by Lisa Shearin
“That’s not your fault,” I told him. “Your attack was different from any of the others where there were witnesses. That scorpion wasn’t full-sized when it came through. That might mean something.” I was grasping at straws here, and Roy knew it.
So did I, but right now, it was all we had.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The infirmary was close to hotel security—a proximity I was now grateful for.
Kenji waylaid us in the hallway. “What did Roy have to say?”
We told him.
The elf tech nodded slowly and solemnly as we relayed what little information Roy had been able to offer. It was Kenji’s version of processing and storing data away for later, like a squirrel gathering nuts.
He waved us into his inner sanctum. “I’ve been working on something. Come see.”
We were met with a six-foot-tall hologram of the Regor Regency’s interior, rotating slowly in the middle of Kenji’s office.
“I made it from the blueprints Rake used in the renovation,” Kenji said. “The glowing red dots mark the location of each manifestation where a microchip was found attached to a mirror. The yellow dots are manifestations where no chip was found, but there was a mirror in the vicinity. The green ones are where there was no mirror and a chip hasn’t been found.”
There were quite a few yellow and green dots.
The total number of dots was overwhelming.
I felt like kicking something, preferably Phaeon Silvanus. Mirrors had only been part of the solution. We still had plenty of problems left with no answers, and the proof was spinning in front of me.
I walked slowly around the model. “Just how many incidents have we had?”
“Forty-two,” Kenji said. “That is at the last time I updated this, which was an hour ago.”
“There’ve been two more since then,” Ian said absently, eyes darting over the slowly rotating model.
Kenji sighed. “Red, yellow, or green?”
“One red, one green. The green one was a snake coming out of the swimming pool. The Atlanteans are looking for a chip in the water now.”
I blinked. “Just a snake? It was a gargantuan snake with a gazillion legs.”
Kenji made a face and shuddered.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “That kind of snake. Nightmare fodder.”
“There were no injuries,” Ian said, giving me a side-eye look.
“Did anyone kill it?” Kenji asked him.
“No. It chased the ambassador, jumped back in the pool, and vanished.”
Kenji went a little pale. “Chased?”
“Yeah.” I dangled my fingers downward and wiggled them like tiny legs.
The elf shuddered again.
“Do you have a list you can print of each attack with location, mirror/no mirror, chip/no chip, monster type, et cetera?” I asked him.
Kenji didn’t even dignify that with an answer. A mouse click and a few seconds later, the printer in the end of his humble command center started up.
I snagged the pages and rolled a chair over to a corner to do my own analysis. Paper was low-tech, but I liked it. I was better with words and pictures than a spinning hologram. Besides, the spinning was making me dizzy.
Kenji’s printouts included glossy magazine-quality photos of the places where the star of each event had first been seen.
The MO was the same in all the attacks: The monsters appeared, scared the bejesus out of someone, occasionally tried to eat and/or kill them, then for the most part, they vanished when they were fought off, not to be seen again. Except the grimtogs. They’d been upgraded to an infestation.
The locations were as varied as the manifesting monsters: ballroom, pub, guest rooms, kitchen appliances, swimming pools, marble floors, the café bar, and so on and so forth.
Some with mirrors, others unknown.
I spread the photos out on a small table and stared at them.
I caught myself nodding off. I squeezed my eyes shut, then blinked a couple of times.
When was the last time I’d slept? It was at the same time Roy had been napping. Though after what happened to Roy, if I got another chance to sleep, I wanted somebody watching me while I did it.
I went back to the photo Kenji had taken of Roy’s room and gave it a closer look.
Kenji and his camera were reflected in the TV screen.
No. It couldn’t be that easy.
I flipped back through the photos, pulling the ones that didn’t have a mirror nearby or at all.
The photo of the manifestation in the hotel kitchen showed a freezer’s polished steel door. The photo of the café showed a high-gloss surface on the bar. The hallway leading to the hotel shop had framed art—with protective glass covering it. The floor outside the hotel shops was black marble. The sports bar had big-screen TVs all over the place.
The surfaces that weren’t shiny were still reflective.
“Uh, guys? I think I’ve got something.” I winced. “And it’s not good news.”
For our world or the Seven Kingdoms.
A thorough re-search by hotel security and our agents to each of the “green dot” locations on Kenji’s hologram resulted in the discovery of microchips on non-mirror reflective surfaces—including a tiny chip in the corner of Roy’s TV screen.
Bingo.
While that answered a big question, it opened up a whole new can of worms—or in our case, leggy pool snakes.
There were reflective surfaces in every area and room of the hotel. The delegates were told about the possibility of chips on their TVs, so that was taken care of. As to the other surfaces, if we had some kind of chip detector, we could conceivably clean the hotel. But we didn’t, so we couldn’t.
We’d already recovered enough chips for Kenji to study in his lab when we got out of here—and we would get out of here—so it didn’t matter if the remaining chips stayed in one piece. The boss sent our staffers on a microchip-of-evil Easter egg hunt. They had found some, but it couldn’t be all of them. That was an impossible task. When the sun hit them right, even the hotel’s windows were reflective.
“Then where’s he getting the power to do it?” I asked anyone who might know. We’d gathered in Rake’s penthouse. It’d been searched and deemed to be a chip-free environment. In addition, Rake’s wards were intact and doing their job of making sure that what happened in the penthouse stayed in the penthouse.
Kenji had theorized that Phaeon was using the device on his belt as a transmitter between the microchips and his primary power source to open a way between the hotel and wherever those monsters were coming from. And since the hotel was sealed in its own pocket dimension, the power source would need to be here in the hotel.
We needed to find that power source and shut it down.
“How much power does it take to open a doorway?” I continued. “I’m not talking about magic. If Phaeon’s using technology to do it, how much juice would he need? I mean, could he just plug this thing in somewhere?”
“Absolutely not,” Kitty said. “We’re talking power grid levels.”
Rake jumped in. “If the power source was magical in nature, I would hear it. Magic is part of the mage who works it. Their will and life force is what drives it. Phaeon doesn’t have what it takes.”
Kitty nodded. “And to open forty-two—”
“Forty-four,” Ian piped in.
“—doorways in forty-eight hours would be impossible,” Kitty finished. “One portal, two tops would be the max I could do in that time. I would think the power expenditure would be similar for both.”
“What about the ley lines?” I asked. “Could they—”
Rake shook his head. “I can hear the ley lines. Constantly. I almost wish I couldn’t. If power was being drawn from them to open these doorways, they would . . . How do I explain this? Like an engine idling versus being revved. You can hear the difference.”
“These doorways are more of a living thing than a magical construct,” Kitty said. “Basically,
what’s being done here is an artificially generated portal.”
A very slow smile crept over Kenji’s lips. “How about a machine powered by the normal idling of ley lines? The ley lines power the machine, the machine opens the doorways, the monsters come through. A combination of magic and technology undetectable by either one. Like a kind of magetech generator. Phaeon could’ve calibrated it to run on normal ley line power.”
“Would the power running through a ley line be enough to open these doorways?” Ian asked.
Rake nodded. “Easily.”
“Are there ley lines on your home world?” I asked quietly.
“There are.”
“I think we have our winner. He’s powering his generator with ley lines. Could a magetech generator also explain the disruption to everyone’s magic?”
Rake sat perfectly still. “It could,” he conceded. “I don’t know how such a generator would work, or what it would sound like.” I could almost see his mind working through the possibilities. “Between the ley lines, the noise coming from the building itself, and the mage-level talents among the delegates and SPI’s agents with each emitting their own magical signature . . . If anything else had been added to the mix, I’d disregard it as merely more of the same, mere background noise.”
“Is anything in the hotel being powered by the ley lines?” Ian asked.
“No,” Rake said. “They’re earth magic, forces of nature. They’re too wild and unpredictable to power anything in a building. A mild surge from a ley line would blow out every circuit in the hotel. I’ve worked too hard restoring this place to burn it to the ground. The foundations at the four corners of the hotel are sunk into the bedrock directly above the ley lines. The steel inside runs from the bedrock up the corners of the hotel to the roof.”
Kitty nodded. “That explains why the entire building hums with ley line power. That level of power is exactly what would be needed here.”
“So this generator could be anywhere in the hotel?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Add one seriously kick-ass surge protector,” Kenji added, “and there you go. A magetech generator powered by ley lines.”
“Mages know how to tamp down their power, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And you know what the building sounds like, and the ley lines. Is it possible that if we shut down everything, whatever was left could be Phaeon’s generator?”
Kenji jumped in. “And since we’re completely cut off from the outside world, there wouldn’t be any noise from neighboring buildings or traffic.”
“It’s possible,” Rake admitted. “I’m willing to try it. If we have the delegates gather in the ballroom and lobby, that would allow us to disregard any magical noise coming from there.”
Kenji suddenly looked uncertain.
“What?” I asked.
“Sneaking around in the dark listening for this thing brings up an important question. Since these chips are attached to reflective surfaces, if it’s dark, they can’t reflect. Do they still work?”
Good danged question.
“Almost half of the manifestations happened in low lighting or no lighting,” Rake said. “That tells me that Phaeon’s chips enable reflective surfaces to function more like a portal than a travel mirror.” His lips twitched at the corners. “As to listening for Phaeon’s generator, we conveniently have a representative right here of the supernatural race with the most sensitive hearing.”
We all turned and looked at Kitty’s bodyguard, boyfriend, and werewolf, Yasha Kazakov.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Yasha was only too glad to help hunt down Phaeon Silvanus.
The SPI Scandinavia team also had a werewolf—Lotte Ulfstrom. She and Yasha had worked together on the grendel mission. Tonight, they’d be dividing the hotel between them and searching it from top to bottom.
Rake had battery-powered candles to light the lobby and ballroom areas where the delegates would be gathered, so they wouldn’t be in the pitch dark. Plus, they would be guarded by the majority of the hotel’s security personnel and SPI’s commandos.
The elf and goblin delegations would be moved to holding cells in hotel security. Leave it to Rake to have a mage and mortal escape-proof hotel jail. Despicable individuals though they were, they were still under Rake’s protection until they were no longer under his roof.
Vivienne Sagadraco had stationed herself in the lobby in case anything truly nasty put in an appearance. She informed Ian that she would go dragon before she allowed one delegate to be harmed. Should that course of action become necessary, she had promised Rake she would do her best not to destroy the hotel in the process. Rake said he appreciated her consideration.
Yasha and Lotte would not be hunting alone. They could only listen for the magetech generator.
Seers could look for any cloak or ward that would likely be concealing it. That meant me and the Scandinavian team’s seer, Erik Johansen. As to deactivating the generator when we found it, Kitty was a portal mage, and Kenji was a wizard of all things tech. Between the two of them, they had the magic and science angles covered. The last members of the two teams would be battlemages to protect all of us from any defenses Phaeon Silvanus had put in place to protect his monster generator. That meant Rake and Gethen. Their magic wasn’t at full power or dependability, but it was much better than nothing at all.
Ian was neither werewolf, seer, nor battlemage, but he’d said there was no way in hell I was going off into the dark to search the hotel without him. Rolf Haagen had volunteered to guard the second team. Both Ian and Rolf were carrying their demigod ancestors’ weapons.
We were as prepared as we could be.
Five people per team. Two teams. Yasha, me, Kitty, Rake, and Ian would take the bottom six floors and the basement. Lotte, Erik, Kenji, Gethen, and Rolf would take the top seven floors.
Sundown would be in another hour. The manifestations had been more numerous at night. We were determined that before the sun came up tomorrow, this would be over.
Now came the uncomfortable part—at least for Yasha and Lotte.
We needed for them to go full werewolf.
When it came to werewolves, folklore had it both right and wrong. Werewolves changed on the full moon whether they wanted to or not. But while that made them cranky, they weren’t rampaging, flesh-rending monsters. Cranky was understandable, considering the excruciating pain werewolves endured while changing forms. We’re talking bones and muscles here. Breaking, tearing, growing. Painful stuff.
Yasha’s eyes were focused on the far wall of his and Ian’s room, his breathing smooth and even. Just because he could go wolf whenever he needed to didn’t mean it was easy—or painless. Sure, he’d told me he’d learned to block a lot of it out over the years, but that didn’t make it any simpler or pleasant.
A little advanced preparation went a long way toward at least making the transition bearable.
Ian came over. “You ready, buddy?”
Yasha nodded once, never taking his eyes from the far wall, preparing himself mentally for what he was about to do.
“Then we’ll leave you to it.”
Ian and I went through the door that separated our rooms, leaving Yasha and Kitty alone together. We closed the door to give them a little privacy. Less than a minute later, Kitty came in, quietly closed the door and, with a tired sigh, leaned against the frame.
We waited.
The delegates were still making their way down to the ballroom. In deference to their sensibilities, Yasha wouldn’t cut loose with his trademark spine-chilling howl when his transformation was complete. Lotte, in her room on the floor above ours, had agreed to do the same. Our team would work our way down, Lotte’s team would work their way up. Since most of the manifestations had taken place on the hotel’s guest floors, that was where we’d start our search. Just when I was starting to wonder if Yasha was having a problem, there was a scratching on the other side of the door.
>
Oops. We’d forgotten that Werewolf Yasha had trouble with doorknobs. Four-inch-long claws would do that.
Kitty hurried to open the door.
Yasha hunched in the doorway, too tall and broad to stand normally.
There was a polite knock at the door to their room. Yasha stepped aside so Ian could get through to answer it. My partner took a look through the peephole. “Here’s the room service Rake promised.”
Ian opened the door to a goblin waiter pushing a cart laden with a huge tray topped with one of those fancy, domed silver covers. He put the tray on the table by the window and removed the cover with a flourish. “Compliments of Lord Danescu, sir,” he said to Yasha.
Yasha took one look and grinned a wolfy grin, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.
My stomach threatened to turn.
There on a silver platter were at least a dozen huge, thick steaks.
Raw and bloody.
Rake was a good host and a wise man. Lotte was probably getting an identical delivery. If you were going to turn a pair of werewolves loose in a packed hotel, you made sure they were properly fed first.
The waiter was smart, too. He didn’t even think about waiting for a tip. He and his now empty cart made a beeline for the door.
Kitty reached out and stroked Yasha’s arm. With a low rumble, Yasha’s huge muzzle swung down to where Kitty barely came up past his waist. When his face was within reach, Kitty stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss right on his nose. Then the three of us went into my and Kitty’s room so Yasha could eat any way he wanted to—and we wouldn’t be nauseated while he did it.
Rake arrived ten minutes later, armed and armored for whatever might jump out of the dark at us and holding what looked like a walkie-talkie.
Kenji nodded in approval. “Low-tech’s better than no tech. I take it Gethen has the other one?”
Rake smiled and clipped it to his belt, adjusting the accompanying headset. “That he does. It’s suitably primitive enough to work around Phaeon’s distortion, and while it’s not the best solution, at least we’ll be able to talk to each other. It’s a set of four. Argus has the third one. He’ll be tracking us on the surveillance cameras. The fourth is with my people in the electrical and HVAC control room. When we’re ready, I’ll have them shut everything down.”