by Sonya Clark
Calla stared at her brother wide-eyed. He said, “What do you know about Alan Forbes?”
“I know he was a family friend and your father set up a cop to be the fall guy if the investigation of his murder went wrong.” She wrenched her arm away.
“You’re the witch Detective Perez got involved with,” Beckwith said. He covered his mouth for a moment, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Yeah, that’s me. That’s how I know. And unless you want the whole world to know all your dirty little family secrets, you’re going to leave Perez alone. I want a guarantee of his safety or little brother can move into FreakTown while you march your ass to prison.”
“Wait,” Jason said. “None of this is making sense.” He looked to his father. “What did you do?”
Beckwith turned away and walked into the living room. Jason and Calla followed. Calla said, “There was DNA from an unregistered Magic Born at Forbes’ lab. To cover that up your father had two people killed, an innocent man arrested and probably given the death penalty, another man drugged and left to die in a nightshade den.”
Calla expected denials, protestations of innocence, even threats. Instead, Jason got angry. “That’s why you’ve had Kane skulking all over the city? You swore to me—”
Beckwith cut him off. “I swore I’d keep you safe and I did just that! There was no way anyone would believe it was self-defense, not if they found out the truth about you.”
Calla whirled on Jason. “You killed him? You killed Alan Forbes?”
A glacial calm covered her brother’s features as he struggled to suppress whatever lurked underneath. “The files where you found out about me. Where did they come from?”
Confirmation of something she’d suspected sank in, the weight of it threatening to drag her down. “You were Subject K.”
“Alan Forbes was no family friend.” Jason’s calm slowly melted into a rage that must have simmered for years. “He blackmailed my father my whole life. Forbes was obsessed with magic. He did all kinds of experiments, for years. He wanted to know things for himself, and he wanted defense contracts. The people that he used as lab rats? They meant nothing to him.” Jason paused, rubbing the side of his face with one hand. “He forced me to work with him, trying to make nightshade. I couldn’t figure out how to replicate the spell correctly and he threatened to expose us. I snapped that night. I just...” He looked away, fists clenched at his sides. “Then I panicked. I trashed the place, tried to make it look like a break-in. I didn’t know what to do.” His chin wobbled as he fought tears, looking much younger than his twenty-one years.
The senator placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Hush, now. You don’t have to talk about this. I promised you I would take care of it, and I will.”
Calla had only heard Beckwith speak on television, in a smooth politician’s voice. That was worlds apart from the tenderness he displayed now, the love of a parent for a child in need. She’d longed for that her entire life, burned with jealousy of Jason since learning of her birth identity. The jealousy flared again as she watched father and son stand together, every note of their body language speaking of family, of people who trusted and loved each other. Of home.
Then the flare winked out as the lies roared in her head.
“This has to stop,” she whispered.
Shouts came from the foyer—familiar voices. Nate called her name, and then she heard the crack of two bullets fired in rapid succession. She ran for the door, reaching for the stun gun.
Vadim lay under the ceiling fan, clutching at his bleeding leg. Nate was in motion, heading for the guard with no weapons but his fists. Kane raised the gun from Vadim to Nate. His finger flexed on the trigger.
Calla aimed the stun gun. Giving it a boost with every ounce of electric magic in her system and everything she could pull from her surroundings, she pushed enough energy into it to darken the penthouse for a solid ten seconds. The only light was the blue-white of the power arcing through the air. Kane flew backward, hitting the elevator with a loud crash. When the lights came back on, smoke could be seen rising from a black hole in the center of his chest. He was dead.
Nate was alive; that was all that mattered. It took what felt like hours for the rest to sink in. She’d killed a Normal. In front of witnesses, she’d killed a Normal with magic.
Calla stumbled to reach Nate, dropping to her knees halfway there. He closed the distance and drew her into his arms.
A frightened female voice said, “John, what is going on?”
Calla turned her head. Isabelle Beckwith stood next to her son, one hand at her throat and the other on Jason’s arm.
“Our daughter came to see us,” John answered, not quite sounding in his right mind. “Grace is home.”
Calla shook her head. There’d been a time when she would have given anything to be called by that name—the one given to her at birth and not made up by someone after matching a flower and a word pulled from an old dictionary. Hearing the name should have had the ring of truth.
But it felt like a lie.
* * *
Nate enlisted the brother’s help to get the family moved inside and carry Vadim to a large bathroom with a first aid kit. The whole floor was soundproofed, Jason explained, and the security system such that no one would come until they called for help. After he took a quick moment to work on it, that is. Apparently he had at least some of the same talent with magic that Calla did.
Jason left Nate and Vadim alone to join his family. Working on Vadim’s leg as quickly as possible, Nate tried to think of a way out of this mess.
“We’d have a better chance if it was night.” Vadim sounded as if he was thinking along the same lines. “If it was night I could get people here, or at least outside the building, and get rid of the body.”
“Everything depends on the father and brother. They’re the ones who saw what happened.” Nate tied off the gauze around the wound. “I’ve seen much worse. You’ll be fine.”
“They’ve got a vested interest in keeping this swept under the carpet.” Vadim wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. “Goddess damn, this hurts. Normal medicine sucks ass.”
“It’ll do until you can get to a healer.” Nate gathered everything with blood on it. “This needs to go back with you. We can’t burn it here. Even the ashes could be evidence.”
Vadim took the bundle of hand towels and bandage scraps. “Handy tip, thanks.”
From the doorway, Nate said, “You okay?”
Vadim nodded. “Go. I don’t want her alone with them too long either.”
Nate nodded and left in search of Calla. He found her sitting between her mother and brother on a sofa in the living room. Hands in her lap, eyes on the floor, she looked small and sickly and lost.
“I want you to understand, it was because of me,” Isabelle said. “After—after losing you, I had a nervous breakdown. I had to be hospitalized after John found me almost drowned in the bathtub. I couldn’t function. I didn’t want to live.” She stopped, choking on the memory. “He promised me we could have another child and that no matter what, they wouldn’t be taken away. We couldn’t get you back—there was no way to do that. But he found a way to keep Jason, and I never questioned it or cared.”
Feeling like he was intruding on far too intimate a moment, Nate considered returning to Vadim. Calla raised her head and locked eyes with him, and he decided to stay. If his presence was the only support he could offer, he wouldn’t leave for anything.
“I understand,” Calla said. “I really do. But what—what your husband did. He had people killed. Innocent people.” Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself. Jason pulled a blanket draped over the back of the sofa to bundle around her.
Nate was about to step farther into the room when Beckwith appeared from the hall. Tensing, he faced the o
lder man.
The senator had aged twenty years in twenty minutes, hard lines cutting deep into his face, his eyes hollow and streaked with red. He shoved his phone into Nate’s hand. “There’s a video on there. You’ll know what to do with it.” He turned abruptly and went to his family.
Nate stared at the phone for a moment before putting it in his pocket. Moving deeper into the room, he watched Calla closely for signs of shock. The shivering wasn’t good, but other than that she seemed coherent and stable.
Beckwith sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa, taking his wife’s hand. Addressing Jason and Calla, he said, “I know what you must think of me. Everything I did, I did to keep my family intact.”
Jason said, “None of us have clean hands here.”
Calla winced. That was all Nate needed. He rushed forward and got between the table and sofa, taking Calla’s hands and pulling her gently into his arms. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do, and I need to get Calla home. She needs a healer. So does our friend.”
Jason stood. “Grace is home. She can stay with us.”
Wanting to throttle the kid, Nate snapped, “No, she can’t.”
Calla took a step away from Nate. “I’m Magic Born,” she said to Jason. “Registered Magic Born. There’s no changing that.”
“We can find a way,” Jason pleaded. “Grace, we have to find a way.”
“My name is Calla.” She looked up at Nate. “I want to go home.”
Not willing to wait any longer, Nate led her to the door. Vadim leaned against it, one hand on his injured leg. Beckwith called out, “Detective!”
Nate paused. “What?”
“Remember what I said, about the video.” The senator stood. “I’ll take care of both my children.”
Nate nodded. “I think we’ll all be holding you to that.”
Vadim opened the door and let Nate lead Calla through it before following and closing it behind them. As they reached the elevator, Vadim insinuated himself between Calla and the dead body. Nate tried to shield her eyes, but she would not be protected. Staring at the inert form, she slowed to a stop.
“Baby, we need to go,” Nate said.
From the penthouse there was a muffled cry of “No,” and then Isabelle screamed her husband’s name. Another piercing scream followed, sounding like the howl of a wounded animal.
Calla took a step toward the door, chin trembling with the threat of fresh tears.
Nate exchanged a look with Vadim. The other man shrugged. Nate said, “Calla, do you want to go back?”
After a long moment she shook her head. “No.” She turned toward the elevator. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The prisoner transfer bay stank of engine fumes, body odor and a certain kind of fear Nate had only encountered around prisoners. Standing in the scorching heat, he waited for the bus bringing Nelson Santo back from prison, where he’d been held awaiting trial. A trial that would now not be necessary. Three weeks after the funeral of disgraced senator John Beckwith, nearly a month after his video confession and suicide, seemed like a short time for the system to process Santo’s release. Nate wondered how much of that was Isabelle and Jason and perhaps the rest of the Beckwith family using their influence to get the whole matter over and done with as quickly as possible.
Whatever the reason, he was glad for it.
Footsteps crunched in the gravel behind him. He turned to see Mullins laboring his way toward him. “What are you doing out here? You might break a sweat.”
“They’re fumigating the break room again. Figured if I can’t take a nap I might as well go talk to somebody.”
Nate grinned, detecting an odor of bullshit added to the rest of the funk. “What’s up, Mullins?”
The older man shrugged, lousy at faking nonchalance. “Heard you were escorting that Santo kid back to FreakTown.”
“I’m the one who brought him in. I’d like to be the one to take him home.”
Mullins nodded, then turned his head to the side to spit. “Yeah, I hear ya. Hell of a case, huh?”
Let him fish, Nate thought. He seemed to enjoy it. “Yeah. Hell of a case.”
After an awkward silence, Mullins said, “Strange how it all worked out. An argument between two bigwigs like that, one of them accidently kills the other. Can’t blame the guy for panicking, huh? Who wouldn’t?”
“Most people would, I guess,” Nate said, trying to sound as noncommittal as possible.
“Then that bodyguard, Kane, blackmailing his boss. Guess he got more than he bargained for with that.”
Nate said nothing. He didn’t want to talk about Kane.
“Well, whatever. It’s all over now, Beckwith jumping like that. Isn’t it?”
Mullins wasn’t stupid. He knew there was more to the Forbes case, and Nate’s brief disappearance, than Nate was admitting. He’d been a cop for too damn long for his instincts to tell him otherwise. Nate didn’t worry about it though. Mullins might dig a little for the sake of his own curiosity, but that would be it. “Yeah, it’s over.”
Another silent spell, this one less awkward. Mullins said, “I hear you’re seeing your girl again. That true?”
Nate couldn’t help the quick smile that flashed across his face. “We’re back together, yeah.”
“I guess she told you I met her.” Nate nodded. Mullins said, “I liked her. She’s got something. I mean, she’s a looker but there’s more to her than that. Well, I don’t need to tell you.”
“No, you sure don’t.”
“It’s a shame she’s Magic Born. Can’t have much of a relationship with them.”
Nate looked at the older man. Something in his voice sounded like more than idle curiosity. Like something close to regret. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
“Can’t get married, can’t live together. Can’t have a kid unless you don’t care if they live in the zone too. Half the city is closed to her. You’ll be dealing with a constant stream of shit from people. So will she. It’s gonna make things tough.”
Vadim had once given him much the same lecture and it hadn’t deterred him. It didn’t now either. “I know.” Nate could think of no other Normal in the city he would feel comfortable admitting this to, but he went and said, “I don’t care. I love her.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Mullins chuckled at Nate’s surprised expression. “You don’t exactly seem the casual type, kid.”
“I guess I’m not.” Nate laughed, embarrassed. “She’s not either.”
“I could tell. I believe that woman would walk through hell for you, Perez.”
Suddenly Nate wondered if Mullins had seen Kane’s body before the Beckwith family had paid for its quick interment. There was no hint of a threat from Mullins though.
The older cop clapped him on the back. “I’m going back in. It’s too damn hot out here.”
Nate surprised himself by asking, “You really think...you really think it’s pointless?”
“I think you two got an uphill battle and you probably won’t last in the long run, with everything in your way. Doesn’t mean it’s pointless, kid.” Laughing, he rubbed his chin. “Hell, I’m on my third wife. There are no guarantees for anybody.”
Nate watched him walk away. Their conversation had been a far cry from the one he imagined having with his father, which was why his family knew nothing of Calla yet. That really would be pointless. They were already unhappy with his time in the service, his divorce, his choice of career, his moving to another city—telling them he was involved with a Magic Born would be akin to detonating a bomb. Might as well save that for the holidays.
His amusement was short-lived as he thought of Calla’s family. She hadn’t seen them since that day and rarely spoke of them, but he knew her lack of sleep an
d nighttime tears weren’t just about killing Kane. He held her while she cried and made sure she knew she could talk to him, but he could tell she wasn’t ready. Perhaps the envelope in his pocket would help with that. He’d find out if the damn bus ever arrived.
Twenty minutes later it pulled into the bay, belching smoke and squealing from bad brakes that needed replacing. A uniformed officer brought Santo out and they completed the transfer documents. Once the kid was officially in his custody, Nate removed his cuffs. Not sure what to say, he decided to keep it simple. “Ready to go home?”
With his piercings removed and hair shaved, Santo looked even younger than he was. “Yes sir.” He shuffled nervously, eyes downcast.
“Call me Nate.” He steered the kid toward the motor pool, having already arranged for a car rather than put Santo on the transit so quickly. “I hear you’ve got a home-cooked meal waiting for you. All your favorites.”
That got a hesitant grin. “Sounds good, man.”
Nate took him home to FreakTown.
* * *
Calla flung the door open and launched herself at Nate. He folded her into his arms, kissing her like he never wanted to stop. Reveling in the feeling of being wanted and safe and yes, even loved, she returned it with everything she had.
Lifting her, he got them inside her apartment and kicked the door shut, then tossed his overnight bag to the floor. “You’re in a good mood.”
“I am. I heard you brought Nelson home.”
With a mock frown he said, “And here I thought you were happy to see me.”
“I’m always happy to see you! I just feel like with Nelson out of jail, it’s all really over. Vadim has even stopped bitching about getting shot.”
“Nah, I don’t believe it. He’s just taking a break from complaining.” Nate let her slide down his body to the couch and took off his jacket, reaching into the inside pocket for an envelope.
“Well, yeah, probably. He is really relieved that the railway is safe. So am I.”