but seeing you, I just couldn’t. You’re not evil. You’re not.” Her whole body was shaking with the violence of her emotions.

  Who the hell was Jan Mortensen and what did he have against me?

  Crap. Okalani might be an idiot for getting involved with him, but she’d saved my life. “Thank you.” I’m not much of a hugger, but it was obvious she needed to be held, so I took her in my arms. It was awkward. I’m not really good at that sort of thing, and she was wearing this huge backpack besides. “Tell me.”

  “I … I can’t. They’ll kill me.” It wasn’t just an expression. It was the honest truth. She held out her arm and I saw the mark of a binding oath on her skin, throbbing an ugly red. She’d nearly already said too much. Binding oaths were serious business. I’d watched Creede’s partner decay before my eyes after breaking one.

  Suddenly she realized just how serious the situation was. She’d been too shocked before, acting on instinct. Now, looking at the mark, it really hit her. I could see it. She looked around in panic, her dark eyes so wide with fear that the whites showed all around the iris. But it wasn’t just the throbbing red pattern on her arm that was bothering her. She’d finally realized where we were.

  “Oh, shit. No, no, no! We have to get out of here!” I had to grab both of her shoulders and give her a light shake before her eyes would focus on me again.

  “Okalani, talk to me. Why is it bad we’re here?”

  She reached up and ran fingers through her hair, not to smooth it, but as though she wanted to rip it out. “We are so screwed. Princess, I am soooo sorry. I’ve been taking classes since I moved here. This semester was Practical Matter Teleporation. Dr. Greene’s assistant set up a spell so that everything teleported on the university campus for the next twenty-four hours would come here. It’s for homework—she’s going to review the final product after transit, to see if it survived the trip. And she’s sealed the room so nobody can tamper with their results. I have to get us out of here. I told Jan about the assignment. He knows we’re here. He’ll come here looking for us any minute. Oh my God, oh my God. Where can we go? What’m I going to do?”

  “Calm down!” I snapped it as an order. Amazingly enough, it worked. She stopped babbling. She was still trembling and terrified, but she seemed capable of listening. “You said the room’s shielded—”

  “I can teleport through shields. But where can we go? They’re everywhere.”

  She could teleport through shields? Oh, I really wished I hadn’t heard that. It was bad on so many levels. Nobody ethical would’ve taught her that particular trick. It would mean she’d be able to go anywhere at will. Paintings at the Louvre would be easy pickings. High-security prisons wouldn’t hold her.

  I forced the thoughts from my mind. I didn’t have time to think about that right now. Soon, very soon, Okalani and I would be having a chat. But not now. “We need a plan. I promised your mom I’d find you and help you, and that’s what I’m going to do. But you need to stay calm and listen.”

  “My mom sent you?” There was a hint of anger in her voice, but there was hope, too. The kid I’d known on Serenity wasn’t completely lost.

  I spoke to what was left of that kid, hoping there was enough of her still inside the young woman in front of me. “Your mom loves you, Okalani. She misses you. And she’s worried. Terrified you’re in trouble.”

  That proud chin rose, so much like her mother’s. “I can take care of myself.”

  Yeah, right. She’d been doing a bang-up job of that. But sarcasm, while merited, wouldn’t help. I sank onto the edge of the stage, narrowly avoiding an odd assortment of items on the floor. Apples, oranges, the mounted head of a bull moose, and even an old Henry repeating rifle. I had more to say to Okalani, but first, I needed to let Rizzoli know about Jan before he escaped completely.

  Dominic, it’s Celia. Can you hear me? If you can, think the word yes as hard as you can. Scream it in your mind.

  Yes. The sound was distant, like a bad connection on a cell phone. But it was him. I’ve always found it fascinating that the words I hear in someone’s mind have the same intonation as if they were actually talking. Dom’s mental voice was pissed. I didn’t have to ask why.

  Yeah, yeah. I know. But you can’t have believed I’d stay at Emma’s house like a good girl, could you? Anyway, Jan Mortensen was using the same hiding spell Bruno uses—remember the potted plant when we first met? Mortensen was on the corner of Market and College less than five minutes ago. The kid he was with is a teleporter. She whisked me away before he could do anything unfortunate.

  That got his attention. His voice strengthened in my mind. Whisked you where exactly?

  I wasn’t positive I should say, but someone had to get us out of here safely. We’re in one of the small auditoriums on the first floor. The one where Dr. Greene is having the assignments sent. Ask someone in the Paranormal Studies class where that is. I paused, listening with my ears rather than my mind. Yes, I’d definitely heard someone messing with one of the auditorium doors. And Dom, you might want to hurry. I think Mortensen may be here.

  I heard the sound of a hand pressing hard against the door’s trip bar, but it didn’t open. The door was locked.

  Okalani whimpered. “We have to go.�
�� She grabbed at my arm.

  She had it halfway right. She needed to go. She might be sixteen, but to me she was still just a kid, and she was a witness. Maybe the only witness who could help us unravel what the hell was going on. But if I left with her, Jan would just leave, disappear before Rizzoli and the others could get him.

  I stood up and grabbed hold of her, facing her and taking one of her arms in each hand. Staring into those frightened brown eyes, I willed her to do what I said. “Okalani, I need you to listen to me. You need to go to your mother’s, have her hide you somewhere safe, and then call me. I’ve got connections. People are on the way here now. I’ll work something out. Give me twenty-four hours; I’ll get in touch with you. But you have to go to your mom’s. Now.”

  “But my father—”

  I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Jan was a teaching assistant. Of course he had a key. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Go!” I whispered harshly, giving her a hard shove. I felt the whiff of displaced air as Okalani vanished. She’d been telling the truth about the shields.

  I took cover behind the lecturer’s podium. Squatting down, I drew the Glock from its ankle holster as the door opened and the room was filled with blinding light.

  Dom. He’s here.

  We’re on our way.

  Weapon drawn, I peeked around the edge of the podium. It was Jan, and he saw my movement. With a word and a gesture he threw a ball of fire the size of my head straight at me, like a sizzling comet. I dived and rolled out of the way as the podium was engulfed in flames that spread like napalm across the stage.

  He didn’t stop firing, either. I kept rolling, right off the edge of the stage, knocking miscellaneous crap to the floor with me. There was so much stuff on the floor by then that I stumbled trying to get my feet under me. Man, what I wouldn’t give for one of those body binding charms.

  Another blast hit the stadium seats beside me. I smelled burning paint, cloth, and hair. My hair was singed, but I wasn’t hurt … yet. On the other hand, I hadn’t been able to stop moving long enough to get off a single shot.