Deceived: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Unturned Book 3)

by Rob Cornell

  Sly, Mom, and I regrouped in the kitchen. There was coffee and not a lot of talk. I think we were all worried we might talk ourselves out of going forward. I kept thinking about what Markus had said to me at the house, how Mom and I should skip town and let doom descend on Detroit without us. A tempting idea, to say the least. But for some dumb reason, I cared about what happened to those people. They didn’t deserve to be fed to the vampires. Well, maybe the pushers, killers, and other lowlifes who fed on the victims of poverty would have made good vamp snacks. I wasn’t so morally superior to pretend I would care what happened to those types.

  But contrary to what many hear, the criminals did not represent the Motor City. Good people lived in the D, and I had to protect them. After all, I worked for the Ministry now, and one of the prime purposes of this secret political Goliath was to maintain order between the natural and the supernatural.

  Just doing my job, ma’am.

  We finished our coffee. Sly made grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. Mom and I both had two. We were as ready as we were going to get.

  We said our goodbyes to Sly, and he gave us his good lucks.

  Mom got behind the wheel of the Caddy. I slipped in shotgun. Before she started the engine, she handed me a small leather pouch with a drawstring.

  “That’s our door to hell in there,” she said.

  I almost fumbled it when she said that. “This little thing?”

  She winked at me. “It’s bigger on the inside.”

  Chapter Fifty

  I had a forty-minute drive into the city to imagine the kind of venue Markus and Company would use for their mass enthrallment. I had little idea of the mechanics behind the whole deal outside of the cloak somehow amplifying Toft’s thrall so he could affect a thousand or more people all at once. Would he need to do it in shifts? Did he need to look at those he enthralled like he would normally, or did the cloak make that unnecessary?

  Despite all the angles I played through my mind, I did not expect Mom to drive us to the Renaissance Center—home of the Ministry’s Detroit branch, including the office of our beloved Prefect Morgan St. James.

  She slowed down as we passed through the shadow of the seven skyscrapers. The sunlight flashed bright enough in the windows of the iconic round central building to make me squint. The People Mover—one of the city’s feeble contributions to public transit—rolled along on its raised tracks between us and the Center.

  There weren’t any cars in front of us, so I had to assume the worst.

  “Please tell me you’re slowing down to admire the RenCen before tooling right on by.”

  She held her left hand with the wedding ring up and sort of waved it in the direction of the gathered buildings. “This is where it’s pulling.”

  I dragged my hands down my face. My stomach curled up into a ball, and my intestines wrapped themselves around it like a sick little package. A nervous belch slipped out and tasted like cheese and fried ham. Our plan was all over before it had begun. We could not infiltrate the Ministry offices. Even if we could, if the conspiracy reached so high that Markus felt comfortable performing their stunt from Ministry headquarters, we might as well have slit our own throats and let UPS deliver us to their door.

  Mom accelerated back to the speed limit and drove out of the RenCen’s shadow.

  “Just because it’s in there,” Mom said, “doesn’t mean they’re in the Ministry offices. Plenty of real estate in there.”

  “That would be a crazy coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not really. We know Ministry officers are involved. Wouldn’t it make sense that they operate close to HQ? It would make quick, secret meetings a lot easier.”

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “The proximity still bothers me.”

  “The whole blasted thing bothers me, but what are we supposed to do? Give up?”

  Yes, I thought. Maybe.

  And this after all those proud thoughts of sticking up for D-Town’s little people. I couldn’t tell if I was a coward or an asshole. Hell, probably both.

  I twisted in my seat to watch the RenCen recede behind us. “Will the ring lead you right to the cloak?”

  “It will pull until I’ve got my hands on those damn feathers.”

  I straightened and leaned back against the headrest. “We won’t just have Ministry security to worry about,” I said. “Building security could get in the way.”

  “We need some kind of pretense to get through the lobby. We can’t just call on the Ministry like we normally would.”

  I chuffed as a thought struck me. “Sure we can. The Ministry will be our pretense.”

  Mom took her eyes off the road long enough to give me a confused glance. “Excuse me?”

  “I work for the Ministry, Mom. And I still haven’t issued my report on the vampire nest I discovered and destroyed.”

  “You’re going to report to the prefect? Are you insane? They know you’re onto them.”

  “They’ve known that for a while. He isn’t going to execute me right there in his office.”

  Her sidelong look made me feel like a three-year-old who had tried to tell her the facts of life, and gotten it horribly wrong.

  “Okay, at this point, maybe he would,” I said. “But I had planned on bringing the prefect in on this anyway. I just hoped we would have the cloak in hell first, though.”

  “What difference would that make?”

  “If he’s in on it, and the plan fails, he could use the opportunity to roll in and look like the hero, cleaning up everyone behind it, and, in turn, shutting them up before they reveal his involvement.”

  Mom whistled softly. “You’d make a pretty good politician, Sebastian. Your father would be so disappointed.”

  “Trust me. Just because I can think like them, doesn’t mean I could be like them.”

  “Should I turn around and find parking, then?”

  I took a deep breath through my nose. I had started sweating, although the heat was only on low. I smelled a little ripe.

  “No,” I said. “I want you to talk me out of this.”

  She turned around.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Mom and I rode the elevator up together, but I arrived in the prefect’s reception area alone. While I offered my report to Prefect St. James, Mom would follow wherever the ring took her. Thank the gods it didn’t lead her in behind me, though it would have been a ballsy move, bringing a vampire into the prefect’s office, no matter how deep the conspiracy went.

  I had quickly offered her a “good luck” before we parted ways. If she found (when she found) the cloak, she would text me. From there…well, we’d improvise.

  I stepped up to the receptionist’s desk and waited for her to finishing typing something into her computer. She looked up and broke into what looked like a genuine smile. “Mr. Light. It’s good to see you. Go on in. He’s free.”

  I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Just go in? Had I heard her right? And she thought it was good to see me? Really?

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. My suspicion cranked up ten-fold. I had never gotten such a warm welcome here. And I had always had to sit and wait the couple other times I had visited the office.

  The receptionist’s smile grew. “I know, right? He’s usually so busy.”

  I returned her smile, but it felt crooked on my face. She was too polite to give me a funny look.

  “It’s okay,” she said and stood. “Hand me your coat and go on in.”

  So I took a deep breath, handed her my coat, and went on in.

  Prefect St. James sat on the edge of his desk, arms folded, staring out the massive window behind his desk. He had a nice view of the International Riverfront and Canada on the river’s southeastern side. He wore a pair of charcoal slacks and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His skin had a polished glisten to it, as if he were made of dark wood. He carried an aura of magic I felt like dry static the second I came in.

&nb
sp; I closed the door behind me and approached his desk.

  He had to have heard me, but he kept his gaze out the window as if hypnotized by the flow of the river forty stories below.

  I waited quietly until he finally unfolded his arms and turned to me. He grinned, his teeth clean and bright. “Sebastian. It’s about time you came in.”

  “I, uh…I’ve been busy.”

  He came around his desk. “I heard what you did. Able Kemper told me himself how you saved the lives of our missing Ministry officers, only losing one life in the struggle. Poor Ira will be missed. But you shouldn’t blame yourself. You did fine work.” He offered me his hand. “Well done.”

  I took his hand while my mind raced through what he’d just said. Able had told him about what had happened at the nest, but had kept his promise not to tell the prefect I had killed Glass when he’d attacked me. From the sounds of it, Able had gone so far as to praise me.

  I really wasn’t sure what to make of that. I supposed the prefect could be playing a game, making it sound like he didn’t know what was going on right under his nose. He sounded so sincere, though. Maybe he wasn’t involved in the conspiracy after all. Maybe Mom and I still had a chance to pull off our heist.

  “Thank you,” I said, giving his hand a firm shake.

  “I knew you’d be an asset to the Ministry.” He winked. “I also have a feeling your home will be rebuilt in short order, red tape be damned.”

  Shit, I really did not think he knew what Markus, Able, and their cronies had going.

  The question was, should I tell him now?

  Then I remembered Fiona. And Markus. And my stupid mistake to trust either of them, especially Markus. I would not make that mistake again. If he didn’t plan on arresting or assassinating me on the spot, I would wait until I absolutely needed him.

  “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to one of the fancy chairs in front of his desk. Then, instead of getting behind his desk, he sat in the chair next to mine. “Give me the details. It sounds like a fine story.”

  His smile shined so bright, I convinced myself it had to be fake.

  But I played along. I told him how we had tracked the nest from the Switch and made sure to give him the gory details about what had happened to Barry, which won a promise that Barry’s family would want for nothing, that the Ministry would take good care of them.

  I stayed a little sketchy about our assault on the nest itself. I wanted to keep Odi out of it, but St. James caught me at it.

  “Able told me you had the aid of a young vampire. Is that true?”

  I hesitated, hoping I could wriggle my way around the subject, realized I couldn’t, so went as vague as possible. “Yes,” I said. “He’s one of the few good ones.”

  “How do you know him?”

  My phone felt like a hot brick in my pocket as I willed Mom to text me. I really didn’t want to discuss my relationship with Odi with the freakin’ prefect.

  “I…through a friend of a friend. He’s a really fresh vamp and his maker abandoned him, so I’m doing a favor by keeping an eye on him.”

  “Babysitting a baby vampire? Here I thought you’d want nothing to do with vampires after your recent escapades.”

  Escapades was totally the wrong word, but I didn’t correct him. “Like I said, it’s a favor to a friend. I’m just trying to help.”

  “And in the end, he helped you.”

  “That’s right.”

  He refreshed his smile, leaned forward, and planted his elbows on his knees, light in his eyes. “You fascinate me, Sebastian. I knew your father well, and I have to say, you are nothing like him.”

  I didn’t know whether I should thank him or punch him in the face. I decided to keep my mouth shut and my hands to myself.

  But St. James must have seen something in me. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I hope you don’t—”

  My phone buzzed and trilled in my pocket. I gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’m expecting an important message.” I dug out my phone and checked the text.

  A chill raced up my back.

  It was from Mom’s phone, but the text read: You should have left while you had the chance.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  A second text came right on the heels of the first.

  Excuse yourself from the prefect’s office. Say nothing of this.

  I tried to swallow, but the rock in my throat made it impossible.

  One more text dinged through.

  Come to the Marriott in the South Tower.

  “Is everything all right?” St. James asked.

  I looked up from my phone, blinking. I’d forgotten the prefect was there. I gritted my teeth for a few seconds before I could ease my jaw enough to speak.

  “Yeah. Fine. But I need to get going. I’m supposed to meet my mom.”

  St. James rose with me and offered his hand again. “Tell Judith I appreciate her help as well. Perhaps I should put her on the Ministry dole, too.”

  He laughed.

  I fake laughed.

  He narrowed his eyes for a second. He knew my laugh was phony. He knew something was up. And I wanted to tell him about it. Despite my natural, and recently upgraded, distrust level, I felt confident St. James had no part in Markus’s scheme. Especially since the text—presumably from Markus—had specifically told me not to inform the prefect where I was going. If St. James had any involvement, he could have escorted me up himself.

  In my rush to get out, I forgot to grab my coat. But St. James’s secretary chased after me with it and caught me in the hall. She pressed the folded coat into my hands. “You probably won’t need this in the Marriott, but you never know.” She smiled big at me like she had when I’d entered, but now I saw the evil in her eyes. The prefect’s own secretary was in on this?

  That poor son of a bitch had no idea how out of the loop he was in his own organization.

  “Thanks,” I said through clenched teeth. “Maybe I’ll let Markus Hope wear it when I throw him through the fucking window so he’s not so cold on the way down.”

  The secretary laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  She kept on laughing at my back as I stalked away.

  On my way to the RenCen’s south tower, I got another text with a room number in the hotel. It made sense. They could operate out of the Marriott inside the Renaissance Center, change rooms whenever they needed to, but stay close to the Ministry offices in the central tower. Mom had hit the nail on the head with that one.

  I stood outside the room for a moment, palms sweating, heartbeat kicking hard, eyeballs feeling swollen and pumping in time with my pulse. If I went in there, I gave up all control of the situation. Well, what little control I had. Once inside, they could do whatever they wanted. And we had no cavalry coming.

  I rubbed my sweaty hands on my pants and felt the lump in my left pocket.

  I withdrew the leather pouch Mom had given me, the supposed portal to hell she had conjured to throw the cloak into. Bigger on the inside, she’d said. Rather than stuff it back in my pocket, I palmed it.

  Then I knocked on the door.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  A Hispanic woman with deepset eyes and dark curly hair that went clear to her waist answered the door. She was dressed in a robe similar to what Markus had worn to open the bubble at the house. She scowled at me, looked like she wanted to bite off my nose, chew it up, then spit the wad back in place.

  Pretty specific, I know, but that’s the image that came to me.

  She didn’t wait for me to step inside on my own. She grabbed my arm, yanked me across the threshold, then slammed the door shut. She turned the bolt and leaned her back against the door as if she meant to hold it closed against anyone who could break the lock.

  They had a spacious suite, lots of modern but still clearly hotel brand furniture. The doors to the bedrooms on the right and left were closed. A pair of sofas situated in an L took up most of the space in the suite’s common room. A plasma screen TV that could al
most have passed as a billboard hung on the wall over a cabinet with a burnt orange lacquer over the wood. I bet the view up on the thirtieth floor was sublime, but I couldn’t tell, because they had the curtains drawn. The only light came from the warm glow of a pair of lamps, each situated on end tables flanking the sofa parallel to the TV.

  Markus sat on the sofa facing the entrance next to one of the women from the nest. She had platinum hair and looked around Mom’s age, but the relaxed way she lounged made her look like a young sex kitten. She had a set of clear blue eyes that gave me a chill just to look at. Thoughts of death lurked behind those beautiful eyes.

  Able and the second woman from that night sat on the other sofa. Able’s lumberjack beard looked like it had a little too much balm in it, the way it shined. He had a bit of a paunch, but still looked like one of those pretty boy models you saw wearing ridiculously long and over-coiffed beards.

  The woman had short, dark hair gelled up in a spike with a white skunk streak through it. She looked bored, not even looking up from picking at a fingernail when I came in.

  The rest all looked at me, giving me a bit of stage fright, like I was supposed to perform. I felt doubly out of place because they all wore matching robes, and I only had a coat without any runes sewn on the sleeves.

  In the corner of the room, in an arm chair tucked by a table close to the window sat a familiar, yet completely out of place man—Mayor Dion Kirkland. He had a pinched, nervous face. His eyes darted from one robed practitioner to another as if he expected one of them to cast a spell and turn him into a pig. I wasn’t sure if they’d worked any magic in front of him, but I had a feeling they may have. A minor infraction compared to what they were really doing. Goulet had been right about the Mayor, it seemed. The guy had no idea what he’d walked himself into. Probably still didn’t.

  Nobody said anything.

  I glanced back and forth between the suite’s bedroom doors. I figured they had Toft and the cloak in one. Mom in the other. But maybe not. Maybe they weren’t here at all.