Emerald Blaze

by Ilona Andrews

  It didn’t work on me. I’d seen him fight. Once you witnessed the way he moved—flawless, spare, each strike landing with unattainable precision—you never forgot it. Alessandro dedicated himself to killing. Under that shimmering suit, his body was corded with powerful flexible muscle. He was shockingly strong and abnormally fast. His face wasn’t just handsome, it was the face of a fighter, chiseled, masculine—strong jaw, full lips, straight Roman nose, carved cheekbones. His amber eyes scanned the room, and I watched him assess the threats and measure the distance to them in a split second. They saw a playboy. I saw a gladiator.

  Alessandro unleashed a smile. The two women shifted slightly.

  “I have arrived here on short notice and under painful circumstances.”

  Usually he had almost no accent. Right now, he was layering it in. If he sounded any more Italian, the conference table might sprout grapevines and olive branches while the strains of “Inno di Mameli” spilled from the speakers.

  “I am not familiar with this project, so I ask for your patience and guidance as I find my footing. Let us move forward through this time of grief and ensure the continued success and prosperity of our families.”

  “Mr. Sagredo,” Marat said, “I think you give yourself too little credit. You’ll get up to speed in no time.”

  “Yes,” Tatyana said. “Any of us would be happy to answer any questions you have.”

  The mood around the conference table lightened. He looked like them, he spoke their language, and he was pleasant. They had no idea he could slit their throats before they realized what was happening.

  How shrewd. Lander showed up, insulted them, threatened them, and then presented them with an attractive, urbane alternative. Given a choice between Alessandro and the basket of joy that was Lander Morton, they fell over themselves in a rush to choose Alessandro, accepting him without scrutiny or questions.

  This was the major leagues of House society: every word mattered, and every action had a hidden meaning.

  “There,” Lander croaked. “It’s settled. Alessandro will look after my business interests, and the girl will find out which one of you killed my son.”

  “None of us killed Felix,” Tatyana growled.

  Lander sneered at her. “We’ll know who did it soon enough. I’m done here.”

  He turned his wheelchair and rolled out of the room.

  “It’s pointless to argue with him,” Cheryl said. “In his mind, he’s already convicted the four of us.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Marat said.

  Stephen watched Lander exit. His gaze slid to me, then to Alessandro.

  There was only one reason Lander would’ve brought Alessandro in. He counted on me to find the murderer of his son, so Alessandro could kill him.

  Tatyana locked on me. “You’re Catalina Baylor.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your sister is a truthseeker.”

  The other three Primes focused on me.

  Well, that didn’t take long. I leveled my stare at Tatyana. She didn’t flinch, but some of the confidence faded from her eyes. However, she’d started the assault and now she had to follow through.

  “Your magic is sealed. How do we know you are not a truthseeker?” Tatyana asked.

  “Would it be important if I was?”

  “I won’t submit to an interrogation by a truthseeker,” Marat stated, his voice flat. “I like my mind intact.”

  “As a representative of House Jiang, I have nothing to hide,” Stephen said. “However, House Jiang has varied business interests and I’m privy to a great deal of confidential information. As stewards of our business, we have obligations, not only to our House and all within it, but to our employees, our business associates, and our clients, all of whom trust us and count on our discretion. What my partner is trying to say in his direct way is that submitting to an interrogation by a truthseeker would mean breaking that confidence. Therefore we must regretfully decline.”

  Marat glowered at him.

  They did not present a united front. It wouldn’t be me against an alliance; it would be me against four individuals.

  “I’m waiting for a response,” Tatyana said.

  She felt comfortable picking on me and none of the others warned her off. I failed to impress. Good.

  I could slap Tatyana down, but being cagey and evasive would make me seem vulnerable. Let them think I was unsure. If one of them decided I was easy pickings and attacked me shortly after this meeting, I could put a nice bow on this nightmare and get on with my life.

  I faced Tatyana. “Prime Pierce, are you planning on lying to me?”

  “I have nothing to hide,” Tatyana said.

  “Then whether or not I am a truthseeker shouldn’t matter, should it?”

  “On the contrary,” Cheryl said. “It matters very much. We all have secrets we don’t wish to disclose.”

  Marat slapped his palm on the table. “You’re not rummaging in my head.”

  Stephen remained calm and pleasant. He had clearly said everything he felt needed to be said and was perfectly content to let others babble and argue. He would be difficult.

  “I can assure you Ms. Baylor isn’t Magus Elenchus,” Alessandro declared.

  What was he doing?

  “Oh?” Cheryl asked.

  “I was at her trials.”

  Stop helping me.

  “In what capacity?” Stephen asked.

  “I was the control.”

  Shut up.

  “While Ms. Baylor isn’t a truthseeker, her powers are quite formidable.”

  “Really?” Stephen raised his eyebrows. “You were impressed?”

  Do not answer that.

  “It gave me pause,” Alessandro confessed, his face suitably grave.

  I would strangle him. My carefully woven cloak of helplessness exploded and dramatically fell to the floor in burning pieces. Instead of being vulnerable and alone, I turned into a mysterious Prime who gave Alessandro, the most powerful antistasi on record, “pause.” Now they would do their homework and find pictures of us attending opera together with Linus Duncan.

  Alessandro nodded. “I would characterize it as an unforgettable experience.”

  I pivoted to him. I couldn’t help myself. “Really? Was that you? So that’s where I know you from. I couldn’t quite recall.”

  Alessandro opened his eyes wide and put his hand on his chest. “I’m crushed. Am I that forgettable?”

  “You know what they say, out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps you should work more on making a memorable first impression.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes.

  Baiting him was dumb and dangerous, and it felt amazing.

  “While the exact nature of Ms. Baylor’s magic remains sealed, should you have any doubts, the Keeper of Records will confirm that she isn’t a truthseeker,” Augustine said. He’d stayed so quiet, I’d almost forgotten he was there. “House Baylor and MII have a long history of professional cooperation. She has my complete confidence.”

  “She accused me of lying.” Tatyana stared at me.

  There was no point in playing games now. “Prime Pierce, I understand your animosity toward me due to my House’s role in the apprehension and incarceration of your brother.”

  Tatyana’s eyes narrowed. Yes, I went there.

  “However, right now I would like everyone to find time in their schedule to be interviewed by me individually. The more you stall and attempt to avoid me, the more money and resources it will cost you. Allow me to eliminate you from the pool of suspects.” I turned back to Tatyana. “If Prime Pierce would like to indulge in further antagonism, you’ll have ample opportunity to do so during our personal meeting.”

  “She’s right,” Cheryl said. “We’re wasting time.”

  She motioned to her assistant, a young slender woman in a pale red dress.

  “I’ll need to examine the murder site as well,” I said.

  “You can do that tomorrow,” Marat said. “I’m
on-site most of the time. If I have to waste time on this ridiculous interview, I might as well get everything out of the way. Tomorrow at ten?”

  “That will be fine.”

  The other three Primes followed suit. In five minutes, I had appointments for four interviews over the next two days. I would see Marat tomorrow at ten, followed by Cheryl at four, and Tatyana the next day at nine. Stephen would be my last stop, at two in the afternoon.

  “Thank you all for your cooperation. I’m sure you must have many things to discuss with Mr. Sagredo. I’ll leave you to it. Good afternoon.”

  I turned and walked out.

  Chapter 3

  I walked quickly, the pristine white wall on my right, the cobalt windows on my left. My heart hammered against my ribs. My throat closed up, squeezing itself too tight to swallow.

  The wall ended abruptly, giving way to a short hallway that branched off, two doors on the left and an arched niche on the right, inlaid with a sea glass mosaic. I stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall, letting it bear the brunt of my weight. Alessandro’s voice surfaced from my memory.

  Look at me. Look me in the eyes. Your witchery doesn’t work on me. I’m already obsessed with you.

  I breathed in slow and deep.

  Beyond the glass, the horizon ignited with the yellow and orange of a Texas sunset, the sky enormous and deep above the city. The blue lights playing on the white walls turned aqua and green. The short hallway turned dark.

  If I closed my eyes, I could conjure him right here next to me. I remembered his voice, his face, his scent . . . He was engraved in my memory. The relationship might have meant nothing to him, but it was my first. I hadn’t known it was necessary to guard myself against committing completely. I didn’t realize it was doomed from the start. I just fell in love.

  I’d spent the last few months gluing my heart together shard by shard and seeing him stabbed me again, right in the still-raw wound. It was so easy to just rage about it, because the alternative would be to hurt. Anger was better than pain, but I couldn’t afford either. I had to be sharp.

  Someone was coming down the hallway. I heard nothing, but I sensed someone moving closer. I sank into the wall niche, my back flat against the glass tiles, found the phone in my pocket, and turned it off.

  Alessandro stalked into view. He moved silently; a jaguar, sleek, stealthy, an ambush predator capable of explosive power. I was being hunted.

  He stopped.

  The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose. I sank deeper into the shadowy niche. The trick to staying invisible was to think of nothing at all.

  Alessandro turned. A focused expression claimed his face. None of the charismatic, urbane son-of-wealth-and-privilege persona remained. He looked predatory and slightly vicious. Bright orange flames curled in his eyes, his magic smoldering just under the surface.

  I breathed quietly through a barely open mouth and pulled my magic to me. It built inside me like a geyser ready to erupt.

  Alessandro took a step toward the hallway.

  That’s it. Come closer. Make my day. This won’t go the way you think it will.

  “Prime Sagredo!” Marat called.

  The orange fire vanished. Alessandro’s expression rearranged itself. His brow relaxed, his mouth curved, and his eyes lost their lethal concentration, softening. He turned around with a dazzling smile.

  “Are you looking for something?” Marat asked.

  “A bathroom,” Alessandro confessed, looking helpless. If I hadn’t witnessed it, I wouldn’t have believed the two were the same man.

  “It’s the other way,” Marat said. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  “I want to make sure you don’t get the wrong idea about this project,” Marat started. “The profits could be sky-high, but we must play this just right.”

  Alessandro opened his eyes a bit wider. “Not to worry. As we say in Italy, profit è il mio cavallo di battaglia.”

  “What does that mean?”

  It meant that profit was his battle horse.

  “It’s my forte,” Alessandro said. “Making money is what I do.”

  “Fantastic.”

  The sound of their voices and steps receded.

  I waited another full minute and slipped out of the niche. He would come looking for me. I would bet our family’s entire annual budget on it.

  I turned left and hurried down the hallway, turning my phone on. It pinged. A text message from Linus.

  I sent a car.

  I walked into the waiting area. Cornelius stood by the windows, looking at the city below. Tension radiated from his posture. His shoulders were stiff, his arms crossed on his chest, and a guarded expression hardened his face. It would’ve been a grave sight, except that Rosebud perched on his head, clutching his blond hair in her adorable little hands.

  I raised my phone and snapped a picture.

  “Where’s Leon?” I asked.

  “Calling 911.”

  I almost groaned. “Audrey?”

  Cornelius nodded.

  “What is it this time?”

  “There’s an intruder in her house,” Cornelius said. “Leon has to come and save her.”

  For some reason, our family had the worst luck with women named Audrey. On the first day of kindergarten, blond Audrey, whose last name I couldn’t remember, didn’t like my backpack so she spat in my hair. In high school, Audrey Swan got together with the guy Arabella liked and the two of them posted a video mocking her on Snapchat. Grandma Frida had a nemesis, a nasty old lady with a shrill voice, who used to be her next-door neighbor. Her name was Audri Burns. The worst officer my mother ever served with was named Jenna Audreigh. Leon’s Audrey was no exception.

  Audrey Duarte was an influencer. She specialized in “total look” tutorials, combining trendy fashion with the right makeup and hair, and made a lot of money promoting cosmetics and clothes labels. Her 1.2 million followers thought she walked on water.

  About two months ago, she contacted our firm. She’d been receiving threatening letters promising to disfigure her. Leon had taken the case, because its “noir nature” appealed to him. Somewhere in his head a 1930s soundtrack must’ve been playing while a rich baritone announced, “A beautiful dame walked into my office. She was trouble. Dames always are.” He quickly determined that the threatening mail had come from her competitor, which was fortunate since real stalking cases were difficult to resolve. Convincing someone to let go of the object of their affection took a long time and often ended badly.

  Leon closed the case and moved on. Audrey didn’t. Leon was attractive and dangerous, and she decided he should belong to her. She was used to being adored for things like curling her hair and she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t falling at her feet and promising her the world. In an ironic twist, she developed stalker tendencies. She sent him hundreds of texts a week. He blocked her number, so she went on a disposable phone spree. She showed up at our place, but security blocked her. We watched her try to charm, then pout, then scream at our guards, until they threatened to call the cops. She bought him a motorcycle and had it delivered to us, and we refused the delivery.

  Her latest strategy was to bombard Leon with emergencies from her numerous burner cells. The last time it was a fire. The time before that, she heard strange noises in the garage. No matter what the emergency was, the request was always the same—her life was in danger, and Leon had to come and save her.

  With the emergencies, Audrey graduated to threats of harm, in her case, to herself. Once was an isolated occurrence, twice could be coincidence, but the third time constituted “a pattern of behavior.” Stalking was a third-degree felony in the state of Texas, and she had just given us enough ammunition. Tomorrow I would authorize Sabrian Turner, our House counsel, to contact Audrey’s family and arrange for a heart-to-heart.

  Cornelius looked at me. “I saw Tatyana Pierce.”

  Ah. That explained his expression. House Harris
on and House Pierce didn’t get along. Nevada knew more about it than I did, but she told me before that both Cornelius and his older sister Diana detested the Pierce family.

  “Is she involved in this matter?” Cornelius asked.

  “She is. I’ll understand if you choose to avoid this one.” Cornelius had full discretion when it came to our cases. Some he claimed, others he passed on.

  Cornelius locked his jaw. “Oh no. Quite the opposite.”

  Rosebud pulled on his hair and trilled at me for emphasis, clearly ready to do battle.

  Well, we had a pint-size battle monkey on our side. This case was as good as solved.

  Leon strode around the bend of the wall, his face annoyed. He saw me and grimaced. “I handled it.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. She sounded really freaked out. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe her.”

  “But you do know better. You called 911. They’ll take it from here.”

  He puffed his cheeks and blew the air out slowly. “What’s next?”

  “I have to go see Linus.”

  “Do you want me to take you?” Leon asked.

  “No, he sent a car. Could the two of you take Rosebud to Maya?”

  “Linus will wait,” Leon said. “Come be a hero with us.”

  “You barely slept for three days,” Cornelius added. “You worked really hard on this. You deserve to be there when Maya gets her back.”

  I wanted to. So much. “I can’t. Take a video for me. Please?”

  “This sucks,” Leon said.

  Cornelius shook his head. “Video is not the same. Happy moments like these don’t happen very often. You should be there.”

  I should, but Linus couldn’t wait. “I would if I could. I’ll see you tomorrow, Cornelius.”

  I started down the hallway. A stray thought made me turn and I walked backward. “Leon, don’t go over there. Don’t go to Audrey’s.”

  “Give me some credit.”

  “I mean it.”