Ruby Fever

Chapter 4

I walked into my office, lowered the blinds with the remote, plunging the room into shadow, sat behind my desk, and took a long, deep breath.

Linus had been installed upstairs, in one of the numerous spare bedrooms of the main house. Dr. Patel, our House physician, was with him. The medical team inserted an IV, cleaned him, and checked him for additional injuries. There were none. All the blood had come from one epic nosebleed.

The prognosis wasn’t good. Linus was in a comatose, vegetative state. An MRI or CT would tell us nothing. We needed a positron emission tomography scan to evaluate his brain’s metabolism. Only the PET scan could predict if Linus would recover awareness. We didn’t have a PET machine on premises. Transporting Linus to a hospital was out of the question. Whoever tried to kill him might decide to finish the job, and a convoy would be a lot more vulnerable than keeping him here behind sturdy walls and constant guard.

A PET scan wouldn’t help Linus. It would be strictly for our benefit. Dr. Patel recommended taking the wait-and-see approach. Linus would either come out of it or he wouldn’t, and there was nothing any of us could do about it.

The Compound was on high alert. Patricia Taft, our security chief, was pulling in all off-duty personnel. In twenty minutes, the entire family would gather in the conference room across from my office. I needed to present a plan of action and I had to appear calm and unrattled.

I was very rattled. Calm wasn’t even in my vocabulary right now.

As I sat here, Linus could be slowly dying. He could be taking his final breath right this second, and I wouldn’t even know until they called me. A part of me had gone into a paranoid alert anticipating that any moment my phone would ring, and Dr. Patel would announce that Linus was gone.

What then? I didn’t know, but when we all met in a few minutes, somebody was bound to ask. I would have to give them an answer. And it would have to be an honest one, because while I could lie through my teeth to the entire state of Texas, I couldn’t bullshit my family.

A quiet scratching came from my door.

I swiped the tears from my eyes, got up, and opened it. Shadow slipped into the room. She was long and shaggy, with glossy black fur that curled backward and a surprisingly toothy mouth for a smallish dog.

“How did you even find me?”

Shadow wagged her tail. She was carrying a stuffed hamburger toy in her mouth. When I got upset, she would bring me her toys, and sometimes, if I didn’t pay attention to her efforts, she would climb up on the furniture and try to put the toy into my mouth to make me feel better.

I petted her and went back to the computer. Shadow curled up in the dog bed next to me.

I tapped my keyboard to bring my computer back to life, took the USB out of my pocket, and plugged it in. Lines of nonsense code filled the screen. Encrypted. Of course. I took the storage stick out. I would have to let Bern mess with it.

I logged into the Warden Interface with my credentials. The system let me in, and I selected “Emergency Notification” from the menu at the top of the page.

A new window popped up, blank. Linus had walked me through this. I was supposed to type out the nature of my emergency and wait for a response.

Speaker Luciana Cabera was murdered in a restaurant during lunch. Warden Duncan was attacked in his home and took Styxine. He is now in a vegetative state but stable and safe in my care. I suspect Arkan’s involvement. Prince Konstantin Berezin has approached me in my official capacity with an unspecified offer of assistance. Please advise.

I hit enter and waited. I had no idea if a Speaker of a State Assembly had been murdered before, but knowing the volatility of House politics, this probably wasn’t the first time. There were likely protocols in place to deal with dead Speakers, injured Wardens, and pushy foreign princes. Perhaps we would get some help, someone with more experience, a Warden from out of state or an agent from the National Assembly.

I got a tissue and dabbed at my eyes. If only I could stop crying, I would be okay. I wasn’t sobbing. The tears just kept leaking from my eyes, squeezed out by stress and pressure. If I walked into the meeting with my eyes all red, the entire family would focus on making me feel better instead of listening to what I had to say.

I needed to sort myself out and fast. Work was a great distraction. When you couldn’t deal with stress, sometimes it helped to sidestep it. I still had the Cabera murder, and I was overdue for a video call.

Agent Wahl answered immediately. “Agent Wahl.”

Some people looked exactly the way they were supposed to. Linus looked like a Prime, a top-tier mage who had been at the apex of power for decades. Similarly, Agent Wahl looked like an FBI agent: severe haircut, grave expression, athletic build, and that no-nonsense look in his eyes that suggested he knew you were up to no good even if you didn’t and he was not amused.

“You owe me a favor.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. That little affair involving two foreign Primes and a mysterious briefcase.”

“Still not ringing any bells.”

“The one that was rigged to explode if they didn’t open it in unison.”

“Oh, that briefcase. I’d nearly forgotten the whole thing.”

“Agent Wahl, it was two months ago. I dropped everything and came to your building on a Sunday. You owe the Office of the Warden a favor.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“It wouldn’t be a favor if you did.”

He sighed. “Lay it on me.”

I gave him the address of the warehouse. Our crew would be long gone by now.

“What’s there?”

“Something I need you to take point on. Consider this an anonymous tip.”

He gave a short chuckle and hung up.

I opened a browser and searched for Konstantin Berezin. A row of images popped up, followed by numerous links. Konstantin in a sharp dark-blue uniform with bloodred trim. Imperial Air Force. Konstantin next to his father, an older hard-faced man, both in suits and overcoats, posing for a publicity shot in the middle of a snow-strewn street, with the golden cupolas of some Russian cathedral behind them. Konstantin with his brothers, all in different military uniforms at some formal function.

One brother wore the black of the Imperial Navy and a magnanimous patient smile. The other brother, dark-haired like their father, looked like he wanted to punch somebody. Anybody. He didn’t seem to care who. His deep green Army uniform fit him like a second skin. Mom would call him squared away. Konstantin stood between them with a dreamy smile, as if he had just taken a long happy nap in a hammock under some tree.

Wolves in human skin, Alessandro called them. Now one of them was here. Why?

A soft beep announced an incoming message from the Wardens. Here we go. Help was on the way. I switched to the Warden Interface and clicked the message.

Understood, Acting Warden Baylor. Permission to investigate Speaker Cabera’s murder granted.

Godspeed.

Shit.

I stared at the screen.

Godspeed.

A soft knock made me raise my head. Mom stood in the doorway.

A spike of anxiety hammered into me. “Linus . . . ?”

“The same. You called the meeting in ten minutes, and the conference room is locked.”

Oh. I realized I was halfway out of my chair and sat down.

Mom shut the door and sat on the couch. Her leg bothered her today. I could tell by the way she moved, slightly stiff, careful how much weight she rested on it. For most of her life, Mom was athletic, strong, and fast. During a conflict in the Balkans, her unit had been caught between two enemy groups. The few survivors ended up in a POW camp in a small town taken over by Bosnians. Mom tried to escape and lead a group of soldiers out. She was caught.

They broke her leg and put her in a hole. It was a sewer shaft that led to a short maintenance tunnel, flooded with rainwater and sewage. The only dry spot was by the wall, about three feet wide. She slept sitting up. They would open the sewer cover once a day and throw down a bag of food, and if she was lucky and quick, she caught it before it fell into the foul water.

She didn’t know how long she stayed in the hole. When the camp was liberated, the military tried to fix her leg, but the damage was permanent. They gave her a handful of medals and an honorable discharge. She’d only told us about it once, to explain why her leg was damaged, and never spoke about it again.

In Mom’s head, she was never fast enough. She was always compensating. If a meeting was set for noon, she would get there by 11:45 a.m.

“What’s up with you?” Mom asked.

“I asked for backup,” I said.

“And?”

“It’s not coming.”

“Did you expect it would?”

“Yes, I kind of did. I asked them for advice, and they made me the Acting Warden and wished me Godspeed.”

“You got a promotion with extra responsibilities but without pay or additional benefits.” Mom smiled. “I’m so proud of you. You’re officially a successful adult.”

“I can now order around the highest level of state law enforcement. I suppose that’s a benefit.”

A very dubious one. Law enforcement didn’t like interference.

“In life, backup is rare. Knowing that is part of being a grown-up. Do you know what I would tell you if you were one of my soldiers?”

“What?”

“Handle your shit.”

I stared at her.

“You’ve been with Linus over eighteen months. You’ve been professionally trained. You have experience, skills, and power, and you know the procedure. Treat whatever it is like any other case.”

“Linus . . .”

“Linus will live or die on his own. There is nothing you can do to help him, so put him out of your mind. Concentrate on what you can do.”

I looked at my desk. She wasn’t wrong.

“What happens if Linus dies?” Mom asked.

“I become the Warden.”

“Which you would eventually anyway. He isn’t going to live forever, Catalina. None of us will. That’s why there is no backup. They want to know if you’re ready to do the job.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“In battle, when your officer dies, you don’t have the luxury of asking yourself if you’re ready. You assume command because you’re next in line and lives will be lost if you don’t. I have faith in you. So does Alessandro, and the rest of the family, and Linus. He picked you for the job. So, sweetheart, do whatever it is you need to do to get yourself right. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to go to the range, you know where the ammo is.”

I got up and walked over to her. “Can I have a hug?”

Mom opened her arms, and we hugged. She kissed my hair.

I almost cried. She used to hug me like this every time my magic leaked, and someone lost themselves to obsessing over me. She would hold me and tell me that it would be okay, that with practice I would get better. Mom always believed in me without any doubt.

“You and your sisters, you three are so different, and somehow you’re all the same.”

“How are we the same?”

“All of you can do anything you want if only you manage to get out of your own way. You especially. You need to get out of your own head, Catalina. You overthink everything. Put yourself on rails and go forward.”

“Okay,” I promised.

The door swung open, and Arabella stuck her head in. “Why is the conference room locked?” She saw me and Mom. “Are you getting Mom time? What happened? Something bad happened.”

“Close the door,” Mom told her.

Arabella retreated and shut the door.

“Are you ready or do you need a minute?”

“I’m good.”

Mom nodded. “I know. Let’s go do this.”

The entire family had gathered in the hallway, filling it wall to wall.

Leon, tall, lean, dark haired, with a dark tan and a white smile, leaned against the wall, because if there was a vertical surface present, my youngest cousin felt compelled to prop it up. Next to him Bern, his brother, larger, with broad shoulders, a muscular build, and hair that turned dark blond during summer and light brown in the winter, wrapped his arm around Runa. Her hair was blazing red, her eyes were green, and her skin was so pale that we all teased her about glowing in the dark. Bern carried a laptop and Runa held a tablet.

To the right, by the conference room, Arabella crossed her arms. Petite, tan, with an hourglass figure, my sister wore a black-and-white floral Jacquard dress with a crew neckline, fitted waist, and flared skirt. She paired that with black pumps. Her blond hair, which she recently toned to a cool ash shade, rested on her head in an artfully loose updo, which she called “the most popular girl in church hair.” She must’ve had a high-profile business meeting this morning.

Behind them, Grandma Frida frowned at her phone. She was about the same height as Mom, but they couldn’t be more different. Grandma Frida was slender, bird-boned, with a halo of platinum curls. Her mechanic coveralls were stained with a fresh smudge of engine grease. Mom was solid, with light brown skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, which turned distant when she measured the distance for a kill shot.

Just behind them Cornelius waited, dressed in light summer suit slacks and a grey vest that fit his trim body with custom precision. He’d rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his elbows. His blond hair was slightly ruffled. Cornelius always dressed impeccably, but no matter what he wore, unless the occasion was really formal, he managed to look effortlessly casual. Gus, his massive black-and-tan Doberman, sat by his feet. When we met Cornelius and Matilda, they’d had another Doberman, Bunny, but Bunny and Matilda were the same age and after years of faithful service and a lot of playing, Bunny was slowing down. Gus was one of the puppies he had sired, which was why Leon insisted on referring to him as Gus Bunnyson.

Patricia Taft, our security chief, stood beside Cornelius. In some ways, they were polar opposites. Cornelius was artfully disheveled and appeared nonthreatening. Everything about Patricia was precise, from her dark brown hair put away into a French braid to the beige pantsuit that complemented her brown skin. She wore the pantsuit like a uniform, and she projected confidence and authority that made people fall in line when they saw her coming.

Alessandro emerged from his office carrying a plastic container with a lid. He saw me and made a trapping motion with the container. Jadwiga. Right.

I held a key up. “I need you to form a single file line.”

The family stared at me.

“You have to enter the conference room one at a time, watch where you put your feet, and check your chair.”

Bern turned to Leon.

“What?” Leon batted his eyes at him in pretended innocence.

“You know what,” Bern told him.

“Why?” Mom asked.

“Because a very rare spider escaped its containment in the conference room this morning. It’s an endangered species. It’s also worth a quarter million dollars.”

“Perfect,” Arabella said.

“My deepest apologies,” Cornelius said, looking troubled. “I’ve spoken to Matilda.”

“If you see the spider, please don’t squish it.” I unlocked the door and stood aside. “Yell, and Alessandro will trap it.”

“I’ll definitely yell,” Runa said. “But I can’t guarantee the no squishing part.”

“Try,” I told her.

The family filed into the conference room. I waited for a scream. No shrieks came. Alessandro crossed the hallway, the plastic container in his hands, and invited me into the conference room with a sweep of his hand. I walked in, checked my chair, and took my place at the head of the table. Alessandro sat on my right. Patricia sat on my left.

Bern set the laptop at the end of the table and tapped some keys. Connor and Nevada appeared on the screen mounted on the far wall. My brother-in-law was in his work mode, dressed in black and doing his best to loom. Connor was a large man, with dark hair and intense blue eyes, and he radiated menace like a space heater radiated warmth.

My older sister waved at us. Her honey-blond hair was braided away from her face. She wore a white dress, which meant she either was about to go out or had just come back from somewhere, because Arthur Rogan and white dresses did not mix. My nephew was thirteen months old, and we all suspected that someone had switched him with an Energizer Bunny when nobody was looking. He’d learned to walk, and as soon as he could take a couple of steps unassisted, he decided he had places to go and things to do and when that failed, he levitated things to himself. His control was a bit wobbly and sometimes his sippy cups opened in midair.

“Is the feed off?” I asked.

Runa passed the tablet to Bern. He flicked his fingers across it. “Yes.”

No record of this meeting would be made.

I kept my face neutral. “At 11:02 this morning Luciana Cabera was murdered at the Respite.”

The room went completely silent.

“The attacker was likely a Prime telekinetic, who impaled her with two spikes, one through the chest, one through the mouth.”

I tapped my phone. The screen on the wall behind me showed Luciana Cabera pinned to the wall in all of its HD gore. I let it sink in and tapped the phone again. The image of a spike extracted from the body filled the screen.

I looked at Connor.

He raised his voice. “Jeremy, clear my schedule for the next week and find Bug.”

“We suspect that the telekinetic is Xavier Secada,” Alessandro said. “The weapon and the manner of the murder fits his MO.”

Xavier’s portrait appeared on the screen. Of average height, Xavier was lean and pretty. Some men grew more masculine in their twenties, and Xavier had done some growing up, but his face still retained a slightly androgynous beauty. The first time I saw him, five years ago, I thought he looked like a singer from a boy band. His bronze skin glowed with a perfect tan. His chestnut brown hair was cut in a flattering style, the kind that screamed, “I go to an expensive salon, and I enjoy it.” His dark eyes were arrogant and cruel, and the smirk on his lips told you he had a high opinion of himself.

“That little shit,” Grandma Frida said.

“Xavier’s involvement means the murder was committed with Arkan’s blessing,” Alessandro continued. “At this point we don’t know what motivated him to have the Speaker murdered. Arkan prefers to remain in the shadows and when he has to eliminate a public figure, he typically arranges an accident or makes them disappear.”

“The Respite is owned by Linus,” I said. “Shining a searchlight on Linus isn’t convenient right now, so we moved the crime scene.”

Arabella pivoted toward me. “Why? What happened to Linus?”

Mom raised her hand and made a simmer-down-now motion. “He will be fine. Don’t freak out.”

“What’s going on?” Arabella’s voice spiked. “Will somebody tell me what happened?”

“I will if you stop talking for a second.” I took a deep breath. “Sometime in the last twenty-four hours, Linus was attacked in his home. Pete is dead.”

Arabella sucked in a sharp breath. Sadness touched Mom’s face. She and Pete had been friends. Bern looked alarmed, which almost never happened. On the laptop screen both Connor and Nevada went expressionless. My sister had picked up her husband’s habit.

“Linus made it to the vault,” Alessandro said. “The attacker was a mental mage, because Linus took two double doses of Styxine.”

Grandma Frida whistled.

“Is he conscious?” Connor asked.

“No,” I said.

“What’s Styxine?” Runa asked.

“It’s a mental defense drug,” Connor said. “Military issue. It takes your consciousness completely off-line. The mage can’t kill you if they can’t sense your mind. It can render you permanently comatose, so it’s a last resort.”

“Can we give him something?” Arabella demanded.

“No,” Mom told her. “We have to wait for him to wake up on his own.”

Arabella squeezed her fists. I needed to move past the “Linus might not wake up” part.

“He activated the siege protocol, which I disabled to get him out of the vault.”

“Where is he now?” Runa asked.

“In the spare bedroom upstairs in the main house,” I told her.

Arabella jumped up.

Mom pointed to the table. “Sit.”

My sister sat.

“Dr. Patel is with him,” Mom said. “When the meeting is over, you may see him.”

Alessandro leaned back in his chair. “We’re going on high alert. Nobody goes anywhere without an escort or backup.”

Patricia nodded. “Very well.”

I looked at Bern. “Linus’ house with all of its toys is defenseless unless we can bring the security system back online.”

There was enough firepower under that house to topple the government of a small country.

“I’ll handle it,” he said.

“I’ll go with him,” Runa said.

Runa was a Prime venenata, a poison mage, and she loved Bern. My cousin couldn’t have asked for a better bodyguard.

“Thank you,” I said. “Leon, I’ve handed the Cabera investigation to Agent Wahl. I’d like you to shadow him. Watch him, let me know what he’s doing, and keep him safe in case Arkan makes a run at him.”

“Will do.” Leon glanced at Runa. “Have fun bodyguarding the nerd, while I babysit the FBI.”

She snorted.

I texted him the address of the warehouse and looked at Connor and Nevada. “It would really help if we had some cover story for why Linus isn’t available.”

“No problem,” Nevada said.

Connor looked at me. “Let me know the moment you see Xavier.”

As soon as this meeting ended, he would unleash Bug, his surveillance specialist, onto the city of Houston. Bug was relentless and he processed visual information at superhuman speed. Xavier didn’t know it, but the moment he found himself in Bug’s crosshairs, his little outing would be over.

“We have another problem,” Alessandro said. “For reasons unknown as of now, the Russian Imperium has taken an interest in this situation.”

I tapped my tablet and Konstantin popped onto the screen in all of his uniformed glory.

Grandma Frida sat up straighter. “Well!”

“Mother . . .” Mom growled.

“I’m old, Penelope. Not dead or blind.” Grandma Frida grinned. “Besides, I always loved a man in uniform.”

“For the love of God,” Mom muttered.

“Who is he?” Leon wanted to know.

“Prince Konstantin Leonidovich Berezin, of Blood Imperial,” I said. “Nephew of Emperor Mikhail II. Son of Grand Duke Leonid Sergeyevich Berezin, who is the Director of the Imperial Security Service.”

Nobody said anything. We all just stared at Konstantin’s image for a long moment.

“This is not good,” Connor said.

My brother-in-law, master of the gentle understatement.

“We don’t know why the Imperium has chosen this moment to become involved,” I said.

“We will shortly,” Alessandro said. “Meanwhile, I want to stress the risks involved.”

He picked up my tablet, fiddled with it, and Augustine Montgomery appeared on the screen. He was tall and lean, with platinum-blond hair cut with razor precision and the face of a demigod. His expensive white suit fit him like a glove, and he looked at the world through a pair of thin wire glasses with amusement and slight derision.

Augustine started out as the owner of our business loan and our boss and potential enemy and ended up becoming a friend. It was friendship on his terms, but friendship, nonetheless. House Baylor and House Montgomery were allies, despite being business rivals, and the fact that Augustine and Connor had been roommates and friends in college only sealed that alliance tighter.

Alessandro nodded at the screen. “Could you describe Augustine for me?”

“Stuck up,” Leon said.

“Business oriented,” Bern said. “Competent.”

“Ruthless,” Arabella said. “But fair.”

“Smart,” I added. “Dangerous. Good at deception.”

“Compassionate,” Runa said.

We all looked at her.

“He is, to a degree. If it wasn’t for him, Ragnar might not be here.”

Augustine was the one who convinced me to drop everything and rush to a hospital roof in the middle of the night to pull Runa’s brother off a ledge with my magic before he did something that couldn’t be undone.

“Anything else?” Alessandro asked.

“Beautiful,” Grandma Frida added.

Alessandro tapped the tablet. A video started on the screen showing a gym empty except for two young men. One was Augustine—tall, platinum-blond hair cut short, and a face that was just a hair short of absolute perfection.

Something was slightly off about this Augustine. He seemed younger. I couldn’t put my finger on any specific detail that indicated his age. He just gave an overall impression of a man in his early twenties, just like the present-day Augustine gave an overall impression of a man in his early thirties. But it wasn’t the age. It was something else.

I scrutinized the image. He was barefoot and dressed in a simple white T-shirt and dark shorts. What was it?

His opponent, a tall dark-haired man, turned and we saw his face. Connor. For a moment I didn’t recognize him, but his blue eyes were unmistakable.

He looked like a different person.

This Connor had all the same features that my brother-in-law did, but the man in the video lacked Connor’s trademark intensity. Connor exuded menace. The man on the screen had none of it. He held himself with relaxed ease. Pre-war Connor, before the seismic shift that turned him into Mad Rogan.

Nevada turned to Connor. “When was this?”

Connor squinted at the screen. “Day after graduation. A week before I shipped out. Where did you get this?”

“That’s not important,” Alessandro said.

“Yes, it is. I don’t have this.”

Nevada looked at Bern. “Tell me you didn’t hack the MII server?”

Bern looked at her for a moment. “Of course not. That would start a war.”

“You got it from De Silva,” Connor said.

Nevada glanced at him. “Who’s De Silva?”

“He’s the one filming.”

On the screen Augustine and Connor squared off.

“Ready?” Augustine asked.

“Any time,” Connor said.

Connor was enormously strong and almost as fast, and once he got going, he was capable of devastating power. Present-day Augustine was as tall as Connor, but he had to weigh fifty pounds less. If you put them side-by-side, Augustine would seem almost fragile by comparison. The idea of them sparring seemed absurd. How did this even happen? Did Augustine lose a bet?

“Today, ladies,” a third male voice said off camera. “Let’s start this tea party.”

On-screen Connor grinned. “Still waiting . . .”

Augustine’s hands came up. The muscles on his arms flexed.

The feeling of wrongness crystallized. This Augustine was larger. His shoulders were broader, his arms more muscular, his legs hard and defined. Standing across from Connor, he was only slightly leaner. Oh my God.

“Augustine was buff,” Runa observed.

“He still is,” I said. “He slims himself down.”

Alessandro smiled at me, proud that I got there first.

“What?” Arabella asked.

“Pause it,” I asked.

Alessandro tapped the tablet and the image on the screen froze.

“Look at the proportion of his shoulders to his chest. The Augustine we know has narrower shoulders, a shallower chest, and longer waist. Even the line of the shoulders is wrong. You can lose the muscle mass, but you can’t alter the skeletal structure of your body. He slims himself down with his magic.”

“He also gives himself two inches of height,” Connor said. “Makes him look thinner.”

Alessandro touched the tablet.

Augustine exploded into movement. His right fist hammered into Connor’s jaw, lightning fast.

“Holy shit!” Leon said.

Connor shied back, his hands up, and Augustine delivered a vicious kick into Connor’s left knee. Connor must have sensed it, because his leg came up, but Augustine still connected. The impact staggered Connor back.

“He’s fast,” Bern said, professional appreciation in his voice.

Both of my cousins leaned forward, focused on the screen. So did Arabella. For a moment she’d forgotten Linus. Her eyes tracked the two combatants on the screen. There was something slightly predatory in the way she watched them, like a cat watching two other cats fight.

Connor leaped back and launched a low kick that grazed Augustine’s thigh. Augustine danced back. His eyes lit up. His lips stretched in a smile. “Ow.”

Connor attacked, his arm snapping out like a sledgehammer. Augustine parried, crossing his arms, drove a front kick into Connor’s left thigh, and took a vicious jab to the arm for his trouble. They danced across the gym floor, kicking, punching, and growling. It was both beautiful and terrifying to watch.

On-screen, Augustine leaped. His right leg shot out like a swinging baseball bat, aiming for Connor’s head. At the last moment, Connor sidestepped, grabbed Augustine’s leg, and jerked him down. They rolled on the mat.

“Nice,” Bern said.

Connor locked Augustine into a half nelson for half a second. Augustine twisted his face away and rolled, landing on top of Connor. Connor bridged, throwing Augustine off, and hammered a punch to Augustine’s ear. Augustine snarled and kneed Connor in the face.

The mood shifted. They were playing before, aiming kicks and punches where it wouldn’t cause lasting damage. The gloves just came off. This was no longer a sparring session. This was a fight.

The view moved, bobbing closer.

“All right,” the invisible De Silva called. “On your feet. You’re done.”

They ignored him, trying to outmuscle each other.

Something hissed and flame retardant foam shot over them.

The two combatants broke apart.

“What the fuck, Thushan?” Augustine snarled.

“You should thank him. You’re shit on the mat.” Connor wiped the blood from his nose and flung it in Augustine’s direction.

“Fuck you too.”

Augustine rolled to his feet. He was muscled like a gymnast. His face blurred, and he was back to a younger version of the Augustine we knew, elegant, lean, and glacial.

The video stopped.

Augustine had scammed us. When we had listed his attributes, the first thing on that list should’ve been “a trained killer.”

I looked at Bern. “If you had to . . .”

He shook his head. “He’d kill me.”

“Augustine Montgomery is a highly capable martial artist,” Alessandro said. “Most high caliber illusion mages are. They assume other people’s identities and enter dangerous situations, usually to gather information or to kill their target. Primes like Augustine can obscure their movements in a fight. He didn’t do that here, but if it was a real fight, and he had a knife . . .”

“Connor would still beat Augustine’s ass,” Leon said.

My younger cousin had become a shameless Mad Rogan fanboy in middle school, and he never outgrew it. As far as Leon was concerned, Connor walked on water and ate enemy tanks for breakfast.

“He blurs,” Connor said. “You think his hand is in one place, and then there is a knife pressed against your ribs, and you didn’t see it get there. I wouldn’t fight him hand to hand. I’d kill him from a distance. But Augustine will never do anything to hurt anyone in this room.”

“Did you know?” I asked Nevada.

She nodded. “They spar sometimes.”

“And you didn’t tell us, why?” Mom asked.

Nevada looked sheepish. It almost never happened. “It didn’t occur to me. Like Connor said, he isn’t a threat. Connor and he had a moment a few years ago. It realigned Augustine’s worldview.”

“Trust me,” Connor said. “All of his veiled threats and scary promises are bullshit. He is a friend.”

“Could have fooled me,” Mom said, her voice flat.

Connor grimaced. “He has issues.”

“Konstantin Berezin can do everything Augustine can do and probably more,” Alessandro said. “If you encounter him, treat him like a cobra. Try to stay out of striking range. He kills quickly and without hesitation.”

“Agreed,” Patricia said. “A cornered illusion mage can be a very challenging opponent.”

In my mind, once an illusion mage was discovered, they were somehow rendered powerless. Clearly, that would be a deadly mistake to make. Being told Konstantin was lethal was one thing. Watching Augustine, whom we had all dismissed as a noncombatant, turn into a murder machine wasn’t something I would forget.

“Obviously, Konstantin complicates matters,” I said. “But our main priority is still protecting Linus and solving the Speaker’s murder.”

“On that note,” Nevada said. “We have some lousy news.”

“PAC?” Bern asked.

Connor looked like he’d bitten into a rotten apple. “We’ll handle it.”

Principal Action Consulting, or the PAC as they called themselves, recently became a very sharp thorn in House Rogan’s side. Just like Connor, they offered a private army for hire and, just like Connor’s army, they were led by a powerful Prime, Matthew Berry, a tagger. Taggers marked a spot in a structure and then saturated it with arcane energy until it exploded. Matthew was a one-man artillery battery.

The PAC was started by Matthew’s father. Back then it had been called the Black Hurricane, and after Connor erupted onto the military scene, people kept asking them if Mad Rogan and their outfit were somehow involved. The father and son duo got tired of it and changed the name.

But the real trouble started last year. A group of archeologists was taken hostage in Pakistan, four of them American citizens. For complicated political reasons, the United States government wanted to rescue them quietly. They contacted the PAC. The father of one of the archeologists and Connor’s mother’s friend contacted Connor. While Berry and the government haggled, Connor went in with a small team and saved the hostages.

For no apparent reason, Berry viewed this as a flex. What should have been a business rivalry at best turned deeply personal and the younger Berry decided to wipe House Rogan off the planet’s surface. If Connor’s people took one side of a conflict, Berry made sure to get hired for the other. They’d clashed several times on foreign soil, and we all knew the final confrontation was coming and soon.

“Berry is massing his troops in Austin,” Connor said.

Berry was headquartered in Virginia. There was no reason for his people to be in Austin, only a few hours from us. He was preparing for an offensive against Connor. Everyone here knew it, and none of us would do anything about it. Whoever made the first move would have to bear the legal ramifications. It was smarter to get attacked than to land the first blow.

Berry was a significant threat, and the timing was very coincidental. I never counted on help from Connor and Nevada, although it was always available, simply because we needed to be self-sufficient. But now we knew for sure that we had to rely on ourselves. I needed to alter our plan a bit.

“Arabella?”

She looked at me. The fury in her eyes was still there.

“Whoever tried to kill Linus will likely want to finish the job,” I said.

“I hope they try. Nobody touches my family.”

I supposed we all saw Linus as family. Linus treated the three of us as his granddaughters and Bern and Leon as his grandsons, and he especially doted on Arabella. He let her steal his whiskey and cigars, and sometimes she would ask him for advice. Nevada got respect and guidance, I got education and lectures, but Arabella got beaming approval. If we lost Linus, she would be inconsolable. I would be inconsolable.

“You’re staying in,” I told her. “You don’t leave the Compound no matter what happens. You’re our final line of defense.”

“Fine by me.”

“We’re done,” I said. “Everyone knows what to do.”

Nevada waved and the laptop screen went dark.

I walked over to Bern and handed him the USB. “I need to know what’s on it.”

“Will do.”

He got up, and Runa and he left. Leon sauntered out the door. Mom nodded to Arabella. My sister jumped off her chair and the two of them went out of the room.

Cornelius also rose to his feet. He’d stayed so quiet throughout the meeting, it was easy to forget he was there.

“Just a moment.” I got up, went back to my office, took the Ziploc bag with Luciana’s brush out of my desk drawer, and brought it back to the conference room. “I’d like you to check something for me.”

“I’m all ears,” he told me.