by Sonya Clark
* * *
Nate stopped pacing when Vadim entered the room with a tray full of breakfast. “Where the hell has everybody been? You’re not keeping me locked up anymore. I want to be able to leave this place and I want to know the layout of the tunnels. I’m not your goddamn prisoner!”
“Good morning, sunshine.” Vadim placed the tray on the table. He glanced around the room, making note of the open bathroom door. “Where’s our girl?” This time there was far less humor in his voice.
“I woke up and she was gone. No note, nothing. And I can’t get out of this fucking place to go look for her.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. It’s not a good idea for her to be out of sight too much. Draws suspicion.”
“After what happened last night,” Nate said, incredulous, “she shouldn’t be alone.”
Vadim finally seemed to take him seriously. “What happened?”
Nate told him. “She passed out and we don’t know why she reacted the way she did. Where’s Zinnia? I’m surprised she didn’t tell you already.”
“She’s attending a birth.” Nate drew his eyebrows together in surprise. Vadim said, “She’s training to be a midwife. You didn’t think she lived off her little stories, did you?” He ran a hand over his stubble. “Give me the tablet. I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going on.”
“I want to go to her apartment. I know you can get me there under glamour.”
“She’s not there,” Vadim said. “I just came from her place, and she’s not home.”
Nate took three steps forward then back, flexing his hands and gritting his teeth. The need to be on the move, searching for Calla, doing something, was overwhelming. “We’ve gotta find her. She was screaming, bleeding. Something in that file fucked her up.”
Vadim raised his hands in a placating gesture. “The nosebleed is from pushing herself too hard with all the trancehacking she’s been doing. I’ve seen it before. Hell, I’ve done it. That part doesn’t worry me.” He opened a bottle of juice from the breakfast tray and took a drink. “It’s the screaming and the passing out I don’t like.”
Nate waved at the door. “So let’s go find her!”
“Give me the tablet and let me take a look at the file. Whatever’s going on with her, clearly there’s information there that can help.”
He was right, but Nate hated having to wait even longer than he already had. He snatched the tablet from the bed and thrust it at the other man. “Do it quick, okay? She’s in trouble. I know she is.”
Vadim pushed the tray aside and sat with the tablet on the table in front of him. “I’ll do it as quickly as it can be done, but you need to keep yourself under control. The better I can concentrate, the faster this will go.”
Nate forced himself to take a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll be quiet.”
“And still,” Vadim said. “Sit down. I can’t abide that pacing.”
Nate dropped onto the bed. Nothing he could now but wait. It grated. Worse, it made him feel useless. They’d come so far on trusting each other—what had made her leave without speaking to him? Waking up to find her gone, not being able to go look for her—he hadn’t been in this kind of waking nightmare since the Congo.
The sight of Vadim glowing was a momentary distraction. The same watery blue-white light that surrounded Calla when she did this kind of magic—trancehacking was the term they used, apparently—covered Vadim. His eyes were closed but moving underneath the lids, as if he was in REM sleep. One hand hovered over the tablet, the light a slightly darker blue between the device and his fingertips.
The minutes ticked by, nervous energy building until he felt ready to snap. The urge to pace, scream, hit things, do something, anything, burned like a too-fast adrenaline rush. Fear of distracting Vadim kept him glued to his seat on the edge of the bed, where he found a small outlet for his nerves by quietly twisting a section of the blanket into a tight coil. The wait felt like hours, though it was probably only thirty minutes or so before the glow began to recede and Vadim opened his eyes.
“Well?” Nate stood, ready to leap out the door.
“She’s...fuck, I can’t even...” Pale and shaking, Vadim climbed slowly to his feet and headed for the door.
Nate followed. “What? Tell me!”
Vadim stopped in the doorway. “She’s the senator’s daughter.”
That was too much to try to process. “That kind of documentation is sealed.”
Nodding, Vadim said, “It’s kept away from the public, but it does exist and there are copies in that file. She’s his daughter, his first born. And that’s not all.”
“What?”
“The son is also Magic Born. It looks like Beckwith paid Forbes for a fake DNA test.”
“An unregistered Magic Born.” All the missing pieces about the Forbes murder fell into place, a circle of dominoes clicking against each other. “I’d say that’s definitely motive for murder.”
“Three murders and one attempt, so far.”
“We’ve got to find Calla.”
Vadim led the way out the room and down the hall. “I’m gonna show you the way out through the tunnels and then go topside so I can badge out. I’ll meet you at the end of this tunnel and glamour you so you can’t be seen.”
“You think she’s going to Beckwith?”
“Wouldn’t you? For one reason or another?”
“What do you mean?”
“She can use that information to guarantee your safety. Or she can have a meltdown and kill them all. I’m a gambling man, but even I wouldn’t place a wager on what she’s going to do.”
They reached a tunnel entrance. Vadim opened it with a muttered spell and gave brief directions.
Nate said, “Do you have a gun?” He had his badge on him, but felt half-dressed without his sidearm.
“No.” Vadim smiled, the sight vaguely unsettling. “I have a stun gun. I can make much better use of that, trust me.”
The combination of electric magic and a stun gun made Nate queasy. “Then I hope Calla does too.”
“She does. I gave her one for her birthday one year.” He gestured at the tunnel.
Nate stepped inside. Vadim sealed it shut, leaving Nate alone in the dank tunnel with only rats and weak witchlight for company.
He’d been in worse. Double-timing it, he took off for the rendezvous point.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Calla pulled her lightweight jacket tighter around her torso, chilled despite the rising temperature. Cloaked by a haze of glamour, she stood in an alley across the wide boulevard from the high-rise where the Beckwith family lived. Magic Born rarely came to Central City. It was a good place for them to get hassled by cops and private security, so most avoided it. Unless of course they were with a wealthy Normal patron. Calla had never been to this part of town. It was too bright, too clean and sterile, all the glass and steel adding another layer of jitters to her already shot nervous system. The pavement under her feet provided grounding though, carrying a similar pulse of strength as the concrete and asphalt everywhere else in the city.
The electricity coursing through everything tasted stronger to her senses. It made sense, seeing as how the power grid in this part of the city was probably better maintained. She placed a hand against a nearby building, palm flat, drawing the energy to her like siphoning water. Like a fresh spring might, it bubbled with power and purity, definitely stronger than what she could pull inside FreakTown. There was much more electricity used here, and there might have been a substation nearby. Between that and the stun gun she’d be good to go.
Feeling marginally better, at least physically, she left the alley and crossed the boulevard. Now for the hard part—getting in the building. The main entrance was heavily guarded and had a badge system for entry. Even with glamour it was too public,
too risky.
Skirting around to the back, she found a service entrance. No guard there—they obviously weren’t worried about the menial labor sneaking in and out. There were cameras, though. She spotted one and felt the hum of power coming off the others. Shorting them out would be easy but might also make it harder to get through the building, depending on what backup security measures were in place. With a little effort, she could give them a push into freezing on a safe view long enough for her to get past. Fortunately it would take less effort to scramble the card reader and slip inside. The tricky part would be doing both at the same time.
It took longer than it should have, but she got it done. It cost too much energy though, leaving her panting and slumped inside a dark storage closet for twenty minutes. Pulling herself up and turning to face the wall, she flattened both hands on its surface.
“Madman of the Wires, share your strength with me.”
The whispered plea became a chant as she repeated it. Gradually, warmth suffused her being as she drew the energy of electricity into her again. The band of light visible beneath the door flickered. Blue-white arcs of power jumped between her spread fingers. Stopping the chant, she leaned her forehead against the wall for a long moment, letting the crackling energy work its way through her system to revitalize her. It wouldn’t last long and with all the trancehacking she’d been doing, she was due an epic crash, but it might be enough to get her through the next few hours.
Once she felt ready, she listened at the door for over a minute before opening it and stepping into the hall, still masked by glamour. One end of the hall led to a set of service elevators. Not relishing the thought of climbing the stairs to the penthouse level, she decided to risk it. The hall was empty and quiet. She moved swiftly, sending a charge of energy into the button long before getting within physical reach of it. A minute ticked by, then another. Finally the doors whooshed open, the car blessedly empty.
Calla examined the panel of buttons. Access to the penthouse apartments required maids to have a key card. Smirking, she touched the slot and pushed her will into it. The car jerked into motion.
The elevator made slow progress, and she took a moment to think for the first time since leaving FreakTown. She had no idea what she would do when she faced John Beckwith. He might not even be home. Surely at least one of them would be. What then? Hi, I’m the daughter you threw away. Fuck you. And stop trying to kill my boyfriend or I’ll make sure you wind up in prison for violating the Magic Laws, and that little brother winds up in the zone too. That would go over well. The senator had already killed to keep the family secret and himself out of prison. There was nothing to stop him from killing her too.
The elevator came to a stop far too soon. Calla moved into a back corner, strengthening the glamour. The doors opened, and a pair of maids entered with cleaning carts. Calla had to flatten herself as much as possible to stop one of the carts from hitting her and rolling forward. Keeping her breathing as shallow as possible, she listened to the maids chatter for several floors before they departed.
Finally arriving at the penthouse floor, Calla kept the door open for a moment while she took a look around. The elevator opened into a wide, sumptuously appointed foyer, with art on the walls, large potted plants dotted between occasional tables and a settee, and a large ceiling fan creating a gentle breeze. There was no sign of security—not even cameras that she could detect. Cautiously, she stepped into the foyer. No alarms sounded, so she went forward. It was a good thirty feet to the penthouse entrance.
The ceiling fan was situated at the halfway point. As she passed under it, a frisson of magical energy skittered across her skin. A tightening sensation pulled at her, followed by a burning as the glamour spell dissolved. She lurched to one side, stunned. The light fixture in the center of the fan pulsed. A part of the wall slid open to reveal a hidden security station.
Beckwith’s favorite killer guard stepped out with a large black handgun aimed at her head.
Calla reached for the stun gun in her pocket. The guard cocked his head, smiling. “Sure you want to test who’s faster, witch?”
She froze. No, she didn’t really want that. Not against a bullet. What the hell kind of magic tech could strip off a glamour spell? If that was something that had come out of Forbes’ lab, she had to hand it to the dead doctor.
The guard reached behind his back and produced a pair of flex cuffs. Not wanting to find out what kind of spell those might be strengthened with, Calla cast about desperately for a way to fight the guard. If she waited until his gun wasn’t pointed directly at her, she might be able to use the stun gun.
“Breaking and entering, intent to assault with magic. Charges like that will send you to prison for the rest of your life.” The guard held the cuffs in his teeth and yanked her around, one meaty hand putting a crushing grip on her wrist while the other hand prodded her side with the gun.
Rage boiled beneath her skin—so much she might not need the stun gun. The crackle and spark of electricity rocketed through her body, wanting out. She had only seconds to make a decision: turn it loose or shut it down. Oh Goddess, she wanted so much to turn it loose.
The door to the penthouse slid open with a whisper. Jason Beckwith stood in the doorway. His blue-gray eyes met hers, a blend of shock, joy and pleading shining in them. Calla dropped her gaze to the floor, not wanting to look at him.
“That’ll be all, Mr. Kane,” Jason said in a cool, patrician voice.
The guard released her wrists and took the cuffs from his mouth. “Sir?”
“She’s here to see me. At my invitation.” Jason stepped beyond the threshold. “I didn’t know if she’d stop by, so I didn’t leave notice.” He looked at the guard with an arched brow. “Mr. Kane, if you will.”
Kane pushed her away roughly and holstered his weapon. “I’ll discuss with your father the need to remind you of security protocols.”
Jason ignored him and gestured for Calla to follow him inside. She hesitated. This was what she’d come for—to get to the Beckwith family. An escort from one of them was the last thing she’d expected. One last look at Kane and his itchy trigger finger was all the convincing she needed. Back straight and head held high, she entered her family’s home.
With the press of a button, Jason closed the door on Kane’s suspicious stare. Facing him, Calla said, “I’m not your friend.”
“No.” The smooth mask of his face broke into jagged edges of emotion. “You’re my sister.” He drew her into an embrace, arms tight around her.
Calla held herself rigid, arms at her sides. Push him away. Push. A choked sob issued from him, and he clung harder. Get him away. Don’t let him touch you. Something cracked inside her, a hard surface paved over every lost dream of family she’d ever had, every futile longing. Once that first crack split the surface, it disintegrated faster than she could have imagined, and a gusher of emotion tried to pour forth.
She capped it like a well and stood frozen in the arms of her brother, no longer sure of anything.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Calla disengaged from Jason. “How do you know who I am?”
Jason wiped his face with his hands. “The same way you know, I’d imagine. From the files.”
“How did you see them?”
He tilted his head, a hint of humor in the uptick of one side of his mouth. “Do you really have to ask?”
She’d seen that look in the mirror, and wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing it on him. “Spell it out for me.”
“Let’s go sit down, shall we? We have a lot to talk about.”
“I didn’t come here to sit and chat.” At that moment Calla didn’t know why she was there. Holding on to her anger seemed to be the best way to keep from sinking, so she grabbed it with both hands. “They paid for you,” she spat. “They paid to keep you after throwing me away.”
Jason opened his mouth, but no words came out at first, and guilt was writ large on his face. “I know this may be an impossible thing to ask, but please don’t hate them.”
“You’re right, that’s pretty much impossible.”
“Grace, please.” He reached for her.
She stepped back. “Don’t call me that!”
“Jason, who is this?” John Beckwith stood in the archway that led to the penthouse proper. “I just got a very strange call from Mr. Kane. Care to explain?”
Jason’s face hardened. “Dad, this is—” he stopped, clearly not sure how to go further.
Calla stepped forward, shaking. “My name is Calla Vesper. I have proof you paid Alan Forbes to fake a DNA test for your son. I will use it to blow your life apart unless I get what I want.”
Beckwith said nothing. Jason said, “That’s why you came here? To blackmail us?”
She took another step. “There’s only one thing you have that I want.”
“Dad, it’s Grace,” Jason said, panicked. “This is Grace. You can’t have her arrested.”
“He wouldn’t bother with that. He’d just have me killed. Like that coroner and the lab tech who ran the first DNA test for the Forbes murder case. It’s a real easy way to clean up your problems, isn’t it?” Sparks danced in Calla’s vision, the magic itching just below the surface of her control.
“You have no idea,” Beckwith said, all pretense of the smooth politician gone. “I did what I had to do.”
“You had to murder people to protect yourself?” Power jumped between her fingertips. “There’s one more on your list and you are not going to touch him again.” She raised her hand to release the energy.
Jason grabbed her arm and wrestled it down. Magic burst from her fingertips, sending bolts of electricity into the floor. Smoking holes opened up in the carpet. Jason said, “Whatever he’s done, he did it to protect me.”