Yeah, you’ll get that with vampires, I thought. “I sent Echo out into the hallway to see if the coast is clear. That should give us a better idea of how to proceed.”
“I’m guessing it’s not going to be as simple as walking out the door.”
Peasblossom snorted. “I should think not. That little glowing light by the door is a lock. This room can be locked from the inside or the outside. I’d bet my wings you’re locked in here.”
Andy looked at me. “Is there any sort of spell you can cast to get us out of here?”
I bit my lip. “I can’t teleport us. And without more information, I’m not sure any of my other spells would be helpful here. I could possibly make us invisible, but that would take a lot of magic, and I don’t like the idea of weakening myself that much when we don’t know if they have heat sensors or pressure plates.”
“You’re expecting that kind of security?”
There was a hint of suspicion in his voice now, and I rushed ahead, wanting to cut him off before he asked me outright if I knew who owned the building.
“There’s no way to know. But if Keegan teleported us here, he had to believe we’d be indisposed for a considerable amount of time. I’m not seeing any obvious signs of danger, and the fact that it’s an office building suggests some level of sophistication.”
“And invisibility is out of the question?”
I sighed. “Using magic is like using any other muscle, and invisibility is one of my stronger spells. Casting it on both of us would be the equivalent of me running up to the fortieth floor. I could do it, but if something else happened, I’d be very limited in what I could do to help.”
Before Andy could respond, something brushed against my mind. I stiffened.
“What?” Andy asked.
“It’s Echo,” I said.
I have good news and bad news.
What’s the good news? I asked.
The good news is, there is only a secretary on this floor. Outside this door is a long hallway, and her desk sits at the end next to the elevator. The hallway is lined with more conference rooms like this one, and from what I can tell, they are all empty. She has a security monitor on her desk showing the guard station, and I assume she can call them if needed.
What’s the bad news?
Echo never got a chance to answer. The lock on the door buzzed, and the door swung open. A brunette in a business suit stood in the doorway, her hands held out palms facing us. She was thin, but shapely, soft curves filling out the grey suit jacket and pencil skirt. Despite a distinct lack of big muscles, or any kind of weapons, I knew without a doubt that she was the most dangerous of the new arrivals.
Behind her, two large, human-looking guards stood with their guns leveled on me and Andy, pointed over the slim woman’s shoulders. Dark glasses hid their eyes, but the grim set of their mouths suggested they were fine with shooting me if I gave them a good enough reason to. One had pale white skin, the other a deep brown, but they wore twin black suits and ties, with stark white dress shirts. Very Men in Black.
I took a breath and opened my mouth, but the power that pulsed outward from the woman’s open hands struck me before I could make the joke. For the second time in less than an hour, I felt myself falling.
Everything went black.
Chapter 8
I didn’t open my eyes as soon as I woke up. When a sliver of awareness pierced the darkness with a flashback of my last moments of consciousness, I fought to keep my body still and my eyes closed. I was lying on something hard, but haphazardly padded, but I didn’t dare move my hands or squirm around to get a better feel for it. The woman, the one in the business suit. She’d hit me with some sort of energy, but what?
It was telekinetic energy.
Echo’s voice startled me so badly that I was afraid I flinched. I counted to ten, trying to regain my composure while keeping my breathing even. Echo?
Yes.
What happened? Are you all right? Where’s Peasblossom? Where’s Andy?
None of those are really the most pertinent question you could be asking.
I started to frown, then stopped myself. What’s the most pertinent question?
Where is the telepath?
I froze.
“Echo” is quite right, a strange woman’s voice said, speaking telepathically. And you can stop pretending to be unconscious. I’m quite aware you woke up.
A thousand thoughts flitted through my brain, and I viciously stomped on all of them. No reason to give my telepathic attacker more information than I had to.
I sat up, abandoning the charade. Pain danced in an outward spiral from my brain. “Blood and bones,” I said, holding my head as I swayed in my sitting position, fighting to get my bearings under the wave of vertigo threatening to bring up my morning coffee.
“I apologize for the headache,” the telepath said. “I sensed three people with you in the conference room, two that I could not see. I had to make certain I took care of all of you.”
I stared down into my lap, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside. She didn’t sound sorry.
Not trusting myself to speak to my attacker with the migraine currently trying to turn my brain to jelly, I studied the bed I was sitting on. It was a flimsy cot with a thin mattress that had seen better days. The mattress and sheet had once been white, but were now a foggy sort of grey, from time and fading more than dirt. They seemed clean enough, and thankfully, there was no bad smell. Really, the dominant smells in the room were cement and metal.
Metal.
I raised my head and blinked. Metal bars surrounded me. Not in a traditional prison cell style, either. The cage I found myself in was round and looked like a giant birdcage. Its bars were silver, bright and polished. I said a small prayer of gratitude for that. Iron bars would have been torture for Peasblossom.
Peasblossom.
As soon as I had that panicked thought, something moved in my coat pocket, and I felt reassurance emanating through the psychic bond I shared with my familiar. I relaxed.
A little.
“I realize you are disoriented, but I’m afraid I have some questions for you. And I need answers as soon as possible.”
“Me too,” I muttered.
I wrenched my head up so I could take in the rest of my surroundings. I was in a large room the size of a private underground parking garage. My giant birdcage was one of five in a row, with another five opposite me. The cages were all silver, and the floor, walls, and ceiling were all bare cement, with a large metal light fastened to the ceiling to flood the room with fluorescent light. There would be no hiding in this room. This jail.
Something glittered on the floor outside the other cages. I squinted and leaned forward, then stiffened. Circles. Specifically, a ring of iron, copper, silver, and gold, each one embedded in the cement. Slowly, I slid my attention to the floor around my own cell, and my heart sank. I was in a circle. Now that I’d seen it, I could feel the hum of energy, the magic that would keep me trapped here, unable to cast any spells until whoever cast the circle chose to break it and let me out.
Tension seized my shoulders as I finally turned my attention to the telepath. She sat at a desk set between my cage and the one across from it, looking for all the world like the average secretary. Her brown hair was in a bun at the back of her head, held in place by gleaming black chopsticks. Brown eyes studied me from behind black wire-rimmed glasses, and she ran her fingers along the lapels of her grey suit, tugging it into place over a midnight-blue shirt.
“Where am I?” I asked, straining to keep the panic from my voice.
“I will ask the questions, if you don’t mind.” The woman took a sip of her coffee from a mug that read “America’s Finest Assistant,” studying me over the rim. “Who are you?”
“My name is Shade Renard. Mother Renard.” I rose to my feet, moving slowly so as to keep my skull from exploding into tiny fragments.
A thin file folder lay on the desk in the right-hand cor
ner, and the telepath opened it to reveal an eight-by-ten photograph. A flash of red caught my eye, and I leaned forward. I stared at the picture, then the woman. “That’s me.”
The woman nodded, then glanced up at me over the top of her glasses. “Yes, it is. How did you come to be in that conference room?”
I didn’t answer right away. She had a file on me. The top photograph looked like a still from a security feed. If she had a file—and coffee cool enough to drink, I noted—then she’d been waiting for me to regain consciousness. Panic squeezed my chest. “I was teleported there against my will. How long have I been unconscious?”
“Who teleported you here?”
I bit my lip, swallowing my frustration. “His name is Michael Keegan. Or Shaun. I doubt either of those are his real name, but he’s a sidhe who’s been kidnapping children from youth centers around Cleveland. He’s Taken six kids, and one of them is already dead, so please, you have to let me go now.”
The woman made a note on a sheet of paper in the file. “Why did he teleport you to that conference room?”
I pressed my fists to the sides of my head. “I confronted him about the missing children. I can’t say for certain why he teleported me, but I would guess he wanted me out of the way so he could kidnap more children. Which he did shortly after I ended up in that conference room.”
“I see. And do you have any idea why he chose that conference room?”
“No. I—” I stopped and took a deep, calming breath. “Please,” I said quietly. “I’ll answer your questions, but I have to know. How long have I been here?”
“Almost two hours.”
Two hours. I sank to my knees, hiding my face in my hands. Who knew how far Shaun had gotten in two hours? Who knew how many more children he might have Taken with that sort of time? Goddess, please help Blake find those children.
“Please,” I started again, hoping it would work the second time. “I have to get out of here. I have to find those kids. Call Anton. Let me talk to him—I’m sure I can make him understand.”
“Mr. Winters is indisposed.”
I winced. I forgot about that. The vampire would be sleeping—or, rather, dead—until sunset. “Vera?” I tried, already suspecting I knew the answer.
“Also indisposed.” The telepath leaned forward, one hand braced on the file with my picture in it. “It is my understanding from your file that you signed a contract with Mr. Winters. A contract that forbids you from revealing the…specifics of Mr. Winters’ biology.”
“I haven’t told anyone what his is,” I insisted, fighting to keep my voice level. “And if I had, you’d know, because I’d be dead. The magic that enforces that contract is no joke.”
“Yes, the magic is strong. But you’re a witch, Mother Renard. Surely I don’t have to tell you there are ways around any spell.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
The telepath lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “Your file also says that you are a fledgling private investigator. You want very much to see your little business thrive.”
She was leading me somewhere, but I couldn’t for the life of me see where. “Yes.”
“And a partnership with an FBI agent would certainly be a boon to that cause, wouldn’t it? A valuable contact, as it were?”
“Yes,” I said, more slowly this time.
“Your Agent Bradford has an impressive record. He’s perceptive for a human.”
I shook my head, then rubbed my temples in small circles. “I’m sorry, I have a headache, and perhaps I’m not thinking as clearly as I’d like. Could you…” I struggled to find a nicer way to say “get to the point.”
She must have read my mind, because she gave me a tight smile. “If I were an enterprising witch bound by an unforgiving contract, and I wanted to impress my FBI partner, I might try negotiating myself into a position where—through no apparent fault of my own—my FBI partner could easily deduce that Mr. Winters was not as human as he might seem.”
I stared at her, hoping to see a quirk at the corner of her mouth, an arched eyebrow—something to tell me she was joking. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding up a hand. “Let me get this straight. You think I arranged for the sidhe to teleport me and Andy into that conference room?”
“I’m saying you stand to benefit from the situation.”
I jabbed a finger at the bars of my cage. “This situation?” I pointed at the circles outside the cage. “This situation right here? Me in a cage, helpless to stop more children from being kidnapped—possibly killed? You see this as me benefitting from the situation?”
Anger leached into my voice, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to rein it in. My temper rose with every word out of the telepath’s mouth, and since she was a telepath, there seemed little point in hiding it.
“I don’t blame you for misreading the possibilities,” the telepath said, condescension sliding into her tone. “I’m sure you thought you’d get away with it.”
“If I thought I’d get away with it,” I said, “then wouldn’t the contract have interpreted that as a violation of the terms? That contract threatened to decapitate me if I so much as thought of talking to Andy about who owns that building.”
“So you did try.”
I clasped my hands in my lap, willing myself to stay calm. “You’re a telepath. You know I’m telling the truth. I had no part in being teleported to that conference room. I have no intention of discussing Anton Winters with Andy. Please. I can’t find another one of these kids in an autopsy room. Let me go.”
The woman frowned. “You speak as if you don’t know how difficult it is to read your mind. Your surface thoughts are clear enough, but beyond that… Your mind is strangely complicated. Even for a witch.”
“I’m Mother Hazel’s apprentice,” I explained, willing myself not to yell. “Or was until three years ago. I lived with her for a long time. It…left its mark.”
“I see.” The woman pushed her glasses to sit higher on her nose. “And the…spirit? The presence inside your head that you sent bobbing about the hallway? You’re telling me putting a ghost in your head wasn’t your way of trying to trick the contract, hide your true intentions?”
“No!” I stopped and took a deep breath. “Echo is…a long story. She is not part of any plan to thwart the contract.”
The woman folded her hands on the desk. “We have time. Tell me the story.”
I shot to my feet, my temper getting the better of me. “You might have time, but I don’t, and neither do those children. If you can’t call Anton or Vera, then what about Dmitri?”
There. An emotion teased the corners of the woman’s mouth, gone so fast I almost missed it. “You are in no position to make demands. Limit your responses to the information pertinent to my questions.”
“I’ll answer your questions, but can’t you call Dmitri?”
The emotion flitted over her face again, the same lightning-fast flicker of irritation. She didn’t like me asking to talk to Anton’s son. Her hand twitched in the direction of the phone. No, not the phone. The phone cord.
“He has nothing to do with this,” she said calmly. “You will have to wait for Mr. Winters.”
“I can’t wait for Mr. Winters,” I insisted. “Can’t you try to call—”
“I’m not calling anyone,” she snapped. She pressed her hands flat against the desk, visibly collecting herself. “Please excuse me.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “I need to question the FBI agent now. The one you brought into Mr. Winters’ place of business.”
My eyes widened. “I didn’t—”
“So you say.” She gave me a tight smile. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take you at your word.”
“Please call Dimitri!” I shouted at her back.
She didn’t stop. In fact, she walked faster, heading for the door at the end of the room like her life depended on it.
Call Dimitri’s name again, Echo said urgently. She doesn
’t like that.
It wasn’t until Echo came back to me that I realized she’d been gone. Were you in her head?
Only for a second. When she was angry and not paying attention. She thinks Dimitri tapped the phone. That’s why she doesn’t want you saying his name.
“Dimitri!” I called out, talking to the phone this time. “Dimitri, I need to talk to you. Are you there?”
“Stop it!” the telepath said, whirling around. She snatched her glasses from her face and took a step toward my cage, raising a hand. “You don’t have to be conscious while I—”
“Did I hear my name?”
I sagged as Dimitri’s voice came from the phone’s speaker. His words held a hint of his father’s Dacian accent, but not as thick. At his interjection, my jailor’s shoulders tightened with unmistakable tension, and she straightened as if forcing herself to face a firing squad. Step by step, she marched back to her desk, her movements as graceful as an ancient mechanical soldier. To her credit, by the time she returned to her desk, she wore a mask of professional distance, no sign that the sound of Dimitri’s voice bothered her.
“Mr. Winters,” she said, her voice professionally polite. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. We’re fine here. Please return to what you were doing. I’m sorry for the interruption.”
“Dimitri!” I called again, before the woman could do something with the phone to break the connection.
“Is that Shade Renard?” Dimitri asked, surprised. “Has my father hired you again?”
“Not exactly.” I took a fortifying breath. “There was a bit of an incident with a sidhe. I interfered in his plans, and he responded by teleporting me and my friend into one of the conference rooms. I believe it was a secure floor.”
“Ah, well, that would be— Wait. Did you say sidhe?” Dimitri asked.
“Yes.” I paced to the edge of my prison, as if getting closer to the phone would somehow help me convince him to help. “I tried to explain to…” I stopped and looked at my jailor.
She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Kaargra. Ms. Kaargra.”
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