The Earthborn (Mythos of Cimme Book 3)

by CJ Flynn

  I frowned. “A bar?” Ben wasn't much of a bar guy.

  “Some place called The Lazy Buc. I did a quick search. The place is about thirty years old. Looks pretty run down. I have someone trying to dig a little deeper, but I do know the owner is a man named Ernie Haden. I need—”

  “Wait.” I pushed myself into a sitting position and the cold air of the room enveloped me. “Did you say Ernie Haden?”

  “Yeah. A preliminary search didn't turn up much on him, or the bar.”

  My heart was beating faster as I tried to recall any details about Ernie Haden. Christian Michaels, a witch who lived here in Manhattan and an old friend of my father, had given me the name Ernie Haden over a year ago. I didn't know why Ben had ended up in some Florida watering hole, but I suspected Ernie Haden would probably be able to shed some light.

  Or at least, I hoped he would.

  “We're going to have to go to Panama City, Sloane. Ernie Haden may be able to help us.”

  “I'm going to need a little more explanation, Allie. You're not running this investigation.”

  “Make the flight arrangements,” I replied. “I’ll fill you in as soon as I get a chance.”

  * * *

  The largest vampire stronghold in North America was halfway between Albany and Poughkeepsie, and I had my own residence there. My work for Sorrell had begun over a year ago, and the private residence instead of only basic quarters inside the main house had been part of my contract. I still didn’t trust most of them, and I wanted a way to lock my doors.

  By the time I battled through traffic and hit the Taconic, I was mentally compiling a to-do list. I tried to put myself in the same frame of mind I had before one of my missions for Sorrell. The last time we had a record of Ben at all was the twenty-eighth of December.

  We knew he had flown to Panama City on the twenty-sixth, but we didn't know why, or where else he'd been. Sloane had promised to bring a copy of the transactions from Ben's credit card as well as anything else she could dig up, but we couldn't get a flight out before the red-eye in the morning. I couldn't escape the feeling we needed to get down there much sooner than that.

  I had my list by the time I pulled up to my cottage. I would speak to Camilla Pierce, Sorrell's proctor, and try to get some support for our search. The Elridges hadn't involved Sorrell because they hadn't seen a reason, but we needed to get to Florida before tomorrow. I didn't care why they'd kept Ben's disappearance a secret from the vampires. It was time to call in the big dogs.

  I also had to pack a bag, let Daniel know what was going on as soon as he was awake, and review some of my own notes about contacts in Florida. I didn't know the extent of information Sloane had yet, but I knew we couldn't leave any leaf unturned.

  I called Camilla Pierce, a woman I had never met or spoken to, but who had given me the information that led to my stepmother.

  I didn't know what I expected, but when a plain, quiet voice answered the phone, I stammered out: “Um. Yes, hello. Is this Camilla Pierce?”

  I barely refrained from smacking my palm across I'd called her personal cell phone, because it was the only number I could find.

  “It is,” she answered.

  “I'm sorry. That was a stupid question. This is Allie Stuart.”

  “It's fine, Ms. Stuart. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Her tone was still putting me off. She was just so... pleasant. Sorrell had hired her sometime between Ben declining the proctor ad lucem job and Christmas. I didn't even know what she looked like. Sorrell lacked the sort of HR department that sent out welcome emails and profile pictures. “I need to speak with you. Benjamin Elridge is missing. Or at least we think he is.”

  There was a too-long silence on the other end of the phone. “How long have you known about this?”

  “Not quite twenty-four hours. His mother told me when I arrived from Paris last night.”

  “When can you come to my office?”

  “Any time.”

  Another pause. “Give me forty-five minutes. I need to make some phone calls before we talk.”

  She hung up the phone without another word and I suddenly felt back on familiar footing. Most of the people Sorrell employed were pleasant enough, but everyone was generally all business. Hanging up the phone without a good bye was practically a company policy.

  I checked the clock next to my bed and decided to pack my bag. There was no telling when we'd be able to leave, but I didn't want to screw around. My packing list for a trip like this was easy enough: black pants, black shirts, black boots. I tossed in a white sweater and a pair of purple pajama pants for some flare and zipped the whole thing up. I looked briefly at my jewelry box, but didn't bother taking anything out. Jewelry was for fun, not work.

  I set the suitcase down by the door and the purple ribbon tied around the handle caught my eye. Laura had put it there for me, not long before I left for my first overseas mission.

  “You'll want to be able to spot your bag easily,” she had advised me. “The first few times I flew internationally, I was so nervous I'd screw something up. Getting all flustered while I searched for my suitcase just made it worse.”

  I'd laughed at her and shaken my head. We were flying in a private jet. Highly unlikely chance of luggage mishaps. But she'd waved me off, tied on the ribbon, and left me to finish my work. She had hated I was working for Sorrell, but she hid it pretty well.

  At first, anyway.

  I let me mind wander back to the week after my return from Paris, before I left for Florida. Harding's funeral was already blurring in my mind. He had left behind a gaping hole inside me, but I had been able to see around it for just a bit when I'd been in Florida. The newness of Anita Stuart and the promise of so many answers to so many questions had overwhelmed everything else.

  But now reality had finally set in. Harding was dead and Ben was missing. Fully one half of my heart had been emptied out. My best friend had died in my arms just minutes after saving my life, and my... Ben.

  Ben was gone.

  My last conversation with him played in my head. We had both stepped so far beyond our comfort zones in the last year, and it had taken its toll. I had been willing to walk away from him then, and even now, I wasn't sure I would have made a different decision. Walking out on Ben had broken my heart, but staying might ultimately have done more damage.

  I looked around at the little cottage I had called home since learning of my ability. My grandparents' house had started to feel more and more like a tribute to the dead, and this little place felt like it was all mine. I had added and changed and tweaked until its whites and blues had felt just right.

  The clock on my bedside flickered as the minutes marched forward. It was time to meet Camilla Pierce and call in my debt. Sorrell owed me, and I would not shy away from using that to get what I needed. I had saved the life of his enforcer, and had revealed the truth about the former Queen of the Vampires. Surely access to a plane wasn't too much to ask.

  Camilla Pierce was waiting outside her office for me when I arrived. She waved me through the open door and gestured to Benjamin's father and Sloane Warne seated in chairs across from her desk.

  I looked at them both, trying to measure the situation and hide my surprise at the same time. I had never seen Liam Elridge inside the mansion, yet there he was, in a cream-colored chair with a high back and round arm rests, exuding an air of absolute control. He looked like visiting royalty, a very different man than I usually saw in his own home.

  Sloane was afforded something far less regal. She was perched on a little wooden chair that looked like it had come from some other part of the house. She had lost the appearance of a person constantly engaged in solemn examination, and in its place was an edge of distrust. I still wasn’t sure how much Sloane knew about vampires and kicked myself for not taking the time to even do a cursory search for her in any of the records Sorrell kept.

  Camilla took her seat. “I've called in everyone immediately related to t
his,” she said. “We all need to be on the same page. Allie, please have a seat.”

  Camilla's office was a small room just off Sorrell's main study, and it was decked out in the same lavish neutrals that dominated the rest of the vampire stronghold, but it lacked seating capacity. Another small wooden chair was jammed in the corner, and I made my way to it.

  I hadn't ever been called to the principal's office while in school, but I had a sinking feeling it felt a lot like this.

  “I want to hear the entire story, beginning to end. Please include the portion where you decided it was unnecessary to involve anyone from within the organization, Liam.”

  I turned my attention back to Camilla, a woman who checked every box on the average form. Medium height, medium build. Brown hair, brown eyes, pink cheeks. She wore her hair in a layered bob to her shoulders, and was sporting a black suit that looked plain but had probably cost a fortune. The only thing that stood out about her were the navy blue eyeglasses she wore. The round shape made her look bookish and younger than she probably was.

  Liam Elridge was a tall, distinguished man who carried himself with all the power and dignity of someone who had served the Prince of the Vampire Court of the Americas for over thirty years. He clearly expected to be treated that way, but Camilla was staring at him as if he were a child who needed a talk on proper manners. He let his eyes narrow for just a moment, before clearing his throat.

  “We were out of town for Christmas, as we usually are,” Liam said. “It was our understanding Ben had joined Allie in Paris. Once I received word of what had happened in France, I called in a few favors to be kept apprised of any changes in the situation. As one might expect, I asked for any information available in regards to my son, and was told he had left Paris alone, before any of the events with Lillith.

  “As you might know, Benjamin is an adult. He is frequently busy or traveling, and it is not unusual to go many days without hearing from him. My wife attempted to make contact with him on the second, but his phone had been shut off. We hired Ms. Warne to do a preliminary search for him, before deciding whether or not to involve the police.”

  “This is specifically against policy, Liam. Even for retired employees. We're to be notified immediately if anything out of the ordinary happens with a family member.”

  Liam glared at Camilla. “I am well aware of the policy, Camilla. I wrote it. I made a judgment call, and I did not need your — nor anyone else's — permission to do so.”

  I stared at Sloane Warne and the edge of her mouth curled just a little.

  It was sort of funny. In a weird, macabre kind of way. Even in the worst situations, people will still try to one-up one another, or assert their dominance. Liam Elridge had probably hired Camilla Pierce. He may have officially retired several years ago, but he was no stranger to the Court.

  Plus, Camilla had stuck us in those ridiculous chairs.

  I coughed to suppress the laugh that threatened to bubble up, and resisted the urge to raise my hand. “Sloane and I know that he was in Panama City, Florida beginning on the twenty-sixth. The last credit card charge we found was on the twenty-eighth, at The Lazy Buc.”

  Liam frowned. “Nothing past that?”

  “No,” Sloane answered. “My partner is highly skilled in this area. She's been unable to find any trace of him after the twenty-eighth. Allie believes we should leave for Florida immediately, and I'm inclined to agree. We have no other information to go on. He didn't speak to anyone after returning from Paris or before leaving for Panama City. His apartment yielded only information about the flight.”

  I turned my gaze towards Sloane. She had left out the part about the strange woman in Ben's apartment, the one who had likely cleared his computer. My stomach dropped. Was Sloane really who she said she was? Why leave out such a vital detail?

  Liam crossed his hands in his lap and looked down. “We must take action. I've already lost one son to this organization. I do not intend to lose another.”

  “Fine. We'll arrange for travel to Florida, and for accommodations once you've arrived. I want frequent reports, including expenses. Ms. Stuart, you're clear to use your card for anything related to this matter. I'll call the hangar; we should have you in the air just after nightfall.”

  And without fanfare, she released us all from her office and shut the door.

  Liam turned his back to the door and frowned down at me. “I wish you had just come to me with this, Allie. I would have arranged accommodations without delay.”

  I crossed my arms and shook my head. “No, it's not your call. Not this time. He was at a bar owned by a supe named Ernie Haden. And I can't ignore this feeling Ernie Haden may know something. Ernie Haden is someone we can trust.”

  My father had only trusted two people with his whereabouts and the truth about his visions. Christian Michaels and Ernie Haden. Ben's appearance at his bar could not possibly be a coincidence.

  Liam nodded. “I am aware of Ernie Haden, and I believe you are correct. But that doesn't mean you need to go behind my back on this. We must be very careful, until we know more about all the players. Do I make myself clear?”

  He directed this last question to both Sloane and me. We nodded in unison, and the whole delinquent child thing came full circle.

  * * *

  Sloane and I waited in the plane's lounge for the all clear. The flight crew was working quickly to get us in the air and the pilot had promised us only a few minutes of last checks before we would be cleared for take-off.

  The engines spun down right around the time I assumed we would be good to go. After a few moments, the main hatch opened and Daniel Makar, my handler and only remaining friend inside Sorrell's organization, stepped onto the plane.

  His shoulders were rigid, and he did not look happy. He dumped a bag in one of the seats and gave me a tight-lipped smile. “I hear Florida is very nice this time of year.”

  Chapter 3

  We bypassed the hotel in favor of heading straight to The Lazy Buc. There were only a few hours of darkness left, and I wasn't sure if we'd need Daniel or not.

  Sloane's techie friend hadn't turned up much else on The Lazy Buc—it just didn't have much of a paper trail. She had managed to find phone records and more in-depth credit card transactions, but Ben's trail ran cold on December twenty-eighth. By the time we actually arrived in the parking lot of his rundown bar, I was beginning to think Ernie Haden may be our only choice.

  Daniel opened my door for me, and then did the same for Sloane. He scanned the parking lot before leading us to the front doors.

  My vision went wild as soon as I crossed the threshold. A full rainbow of auras jumped around the room—red, blue, green, and a blinding, shimmering white seemed to hover over every surface and around every corner. I blinked a few times before closing my eyes altogether. In the months since my ability had developed, I'd learned to control it well, but the room full of supes had thrown me off guard.

  When I finally felt like I had my faculties under control, I forced my eyes open. The auras settled down considerably, leaving only a faint trail over every person in the room. Daniel and Sloane had moved ahead of me, towards the bar, but I felt my gaze drawn to the dazzling ghost white aura that still permeated the place.

  It wasn't the worst bar I'd ever seen, but it wasn't the best either. The wood floor was dark and worn, with thick gouges where some of the barstools had rested for a very long time. A simple bar stretched the length of the room, with bottom-lit shelves of liquor in front of a large mirror. In front of the bar, a dozen or so tables filled the space. There was a dartboard in the corner, a jukebox that didn't even look plugged in, a small TV above the liquor, and three doors at the back wall. I was honestly surprised there weren't peanut shells everywhere.

  I surveyed the patrons again. My vision danced across a familiar red, a purple a shade or two lighter than Harding's aura had been, the aquamarine of a telepath, and a goldenrod I had never seen before. Finally, my gaze landed on the source
of all that magnificent light.

  A large man was hunched at a high-top table, his eyes scrunched up to read a newspaper in the dim light of the bar. The glow emanated from him, so bright it bathed the pages on the table in a gentle light.

  He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a huge red beard and long red hair. He set the papers aside and turned to look right at me.

  “Allie Stuart. After all these years, your bastard of a father was right after all. Down to the very day and time. If I didn't think it would piss Michaels off so thoroughly, I'd call it witchcraft.” He grinned and pushed off his stool. “Of course, come to think of it… Sounds like a grand idea.”

  My focus dropped for a moment and the auras lit up like a parade around me. I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. “I take it you know me? After all this, I'm starting to think my father could have perhaps left me a bit more information than he did. I'm tired of meeting people who already know who I am.”