“What happens if he doesn’t wake up tomorrow?”
“We’ll put him on an IV and wait some more. His respiration is normal, his heartbeat is steady, and if we really tried, we could probably wake him up for a few seconds. He just needs rest, Runa.”
She looked at her brother, reached over, and pulled a corner of the blanket up to expose his feet. “He always kicks the blanket off to stick his feet out. When he was little, it used to cause him anxiety. He wanted to sleep with his feet uncovered but he was scared that a monster from under the bed would grab his foot at night . . .” Her voice trailed off.
I wanted so much to make it better for her. “He will wake up.”
Runa looked up at me and held her hand out. “Runa Etterson, Prime Venenata.”
It was the way she had introduced herself at Nevada’s wedding. Why were we doing the introductions again? “We’ve already met.”
“No. I’ve met Catalina Baylor. She’s shy and she tries to fade into the background. She gets embarrassed if anyone glances at her a second too long. I watched her at her sister’s wedding and half of the time she looked like she was waiting for her chance to run away.”
“I was.”
“I saw you verbally eviscerate Conway a few hours ago. You had this look on your face like you were some ice princess and he’d trespassed in your kingdom. And then you cut my sister’s reanimated corpse into four pieces.”
“Conway was wrong to treat you the way he did, and reanimated bodies have to be disabled. The smaller the pieces, the lesser the threat.”
She shook her head. “That’s not my point and you know it. What the hell happened to you?”
I came over, sat on the other side of the bed, and put the small box I was carrying onto the covers.
“When we met at Nevada’s wedding, I was panicking. That was the first time I was in charge of anything important. You were born a Prime, into a House of Primes. I was born a normal person, into a normal family, except that I had this terrible magic I had to hide so I wouldn’t accidentally hurt people with it. I was only required to go to school, get good grades, and keep my magic hidden. Nobody expected me to take any responsibility for anything else. I had the luxury of covering my face and saying, ‘This is too hard. I can’t do this.’ And I did.”
“So what changed?”
I sighed. “We became a House. I was certified as a Prime. I had a nervous breakdown.”
Runa blinked. “Why?”
“Because it was all too much. I needed rules. As long as I followed the rules, nobody got hurt and everybody left me alone. Suddenly, all my rules no longer applied and hiding in the background wasn’t an option. I was freaking out. Then Rogan’s mother found me and offered to mentor me. She made me see things from a different perspective.”
“She taught you how to dismember a person with a knife?” Runa asked.
“She hired someone who did. Have you killed anyone before?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that today.”
If I hadn’t taken her with me, she wouldn’t have killed Conway. But she would have to kill sooner or later. Maybe it was better this way. I had a feeling that whoever targeted her family wouldn’t let go, not now, after their murder was confirmed.
“Have you killed anyone?” Runa asked.
“Physically, no. But what I do is much worse. Victoria Tremaine is my grandmother. When she requires the contents of your brain, she grasps your mind, wrenches it open, and takes whatever she wants. All your secrets, all of your hopes, your fantasies, your guilt over things you did years ago and tried your best to hide and forget, she sees it and rummages through it. Nevada has the same talent. I saw her interrogate a man once. He was a hardened mercenary and after she was done, he curled into a ball and cried like a child.”
“Your magic is different.”
I shrugged. “I don’t use brute force. I entice, I seduce, but the end result is the same. I suppress your will. You’ll tell me everything, and you will be happy to do it. It’s the deepest violation of a person. I try not to do it unless I absolutely have to.”
“But you’ve had to,” Runa guessed.
“Yes. My mom is a veteran, and she once told me that nobody gets out of a war with their hands clean. We’ve been at war for the past three years.”
“You do realize how fundamentally fucked up this is.” Runa crossed her arms on her chest. “I feel like I lived my whole life with my eyes closed.”
“Your mother took very good care of all of you. Runa, it doesn’t have to be like this for you. I have no choice because of our circumstances, but there are plenty of Houses who don’t often come into conflicts with each other.”
“But why does it have to be you?”
“Because it’s my turn. Nevada is married. She has her own threats and problems to deal with and I can’t expect her to drop everything and run here to save us. My mother doesn’t have the kind of magic that can protect us. Grandma Frida is past seventy. Here I am with all this power and I let everyone take care of me for most of my life, because it was too hard and scary and because I didn’t want the guilt of hurting people. It wasn’t fair. So, when Nevada decided to take a step back, I decided it was my turn to take care of everyone and do the ugly things nobody wants to do.”
She shook her head.
“I’m the oldest ranking Prime in House Baylor,” I told her. “It’s my job to keep us fed, clothed, and safe. I still want to run away, Runa. But if someone tries to hurt my family, I’ll kill them. It will cost me a great deal, but I’ll do it.”
Runa stared at me. “This is what being the Head of the House does to you.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered it anyway. “Yes.”
“I don’t feel bad about killing Conway,” she said. “I should. I took a life. But I don’t.”
“Guilt usually hits me late at night,” I said.
“How do you deal with it?”
I pushed the box toward her. “I keep a stash of chocolate in my room.”
“Does it help?”
“It does a little.”
She opened the box. “Neuhaus truffles?”
“Mhm. Bern found some information on your mother’s backup server. We have to go back to the conference room.”
Runa’s eyes widened. “Am I going to need these?”
“Yes.”
Chapter 5
“Most people tend to back up specific files or folders.” Bern set his laptop in front of Runa. “Your mother went a step further. She backed up the entire hard drive. For all intents and purposes, this is an exact copy of her computer. The last session happened on the day she died.”
I picked up my tablet. “We were able to view her activity log. She moved three files out of documents to the desktop. Here they are: Will, Financial Summary, and Bills and Utilities.”
Runa clicked on the financial summary and scanned the contents. Bern and I had already looked at the file. It listed House Etterson’s investments, the amounts current as of last Sunday. A short note at the bottom identified a financial adviser, Dennis Moody, with a notation, “Ask him if you have any questions.” The other file documented the monthly bills, including utilities, insurance, and Ragnar’s tuition.
Runa raised her head. “She knew she was going to die. That’s why she moved the files where I would see them right away.”
“It looks that way,” Bern said.
“I don’t understand.” Runa leaned forward, her hands rolled into fists. “Why didn’t she tell me? All she had to do was pick up the phone. Why didn’t she hire somebody? Some sort of bodyguard?”
Those were all good questions. “There is more.”
Bern reached over and tapped a couple of keys. A video filled the screen.
“Your mother recorded this on the day of her death just before midnight,” Bern said.
“We haven’t watched it,” I said. “Would you like some privacy?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Bern and I stepped out into the hallway and I shut the door behind us.
“That financial summary bothers me,” I said quietly. “Sigourney dumped a two-million-dollar investment with Diatheke, Ltd., on the day she died.”
“I saw that,” Bern said. “That’s a large amount.”
“It was also Sunday. What sort of investment firm or bank is open on Sunday?”
“A good question.”
So far, we had this mysterious payment and Alessandro. Those were our only leads. If only I had gotten to Conway in time.
“Did you have time to look into Conway?” I asked.
Bern frowned. “I pulled his credit report. He has a line of credit from Texas State Employee Credit Union. Most likely, his accounts are there. All the first responders, cops, and firefighters bank there. They shell out the big bucks for online security. The guy who set up their system is a Significant cryptomage. It will take days to break, if I can do it at all. Not only is it illegal, but they’ll come after me. Do you still want me to do it?”
Too risky. If they caught Bern, they would make an example out of him. He would be the dirty hacker who compromised the hard-earned money of Texas heroes. Bern would serve real time and we would be done as a firm and a House.
“No,” I told him. “Conway is a dead end. It’s not worth it.”
“Okay,” he said.
The door swung open. Runa stood in the doorway. Tears wet her face. “You need to see this.”
Bern and I followed her into the conference room. She reached toward the keyboard with trembling fingers and pressed enter. Sigourney Etterson filled the screen. She looked like an older copy of Runa: same wild red hair, same almost translucent skin, and same sharp green eyes.
“Hi sweetheart,” Sigourney said. “I’m afraid this isn’t a happy message, but I don’t want you to be sad. Sometimes bad things happen. I don’t regret my actions. I did what I felt was right. I love you so much. I’m so proud of you. You grew up to be a great person. You’re kind, and responsible, and so smart. I couldn’t wish for a better daughter.”
Her words were like claws scratching on my heart.
“If I don’t make it, you have to take care of your brother and sister. You have to be the Head of the House. It’s a lot, but you can do it, darling.”
A dark shadow moved behind Sigourney, approaching from the depths of the house, little more than a silhouette.
“I’ve named you as the executor of my estate. There will be a sharp learning curve. Dennis can answer some of your questions, but the primary burden will be on you. I don’t trust anyone else enough to put them in charge of your inheritance.”
The shadow glided forward.
“I’m sorry—” Sigourney fell silent in mid-sentence. Her gaze turned blank. Thick red drops slid from her eyes, ears, and mouth, painting crimson tracks down her pale face.
A gloved hand reached over Sigourney’s shoulder to the keyboard. The video stopped.
He’d killed her. I couldn’t explain how I knew it was a he, but I felt it deep in the pit of my stomach. He’d murdered Sigourney and he hadn’t bothered to delete the video. The brutality of it was shocking. He just erased her like she was never there. Without laying a finger on her.
If he came for my family and I wasn’t here, he would slaughter everyone.
Runa wiped her tears with her fingers. Her words came out sharp, as if they cut her mouth. “What kind of magic is that?”
“Probably a carnifex mage,” I said. The instant internal injury fit their MO. Carnifexes normally went for the heart, not the brain. Anything protected by bone presented difficulty to them. If he was a carnifex, he was experienced and powerful.
“What’s a carnifex?”
“A butcher,” Bern said. “They cause lesions in internal organs.”
She wiped her eyes again. The tears just kept running, and she kept flicking them away, her gaze locked on the screen.
A long, torturous minute slid by. I wished I could make it better. I wished so much that I could hug her, wave a magic wand, and undo all of this.
“What do we do now?” Runa asked.
“We go through your mother’s accounts and her forensic testimony files.”
“She kept meticulous records,” Bern said.
“That’s it?” Runa’s voice vibrated with anger. “We look at files?”
“Yes,” I told her.
“I just watched some prick murder my mother! We need to find him, so I can kill him. I’ll poison him and fix him and poison him again until he can’t take any more.”
I understood. I wanted to find him too and make him regret ever being born. And when I found him, I would make sure he would never do that to another person. But right now, Runa needed cold water, not more gas on the fire.
“Okay,” I said. “Where do we start looking?”
“I don’t know. You’re the investigator.”
I stepped to the laptop, rewinded the video, and restarted it just as the shadow entered the room. “What we have here is a human dressed in dark grey. His face is covered with a mask, his hands are gloved. We can’t even be certain it’s a he, although judging by the height, this is probably an adult male. It could be a very tall woman. We don’t know the exact nature of his magic, who he works for, or why he killed your mother.”
The killer reached over Sigourney. That gloved hand looked odd, misshapen somehow . . .
“Then we need to find out! Don’t you have someone? Like a snitch or an informant? Something!”
“This isn’t a TV show,” I said gently. Also, we were not hardened NY detectives who didn’t play by the rules. “Confidential informants typically report on neighborhood and gang crime, because the people involved in those crimes don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. This is a professional hit by a high-caliber magic user.”
Runa squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled. Her fists relaxed. She opened her eyes. A little bit of the crazy had gone out, and I jumped on the chance.
“Your mother said she had no regrets. She was aware that her actions carried consequences. She did something, Runa, something that led to this murder. The sooner we figure out what that something is, the sooner we can find her killer. The answer is probably somewhere in her files.”
“Okay,” she said.
The forensic review didn’t yield any results. After three hours, my eyes started to glaze over.
I turned down the sound and pulled up the video of Sigourney’s murder in video editing software. Bump up the contrast, sharpen, levels, zoom . . . I ran the clip again. The glove’s details came into focus.
It didn’t look like a glove, more like a hand with greenish skin mottled with brown and orange, like a carapace of some beetle or the tail of a raw lobster. The tapered fingernails resembled claws, sharp and black.
This made zero sense.
A century and a half ago, several labs across Europe synthesized the Osiris serum. The Spanish were the first, followed by the English, Russians, and Chinese. They came to the discovery almost simultaneously, following up on the same research trail, with Germans and Americans being only slightly behind. Those who failed to discover the serum bought it or stole it.
An injection of the Osiris serum brought about one of three equally likely results: you died, you became a monster and then died, or your latent magical powers awakened. Despite the horrific odds of success, the serum spread across the planet like wildfire. The World War loomed on the horizon, and the major powers scrambled to crank out mages in hopes of gaining the upper hand. They gave it to everyone: the soldiers, the fading aristocracy, the captains of industry, people who had everything and those who had nothing.
Then the World War hit, bringing nightmares and atrocities beyond anyone’s imagination, and it was quickly and unanimously decided that having people who could incinerate entire city blocks and spit poisonous gas into the trenches was a really bad idea. The Osiris serum was locked away, but by then it was too late. The magic pr
oved to be hereditary.
The serum was inaccessible, but the experimentation into enhancing one’s powers never stopped. Countless families and labs kept trying to find a way to make their magic stronger, and the only way to do it was to experiment on human beings, preferably those with some magic and very little money. Sometimes that experimentation caused a cataclysmic response, twisting the bodies of the research volunteers into inhuman monstrosities. The majority died on the spot. The few who survived were no longer human, physically or mentally. They became warped.
According to the numerous articles and scientific papers I’d read, the transformation permanently altered the subject’s magic. Instead of their original powers, all their magic was now dedicated to keeping their warped bodies functioning. The constant magic drain killed them within two to three years.
No one magic-warped could have a magical talent by definition. Yet Sigourney’s killer clearly did.
Not only that, but a warped human couldn’t have pulled off this hit. It required critical thinking and performing a succession of tasks: break in, move quietly, kill the target, turn off the computer, stage the scene, set the house on fire. Nevada knew a warped woman, Cherry. Before Cherry died a couple of years ago, she’d spent her days swimming in the brackish water in a flooded part of Houston, eating fish and garbage. She couldn’t carry on a conversation for longer than a minute. If you somehow convinced, bribed, or forced Cherry into assaulting a House, she would probably crash through a window or bang on the door until she forgot what she was doing there.
Maybe it wasn’t a clawed hand. Maybe it was some sort of specialized glove. I peered at the screen.
My cell rang.
Across from me, Runa groaned. “Please answer it. My head hurts.”
I took the call.
“Greetings, Ms. Baylor,” Mr. Fullerton’s precise voice said.
I put the call on speaker. “Hello, Mr. Fullerton. I hadn’t expected to hear from you so soon.” He had told me it would take at least twenty-four hours for the DNA results.
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