“Don’t think so,” Smith said. “I can still sense the tracker. I think the issue is that the plot of land where Valencia’s located doesn’t show up on satellite imagery or seem to exist anywhere else for that matter.”
“How is that possible?” I demanded.
“Must be another Techie on site,” Smith replied.
“Okay, we’re coming over,” Kaira said.
Kaira and I didn’t speak or look at each other as we got out of the car and crossed the street. When we got into the van, Bri and Smith were in the midst of a heated discussion about Smith’s real name.
“Just your initials, then,” Bri wheedled.
“Government spies are everywhere,” was Smith’s only reply.
“Anyway,” A.J. loudly interrupted. “What’s the plan?”
“Smith and I designed a teeny tiny camera,” Yutika said, holding up a camera that was about the size of a button.
“It’ll give us audio and visual, so we can see what’s going on inside the property,” Smith added. “And it’ll record everything so we’ll have that as evidence.”
“Ooh, come to Papa.” A.J. waved his hand, and the camera lifted off Yutika’s palm and hovered in the air.
“Will that work if there’s a Techie on the property?” Kaira asked.
If the other Techie was even close to as powerful as Smith, they would cancel out each other’s abilities. It was the way it worked with Magics who had the same ability and were close in level. If that was the case with Smith and this new Techie, we’d be working blind.
“This Techie’s only a Level 5 or 6,” Smith said, his eyes still closed. “We’re good.”
The van door opened without anyone touching it, and the camera zoomed out. I lost sight of it in the sunlight.
One of Smith’s laptops shifted around so the screen was facing us. I didn’t know if it was Smith or A.J. controlling it, but the screen flickered, and then a dizzying blur of images came to life.
“Holy guacamole,” A.J. exclaimed, his hands still moving through the air as he controlled the camera’s flight. “That’s the prettiest house I’ve ever seen.”
The camera was looking down on the estate that was blocked from view of the naked eye because of all the trees. The image on the screen showed an enormous house. I counted fifteen windows, and that was just in the front.
“There!” several voices shouted at once.
The camera moved to hover in front of a window on the first floor. Valencia, easily recognizable in a hot pink dress that looked more like a tent with sleeves, was sitting at a table across from a man. Without her hair plastered down from her rain, Valencia’s cherry-red mop made her look like she’d recently stuck her finger in an outlet. More importantly, it blocked our view of the man sitting across from her.
“I need to see our guy if I’m going to be able to look for matches,” Smith grumbled.
“I can try opening the window a crack to get the camera inside,” A.J. said. “But if the window squeaks, they’ll notice.”
“Do it,” Kaira said.
“Here’s to hoping these people believe in WD-40,” A.J. muttered.
We all held our breath.
The window slid open such a small amount that the two people sitting at the table didn’t even glance at it.
“Alright,” A.J. murmured. “In you go.”
The wobbling image on the screen sharpened. I ignored Valencia and stared at the man. Thinning white hair. Light blue eyes. Average height and weight. He looked…unnoteworthy. For some illogical reason, it pissed me off that someone so harmless-looking could be responsible for wrecking my life.
And instigating a civil war.
“Anyone recognize this man?” Kaira asked, her voice quiet.
We all shook our heads.
The image on the screen minimized, and then a database of faces popped up beside it. I watched as faces flicked across the screen too fast for me to get a good look at any of them.
“No matches in any police databases or Alliance records,” Smith said.
“So, he’s either a Nat without a criminal record, or he’s unMarked,” Yutika said.
“Can you check if he has a driver’s license or passport?” I asked.
“Already did. No matches.”
“We need to hear what they’re saying,” I said, stating the obvious.
A crackling sound filled the van.
“I can’t guarantee our cops will be the only ones in the room,” Valencia’s voice said, as clearly as if she was in the van with us.
“Do you think the money I’m paying you was just a donation?” the man asked. “I’m paying you to make sure nothing goes wrong. I’ve already provided you with all of the necessary DNA evidence. There cannot be anyone else examining the body before it’s cremated.”
I started. I could have sworn I’d never seen this man before, but now, there seemed to be something familiar about him. I squinted at the image on Smith’s laptop, but nothing about the man’s appearance had changed. I was sure I’d never seen him before.
So why did I have the nagging sense that I knew him?
“But wouldn’t it just be easier to do one more person like we did the oth-ahs?” Valencia asked, her voice taking on the hint of a whine. “Or you could just do another student like you did Penelope. Maybe we could even kill Graysen Gald-ah himself to get another Nat into the mix—”
Everyone in the van looked at me. I gripped the edge of my seat, grinding the fabric down into the metal frame to keep my anger in check.
“No,” the man replied. “There is no other murder that will throw the city into bedlam faster. We need everyone scared and bloodthirsty enough to want a war.”
I forced my fury down so I could focus on the conversation.
There was shuffling, but Valencia’s body blocked our view of whatever the man passed across the table to her.
“I took the liberty of acquiring the crime photos in advance so your cops can get the body out of there faster. Remember, I want the body processed and cremated in under an hour.”
We all exchanged a puzzled look. What were they talking about?
And what was it about this man that was seeming more and more familiar by the minute?
“Why the rush?” Valencia asked. “We have two more days until the vote.”
“I’m not paying you to ask questions,” the man snapped.
There it was again. Something about the authority and underlying threat in the man’s expression. But no matter how hard I stared at the man’s image, I didn’t recognize him. And it wasn’t like me to forget a face.
Valencia slid the folder the man gave her into her purse before standing up. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you in two days at the vote.”
“No mistakes, Valencia. All of our plans hinge on this final murder going precisely as it was meant to.” The man steepled his fingers in front of him as he studied Valencia. “You will make an excellent first lieutenant for the new regime we’re building. I would hate to have to replace you.”
Valencia bristled, but with obvious effort, relaxed. Her high-pitched little laugh filled the van. “By this time on Tuesday, you’ll be calling me Direct-ah.”
“You may be the face of this organization, Valencia, but I am the neck.” The man’s voice dropped another octave. “You do nothing, you say nothing, unless I tell you to. Never forget that.”
The angle of the camera shifted, and I caught a combination of fear and irritation flash across the Rain Maker’s face.
“Get that camera out of there before he notices it,” Kaira ordered.
“I’ll get whatever that man just gave Valencia,” Michael said, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Forget it,” Smith said. “There’s at least one guard booth on the property, and I can sense cameras everywhere.”
Kaira looked out the window, her attention fixated on something. When I followed the direction of her gaze, I saw she was looking at two squirrels that were chasing each other
up a tree. She turned back and quirked her lip at Michael.
“How do you feel about small rodents?” she asked.
Michael’s face paled.
Yutika clapped her hands in delight. “Ohmygosh, can you make him into a chipmunk?”
I blinked, and then Michael was gone. In his place was a chipmunk.
“You’re adorbs!” Bri exclaimed.
“This is ridiculous,” the chipmunk muttered in Michael’s voice as it examined one of its paws.
“Wait for me,” Kaira said as the chipmunk reached for the door handle. And then she turned into a chipmunk, too.
“I’m coming with you,” I said, although I would much prefer to be a dog than a chipmunk. Or maybe a hawk.
“Me too,” Bri said.
“Just me and Michael this time,” Chipmunk Kaira told us. “I’m not as good at animal illusions, and the more I have to track, the harder they are to maintain.”
“Do your earpieces and mics still work?” Smith asked, eyeing the chipmunks dubiously.
“They still work,” Kaira’s voice replied. One of the chipmunks put its paw to its tiny ear. “We’re still the same people we were before, we’re just appearing to be chipmunks to the rest of you.”
“Alright, then,” Smith said. “Just don’t get the urge to start gnawing on any of those wires.”
“That’s not how illusions work, Smith,” Kaira replied. “Although, I am a little a hungry. Maybe I’ll just take a nibble.”
Smith scowled. I tried and failed to hide my grin. Chipmunk Kaira saluted us before she and Michael jumped out of the van.
“Can we follow them with that camera?” I asked A.J. and Smith. There was no way I was letting Kaira get anywhere near the two people who were responsible for at least four murders…soon to be five…if I couldn’t keep an eye on her.
In answer, A.J. waved a hand, and the tiny camera zoomed out of the van. We watched on Smith’s screen as the chipmunks crossed the street.
A.J. manipulated the camera high enough that we lost sight of the chipmunks in the grass, but we had a clear view of Valencia coming down the long walkway to where her car was parked.
Valencia jerked to a stop and spun around, like someone had just touched her arm.
“Who’s there?” she demanded.
“Valencia, what did that man give you?” Michael’s deep voice came across our earpieces.
“Doctored crime scene photos,” she answered immediately. She was still looking around for the source of the voice, but her wild expression had turned to one of peaceful contentment.
“Please put the folder on the ground in front of you,” Michael said.
Valencia didn’t hesitate to do as she was told. A.J. re-positioned the camera so we could see Chipmunk Michael paw at the folder’s seal. Chipmunk Kaira stood behind him and looked over his shoulder as he emptied the contents. Photos spilled out onto the grass.
We all exchanged a look of horror.
The pictures showed a man, covered in blood and lying on top of a blood-stained rug. His body was mangled, but his face was untouched, so there was no mistaking the dead man in the photo.
It was Director Edwardian Remwald.
CHAPTER 32
Several things happened in quick succession.
The front door of the house opened, and the man who had been talking with Valencia stepped out onto the porch. I blinked, convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me. The man flickered, the way illusions did before they disappeared.
And then the old man was gone. In his place was a very-much alive and blood-free Director Remwald.
Someone in the van gasped. Bri shrieked, before slapping a hand over her mouth. A cold dread settled in me as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
Before I could try to puzzle it out, the two chipmunks on the grass turned back into Kaira and Michael. They looked at each other and then down at themselves. Kaira shook her head and said, “I can’t.”
Whatever had just happened to their illusions, it seemed to only be affecting Kaira’s magic. Valencia was still standing motionless with that placid expression on her face.
And then I understood. Remwald was an Animate Illusionist. He had to be; it was the only explanation for why his and Kaira’s illusions had faltered, while everyone else’s magic remained unaffected.
“Kaira, he’s an Animate Illusionist,” I said into my mic.
Michael stared in surprise at Remwald, who was still watching them from the porch. As soon as Michael’s attention was turned away from her, Valencia’s glazed-over eyes sharpened.
“Michael,” Yutika warned, holding her mic up to her lips.
But all of Michael’s attention was still moving back and forth between the Director and Kaira.
Valencia reached into her purse. Moving faster than I would have thought the woman capable of, she pulled out a can and sprayed its contents into Michael’s eyes.
Yutika screamed as Michael doubled over, clawing at his eyes.
Pepper spray, I thought, but it wasn’t a coherent thought because all of my attention was on the five security guards racing across the lawn with guns raised.
“Kaira!” I hurled open the van door and ran.
Someone called my name, but I didn’t look back. I crashed through the bushes nearest to the driveway, barely noticing as the branches tore at my clothes and skin. I stumbled out of the trees and onto the lawn. I saw Kaira rip off her sweater and press it to Michael’s face.
“Get down!” I yelled.
I heard the pop pop pop of gunfire as I ran for them. I heard Kaira’s scream in my ear. I saw her fall.
“Kai!”
I threw myself onto the ground in front of her, using my own body to cover hers.
Kaira screamed again.
I hunched over her, trying to protect as much of her as I could. I flinched as the sound of bullets hitting something metallic and impenetrable came from somewhere behind us. I turned just enough to see Bri, her titanium armor in place, as she stood between us and the guards. The bullets pinged off her skin and ricocheted back at the guards, who were shouting as they tried to dodge their own bullets.
I had the vague understanding that we’d all be dead if it wasn’t for Bri. Then I saw Kaira’s stomach, and every other thought fled from my mind. Blood had soaked through her tank top and was covering her hands, which were pressed over a wound. A gunshot wound.
My body wanted to freeze in panic, but there was no time. I had to get her out of here.
“Come on!” Bri yelled. “I’ll cover you.”
I lifted Kaira in my arms and got to my feet. My chest constricted as she screamed in agony. I felt her blood soaking into my own shirt. My vision started to darken, and I had to force myself to focus.
I couldn’t afford to lose my shit. Kai needed me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bri lift Michael over her shoulder. He was easily twice her size, but she held him with one arm as she used the other to gesture to me. I followed behind her, trying not to jostle Kaira when even the smallest movement was torture for her.
“Hold on, Kai,” I told her as I ran.
“Come on, come on!” A.J. gestured frantically at us from the van.
I had the sense the security guards were recovering and preparing to renew their assault, but I didn’t look back.
I passed Kaira to Bri before climbing in. I glanced back at the house once. The man who looked just like Director Remwald was standing on the porch, watching me. A smile full of menace crossed his face.
CHAPTER 33
Michael,” Yutika gasped from the driver’s seat.
“Drive!” Five voices shouted at her.
Kaira was stretched out on the floor of the van with her head in my lap.
“Put pressure on the wound,” Smith barked.
I yanked off my shirt and threw it to Bri, who was kneeling next to Kaira. When Bri started to press the shirt to her stomach, Kaira screamed.
“It’s really bad,” Bri
said in a trembling voice.
“Find the nearest Mag hospital,” I yelled at Smith, even though the Techie was sitting right behind me.
“We can’t take her to a hospital,” A.J. said. “We’re unMarked.”
“I don’t give a—”
“Calm down,” Yutika ordered as the van screeched around the corner. “You’re making me hysterical!”
“We just need to think this through,” Bri said, knocking her titanium fist against her temple.
“Mag hospital. Now!”
If Kai wasn’t on my lap, I’d wrench Yutika out from behind the wheel and drive myself.
“We’ll all be arrested,” Michael said, his voice infuriatingly calm. “We can’t take her to a hospital.”
Kaira’s screams had turned to moans of pain that had me on the brink of madness.
“I know a guy,” Smith said before I lost my mind entirely. “He’s not exactly Board certified, but he knows what he’s doing.”
“Then what the hell are we waiting for?” I snarled.
“He might not help. He…doesn’t like people.”
“I can take care of that,” Michael said, rubbing at his eyes from the front.
“You sure you can Whisper when you’re like this?” Yutika asked, glancing over at him as she chewed on her lip.
“Drive!” I roared.
Yutika flinched, and then she floored the gas.
The van blew through a stop sign. I tightened my arms around Kaira as a car coming in the opposite direction slammed on their brakes. There was a screech of tires and a blaring horn.
“Sorry!” Yutika cried as we raced past.
As if things couldn’t get any worse, the horn was replaced by sirens and the flash of red-and-blue lights.
“Oh no, what do we do?!” Yutika asked, her face full of panic.
“Pull over,” Michael commanded in a gruff voice.
He scrubbed at his eyes, which were bloodshot and still streaming tears.
A heavyset cop strolled out of the squad car, one hand resting on his weapon.
“Hands on the wheel—” he began.
“There’s nothing wrong here, Officer,” Michael said, leaning into the front seat and squinting at the cop as tears continued to stream down his face. “And you’re going to give us a police escort so we can get to where we’re going faster.”
The Nat Makes 7 (Mags & Nats Book 1) Page 23