Undercover_Magic

by Judy Mills

  I made sure that the kid hadn't snuck back in to eavesdrop on us and then closed the door. Falcon looked up from the computer that occupied its own island of cleanliness and his fingers stopped moving over the keys. "Aren't you catching a ride out of the country?" he asked.

  "I've decided to stay."

  "Any special reason?"

  I wasn't about to tell him his sassy pants houseguest wanted me to snoop into his Uncle Ben's business, so I focused on what I'd read in the report Ms. Fairview had given me. "Ever heard of VR?"

  He started typing again. "Run-of-the-mill vamp venom hit enhanced with magic. Supposed to give a longer, better orgasmic trip. Also ten times more addictive and five times as likely to fry the user's brain. Very rare."

  "Not anymore."

  His gaze scanned the screen. "How did you see Chiwa?"

  I ignored his genius ramblings and stuck to the topic at hand. "Cooper was investigating the sudden VR influx. He was going to shut down whoever was behind it."

  "Is it connected to the way you smell rotten jasmine when dimensions are forced open?" Falcon muttered to himself.

  "No, it's not. He suspected a connection between that Rhea school and whoever's making the VR."

  His fingers flew over the keyboard. "Only one known species could discern dimensional cloaking and smell breaches in natural dimensional shifts. But they haven't been alive for ten thousand years."

  "Try and focus, would you? The most promising students of the school where Chiwa goes are given scholarships and sent on. After that, they drop off the map."

  That got his attention. He looked up at me and his pewter-grey eyes went steely. "What do you mean, 'drop off'?"

  "Usually it's kids from poorer families or those with no folks at all. Relatives get a check every month and a letter saying how happy their child is. Other than that, no contact allowed."

  "What happened when Cooper went to the other school, the exclusive one?"

  Frustration gnawed at me. "He couldn't even find it. So he started looking for the rich patron who sponsors both schools. Next thing he knows, he's being falsely accused of taking bribes and the FBI is on his tail."

  "Is Lord Bellmonte the sponsor? Is that why he has his panties in a wad over this?"

  "My gut tells me no. He feels pscyho-level strongly about people who exploit what he considers to be the master race. Plus, he was targeted, too."

  My mind churned with possibilities, and none of them seemed plausible. I glanced at the closed door and then looked back at Falcon. "Chiwa can't go back to school," I said quietly.

  Uneasiness flashed across his face. "No way. That school is the first happy thing that's ever happened to her." The worry on his face deepened. "You know why her father named her 'death'? Because her mother and her twin sister died when she was born. He barely gave her the minimum to survive and cut her loose as soon as her magic manifested. I'm—Uncle Ben and me and that school are all she's got."

  I kept my face completely neutral as thoughts and feelings churned through me. There were so many layers to what he'd just told me that I wasn't sure whether to get pissed about a parent who couldn't handle things or focus on the fact that Falcon had made a major slip.

  Were Chiwa's instincts right on target? Had Falcon been holding down the home fort all on his own while Ben roamed the planet as free as a bird? I'd met Falcon's uncle about a year after the paranormal attacks, right before Falcon's operation had joined up with mine. He was a burly man who looked like he'd once been on the jolly side until the war had shocked it out of him.

  As much as it hurt that Falcon might be in trouble and keeping it from me, that was at least a problem I could do something about. I couldn't make Chiwa's dad step up. I could only try to find out if my friend needed my help.

  I flicked a wire with my finger and kept my thoughts and feelings to myself. Instead, I pretended to be only mildly annoyed that he'd balked at my suggestion. "Fine. But if she gets called up for a slot at that other place, pull her out."

  "What about the rest? The kids who are missing and the ones that'll go next?"

  I grinned, glad to move on to something simple and straightforward. "We fight for them. What else?"

  "I hope that by fight you mean sneak around and avoid getting arrested," Falcon said.

  "If we're lucky. Sure." I gave him a steady look and told him my plan.

  * * *

  The career that Margaret Stillman had put her heart and soul into for five years had turned sour a long time ago. The office that she could easily have called home since she spent so much time there, had begun to feel like a prison. And after this last breach in protocol, she could no longer ignore the fact that her beloved FBI had stopped making any effort to dodge corruption.

  Not that it mattered. Her loyalty always lay with the Alpha and his brother first and it always would. Family, Clan and then human government. There was no other hierarchy possible.

  She leaned against the corner of her desk, arms and legs crossed. Agent Fuller and his human counterpart, Agent Baker, stood in front of her looking disheveled and penitent.

  "Let me make sure I understand," she said to them, making sure she sounded displeased. "My best tracker and a team of top agents lost a nineteen-year-old girl. A human. Again." She looked at Agent Fuller. "Does that clearly summarize your report?"

  He kept his gaze properly on the carpet. "Yes, ma'am."

  "Any unusual theories like last time? Maybe she sprouted wings. That would explain how she snuck past your team the first time when she was supposed to be trapped on an eight story office building." She stared steadily at him for another moment to make sure he knew his place.

  When he refused to meet her eyes, she let herself soften a bit. "I won't mention this embarrassment to Alpha Ryker."

  The tension drained out of the other Were. "Thank you, ma'am."

  "You will not lose her again."

  "No, ma'am."

  Satisfied she'd made her point, Margaret pushed away from her desk. "I've had reports of a man matching Agent Daine's description near the Duck and Fire pub. The owner has a soft spot for Ms. Kittner and may be giving him aid. I want you to put together a surveillance team to cover a two-block radius. Daine may be holed up in the vicinity. Don't report back to me until you have results. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, ma'am." Agent Fuller nodded to his partner and they hurried off.

  Margaret trailed behind them, closed the door and locked it. Crossing back to her desk, she waited a moment to be sure the other Were was out of earshot and then took out her Clan-issued iC from inside her jacket pocket.

  She pressed in a code and put the device to her ear. "They've been redirected to the Duck and Fire," she relayed when the secure messaging system picked up.

  Disconnecting, she went to the other side of her desk and pulled out the box she'd left hidden underneath it. She thought that she probably ought to feel some kind of regret for ditching the career she'd worked so hard to build, but she didn't.

  Instead, relief warmed the middle of her chest as she started packing her personal items. She was tired of playing both sides. It would be good to take on security again and to work with Marc. He was infallibly straightforward, excellent in a fight and as devoted to the royal family and those they cared about as she was.

  And if what she feared was truly happening, then Cooper and Addison would need all the protection they could get, even if neither of them thought they needed it.

  * * *

  While Falcon went through his arsenal of gadgets back at the shop, I slunk my way through the city to the safe house and got on my computer. I still felt guilty snooping into my friend's business, but if it meant keeping a promise I made almost nine years ago, I'd put up with a little discomfort.

  None of my legal and not so legal ways of finding information on someone revealed anything unusual. Benjamin Kane, fifty-one, engineering degree, Charlotte address that matched Falcon's, one sister still alive who was Falcon's mother, nev
er married, no kids of his own, parents deceased, blah, blah, blah. He'd been made Falcon's legal guardian in 2025 and Chiwa's last month.

  With only a little more effort, I managed to dig up various licenses and legal documents pertaining to the ownership of Magical Gadgets and Bits, Kane's passport, driver's license, gun license, and even shot records, but none of that told me squat about where he was or what he was doing right now. Pictures I found matched what I remembered of him from when I was a kid, except his hair had gone white and his face was more craggy. Backgrounds in the pictures were nondescript and none of them were labeled with anything useful.

  He also had no criminal records. Not even a traffic violation. Everything was perfect.

  Too perfect.

  I narrowed my eyes at the display of records on the screen. Falcon's talent for hacking and creating fictitious identities was dripping all over this. What was he up to?

  I spent another half hour searching, but couldn't break past the stellar life of Uncle Ben into the reality beyond. Everything was locked up tighter than a vampire's bedroom. The closest I came to anything useful was the current address of his sister.

  Falcon rarely talked about his mother and I hesitated to bring her into this. But with no other leads, I didn't see that I had much of a choice. If I was careful, I'd be able to find out what I needed and neither she nor her son would be any the wiser.

  I closed down my computer, grabbed a snack to go and headed out. After I dropped the computer at a new location, it was time to see what Falcon had come up with for the little adventure I'd planned for us tonight.

  Cooper's report all but said that whoever had started the schools had done so in order to have access to practitioner talent—talent that was young and pliable enough to manipulate, bully, and use.

  The people running the schools likely had contact with the person paying the bills, or at least their accountant, lawyer, or representative. Follow the trail one link at a time and it would lead me to the end where our drug maker was sitting.

  Cooper had hit a dead end in part because he was forced to work within the confines of the law.

  I wasn't so limited.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I stood at the back of Falcon's lab under an overhead light and contemplated the array of gadgets spread across a work table. It was a little past four and he'd closed the shop early. Mostly to take one more stab at talking me out of what I wanted us to do.

  "Magical field disrupter. Upgraded." Falcon reluctantly pointed to a gadget that looked exactly like what it was: an old TV remote that he'd found at the dump. One end had been cut off and three thick wires ran straight across the opening: red, green and purple, plus a few silver-colored ones.

  "You know this is a bad idea, right?" he added, glancing at me.

  "Only if this model causes explosive feedback magic like the last one."

  "It did not cause—okay, it did a little bit, and no. I fixed that." He pointed to another gadget and this one I also recognized, though I'd never used this particular version of it. "Inter-dimensional distortion scanner. Limited range," Falcon told me.

  I had an old paranormal scanner just like it in a drawer in my main apartment. It consisted of a chunk of black metal an inch bigger than a deck of cards and a half-inch thick with a couple screens on the face of it. Probably in the hands of the FBI by now.

  "Wait. Did you say interdimensional?" That was new.

  "Shouldn't you, I don't know, interview the kids' families or something before you resort to breaking and entering?" Falcon persisted, ignoring my question.

  I picked up the device, turning it over in my hands to get a better look. "Not breaking. Just entering. And Cooper tried that. The families wouldn't talk. Is this the thing you were working on last summer?"

  He took the interdimensional whatever out of my hands. "That residue you brought me to test last summer was the missing ingredient," he said placing the gadget on the table. "I made it into a paste and grounded the—you could contact Ms. Fairview and ask her to spy for you. A reliable insider is a great way to get access."

  "The FBI closed that door when they busted down mine. And don't say 'Talk to the paranormal unit of the police department.' They've already been put on alert. Do you have anything that can open spelled locks?"

  Falcon pointed to what looked like a compact camera from about ten years ago. I picked it up and since he didn't stop me, I took a good look.

  "You have—"

  "Contacting any of my street connections risks exposure. Can this detect if anything has nasty witchy poisons on it?"

  Falcon released a long suffering sigh. "It can."

  "Sweet." I put the "camera" down and made a final study of the table full of toys.

  "Illegally accessing files at a practitioner school is dangerous."

  "We'll take this, this and that silver tube thing that looks like a small flashlight," I said, pointing at the items.

  "You don't know that the guy behind the VR is the secret sponsor of the school."

  "So we go with our strong circumstantial evidence and find proof to give to the authorities."

  "Are you extra cheery or is it just me?" He gave me a suspicious look.

  I did my best to scowl. Apparently my guilty conscious was showing. "It's just you."

  "Or do you realize this is a bad idea and you just don't want to admit it?" he added.

  "We find the evidence they're hiding and sic the FBI on them. Everything goes back to normal and the kids are safe. It's a great plan."

  "Fine. I'll get the IDs and set up the employment files in the system," he said, his tone filled with resentful resignation.

  "I'll get the uniforms and meet you back here."

  "You know I hate dangerous missions," he added.

  "You hate leaving your babies in the hands of amateurs even more."

  He picked up the interdimensional whatsit and held it to his protectively chest. "See you at dark."

  * * *

  With my time limited and the FBI likely to pop out at me at any minute, I decided a quick resolution to the problem of Uncle Ben's possible none existence was my best course of action. Since I had a few hours to kill before we had to be at the school, I figured the present was as good a time as any.

  Hoverbuses were tightly monitored, so I sprang for a cab and got out three blocks from my destination to walk the rest of the way. The neighborhood was surprisingly pleasant, making me wonder if this was what the world would be like if paranormals had never made their presence known.

  The house where Falcon's mother lived was a compact and orderly Cape Cod painted white with blue trim. It had well tended shade trees surrounding it and window boxes all along the second floor with yellow flowers overflowing from them.

  Even though the property enjoyed the relative safety of a prosperous neighborhood, a state-of-the-art paranormal fence surrounded it, humming with magic and electricity. A bit of overkill, but I had to admit that if my mother was still alive, I'd probably have done the same thing.

  With sundown still an hour and a half away and plenty of people scurrying about their business, the gate still stood open. I went through like I belonged there and knocked on the door. A short, plump woman with a round, scrubbed-clean face answered.

  "I'm here to see Mrs. Hallford," I said, keeping my expression and tone innocently pleasant.

  She gave me a disapproving scowl and I reassessed my impression of her—pleasant on the outside, steel on the inside. Maybe not the housekeeper.

  "Don't you people ever give up? Miss Marilyn doesn't see visitors."

  "I'm doing a story on local business owners who have come from nothing and gone on to be successful." Why did Falcon's mom need a watchdog?

  "You're not another solicitor from those nasty vamps?"

  "I'm a freelance feature writer for the Charlotte Observer," I answered, putting plenty of friendly into it. "Falcon Hallford is one of the owners we're highlighting. I'm talking to family and friends to give the ar
ticle a stronger human interest slant. Childhood stories, proud moments, that sort of thing."

  The watchdog searched my face and I hoped I looked sincere enough to gain entry.

  She smiled and I knew I was in. "No." She slammed the door.

  I blinked at the blue painted metal. What the hell? I pounded on the hard, cold surface and was summarily ignored. Very inconvenient.

  I started around back and the door popped open. The sweet little watchdog pointed an old M16 assault rifle at me. "Git," she snarled.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  I raised my hands and backed down the lovely stone walkway and out to the sidewalk. She reached back inside the house and the gate swung closed with a "don't call us, we'll call you" kind of clunk as it locked.

  Great. Now I'd have to find another way in.

  I headed off down the street. When I got out of sight of the house, I doubled back. Taking the street that ran behind Mrs. Hallford's neighborhood, I hoped I'd be able to find a way in.

  * * *

  I lobbed another pebble at the window above me, and ignored the feeling that I'd stepped into a two-bit movie from a hundred years ago. In my line of work you had to focus on doing what worked, not what made you look good. Sometimes that meant enlarging a hole under a dangerous fence and throwing rocks at a magically booby-trapped window.

  A few moments before, I'd seen a woman with grey hair look out the window while she hugged a thick lavender sweater around her shoulders as if to ward off some hidden threat. It had been nearly seven years since I'd seen her, but I recognized Mrs. Hallford immediately.

  If I wanted my answers, I had to speak with her. Since I couldn't come to her, the next best thing was her coming to me.

  A movement in the room caught my attention and I quickly tossed a handful of small rocks at the window. They hit the glass with a sharp shower of sound and tumbled into the window box below the frame. The shadow flickered and Mrs. Hallford appeared.