Emerald Blaze

Chapter 13

The Shenandoah State Correctional Facility, nicknamed the Spa, loomed ahead as I steered Beetle down the smoothly curving road. A four-story-high masonry fort built with Austin limestone, it rose above the ten-foot wall like a luxury hotel and offered an indoor pool, tennis courts, a track, a driving range, and a garden. The rich and powerful didn’t like to be inconvenienced, even in incarceration.

A heavy, irresistible dread crawled over me. I didn’t want to see my evil grandmother today. Each visit to the posh country club she called prison felt like walking into a monster’s mouth. I never knew if I would get out alive. Nobody except me truly understood the magnitude of the threat she posed, and I would keep it that way as long as possible.

By now Detective Giacone would have reported everything there was to report about Leon being framed for Audrey’s murder. She would want to know what I planned to do about it. I would have to answer for exposing her spy in the Houston PD. I needed to be sharp and alert, and instead I was exhausted and rattled, which is why I’d insisted on driving. It put some control back into my hands.

To say that Dr. Arias had been less than pleased to see me again would be a severe understatement, kind of like referring to a Category 4 tornado as a cute little dust devil. She resealed my wounds and gave me a Serious Lecture, which I mostly ignored, because I was too busy thinking.

Munoz called to confirm that I had sustained injuries that required me to leave the crime scene and was indeed at the clinic. Dr. Arias talked to him while Sabrian played referee. At the end, Sabrian got on the phone with me. The Houston PD determined that the encounter was House warfare and was letting both Leon and Arabella go.

Bern arrived with my clothes and Beetle, a Toyota Tundra Grandma Frida had snagged in some kind of complicated trade after one of her clients couldn’t pay their bill. She’d added her special touch, and Beetle was sufficiently bulletproof. Alessandro saw the giant black truck and laughed for a full minute, but he let Bern drive his Spider back to our place. Bern was slightly shocked by that development.

I kept banging my brain against the problem of the Abyss. Regina’s words glowed in my memory. You have to kill it. All of it.

I had stolen a matrix node from the Abyss. The node didn’t collapse once its tie to the Abyss was severed. It didn’t stop functioning. It still felt like the Abyss, a paler, weaker version of it.

If we came for the Abyss with all of the firepower and magic we could collectively muster, we wouldn’t win. In his place, I would cleave the matrix nodes from myself and send them in all different directions. A matrix node could be anywhere. It could be in a construct. It could be buried in the muck in some hidden corner of the Pit. It could be disguised as a plant.

Power alone wouldn’t do it. The Abyss was just too massive.

“I’m not understanding something,” Alessandro said.

“Yes?”

“If Cheryl is Arkan’s contact and the person who killed Felix, then she has access to the serum. But I don’t think she took the serum herself. It’s too risky. If the serum backfires, she could die or end up warped, which means her House is left without a leader and her children become orphans. Why take the risk? Her position is already secure as is.”

“I don’t think she took it. I think she gave it to the construct.”

“The Osiris serum only works on humans. They tried giving it to animals early on and it just killed them.”

“Yes.”

Alessandro frowned. “Have you thought about why that thing keeps pulling brains out of corpses and sticking them into the constructs it makes? Where did he learn to do that?”

Oh fuck.

“Your magic doesn’t work on animals or constructs,” he said. “But it worked at some level on that thing. And no construct is capable of telepathy.”

“She put a human brain into the Kraken,” I whispered. Oh no.

“She wanted the decision-making capability of a human,” Alessandro said. “She used a male telepath, stuck him into her fucking toy, and then gave it the Osiris serum.”

I pulled into the parking lot past the guard.

“If this gets out . . .” Alessandro said.

Somebody else would do it too. No matter how horrific, no matter how revolting, it worked, and someone else would replicate it. Regina was right. Cheryl had to die, and fast.

“I can’t think about that right now.” I shut off the engine. “I have to survive the next hour. Will you be here when I’m done?”

Cold fire flashed in Alessandro’s eyes. “Even if you ordered me away, I wouldn’t go far. That thing is fixated on you. He will try again, and when he does, I’ll be waiting.”

Grandma Victoria waited for me in the gardens. She sat at a picnic table, bordered by roses. The heavy blossoms framed her, as if she were a priceless work of art. She wore a white summer dress that fell to midcalf with tiny pink flowers on the bodice that grew larger toward the hem. A pale-blue shawl of complex lace draped her shoulders. Strappy leather sandals hugged her feet. Her toenails were painted bright blue. Her silver hair crowned her head in a stylish updo and her makeup was perfect, as always.

The only indication that we were in a prison and not in some mansion’s English garden was the table, a heavy monstrosity of thermoplastic, with benches attached.

A platter with a teapot and two cups waited on the table. I approached, picked up the teapot, and poured the tea. If I wasn’t at my best, if I was a touch slow or said a wrong word, my grandmother would strike. She wouldn’t hesitate, and if I was very lucky, I would be the only target.

I handed her cup to her and sat.

Victoria’s gaze pinned me, her eyes merciless. “You burned Giacone.”

Right to the point. “He was clumsy and obvious. A liability. Munoz already suspected him, and I needed a sacrificial goat to establish trust.”

My grandmother narrowed her eyes. “Or you wanted my informant out of the way.”

I smiled. “Why not both?”

She drank her tea. I had jumped the first hurdle.

“Tell me about it.”

I summarized the events related to Audrey’s murder, starting with Giacone and Munoz and ending with Leon shooting the illusion mage in the face.

“Have you found the leak?” Victoria asked.

“Yes. Leon told Albert Ravenscroft about Audrey.”

“Do you need ammunition to lean on the Ravenscrofts?”

“No. I have my own.”

Victoria’s gaze fastened on me. “You’re hesitating.”

“I have my reasons.” Pressuring the Ravenscrofts could backfire. I would have preferred to do it with a scalpel. Instead I had a hammer, and once I smashed their House with it, they would either submit or go on the offensive. I was already fighting a war on multiple fronts. I didn’t need another.

“Now isn’t the time to be subtle. If they try to retaliate, I’ll handle it.”

I sipped my tea. I didn’t love Albert, but I didn’t hate him. This would be unpleasant.

“You don’t have to like it,” my grandmother continued. “Someone obtained confidential information and attacked your House. Do it or I will.”

“If you tug too hard on my leash, I’ll turn around and bite.”

I smiled and refilled her cup. Showing any weakness in front of her was like pouring blood into shark-infested waters.

She reached over and put her fingers under my chin, lifting my face so she could peer into my eyes. I met her gaze and saw approval.

“Good girl,” Victoria Tremaine told me. “Remember who you are. Don’t ever let people bully you.”

“I’ll take care of the Ravenscrofts.” If I took the coward’s way out and let her do it, there would be nothing left of Albert’s House.

“I know you will.” She let me go. “What is this Pit matter?”

A flashback to Linus’ study, his face, his dark eyes. Do me this favor . . . “A favor for Linus.”

Victoria’s magic brushed by me, oh so subtle. I welcomed it. To lie to a truthseeker, you had to tell the truth.

“Why is he involved?”

“The dead man asked him for help. Linus was too late.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “How utterly predictable. Linus always had an ego. Being the savior of his rival’s son would appeal to him. Now the fool will throw all his resources at fixing it. The safety of the House is your priority. Backburner it if you have to.”

“I took the job. MII is involved and I don’t want to offend Linus, Augustine, or Morton. Too many enemies for too little gain.”

“Morton is a tiger with rotten teeth, but Linus is valuable, and Augustine has potential. Very well. Do as you must.”

“I’m planning on it.”

“Kazarian is a simpleton,” Victoria said. “Jiang will do anything to save face. Both are completely devoted to family. Use it as a lever. Pierce is a rabid bitch but she isn’t stupid. She’ll bite if you back her into a corner, but her family made no moves to retaliate in any way after Adam’s conviction. They value public opinion.”

“What about Castellano?”

“Her charitable contributions have doubled in the last six months.”

My grandmother had known everything there was to know about the Pit project before I even came through the door.

Victoria leaned forward. “Never trust an altruist. Humans are selfish creatures. The only people who give away money either haven’t earned it or are trying to buy prestige or absolution with it. She has prestige. What has she done that she needs to atone so badly?”

You have no idea.

She looked off into the distance, the line of her mouth firm, her gaze hard. Frustration emanated from her, like hot air rising from scalding asphalt. I lost her for a moment. My grandmother was imagining five minutes alone with Cheryl. There was something about Cheryl Castellano she didn’t know, and it was killing her. I didn’t want to know exactly what she was thinking, but it probably involved cracking Cheryl’s mind like a walnut and picking out pieces of the shell looking for the good bits.

Would she be horrified when she found it or impressed?

“I’ll find out,” I told her.

Victoria snapped out of it. The corners of her mouth curled slightly. “It’s a race. Let’s see who gets there first.”

We sipped our tea. Another hurdle done.

“How far along is your sister?”

Do not react.

“Nevada is almost ready to give birth,” I said. “Would you like to be at the hospital?”

My grandmother raised her eyebrows. “House Rogan’s children do not interest me.”

“It’s your great-grandchild.”

“Your child will be my great-grandchild. Possibly Arabella’s, if she stays with the House. Nevada’s children belong to Arrosa. Let her dote. I’m not interested. Unless, of course, I’m forced to consider all my options. I’m sure there are ways I can use the child, or the mother, to my advantage if the circumstances require it.”

She looked directly into my eyes.

Ice burst through me. I fought her on the Ravenscrofts, and she just snapped my leash. This was a quid pro quo.

“Nothing is going to happen to my sister’s baby,” I said, my voice breezy. “Nevada will have a wonderful birth and will return home with her child, unhurt.”

Victoria smiled. “Or?”

“Or I’ll hit back and then I’ll excise myself.”

Excision meant being disowned and shunned. When a House excised someone, that person became a stranger. My grandmother wanted House Baylor to survive and she’d decided I was the only one who could deliver. She went for the jugular and I had to match her.

“You think I would stoop so low?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

She chuckled. It chilled me to the proverbial bone.

“Your Italian is back in town.”

We changed the subject again. The terms had been set and understood. My grandmother was moving on.

“He is.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

“How could I forget?”

“Good,” Victoria said. “He’s powerful. Use him, sleep with him if you must, but do not commit.”

I was so tired of everyone telling me what to do about Alessandro.

“Remember, you belong to your House.”

“I know,” I told her.

We drank our tea.

“Grandmother, suppose you have a group of people in a large area with many routes of escape. You have to kill every single one of them but don’t have the resources to surround their territory. How would you do it?”

Victoria smiled. “You’re finally asking interesting questions. Does this group have a leader?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s simple, my dear. Offer him what he wants, and he will bring his people to you to get it.”

I held it together until the parking lot. Walking through the prison had become a ritual. When I entered, I armored myself with every step in a perverted meditation, sinking deeper into Victoria’s granddaughter, cold, calculating, and ruthless. Someone like herself. Someone she would approve of. When I left, I shed chunks of that armor as I walked out. I couldn’t drop it completely. My grandmother had me watched, and if I ducked into the bathroom to cry the stress out, she would know and there would be hell to pay. Instead I took a lighter breath with each landmark. Exit the garden, let a little bit go. Turn the corner into the main hallway, a little more. Reach reception, another chunk. Exit the prison, exhale, but still hold it, to the car, through the parking lot, all the way to the side road two miles down.

Alessandro pulled up the moment I stepped outside. I got into the car, and he drove without a word. We turned right and sped down the lone road. I should have been able to just ride next to him, but the ritual had become too ingrained. By the time the side road swung into view, I was breathing shallow and fast.

“Make a right,” I asked, choking on the words.

He did. We rolled down the deserted country lane for another five hundred feet, behind the curve hidden from the main road by some trees. A small parking lot sat in the middle of the grove, barely wide enough to turn around. I had found it the second time I’d come to see her, after I panicked in the parking lot and drove, half-blind and crying, desperate for a place to hide.

“Pull over, please.”

He pulled into the parking lot. The car stopped. Blood pounded in my ears. My breath came too fast, my chest hurt, my throat constricted, squeezed in an invisible noose. I undid my seat belt with shaking fingers and slumped over. My arms trembled.

Alessandro’s arms closed around me.

I drew a long shuddering breath. It sounded like a sob. I just couldn’t get enough air in my lungs and I felt like I was dying.

He rubbed my back, the heat of his hand shocking even through the fabric of my blouse. I was so cold, and he was warm.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured in my ear. “It will pass. I’ve got you. You’re safe. She can’t see us.”

I concentrated on breathing. There was no point in fighting it. I had to let it wash over me and let it pass. Just wait it out. It was scary, and it felt like dying, but it wouldn’t cause any lasting damage. I’d felt this before, and I was okay after. This would pass and I would be okay again.

He held me. He didn’t know it, but in that moment, I would have done anything to just keep holding on to him.

Gradually my breathing slowed. I straightened my back and leaned on the seat. Alessandro stood next to me, his arms still wrapped protectively around my shoulders. He must have gotten out of the truck, come around, and opened my door, and I hadn’t noticed any of it.

And now he had seen my moment of weakness. Ugh.

“I’m okay,” I told him. “Thank you.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. His voice was quiet and warm. “Does this happen often?”

“No. Only after I see my grandmother. Talking to Victoria is like running along a razor-sharp blade. Sometimes I slip and she cuts me. Usually it isn’t this bad. The last time I just pulled over here and sat quietly for a couple of minutes.”

“What happened today to make it bad?”

“She wants me to twist Albert Ravenscroft’s arm to find out if his family is involved in the attacks on my family. I balked and she threatened to hurt Nevada’s baby.”

Alessandro’s amber eyes turned dark. “She would injure her own great-grandchild?”

“According to her, he would be House Rogan’s grandchild. He’s nothing to her. Nevada is nothing to her. They have the same talent, but Nevada chose Connor. Victoria will never forgive her.”

He leaned closer, his gaze searching my face. “Why are you her favorite? Does she have something on you? Did you promise her something?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did you promise?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Did it have something to do with me?”

He was too perceptive for his own good.

“What happened to you after you left?” Sometimes the best defense was a good offense.

Alessandro crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the open door. The sunlight filtered through the trees around us, painting glowing stripes on the pavement and the car. One stripe caught him and for a moment, before he shifted out of its way, he looked golden.

“I went to find my father’s killer. I was very full of myself then.”

“Was?”

“More than I am now.”

“How is that possible?”

He sighed, impossibly handsome. “I’m a miracle of nature.”

I raised my arms. “The defense rests its case, Your Honor.” My voice shook slightly. The last aftershocks of panic dying down.

He tilted his head. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’s the first question you’ve ducked since you came back.”

“You won’t tell me about the deal you made.”

Touché. I stepped out of the truck. He was in my way, and I had to brush by him. He raised his arm, blocking me. Our bodies connected. An electric spark of excitement dashed through me. I made a point of looking at his arm. He refused to move it. We stood way too close, the space between us so tense with expectation, if we closed the gap, we would explode.

“Where are you going?” His voice was low, intimate.

“Wherever I want.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Why do you want to know?”

This had to be the dumbest conversation ever. All of my brainpower was going into standing still and not raising my head to kiss him. He was barely touching me, but there was something hot and possessive in the way his fingers rested on my shoulder. I felt trapped, but there was no fear, only anticipation and lust, so much lust it was making my brain stutter.

He leaned half an inch closer, his eyes full of the orange fire that was his magic. This was the man who had stalked me through that MII hallway.

“Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there.”

This was a dangerous conversation. “I don’t need you to take me anywhere. I can drive myself.”

He smiled, a slow predatory curving of lips. “But I’m such a good driver. Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?”

“Are we still talking about the car?”

“You tell me.”

I tilted my head up and smiled at him. My wings unfurled from my back, translucent and radiant, like glowing gossamer. Alessandro looked at me with a desperate, quiet hunger.

“I’m going to see Albert Ravenscroft.”

“That’s what I thought. I will come with you.”

“No. I have to do this alone.”

“Don’t be difficult, Catalina.”

“If the Abyss attacks me, I will take away his matrix node. I’ve done it once already.”

“I checked on Albert. He, his father, his mother, and his younger brother are all Prime psionics. I’m not letting you walk into that house without backup.”

“I can handle the Ravenscrofts.”

He pretended to think it over. “No.”

“You are not in charge of me. According to the contract you signed with Linus, I can order you to leave.”

He leaned forward and smiled a sharp, predatory grin. “Fuck the contract.”

Wow. It’s like that, huh?

“I’ll make a deal with you,” I told him. “If I move you out of my way, you’ll surrender the driver’s seat and I will drop you off when we get back to town. If I can’t, I’ll let you come with me.”

“Mmm . . .” He pondered it, his gaze on my eyes, my lips, my wings . . . “Sounds like a good deal.”

“Can I trust you, Alessandro?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t go back on your word?”

“I won’t.”

Got you. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

I put my right hand on his left wrist and ran my fingers up his arm to his shoulder, feeling the steel-hard muscle.

“Good start?” I asked.

His voice was rougher. “Excellent start.”

I stepped back, sliding my hand back to his wrist. He followed. A step, another. Enough room.

I grabbed his wrist, raised it, turned into him so my back was pressed against his side and chest, locked my other hand on his shoulder, and straightened my legs, throwing all of my weight into it. He was several inches taller than me, which gave me the perfect leverage. My arm became a lever, my back became a pivot point, and Alessandro flew over my head and landed on his back with a thud.

Stunned eyes stared at me. I crouched, kissed my fingertips, pressed them to his lips, and walked to the driver’s side.

He grinned and jumped to his feet without using his hands. “Good throw.”

Oh no. I popped the jaguar on the nose and now he was excited.

“Who taught you that move?”

“You don’t need to know. You just need to know that it works, and I have more. You lost. Get into your seat and be quiet. I’m driving.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I can find my way from here. I will see you tonight.”

“Suit yourself.”

He shut the door, and I drove off. He would be okay.

Albert Ravenscroft wouldn’t be.

Piney Point Village was my least favorite neighborhood. One of six independent villages in the Memorial Villages luxury bedroom community, it was officially the most expensive little town in Texas. The Wall Street Journal once called it the “(Multi) Millionaire’s Haven.” It was a place of old trees and old money, where ten-million-dollar estates perched among meticulous landscaping guarded by endless HOA restrictions.

I missed Alessandro.

The street ended in a cul-de-sac in front of a stone mansion, lit up by orange light. A couple of years ago, the house was a part of the Piney Point architectural tour and the pamphlet had described it as a chateau. The best French chateaux were solid stone structures under high-pitched roofs, carefully balanced to be graceful and stately. The monstrosity in front of me was anything but.

From where I sat, parked, I could see at least eight different roof lines, six chimneys, three different arches, a balcony with an eave that matched nothing, a single turret randomly mashed into a wall, a smaller servant’s entrance on one side under a cosmetic dormer, and a gated porte cochere, arched and decorated with quoins that weren’t anywhere else on the building. It was as if some drunken architects jammed chunks of different buildings into a bag, shook it, and let this ten-thousand-square-foot mutant fall out.

On second thought, it was good that Alessandro wasn’t with me. He grew up in Villa Sagredo, which started out as an ancient watchtower and became the center of a breathtaking mansion in the mid-Renaissance. Beautiful architecture was in his blood. This mess of a house would give him a seizure.

I stared at the mansion. The first time Albert approached me was at the Blue Bonnet charity event. I was there because Nevada had a conflict in her schedule and sent me in her place. Nobody knew who I was, and I was perfectly happy sitting at a nice table in the corner waiting for the opportunity to drop Nevada’s check into the basket at the end of the speeches. I sipped my mimosa, looked up, and there he was. He’d smiled at me and said, “Can I sit here? If I fall asleep, my family will never forgive me, and you are the only interesting person in the room.”

I didn’t want to hurt Albert.

But I had to know. We, as a House, had to know.

I got out of the truck, my tablet in my hands, and walked to the entrance. The wrought-iron gate securing access to the front door stood open and I rang the bell. A Hispanic woman answered and smiled at me.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening. May I have your name?”

“Catalina Baylor,” I told her.

“Cat?” Albert came around an ornate staircase. His face lit up. “You’re here.”

Ugh. Albert had determined at some point that I required a nickname, made one up, and persisted in using it. I hated it, but we had bigger things to fight about.

“Can we talk?” I asked.

“Of course.”

I followed him to the sitting area opposite the door, where plush beige chairs ringed a mahogany coffee table. A grand piano waited in the round niche on the left, raised on a dais. Albert’s mother was an accomplished musician.

Albert smiled at me. “What can I do for you?”

“Leon spoke to you about a girl he knows, Audrey.”

“The little stalker. I remember.”

“Did you tell anyone about it?”

The smile slid off his face. That clearly wasn’t the topic he was expecting.

“You told someone. Who did you tell? It’s very important to me.”

He tapped his knuckles against his mouth, thinking. “I don’t think I told anyone. Wait, I might have mentioned it to Dad. Yes, I think I did. Why?”

The bottom fell out of my stomach. That’s what I was afraid of. “Is your father home?”

Albert rolled his eyes. “It’s seven o’clock. Where else would he be? Come on, he’s in the study. Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“Eventually.”

We wandered through the mansion to the study where the travertine floor gave way to dark wood paneling and floor-to-ceiling shelves. Christian Ravenscroft sat behind his desk, sipping coffee from a mug. He still wore a dark suit and a burgundy tie, as if he had just come home from the office. His hair receded, pure white like his eyebrows. His once-handsome face had grown heavier with age, its sharp lines turning square and blocky. He gave me a smile but didn’t rise. House Ravenscroft approved of Albert’s marriage ambitions, but to them I was “a nice girl,” polite, quiet, unlikely to embarrass them and therefore a good future spouse, but not quite on their level.

“Cat wants to talk to you, Dad.” Albert invited me to go ahead with a sweep of his hand.

“I’ll do my best,” Christian said. I was being humored.

“Maybe it would be better to speak in private,” I said.

“I have no secrets from my son.”

I surrendered to my fate. No matter how hard I tried, Albert wouldn’t be spared.

“Who did you tell about the connection between my cousin and Audrey Duarte?”

Silence fell on the study.

Christian frowned. He didn’t like the question or how I asked it. “Why would I know who your cousin is or care who he associates with? And if I did, who would I tell?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? I took the tablet and set it on his desk, so he and Albert could both see it.

“Please try to remember.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’d told someone. His voice held too much outrage. He was trying to use his age and position to intimidate me.

“Strathearn Pipeline,” I said. Last warning.

Christian showed no reaction. “As odd as this has been, I still have business to take care of tonight. If there’s nothing else . . .” He let it hang.

I tapped the tablet. On it a large crowd of people gathered on the shore of a picturesque lake, holding signs. The sun was setting and the green hills around the lake all but glowed.

“What’s the Strathearn Pipeline?” Albert asked.

“Strathearn is a small town in Maine. Its main source of income is tourism from the Strathearn lake. A year and a half ago the Synesis Corporation decided to build a Teflon factory in the area. They promised a lot of jobs, but the locals didn’t want factory jobs, they wanted clean water that was free of perfluorooctanoic acid, which the factory would dump into the lake. They lobbied their congressional representatives, and when that didn’t work, they started protesting.”

On the screen the protestors shook their signs. An older black woman lectured the cameras as journalists held their mics out to her. A young girl, about eight or nine, with curly red hair and pale skin, stood awkwardly next to her, not knowing what to do with herself.

“These weren’t anarchists,” I said. “Look, there are families there. Young people, old people, couples with children. They were locals who’d lived there for generations.”

Christian sighed, clearly put upon.

“The protests gained national attention. Synesis didn’t like the bad publicity, so they decided to do something about it.”

On the screen, someone screamed. Placards flew and people ran, colliding. The journalists dropped their mics and charged toward the lake. One of them ran into the older black woman, knocking her out of the way, his face a mask of primal terror. She fell. The redheaded girl tried to pick her up, but the crowd surged around them, and she fell too. People trampled them, running back and forth, stomping, wailing, hitting each other.

Albert stared at it. “A psionic attack. A really strong one, fear-based, omnidirectional, layered. A targeted attack would have driven them all in the same direction.”

“That’s what the National Assembly thought too. This went on for twelve minutes. Seven people died, three drowned, four were trampled. One man was paralyzed, and dozens suffered injuries. Synesis attempted to spin the whole thing as radical groups infiltrating the protests.”

“No,” Albert said. “It’s not multiple psionics, or the flow of the crowd would have varied in intensity. This is a single psionic, likely a Prime, delivering controlled bursts of magic along the perimeter. As soon as they run one way, the psionic pushed them in the opposite direction. They couldn’t escape. Nowhere was safe.”

“There is an investigation,” I continued. “The internal records of the company were subpoenaed. They show that a decision was made to hire an outside psionic for an exorbitant sum. Unfortunately, the only woman who knew the identity of the psionic jumped from the roof of a parking garage three months ago.”

A smile flickered on Christian’s face, half a second long, but I saw it. I spooled my magic, reinforcing my mental defenses. I had been reinforcing them since I drove away from Alessandro.

Albert was looking at his father.

“Samantha Corners is dead,” I said. “But she had insurance.”

I tapped the tablet. A country road came into focus with a black Escalade parked in the middle of it, filmed from the side, most likely by a hidden camera in someone’s pocket or handbag. Christian Ravenscroft crouched on a black square platform about ten feet wide, placed on a flat spot in the field, next to the SUV. He was drawing a complex arcane circle with a piece of chalk. Two hundred yards down, protesters chanted on the grass.

“Five minutes, no more,” a female voice said.

“Do you want this done right? If so, shut up.”

“We want what we paid you for.”

“And you’ll get it. Once I start, don’t interrupt. You don’t want to make things worse.” He finished the design, stepped into the circle, and closed his eyes.

Orange light dashed through the chalk lines and faded to a dull glow, throwing eerie highlights onto Christian’s face.

The first desperate scream tore through the air.

On the screen, Albert’s father smiled.

“Cascade . . .” Albert murmured, squinting at the circle. “You used our House spell.”

A torrent of magic tore out of Christian. It smashed into my defenses and broke against my mental wall like waves on a rock. He recoiled, stunned.

“Not strong enough,” I told him.

“Dad!” Albert thrust himself between us. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut. Up.” Christian hammered each word into the ground.

I walked over to one of the overstuffed chairs, sat down into it, and crossed one leg over the other.

“Why the hell would you do this?” Albert snarled. “Not only is your face on video, but the entire design of Cascade can be made out. All they have to do is call any local Prime psionic, and they’ll recognize it. Attacking her isn’t going to fix this.”

House spells were specific to each House, complex and closely guarded. Magic talents were like fingerprints, unique. Victoria and Nevada were both truthseekers, but even though they were related by blood, the exact nature of their talents differed slightly. Circles developed by a specific family wouldn’t work as well for anyone else because they were precisely attuned to the magic of that particular bloodline. When Christian had drawn Cascade on that board, he’d damned himself.

“If this gets out, we’re finished as a House.” Albert raised his arms. “We don’t need the money. Did you owe someone a favor? Were you blackmailed? Why?”

“Because I wanted to.” Christian’s expression turned dark, his cheeks flushed, his mouth a furious slash across his face.

The oldest reason in the book. All psionics restrained themselves. Their talents had no purpose outside of military applications or the rare cases civilian law enforcement required crowd control. There were memes online that showed random sad people with the caption “Psionic waiting for a riot.” They felt the pull to use their magic just as much as any of us, and they had turned practicing personal restraint into a religion.

“You wanted to?” Albert dropped his arms to his sides, slapping his legs. “Are we animals, Father? Do we have no self-control? Did you not drill the Mantra of the Psionic into me since before I could talk?”

“We have a bigger problem.” Christian stared at me. If looks were blades, I’d be a pincushion.

“You’re not strong enough,” I repeated. I knew exactly how I looked, slightly bored, emotionless, my expression icy.

Christian trembled, struggling to contain his rage. He’d sunk everything into that first attack. If it had hit me right after the Pit, I would have shattered and run for my life, straight into traffic, off some roof, or into the water. Whatever was handy. But I’d had time to recover.

“Who else knows?” Christian squeezed out through his teeth.

When I’d realized Albert was serious about marriage and he would not go away, I asked Bern to run a background check on the family. He came across an old business partnership between Samantha Corners’ sister and Christian Ravenscroft’s distant cousin. Other people had looked into Christian’s background, but none of them were Bern. Being a pattern mage, Bern had put the pieces together and then dug in other people’s personal computers until he found the recording two months ago.

“The Special Consul for the Department of Justice. You will be offered an under-the-table deal. Samantha Corners was a go-between, but she didn’t sign the check. They want the people who hired you.”

Albert stared at me. “He incited a crowd to violence, and they’re willing to make a deal? He murdered people.”

“They’re offering a deal because if this recording became public, it could spark civil unrest. The impact on psionics, in general, would be catastrophic. The National Assembly wants to protect psionics. The Department of Justice wants to avoid riots and further loss of life. They came to an agreement in the interest of the greater good.”

This deal left a bad taste in my mouth. Linus had explained it to me, after I brought him the recording, and he hadn’t even tried to put a pretty bow on it. He had predicted this outcome so precisely that I wondered how many times something like this had happened before. Two weeks later I had official confirmation from him. They would make a deal with a murderer.

Christian leaned on his desk as if he were about to climb over it. If I were within arm’s reach, he would have choked me to death. “How do you know all of this? You’re nobody.”

“That’s not important.”

“What are the terms of the deal?” Albert asked.

I pointed at Christian. “He’s done. Out.”

“Excision?” Albert turned pale.

I nodded. “He will testify as a disguised witness, you’ll be permitted to retain all assets, and his excision will take place before a sealed committee of the Assembly.”

Albert turned to his father, then back to me.

“I’m here for information,” I said. “If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll upload this video to every major streaming platform. Once it goes public, people will howl for blood and you can kiss your deal goodbye. The Assembly will rip you to shreds in retaliation. Your House won’t recover. If you attempt to harm or detain me, I’ll lobotomize you and then I will upload the video. If you shoot me right now, the video still gets uploaded and my House will murder everyone you love.”

Christian swore.

Albert turned to me, his eyes wide. “Who are you?”

“Also not important.”

“My father wouldn’t tell anyone about Leon. He wouldn’t even remember something like that.”

“Oh I think he did.”

“Why does it even matter?”

“Someone is targeting my House, Albert. You have one minute to think it over.”

“I wanted to marry you,” Albert whispered.

I wanted to say I was sorry. I wanted to hug him and tell him it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but any weakness on my part, any hint of kindness or compassion, and Christian would slip from my fingers.

I let my magic pour out of me. When I compelled people to fall in love with me, my wings were glorious, green and gold and shimmering. The wings that grew from my back now were black. The tips of my feathers glowed with crimson, as if I’d dipped my wings in blood. This was the other side of the coin. I’d learned I had it after Alessandro left, when I was in a dark place and wanted to be left alone. Leon had pestered me during dinner one night, I lost control, and the black wings made their debut. The family was stunned into silence for a whole thirty seconds. And then everyone called me Goth Princess for a week and Arabella kept leaving vampire novels by my door.

My wings stretched, huge, black, intimidating. I couldn’t actually do anything with them, the way I could use my other wings to entice, but they looked impressive.

Both men took a step back.

“I don’t think we would be a good match, Albert. Twenty seconds.”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Albert insisted.

“Ten seconds.”

Christian slumped in his chair. “All right.”

Albert frowned. “You told someone about her cousin?”

“I was approached at the club. A young telekinetic walked up to me on the green.”

“How do you know he was a telekinetic?” I asked.

Christian sneered at me. “He didn’t have to physically retrieve his balls.”

“When did this happen?”

“Last Saturday.”

Arkan’s people moved fast. “What did he ask?”

Christian sighed. “He asked if I was interested in removing you from my son’s life, and I said yes.”

Albert sat down in the chair and slumped forward on his right elbow on the armrest, his forehead on his fist. “This is a nightmare,” he said, his voice almost cheerful. “I’m going to wake up any minute, won’t I, Father? Why did you sabotage my relationship?”

“Because you could do better!”

Albert pointed to me. “Better than that? There’s a fucking angel of death in your study and you thought I could do better?”

“I didn’t have all the information at the time. She wouldn’t give you the time of day. I was sick of watching you chase after her like some lovesick puppy.”

“Did I ask for your help?”

“I am your father! I look after your future! They’re an upstart House, and Victoria Tremaine will rip them to shreds when she gets out.”

“My grandmother trusted me to handle this matter,” I said. “I’m here instead of her as a courtesy to Albert because of our friendship. House Tremaine doesn’t suffer fools, Mr. Ravenscroft. Don’t be one.”

Christian opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“Describe the telekinetic,” I prompted.

“Young, in his twenties. Dark hair. Tan skin. Good teeth. Accent.”

“What kind of accent?”

“Not sure.”

This was like pulling teeth. “Was he a member of the club or a guest?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Was he with someone else?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Did he offer you anything? Did he give you some way to contact him?”

Christian shook his head. “We talked for a bit while we walked. That was it. He didn’t tell me his name.”

“How did Leon’s name come up?”

“He asked what I thought about all your family members. I told him that I didn’t care for any of them. I told him that you acted as if you were too good for us, and even your damn dud cousin snubbed my son and told him some made-up stalker story about a girl named Audrey.”

Not much to go on. As soon as I got home, I would ask Bern to go through the surveillance next to the club and see if anyone looked familiar.

“What happened?” Albert asked.

“Audrey is dead. Leon was framed for her murder, but he has a bulletproof alibi.” I looked back to Christian. “Anything to add?”

Christian jutted his chin into the air, his eyes defiant. “I’m right. My son is too good for you.”

I hid my wings, rose, took my tablet, and walked out.