Ruby Fever

Chapter 5

The sound of my phone pulled me away from the computer screen. I glanced at it. Linus.

Linus?!

“Yes?”

“I broke into Linus’ phone,” Bern said.

Damn it. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Bern made a deep rumble that was probably a chuckle.

“Did you find anything good?”

“The last call he took was at 6:43 p.m. Sunday night. All others went to voice mail. The first of these was at 10:51 p.m. That’s likely your window.”

“The first call that went to voice mail, who was it from?”

“Zahra Kabani.”

Zahra Kabani was the Warden of Michigan. Linus and she were working together on tracking a fugitive. He would’ve taken her call.

“Any progress on the security system?”

“Working on it. How’s Linus?”

“Still unconscious.”

“No change is better than a change for the worse.”

“True. What about my USB?”

“Working on it.”

He said goodbye and hung up.

I rubbed my face. Whatever happened to Linus likely happened between 6:43 p.m. and 10:51 p.m. on Sunday night. We would narrow it down even further once the coroner was done with Pete.

Pete’s face crisscrossed by the dark starburst of lines surfaced from my memory. I pushed the thought aside and stared back at the screen.

Alessandro and I decided to divide and conquer. He reached out to his international contacts trying to figure out why the Russian Imperium was suddenly interested in Texas or its Warden, and I decided to work on House Cabera.

My head hummed. I should probably eat something and soon. I rummaged in my desk drawers, found a packet of jerky, tore it open with my teeth, and surveyed the fruits of my labor. For a two-hour deep dive into all things Cabera, I hadn’t come up with much.

Luciana Cabera, halcyon Prime, Head of the House, fifty-six years old, widowed. For some reason I thought she was in her early sixties.

Husband, Fredrick Cabera, halcyon Prime, ten years her senior, died of cancer six years ago. Fredrick had joined House Cabera and taken his wife’s last name. From what I could gather, he had been born in South Africa and had wanted to immigrate to the US. At the time the US had prohibited immigration from SA due to an Ebola outbreak. Marrying Luciana allowed him to sidestep the ban.

Daughter, Kaylee Cabera, twenty-two years old. Full-time student at Rice University, right here in Houston. Her driver’s license and her IP address confirmed that she still lived at home. Kaylee either hadn’t wanted to leave the nest or wasn’t allowed to.

Luciana had two brothers, one uncle, three aunts, and her parents were still alive, although neither was in good health. Besides Luciana, House Cabera officially listed one other certified Prime, Luciana’s elderly mother. However, Luciana’s twelve-year-old niece and her seventeen-year-old nephew had both undergone preliminary trials and tested in the Prime range. Their official certification would wait until they turned eighteen. The rest of the family fell into the Significant range.

Unlike a lot of other Houses, the Caberas did not diversify their business interests. The Serenity Clinic was their primary source of income, aside from some privately held stocks. All of the adult Caberas worked for the clinic, all of them held relevant degrees or were in the process of obtaining them, and none of them had attempted to break away from the family business.

None of them had been involved in any scandals, nobody had a criminal record, and their credit reports were blissfully free of bankruptcies and large debts. They were respectably boring.

Luciana’s political career was equally as boring. I couldn’t find a single matter she had brought before the Assembly in the last three years that could’ve put her into Arkan’s crosshairs. I seriously doubted he cared about House inheritance minutiae or the exact procedure for the certification of Primes in the state of Texas. All of it was local and region specific.

I tapped my pen against my lips. There was one thing that bothered me. According to Herald gossip, Kaylee Cabera was a Prime like her parents. Most Primes couldn’t wait to undergo the trials. Four of Kaylee’s cousins had taken the preliminary test, and while it didn’t grant certification, it let the family ballpark their power range. Two of them had been designated as tentative Primes and the other two were likely Significants. House Cabera had plastered the results all over their website. I couldn’t find any record of Kaylee’s preliminary test or her submitting to the trials.

There were reasons for which a Prime might delay being officially recognized. Usually, they had to do with business or family considerations. For example, a House involved in a feud might postpone the trials to appear weaker than they were and surprise their opponents.

However, the Caberas didn’t feud, and Kaylee was a fixture among the young House scion scene. Her Instagram and Herald told me she was a privileged child. She wore expensive clothes, drove luxury cars, dined in trendy restaurants, and hung out with people who did the same. I pulled her transcripts from Rice through the Warden Network. She ran track and was pursuing a B.A. in psychology and her grades in public speaking classes told me that if she suffered from social anxiety, she had a good handle on it.

Sometimes people deliberately hid their talents. Olivia Charles, the woman who’d killed Cornelius’ wife, had been a manipulator, a mage who could impose her will on other people’s bodies. She had registered as a psionic. But that scenario still required one to show up for the trials.

Something just didn’t feel right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and I would have to interview Kaylee to get more information.

My phone chimed. Agent Wahl. I braced myself.

“Hello?”

“That’s one hell of a favor!” Agent Wahl hissed into the phone in that way people do when they’re furious but have to look calm because they have an audience.

“We’re even now.”

“I don’t know what we are right now, Prime Baylor. This is a staged scene. What do you expect me to do with this?”

And how did he know that? Linus’ crew had successfully relocated three murders during my tenure alone, all with no one the wiser. They were flawless.

“I expect you to investigate. Very loudly. It would help if you refused to answer questions, then had a press conference where you gave the bare minimum of information, and then refused to answer questions again.”

“You want me to be a distraction.”

“I want to be free to conduct the investigation. Besides, you enjoy press conferences. You can wear that black suit again, the one you said makes you look inscrutable but official.”

“Does the Warden know about this?”

“As of now, I am the Acting Warden. The National Assembly appreciates your cooperation and understanding, Agent Wahl.”

There was silence.

“Is he alive?” he asked.

“In a manner of speaking.”

More silence.

“I want in,” Wahl said.

“You are in. I reached out to you because I trust you. Because he trusted you. I need you to investigate the case, bring me in as a consultant, and take the credit when it’s solved.”

“By solved, do you mean the truth or a cover story the National Assembly finds convenient?”

“It will be a version of the truth we can both live with.”

More silence.

“Fine,” Wahl said. “As long as you understand that I am a fucking FBI agent, and I will not allow myself or the agency to be used to delude the public.”

I could bring up the Warden Network and offer him a dozen examples of the FBI doing just that. But I needed him on my side, and I respected his ethics. They aligned with mine.

“I have every intention of solving this murder and bringing the culprit to justice. We’re not going to frame anyone or let anyone go unpunished. Can you live with that?”

“I’ll take it. I’m going to talk to the Cabera family.”

“Can I meet you there?”

“Yes. I want to get there by five. Don’t be late.” He hung up.

I walked over to Alessandro’s office. He leaned back in his chair, his feet on the table, a phone to his ear. I rapped my knuckles on the doorway. He winked at me.

“Love and kisses to Maya. Ciao!”

He hung up and grinned at me.

“Ciao?”

I had never heard him say that in a professional setting. Ciao was very informal, both a greeting and a goodbye, and it had originated from the Venetian dialect’s s’ciào vostro meaning “I am your slave.” The phrase wasn’t meant literally; it was used more as “I’m at your service” and it was mostly said to younger people and friends and family, those you knew very well.

“What’s the point of stereotypes if you can’t use them to your advantage?”

“I’m so glad to hear that.”

“Why?”

“Wahl called. He wants to interview the family. Kaylee, Luciana’s daughter, is my age. I need the Count.”

Alessandro’s entire persona changed. He took his feet off the table and sat straighter in his chair, throwing one long leg over the other. His pose acquired elegance. His expression turned suave. He looked worldly, slightly jaded, yet breathtakingly handsome.

“Is this the Count you were looking for?” A light Italian accent overlaid his words like a glossy polish.

“Yes. That’s the guy.”

“And what will this humble Count get if he comes with you?” His voice was like velvet.

“The satisfaction of a job well done?”

“I was thinking of something more substantial.”

“Like what?”

“Once this is over, we go away for a weekend to the coast. I don’t care which, as long as there is clear blue water and hot weather. No meetings, no appointments, no phone.”

I knew what he was asking. Whether Linus survived or not, we would do this, because it was about us alone. “Done. Will you take a kiss as a down payment?”

“I’d be a fool not to.”

I walked over and leaned down. My lips touched his. I started tentative and gentle, a tease rather than a promise, just a hint of things to come. His mouth opened. I caught his breath, and my tongue brushed his ever so slightly. His hand slid into my hair, and he kissed me back, hungry but savoring every moment. We kissed while the world stood still and when we finally came up for air, I had to stop myself from reaching for his clothes.

Count Sagredo gave me a dazzling smile. “I am at your service, tesoro mio.”

Luciana Cabera and her daughter lived in River Oaks, less than ten minutes away from Linus on foot, in a seven-million-dollar mansion. The 8,500 square foot home sat in the middle of a manicured acre and was built in what Alessandro started calling Houston European style, meaning it was a pseudo-Mediterranean beige stucco house with a colonnade and an inexplicable round turret of brown stone that matched nothing else.

Alessandro grimaced as we pulled up to the house and parked Rhino behind a stereotypical black SUV with federal license plates. Rhino was Grandma Frida’s special project, a custom armored SUV she built from the ground up. It was the most secure vehicle we had that could still pass for a somewhat civilian car.

“Snob.”

He gave me a pained look. “Why does it have a turret, Catalina? Are they expecting an army of medieval knights and trebuchets?”

“You never know,” I told him.

“It’s a Tuscan colonnade interrupted by a Scottish turret with Tudor windows.”

“You can hold on to my hand. I’ll lead you in while you avert your eyes.”

“No need.”

My phone chimed.

“Cornelius,” I told Alessandro and put the phone on speaker.

“You were right,” Cornelius said. “It’s recent. Less than twenty-four hours.”

Damn it. I had hoped I was wrong.

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course. Any time.”

I said goodbye and hung up.

Alessandro was looking at me.

“Do you remember the brush I stole from Luciana’s purse? I gave it to Cornelius. He took the brush and Gus to Linus’ house and had Gus check the scent signatures. Luciana’s scent is in the yard and in the house, and it’s fresh. As the Speaker, she had unprecedented access to the Warden. They likely had many confidential meetings. He might have added her as an exception to his security system.”

“When did you know?”

“I didn’t. I had a feeling.”

Alessandro wiggled his fingers at me. “Witchery.”

“No, instincts. Once Leon called and told us that the siege protocols were active but there were no bodies, I knew that either the attack never happened, or the attacker got out unscathed. Luciana and Linus, one attack after another. It felt too coincidental. I didn’t suspect her, but it didn’t feel right, so I wanted to cover all of my bases.”

He didn’t seem surprised. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“Alessandro, you have something.”

“I do.”

“What do you have?”

“Would you like to see it?”

“Alessandro!”

Alessandro produced his phone with an elegant flourish and offered it to me. An email from someone named Doc Giordano.

“Who is Doc Giordano?”

Alessandro nodded toward the street. “A retired brain surgeon. He’s lived two houses down from Linus for the last thirty years.”

“I don’t remember House Giordano.”

“There isn’t one. Doc isn’t a magic user. He’s a rich old guy who worked very hard for most of his life to live at this address. He and Linus are friendly. I’ve chatted with him a few times.”

That didn’t surprise me. Alessandro had the uncanny ability to get people to like him without doing anything at all. He’d enter a room filled with strangers and in thirty seconds they would start telling him their life stories.

He was also clearly enjoying dragging this reveal out.

“Give,” I demanded.

“Every day Doc walks his dogs at nine in the morning and nine in the evening like clockwork. He remembers seeing Luciana Cabera walking from the direction of Linus’ home toward her house a little after 9:00 p.m. on Sunday night.”

That fit right into our window. “Is he sure?”

“Very. He’s in his seventies, but he is still very sharp. There’s more.”

“Tell me.”

“There was another person with her. He didn’t get a good look, because they were wearing a large hoodie, but he thinks they were young from the way they walked.”

I leaned back in my seat. “Unless Luciana had hidden talents, she couldn’t have killed Pete with her magic. Not if she was a true halcyon.”

He nodded. “Whoever was with her is likely the killer.”

“If so, why did they leave Dr. Giordano alive? He saw them.”

Alessandro smiled. “Hubris.”

Luciana had been a Prime. She’d dealt with other Primes on a daily basis. Her entire political career revolved around mages, and Dr. Giordano was an ordinary person. She never considered him a threat because in normal circumstances he never would be. An experienced combat magic user would’ve eliminated all witnesses, but Luciana wasn’t used to getting her hands dirty. She walked right past Dr. Giordano, because she was so conditioned to ignore people like him, he might as well have been invisible.

We had to get him out of the city. “Where is Dr. Giordano now?”

“On vacation with his lovely spouse,” Alessandro said. “On the Warden’s dime. I’ve explained the situation to him. He’s onboard.”

I really loved this man.

A dark thought zinged through my brain. “She had a young person with her, Pete was killed by someone with unusual magic, and Kaylee hasn’t taken the trials.”

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Alessandro said.

If House Cabera killed Pete and hurt Linus, I would make them pay.

“I have so many questions.” I tapped my fingers on the dashboard in front of me. “Why would Luciana want to hurt Linus? Why would Arkan have her killed? Did Kaylee help her mother end Pete’s life or was it one of Arkan’s assassins? If it was one of Arkan’s people, did he somehow force Luciana to help him gain access to Linus and did he kill her after they botched it?”

“Let’s go ask them.” Alessandro popped his door open. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

He got out of the car to open my door.

Normally I opened my own door unless I was wearing a gown that required management, but right now we were on display and Alessandro was in his Count Sagredo persona. He switched identities like gloves, and he was always flawlessly consistent once he assumed them. Today he wore khaki trousers, a crisp white T-shirt, and a seersucker blazer unbuttoned, with the sleeves casually rolled back to mid forearm. His shoes were blue Santoni loafers, his shades were Trussardi, and if you searched the Internet for “young Italian Prime,” you’d see his picture. Probably several of them.

Kaylee was twenty-two, like me. Alessandro was the god of our adolescence, and his Instagram was the altar on which all of us prayed. I was no longer in love with that fantasy. I preferred a different Alessandro, the one who plotted like a Borgia, neutralized his enemies before they knew what hit them, and woke me up in the middle of the night to do things that made me blush when he mentioned them later. But Kaylee wasn’t me.

Alessandro held out his hand. I rested my fingers in his and stepped out of the car. We strode up the three wide stairs, my beige pumps clicking quietly on the concrete. Today Alessandro was the star, and I opted for understated navy slacks, a navy silk blouse with small beige and white flowers on it, and a matching jacket with three-quarter sleeves. My makeup was natural bordering on plain, and my hair was gathered into a loose knot. Everything about me was perfectly presentable and designed to fade into the background.

The thick mahogany door swung open before either of us could ring the bell revealing a solemn-looking man dressed in black. His features echoed Luciana’s, but he was slightly younger, his skin a darker shade of brown, and his hair liberally salted with grey. Julian Cabera, Luciana’s younger brother.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he said.

“My deepest condolences,” Alessandro said, his face broadcasting sincerity.

“Thank you.” He held out his hand toward the house. “Please.”

The interior of the house was a warm shade of white, complementing the travertine floor. We followed Julian left, through a thick archway past a luxurious powder room into a study paneled in rich, warm walnut. Built-in bookcases lined the walls between large arched windows. A vintage Moroccan rug decorated the dark brown floor. At the far end of the room, an elegant desk stood, the chair behind it glaringly empty. On the left a large fireplace took up half of the wall, and in the center of the room four people sat on the plush beige sofas and overstuffed chairs arranged around a coffee table.

Agent Wahl and a woman in a beige suit sat facing the fireplace. The woman was about his age, with tawny, warm skin, shoulder-length brown hair pushed behind her ear on the left side, and brown eyes. A tiny transparent plastic tube protruded from her ear, barely visible. A hearing aid. As far as I knew, the FBI had strict medical requirements. An agent with hearing loss had to be exceptional to be admitted.

Across from the two FBI agents, an older man and a young woman sat on the other sofa, both in black. The man looked like an older version of Julian: same nose, same mouth, same worried look in his eyes, but with a longer, leaner build. His hair, cropped short, had gone grey. Elias Cabera.

Next to him, Kaylee Cabera sat rigid, her spine perfectly straight. She was slender, with a heart-shaped face, large eyes under strong eyebrows, and full lips. Her skin was the same warm brown shade as her mother’s, but she’d bleached her hair to champagne blond, a beautiful color with multi-tonal highlights that looked perfectly natural. The hair framed her face in loose waves. She’d taken the time to style it. She’d also put on makeup, not just a brush of mascara, but her entire face complete with deep plum lipstick that looked almost mahogany on her lips. It could’ve meant any number of things, but her eyes told me exactly what it was—defiance. Kaylee Cabera refused to be broken, and she dared anyone to try her.

Everyone except Kaylee rose as we walked in. Kaylee glanced up and saw Alessandro. Her eyes widened. For a second, she forgot to look angry and just stared.

Yes, I know exactly what that feels like.

Wahl’s eyes narrowed. The female FBI agent next to him glanced at Kaylee, then at Alessandro. They’d read the room.

“My deepest apologies,” Alessandro murmured, his Italian accent light and refined. “We arrived as soon as we could.”

“You’re just in time,” Wahl assured him. He turned to the family. “This is Alessandro Sagredo, Prime antistasi, and Catalina Baylor of House Baylor. They will be consulting on this case due to its sensitive nature. Just to remind everyone, I am Agent Wahl, and this is Agent Garcia. Once again, this interview is being recorded.”

“Please, sit down,” Elias invited.

We sat in two overstuffed chairs. Alessandro was on my left, closer to Elias and Kaylee. She was still looking at him, and she had adjusted her pose, resting her right arm on the sofa arm to open up her body, crossing her legs, and presenting him with a flattering angle. I might have been invisible. Perfect. I sent the tendrils of my magic forward ever so gently.

Agent Wahl launched into the standard list of questions. Did Luciana have any enemies? Did she have romantic partners? What was her relationship with everyone present? Were there any recent difficulties?

Elias had taken the lead on answering. Kaylee answered only when directly spoken to and every time she opened her mouth, Alessandro offered her an encouraging smile.

My magic had skimmed the surface of Elias’ mind. He didn’t notice. He felt like a typical halcyon. Halcyons were crowd control mages. Like me, they couldn’t afford to allow magic leakage, so they kept an iron grip on their emotions, accreting a mental shield that encased their psyche. Their minds appeared opaque and hard, almost like pearls inside an oyster’s shell.

Nothing unexpected here. I moved on to Julian.

My phone vibrated. I glanced at it. A video call from Patricia.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, getting up.

Everyone ignored me.

I walked into the hallway and took the call. The view from a bodycam filled the screen, showing a slight, thin-looking white man in his midforties. He wore dark clothes and hunched over a little, as if expecting a punch on the shoulder. Four guards surrounded him.

“I have this gentleman here,” Patricia said. “He says he has an appointment.”

The man looked up at the camera. The brown irises of his eyes melted into aquamarine. Konstantin. Crap.

“Is that the illusion VIP we’ve been expecting?” Patricia asked.

“Yes.”

“I told him you were busy. He says he will wait as long as it takes. What do you want me to do?”

I did tell him to come back during business hours. I also needed to know why the hell he’d been in Linus’ house.

“Is he alone?”

“Yes.”

“Let him in and put him under guard. Do not injure him in any way unless he becomes aggressive, and if he does become aggressive, I need bulletproof evidence of it, because we can’t afford a conflict with the Russian Imperium.”

“Got it.”

The iron gate blocking the entrance rolled into the wall. Konstantin smiled and started walking.

There was something disturbingly smug about that smile.

Also, his assumed identity seemed familiar somehow. Where had I seen that face before?

They cleared the wall and walked into the front yard. Konstantin stopped and looked directly at me.

“I suggest you get home as soon as possible, Ms. Baylor. The clock is ticking. Tell Sasha that this round goes to me.”

What the hell did that mean? I would have to sort it out after we were done here. I hung up and returned to the study.

The atmosphere had changed while I was gone. Elias and Julian were clearly wary, while Kaylee, still fixated on Alessandro, spoke in a monotone voice.

“. . . dinner around seven. I had homework, so I went to my suite. I don’t know what Mom did after that. Usually, she listened to audiobooks on Sunday nights. It was her way to decompress.”

I took my seat. My magic net was still in place. I skimmed Julian’s mind. Another halcyon. He certainly wasn’t calm—I could sense turmoil deep within the shell—but he was firmly in control. I moved on to Kaylee.

“When did you go to bed?” Agent Garcia asked.

“Around eleven. Mom was still up. I had come down to grab a Tylenol. Statistical Methods always gives me a headache.”

My magic’s tendrils reached for Luciana’s daughter and slipped across the surface of her shell.

“When did you wake up this morning?” Agent Garcia asked.

Kaylee sighed. “Around eight.”

One of my tendrils burrowed through her shell. It was so sudden, I almost jerked back. The shield on Kaylee’s mind was paper-thin. Inside the shield her mind churned. It wasn’t a pearl, it was a glowing coal sitting in a bed of ashes.

“My first class is at ten . . . Look, my mother was murdered and you’re asking about my sleep and school schedules. What does this have to do with anything? Why aren’t you out there”—she pointed at the window—“looking for whoever did this?”

Agent Wahl opened his mouth.

“Ms. Cabera,” Alessandro said. “We are deeply sorry for your loss and the emotional brutality of this visit. We understand the great amount of stress you must be under.”

She pivoted toward him. “I just want the killer found. I can’t have my mother back, but I can have justice.”

“Just a couple more questions.” Alessandro offered her an apologetic smile.

“Fine. Since it’s you who’s asking,” she said.

“Do you own a blue hoodie?”

Kaylee blinked. Her mind spun, the glow of her magic growing brighter. There was some halcyon there, but the rest was something I’d never seen before. So much power, but so little training. She reminded me of Arthur, except my nephew was thirteen months old, and she was twenty-two.

“Ummm . . . maybe? I don’t remember.”

“Please try,” Alessandro encouraged.

“Probably. Rice’s colors are grey and navy, so I might have one. My closet is like a labyrinth. I have things I haven’t worn since middle school in there.”

“Do you ever take walks with your mother?” Alessandro asked.

Kaylee’s mind flashed with angry red. The tendril of my magic vanished, severed into nothing. Pain lashed my mind and in that brief instant, I felt the veins in my brain throb.

Kaylee Cabera was Linus’ would-be assassin. And she hadn’t even noticed that her magic slapped me. She killed Pete. She was the reason Linus was comatose.

How the hell did she get out of the house? Her mother had special clearance, but Kaylee didn’t. Why was she alive?

The two Cabera brothers came to attention. They must’ve realized Alessandro was going somewhere with his questions.

Kaylee gave a jerky shrug. “My mother didn’t walk, Prime Sagredo. She had a chauffeur who took her wherever she wanted to go.”

Liar.

She was right there, five feet away. I could blast her mind with my song, and she would confess to everything.

Alessandro reached, took my fingers into his, and squeezed my hand. He knew me too well. Nobody in that room realized that I was on the edge of violence, but he did, and he was trying to keep me from leaping off that cliff.

Kaylee’s gaze snagged on our hands. A furious spark flared in her mind.

The FBI agents leaned forward, focused on Kaylee like sharks.

Alessandro gave her his charming, irresistible smile, trying to defuse the bomb before it had a chance to explode.

I stared straight at her. Go ahead. Target me. Hit me. Do it. Do it right now, so I can end this. All I needed was the tiniest excuse, the smallest justification. I had the FBI right here as my witnesses. Just a little bit of aggression, Kaylee. Take a swing, and I will make you relive Pete’s death until your mind snaps like a twig.

Alessandro locked his fingers on mine in a silent no. His voice was smooth, almost intimate. “Where were you between the hours of 8:00 and 10:00 p.m. last night?”

The shell on Kaylee’s mind tore. A burst of magic shot out, uneven, knotted, and powerful, like a flooded mountain stream dragging branches and rocks as the water tore down. She’d meant to focus it on Alessandro, but her control was sloppy, and it splashed the entire room on its way to him. The magic smashed against my shields, burning hot, and harmlessly dissipated. The minds of the two uncles flashed in response, their shells impregnable.

Like me!

Agent Wahl’s face softened into a smile. It was one of the most disturbing things I had ever seen.

Next to him, Agent Garcia wasn’t smiling. She looked ready to rip Kaylee’s head off.

“As I said . . .”

A second flood of magic smashed into Alessandro, so potent, it was shocking. The edge of it swiped me. It was like sticking your head into a fireplace with a fire raging inside. Her magic was attempting to do the same thing a halcyon would, but it didn’t feel like any halcyon I had come across.

Like me. Like me! LIKE ME!

My magic bucked like a wild horse, straining my hold and trying to splay out into wings. I gritted my teeth and kept it in check.

“. . . I had homework,” Kaylee said.

A third flood. She was trying to cook him, except she had no training, so she was relying solely on power. There was no subtlety there. No skill. Just raw impact. She smashed his mind like a hammer.

Most mental mages hid their minds behind shields. It was one of the first things we learned. The shield was like a wall of stone. With enough power, you could shatter your opponent’s wall. Committing too much power to an attack like that could leave you vulnerable, but you could break through if you were strong enough.

Alessandro’s mind appeared to have a wall, but if you tried chipping at it, you realized that the wall never ended. His entire mind was a basalt craig, a solid chunk of stone. There was no breaking through.

“I didn’t take any walks.” A fourth flood.

Her magic burned a painful lesion across my defenses. If Alessandro wasn’t an antistasi, she wouldn’t have just turned him into a happy idiot, she would’ve damaged his brain.

Agent Garcia turned and stared at me, outrage in her eyes.

I wanted to kill Kaylee. She hurt Linus. She hurt my family. I needed to wipe her off the face of the planet here and now, before she hurt anyone else I cared about. There was a stormy ocean inside of me, with furious waves battering the rocks and unstoppable currents swirling, and I needed to drown Kaylee in it.

Alessandro shook his head at both me and Garcia.

Another splash of magic, weaker this time. She was getting tired.

None of her attacks even fazed him. He squeezed my hand again and said, his voice smooth, almost chiding, “Are you sure you didn’t go out? Perhaps a quick walk around the neighborhood? I’m here to help you, but you have to be honest with me.”

Kaylee stared at him, incredulous.

Agent Wahl let out a happy sigh. “I’m so relaxed right now. I really like it here. You are a lovely person, Ms. Cabera.”

Elias and Julian rose in unison.

No. We’re not finished. I didn’t have my turn.

“My niece is tired,” Julian announced.

“Does your niece know the meaning of an assault on a federal officer?” Agent Garcia ground out.

“This interview is over,” Elias said.

Agent Garcia grabbed Wahl by his arm and hauled him to his feet.

He blinked at her. “Are we leaving? Can’t we stay a little bit longer?”

“No, we can’t.” Agent Garcia steered him to the door. “This isn’t over. We’ll be in touch.”

Julian ushered Kaylee out of the room, while Elias stared us down. “Thank you for your visit.”

Alessandro nodded, rose calmly, and I stood up with him, since he refused to let go of my hand. We headed for the front door, our fingers intertwined.