by Jenn Stark
Now they weren’t.
“There has to be a logical explanation,” Nigel murmured beside me, clearly knowing that I was still obsessing over the issue. We were taking a flight back to the States in one of Soo’s planes at my insistence. Simon, finally acquiescing to us traveling separately, had popped back via his teleporting ability, leaving his new French threads behind. Ma-Singh, Nigel, Luc, and I were all traveling in style now, and since the Fool had never set foot on the craft, there was at least a passing chance that we weren’t bugged.
To be safe, I’d made everyone bundle up their clothes and stow them in the cargo hold too, along with an MP3 player yowling French music as well for good measure. If Simon was going to be listening in, he’d have to fight through a lot of techno-pop.
Still, now we could travel with at least the illusion of privacy. I’d shut down my mind again against Armaeus, but he hadn’t complained—hadn’t tried to reach out either. Because he was guilty? I wondered now. Because he’d done something terrible to these children through Simon?
“Speak, for the love of God. Your face is going to freeze in that expression otherwise, and you’ll frighten the generals.”
I flashed a look at Nigel, and his scowl deepened. “And Christ, you look like hell. Do you never sleep?”
“Focus, Nigel,” I growled. “I think the Council is responsible for the change in those kids.”
His British brows elevated to the perfect degree of quizzical interest, his concerns about my health evaporating. “The Council? Why?”
“The first time I touched them—really touched them—I could see they were perfect. Their DNA sequences patterned after the freaking Flower of Life, same as what Father Jerome showed us in those infants. Now that pattern’s no longer there.” I smoothed my hand over the armrest, flattening its plush nap with nervous swipes. “Did we ever mention the ol’ Fleur de Vie to Simon? Either before or after he zapped those kids?”
Nigel frowned. “We didn’t have time before. After, it seemed…less than relevant.”
“Well, I asked Father Jerome to run every test he could come up with, down to the molecular level. I bet we’re not going to find that design again. That beautiful, perfect pattern has been wiped out of their DNA for good. It might have been there before the drugs, it might have been there as a result of the drugs—but it’ll be gone now.”
“And you think Simon did that?”
“I think someone did,” I said darkly. “That blast of electricity fried the circuits of the ankle bracelet, but it also fried those kids. It was a lot of voltage.”
“I’m aware,” Nigel said thinly. Across the aisle, Luc snorted.
“That’s the only thing that we encountered or that we introduced into those kids’ experience, the only time we touched them, and Father Jerome had given them no meds.”
“Well, there were the sedatives for both children,” Nigel said, tapping his chin with his index finger. “Standard issue, but it is technically possible that that caused a reaction.”
“I don’t think so.” I shook my head, knowing deep in my heart I was on the right track. “Let’s follow the trajectory. Mom and Dad take the kids out of school, start homeschooling them. What was the reason for that? Most likely, it was because they’d started showing some kind of psy ability, and the parents were scared.”
Luc lifted a hand. “The parents are still being tracked down. Not having the names right away slowed us, and this family is one of the few who’ve not yet succumbed to Facebook. They’re off the grid.”
“Which fits the profile for Connected. So either they knew what was going on with their children, or someone did and warned them on what to do. But—it didn’t work. The kids were taken anyway, and…” I sighed. “Then I don’t know. But somehow they lost six months of their lives and ended up on Marguerite and Roland’s radar, which landed them in the hospital.” My lips twisted. “Probably the safest place for them, until we showed up.”
“You forget they were howling demonic incantations,” Nigel put in.
I considered that. “And they were outside their rooms despite their ankle bracelets. So they were definitely exerting some power, despite all accounts about their relative catatonia. But now…pfft. It’s like they never had psychic ability beyond guessing who’d sit next to them on the school bus that day. They’ve become neurotypicals. Unconnected.”
“You make it sound like a curse,” Nigel said, and I grimaced, looking over at him. He was about as Connected as a pet rock, by his own admission.
Whatever he saw in my face made him roll his eyes. “Do not pity me, Sara. I’ve seen what your Connected abilities have gotten you. Beaten up, mostly. I’ll pass.” He turned to Ma-Singh. “What is the security status at the house in Vegas?”
“Technology sweeps are ongoing,” the general said. “That’ll take a while, but we’ve established some beachheads, and identified several nanite bugs at the site, apparently transported through the heating-and-cooling vents. Our ideal course of action will be to remain outside for the short term.”
I grimaced. “Stupid Simon.”
“Personnel-wise, we feel comfortable with Madame Wilde taking up residence, either at the main house outside the city or in the secondary mansion. The latter might be safer, but it would raise suspicion for you to decamp there immediately.
“Suspicion with the Council?” I asked.
Ma-Singh nodded. “They’ve planted enough surveillance equipment in the main house to tie us up for the past two weeks. We’ll need to comb the place thoroughly.”
“Or ask Armaeus to knock it off.”
The silence in the room communicated what the men thought of that idea. I sighed, barely keeping it from devolving into a yawn. “Look, I’m not happy about what may have happened to the children, but there is more than one way to do this. One, we don’t trust the Council and don’t ask them to be trustworthy. We go that route, we’ll be picking nanites out of our hair for the next three years. Two, we ask the Council to be trustworthy and wait for them to betray that trust. There’s probably some sort of penalty for that, but if nothing else, it will catch them off guard.”
Nigel snorted. “I’ve done work for the Council. So have you. Don’t bet on them being anything but shifty.”
“Well, we need a better solution. We need something—or someone stronger than what they have.
“We’ve got that.”
Nigel said the words off-handedly, but they stopped me anyway. I peered at him.
“Who? And do not say me.”
“Sara, in case you missed it, you healed blasted nerves and electrocuted organs yesterday. You helped to channel the same electricity that disintegrated me, without even getting static cling. You completed the healing of those children in front of our eyes, without calling on anyone but your own strength. Ma-Singh here can attest to a similar healing ability.”
Beside Nigel, the Mongolian general’s face remained impassive, but his eyes were fierce. I’d definitely made a fan.
“There’s more, I’m sure, if you’ll let yourself remember it, put in some real context,” Nigel continued. “A great deal more. But what’s important is it’s all within you. If you truly want to debug Soo’s mansions, or any stronghold of the House of Swords, then don’t rely on the Council. Do it yourself. Save us all a lot of time.”
I passed a hand over my forehead. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Good.” He grinned at me. “That means you’re thinking about it. Let us know the plan when we land.”
I slept most of the rest of the way back to Vegas, but my dreams were fitful and kept me close to the surface of waking. In every one, I saw pairs. Marguerite and Roland, the two children, me and Father Jerome or me and Nigel—even me and the Magician, his mocking laugh swirling around us. Every time, the pair was split in two. Shoved apart, shattered like a broken toy. By the time the jolting craft signaled our descent into the city, I was wide awake once more, staring into nothing.
So
o didn’t stock scotch on her planes, unfortunately. I was pretty sure that was going to be my first executive order.
Why pairs? I wondered. What came in twos? Batman and Robin, the animals on Noah’s ark, ice cream and an Oreo cookie. And, sure, DNA strands. But what was the significance of them being wrenched apart? That seemed painful.
The drive to the enormous house on the outskirts of the city, a jewel on the banks of Lake Las Vegas, was uneventful. Nigel and Ma-Singh rode with me in the car, and another soldier took command of the wheel. As we drove, Ma-Singh outlined what had happened to prepare for my arrival.
“Per your request, all of Soo’s electronics have been duplicated and sent here, with copies preserved at a drop site you know nothing of,” he began. Nigel cocked a brow but wisely stayed silent. “The census of her House members and the development of a precise map of their geographic locations is in process and should be completed within the next twenty-four hours. The information existed in several different areas, but this was our first attempt to pull it together in…some time.”
“Some time meaning since Soo took control of the House, or some time more recently than that?”
“I was not privy to everything that Madame Soo did,” Ma-Singh said. “But the last time she requested the compilation of this data was approximately ten years ago. With it in hand, she never asked for an update or a follow-up, and where there were populations of House Members that were considered not sufficient enough to survive, she did not send bolstering ranks. It was an odd request, to me, not because of the request itself, but because there was no follow-up. There seemed to be no purpose to it.”
I could come up with a few reasons off the top of my head, but now wasn’t the time. “I’d like to add to my request, then. An overlay between the census you pulled ten years ago as compared to the data you’re compiling now. I’d like to see it in map form pointing out the differences, if any, in population density of House members, correlation to other House activities, anything that stands out.”
Ma-Singh’s eyes gleamed in the shadows of the limousine. “Of course.”
“And Nigel, I’d like you to get these analyzed.” I handed him the two silver capsules Death had given me right before we’d parted ways. I’d found the small pills in my jeans pockets, had forgotten I had them.
Nigel held the capsules up to the window. “What is it, if you have any guesses?”
“Silver, mostly,” I said. “But I want to know what else. I’ve no idea how to test for something when you don’t know what you’re looking for, but there you go.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, pocketing the capsules.
We reached the house a few minutes later, and I almost chuckled as we drove up the long drive. The place was starting to feel familiar enough for me to imagine calling it home. I hadn’t called anyplace home other than my suite at the Palazzo in a long time. Before that, home was whatever city that held a job for me. Had it really been less than a year ago that my work with the Council had taken a decided turn for the more prolific and more lucrative?
Another frisson of apprehension skated through me as we exited the vehicle. “Ma-Singh, I’d also like data points on what, if anything, changed in the House about, oh—six months ago. Anything from early spring to mid-May would be good. Not looking for a subtle shift. This would be big enough to plot on a map along with all the other data.”
“Of course,” Ma-Singh said, bowing in the bright sun. “Do you have an idea of what we’d be looking for?”
“New suppliers, terminated suppliers, new product lines. A significant addition or subtraction of money or goods or people. Like that.”
Ma-Singh nodded and turned, striding away. By now, Nigel had exited the car as well, looking around with eminently British disdain.
“I cannot for the life of me imagine why Soo spent all this time and money updating this house in particular. She had far more interesting properties to spend her money on.”
“Yeah?” I glanced at him. “You have a favorite?”
He had several, as it happened, and they all were in Europe. I let him ramble on as we entered the house. I remembered the gracious foyer, the mansion seeming to run in all directions from a gleaming tiled entryway. The main rooms of the home were in the back, but along the way, we had to pass—
“Dollface!”
I whirled as a woman clad all in black burst out of the stairwell like a cannonball, coming at me so fast that the only thing that kept her from a defensive fist strike—or a ball of magic—was that I recognized her. Well, sort of.
“Nikki!” I gasped as she grabbed me in a bear hug that actually would have choked a bear. “What are you wearing?”
“Don’t you love it?” She stood back and struck a pose, dramatic enough for any runway. Her head-to-toe black-and-silver-patterned bodysuit shimmered under the foyer lights. “Master Kunh turned me on to it. I want six more shades of black and two in camo, stat. It’s so me, don’t you think?”
“It’s most assuredly you,” Nigel said, and Nikki squealed and dove for him.
“Defend!” she demanded, and as I watched, the two of them barreled into an immediate hand-to-hand combat match, right in the center of Soo’s foyer. My foyer, I realized with a grimace.
The fight looked evenly matched. Nigel was slightly shorter than Nikki on a good day, but Nikki’s knee-high boots added a good four inches to her already six-foot-four frame. Her hair was no longer the long fall of auburn that I’d grown used to, but an eye-popping platinum blonde. As I watched, she left her leg exposed a moment too long, and Nigel capitalized, dropping her to the ground and landing on top of her, straddling her hips.
Both of them were breathing hard now, and Nikki practically leered up at the Brit. “I love it when you beat me at wrestling,” she cooed, angling her hips up. “Two out of three?”
Nigel froze, the picture of Anglican shock. Without a word, he rolled off Nikki, helping her up to her feet.
“Where did you come from that a skinsuit and a rope belt is appropriate attire?” I asked. “Did they bring a Comic-Con here?”
“Ha! I was right downstairs,” she said. “Master Sexybuns has been giving me a workout in the fight center just about every day since I moved in here, and I really think I’m getting the hang of it.” She winked at me. “I’ll so be ready for full Ace status within the month.”
“Wait,” I said. “You moved in?”
“You gotta see my room,” Nikki called over her shoulder as she strode past me, beckoning us all to follow. “I mean, technically, it was a study, but Jiao Peng had no problem with me taking it over. I wanted to be close to the front door, not buried somewhere underneath a thousand pounds of house. And voilà!”
Nikki threw open the doors to a chamber with a glass ceiling—clearly a solarium in a previous life. Now it’d been transformed into a bedroom with a huge canopied bed as round as the room, and alternating faux animal skin rugs. Lamps clustered by the bed and at the reading chair, and the door to the back of the chamber opened onto a space jammed with clothes. “You can look up and see the full sky at night, like a million stars, then boom, daybreak and your whole world lights up. I never thought I’d love a place more than your digs at the Palazzo, dollface, but this takes the cake.”
“So glad you’ve made yourself at home.” I hadn’t, not yet, but I should have known Nikki would. She wasn’t one to let life pass her by.
Now Nikki patted her flat belly, and for the first time I realized just how manic her energy was. I was used to Nikki bouncing off the walls, but now she was currently so tense, she practically vibrated, despite her impromptu wrestling match with Nigel.
“Speaking of cake,” she said, “I’m hungry enough to eat a water buffalo. They’ve been bringing boxes and crates into the back for the last two days, and we have to pass the kitchen on the way. C’mon, and you can tell me all about all the fun I’ve missed…”
Nigel snorted and straightened his shirt, but Nikki’s focus
was now on me.
“And, dollface, I gotta tell you what you’ve missed too.”
Chapter Thirteen
Despite Nikki’s promise, neither one of us got to speak as we headed toward the back of the house. Ma-Singh appeared at the far end, calling us with a booming voice.
“It is ready,” he said.
Nikki straightened as the general’s gaze swept over her. She didn’t give him a chance to disapprove, but from where I was standing, she needn’t have worried. Ma-Singh appeared to be a fan.
“Please tell me you have snacks back there, sweet cakes. I’m starving,” she said, striding past him without a second look.
Nigel and I followed behind. I realized that Ma-Singh hadn’t been joking when he’d said the best bet for a private conversation was outside. The large living rooms along the back of the mansion were equipped with French doors. They now stood open, and beyond them, an enormous Arabian-style tent had been erected. We pushed through the French doors and out onto the patio, immediately assaulted by dual wind machines and misters, before ducking into the outdoor tent, away from the oppressive heat.
A trio of powerful cooling fans was positioned around the space, high enough to move the air without sending paperwork skittering.
“We won’t keep these out here permanently, but they’ll manage for short-term conversation until we ensure the main house has been swept,” Ma-Singh said. “We have the preliminary information you requested on the locations of the House of Swords’ technoceutical operations.”
Nikki’s brows climbed up her forehead, but she kept her mouth shut as she settled herself on one of the chairs, reaching over for a banana from one of the bowls of fruit. Nigel pulled water bottles for everyone, and Ma-Singh worked the large screen. A map of the world showed up, giving us a true global perspective of Soo’s masterworks.
I frowned and leaned forward. “That’s it?”
“It is now,” Ma-Singh said. “You were correct in your suspicion that radical changes occurred subsequent to the census of ten years ago. They simply happened slowly and without obvious attention. Madame Soo started ten years ago with perhaps double the locations of technoceutical labs, all of them well-financed operations with the latest in equipment and raw materials. As the years passed, however, she winnowed down the locations she supported. She now has only these two in China.” He drew his fingers over his tablet, and the screen fixed on two points in southeast China. “These are in the middle of industrial parks, operating under a shell company. They are by far the largest.”