Industrial Magic

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Industrial Magic Page 23

by Kelly Armstrong

From the outside of Tyler Boyd's second-floor suite, one would never guess a murder had recently been committed there or that a crime-scene team was ripping the room apart. Only when the door opened did the noise within escape.

  Two men were working in the living area, one taking photos and the other running a handheld vacuum over the sofa. A third man appeared from a back room, carrying what looked like a laptop case. He exchanged a hasty hello with Lucas, then hurried out the door.

  The murdered half-demon guard lay sprawled across the remains of the coffee table, covered in glass shards and wood splinters. His head was twisted to the side, face fixed in a grimace. I fought the urge to look away from that dead stare. Beside me, Cassandra leaned over the corpse, eyes studying it with detachment. I tried to emulate her, to see this body not as a person but as a piece of evidence.

  At first I thought the guard's throat had been cut. Then I saw a length of wire draped over his neck and realized he'd been strangled with it.

  "Our coroner believes that was done postmortem."

  Benicio's voice came from behind us. He looked at Cassandra. His gaze passed over her with curiosity, and perhaps a little interest, but when we didn't introduce her, he didn't ask. Maybe he trusted Lucas's judgment. Or maybe, knowing his son's eclectic collection of contacts, he didn't want to ask.

  "Dennis has already made some preliminary observations." Benicio called the security chief from another room. "Dennis? Would you please share your findings with Lucas and Paige? And answer any questions they might have?"

  "Of course, sir." Dennis motioned to the dead guard. "We think he was approached from behind and possibly injected with something. That would explain why he didn't fight back."

  "Didn't fight?" I looked at the shattered table. "Oh, I see. The damage is from him falling."

  "Falling very hard." Lucas knelt and prodded a black chunk by the guard's hand.

  As I crouched I caught a familiar scent, one that brought back memories of Girl Scout summer camp. Burnt firewood. Pieces of charred wood surrounded the guard's clenched hands.

  "An Aduro," I said. "He grabbed for the table as he fell and burned it, meaning he wasn't dead when he collapsed."

  Cassandra examined the wire embedded in the guard's neck. "No blood."

  "Which indicates it was done postmortem," Dennis said. "Plus the fact that it's unlikely anyone could have garrotted a man his size, with his powers."

  "What about Tyler?" I said. "Did he escape or was he taken?"

  Dennis waved us to the bathroom. We stepped inside. Benicio stayed in the doorway, looking on. Across the room, a slight, red-haired man examined the window ledge with some kind of electronic scanner. The window itself was broken. There were a few bits of glass on the inside, but most presumably had fallen out.

  Lucas turned around to look at the broken door jamb. "So either Tyler was in here when the killer arrived, or he managed to get in here before being attacked. Then the killer broke into the bathroom, but-" Lucas turned to the window. "Tyler was already gone, out that window. Simon? Any indication that the killer staged the window break?"

  The red-haired man shook his head. "No, sir. There are blood smears on one shard. I'll need a sample from the Boyds' lab to match it, but the DNA is definitely from their family, so I'm assuming it's Tyler's. There are no signs of struggle or blood in the bathroom. I found Nike prints on the ground below, imprinted hard, indicating someone jumped from this window."

  "So we're assuming Tyler fled," Lucas said. "That's logical. I doubt the killer would take him out of the hotel. Too risky. He's always killed on-site before. He's not likely to change his methods now."

  Benicio's cell phone rang. After a few clipped words, he hung up. "Tyler's been found." He saw my expression and added, "He's alive."

  "Was he chased?" I said. "If he was, then the killer could still be in the area-"

  "He's not," Cassandra said. "He's moved on."

  "What?"

  The barest eye-roll, as if her conclusion was so simple it shouldn't require an explanation. "He's a hunter. He strikes at the easy targets. When they're no longer easy, he finds another."

  "So you think he chased Tyler-" I began.

  "The moment the boy escaped, your killer abandoned him. As Lucas said, he kills on-site. He'll hang a girl in a tree or drape a boy over a car, but that's only for outrage value. He's a hunter. He kills them where he finds them, and he kills efficiently. When that other attack was interrupted, he left the boy alive rather than risk discovery. He's not about to chase this young man through the streets of Miami."

  "By moved on, you mean-" I looked at Lucas. "To another member of a central family. That's what Esus said. With Joey Nast, he reached the top level, and he'll stay there now."

  Cassandra nodded. "Anything else would be a regression. However, with each step he takes, he makes it more difficult for himself. He'll need to take advantage of every possible moment when security might be lax, such as-"

  "Such as when the Cabals believe the killer is stalking another victim. When they're all out searching for him. Lucas? Who are the other teens? Are there any in your family? Nephews-"

  "I have an eleven- and a twelve-year-old grandson," Benicio said. "Hector's boys. I tripled their guard as soon as Griffin's son was killed, and I've moved them to a secure location outside of Miami. As for others, Lionel St. Cloud has one boy, Stephen. He's eighteen. Then there are a few more teenage Nast grandsons, and Frank Boyd has several nephews around Tyler's age."

  "Stephen St. Cloud," Lucas said. "He's already hit the Nasts. If he can't get to a Cortez, he'll go for a St. Cloud."

  "I'll call Lionel-"

  "Where are they staying?" Lucas asked.

  Benicio hesitated, finger poised over his phone keypad. "The Fairfield over in South Beach. Just wait while I-"

  We were already out the door.

  ***

  "Why the hell didn't you tell us what you were thinking?" I said, twisting in my seat to glare at Cassandra as Lucas pulled away from the hotel parking lot.

  "But I did."

  "You knew the killer had moved on the moment you saw that Tyler had escaped, but you said nothing. Then, when you did bother to tell us he'd moved on, you had to be prodded to explain what you meant by that. This isn't a game, Cassandra."

  "Isn't it?" she said. "Your killer might disagree."

  "You know what I mean. You should have told us immediately, warned us-"

  "So you'd have left a few minutes earlier? I intended to explain myself, Paige. I simply didn't see the need to rush."

  "You-"

  Lucas glanced over, telling me to ignore Cassandra, but I couldn't.

  "A young man might be dead and you didn't see the need to rush!"

  Her green eyes met mine, sculpted eyebrows arching. "Well, if he's dead, there's certainly no reason to hurry, is there? If you mean that you might have saved him had I told you sooner, I can hardly imagine that sixty seconds would make a difference one way or the other. Yes, a young man is in danger. Yes, he might die. Tragic, but certainly nothing that doesn't happen every hour of every day."

  "Oh, well, then that makes it okay."

  "I didn't say it did, Paige. I was merely pointing out that death is a tragedy but, ultimately, an unavoidable one. You can't save everyone, as difficult as that may be for you to accept."

  "I'm not-" I snapped my jaw shut, swallowed the rest of the sentence, and forced myself to face the windshield again.

  Lucas's cell phone rang. He handed it to me.

  "Paige Winterbourne," I answered.

  A slight pause. Then Benicio asked, "Is Lucas there?"

  "He's driving. Did you get in touch with Lionel St. Cloud?"

  Another pause, as if considering whether to insist I pass him over to his son. "Yes, I called him, and he tried to call Stephen, but there's been no answer. Both of Stephen's uncles came to search for Tyler, but we did manage to find a cousin still at the hotel. He reports that Stephen's room is locked and no one's a
nswering the door. Now, Paige, I've dispatched my search team to the Fairfield. They may be a few minutes behind you, but they will be there quickly. I-" He paused. "The killer may still be at that hotel. I don't want Lucas going inside."

  "I understand that," I said. "I can ask him to stay out while I go in, but-"

  "I mean for you to both stay out, at least until you're accompanied by the search team. An extra minute or two isn't going to make much difference."

  "So I've heard," I said. "But I'm not willing to take that chance. Just tell your team to hurry and meet us inside."

  I pressed the disconnect button. As I was passing the phone back to Lucas, it rang. He reached over and turned it off.

  After another minute, we moved into the center lane. To our left stood a large Spanish-style villa. A discreet sign near the palm-flanked drive announced we'd arrived at the Fairfield.

  Unnatural-Born Killer

  The Fairfield wasn't nearly as opulent as the Boyds' hotel, though I suspected the price was still at least double what we were paying. It had that kind of graciously understated atmosphere that doesn't come at an understated price. Stephen St. Cloud's room was on the third floor. When the elevator was slow in coming, we took the stairs.

  We emerged at the far end of a quiet corridor. At the opposite end, a dark-haired man in his twenties lounged by the elevators. He didn't glance over until we stopped outside Stephen's room. Then he did a double take, and strode toward us, glowering.

  "Good morning, Tony," Lucas said.

  "What the hell are you doing-"

  "My father sent me. Have you been able to get into Stephen's room yet?"

  "Not unless I can walk through walls. We need a locksmith."

  "No," I said. "You just need a witch."

  I cast my top-level unlock spell. The last words were still leaving my mouth as Cassandra reached for the door handle. When I finished, she pushed it open and walked inside, leaving us in the hall.

  "No deadbolt or chain," I said, checking the lock mechanism as I walked through. "Gotta love these card-locks. Any witch could walk right in."

  Cassandra strode from the living area into the bedroom. We'd barely made it out of the front hall when Cassandra walked from the bedroom and brushed past us on her way to the door again.

  "I have it," she said. "Let's go."

  "Guess that means he's not here," I said. "I don't see any signs of a struggle, so he seems to have left on his own. Tony? Any idea where he might have gone?"

  Tony glanced at me, then turned to Lucas.

  "What?" I said. "Is my voice pitched outside a sorcerer's range? Lucas, please, interpret."

  "Do you know where Stephen might be?" Lucas asked.

  "Out grabbing breakfast, I guess. Everyone else left to search for Tyler, and Step was bitching about being left behind. He hates being treated like a child."

  "So he pulled a snit fit and took off," I said. "Very mature. Please tell me he has a bodyguard with him."

  "Does he have a bodyguard?" Lucas interpreted for the invisible witch.

  "Uh, yeah," Tony said. "Me."

  We stared at him.

  Tony shrugged. "Well, his dad needed Step's regular guard to help in the search, so he told me to watch him, make sure he stayed in his room."

  "Which you did admirably," I said.

  Tony glared at me. "He's eighteen, an adult. I don't know what all the fuss is about. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

  "Don't worry," I called after him as he stalked off. "We'll find Stephen ourselves. But thanks for offering to help us look."

  Cassandra popped her head back through the doorway. "Are you two coming?"

  In the few seconds it took us to reach the door, she'd made it to the elevator and pushed the button. A minute later we were heading for the main lobby. Cassandra paused partway there, head turning from side to side, eyes narrowing. I don't understand how vampires track people, and I've never dared ask Cassandra. All I know is that it's not by scent, yet it's like tracking by scent in that they pick it up at the source and the trail fades over time.

  Cassandra wheeled and strode back down the hall. I looked at Lucas, shrugged, and hurried to catch up. As she shoved past a middle-aged couple, the man muttered an epithet after her. Not stopping, she glanced over her shoulder, eyes meeting his. The man looked away fast, his arm going around his wife's waist as he picked up their pace.

  Cassandra veered into a side hall. I turned the corner as she pushed a door clearly marked EMERGENCY EXIT. Before I could call a warning, she flung the door open. Sunlight flooded in, momentarily blinding me. I braced for the alarms, but none came.

  Cassandra walked though, letting the door swing shut behind her. Lucas grabbed it before it hit me. We stepped outside. When the sun-blindness cleared, I found myself at the edge of a half-filled parking lot.

  "Damn," I murmured. "You can't track him if he took a car."

  Ignoring me, Cassandra marched into the parking lot. From the front of the building came the squeal of tires peeling into the lot.

  "The search team?" I asked Lucas.

  "I doubt they'd make their arrival so obvious, but they should be here by now. I should fill them in. Will you be all right?"

  "I'll get a speed-walk workout," I said. "But I'll be fine. You go on."

  I went after Cassandra. She'd stopped about twenty feet from the door.

  "Can you-?" I began.

  She started off again, darting between two minivans. I sighed and broke into a jog. She moved fast, taking a roughly diagonal path across the parking lot, weaving around cars. When I stepped behind her, she wheeled so fast I jumped back. Her eyes narrowed, and I was preparing a retort when I noticed her gaze was fixed somewhere behind me. I turned but saw nothing.

  "Someone's here," she said.

  In a hotel parking lot, that didn't strike me as strange, but before I could say so, she strode past me and backtracked a row. Then she stopped and surveyed the lot.

  "Maybe we should-" I began.

  She disappeared between two cars. I looked around. Beyond the distant road noise, the lot was still and quiet. I cast a sensing spell. Nothing. Not even Cassandra, who should have been within range. Damned spell. I really needed more practice.

  I stood on tiptoes. Sunlight glinted off Cassandra's auburn hair as it bobbed between the cars. As I headed toward her, I heard the soft fall of footsteps behind me. I slowed, but didn't turn. Instead I glanced at my reflection in the side of an SUV. The gap behind me was empty.

  I was turning my attention back to Cassandra when a shadow flickered past, the metal side of the SUV darkening for a split second. I whirled, casting my sensing spell as I turned. This time the spell caught something, but farther off, to my left. At the same moment I heard the clack of women's shoes to my right and the equally purposeful footfalls of the person approaching from my left. On my right, the footsteps stopped as Cassandra emerged from between two cars.

  "There you are," she said. "You have to keep up, Paige. I can't be-"

  I turned left. Again, it was who I expected. Lucas covered the distance between us, expression blocked by the sun.

  "Strange," I said to Cassandra. "I sensed Lucas, but not you."

  She frowned.

  "With my spell, I mean. It didn't pick you up."

  "Yes, well, your spells aren't exactly foolproof, Paige."

  "Or it could be the whole undead thing, I guess."

  Her lips tightened. "Now, don't you start on that, too. I am not…"

  As she spoke, I saw Lucas's face and my gut tightened. I didn't hear the rest of what Cassandra said.

  "They found him, didn't they?" I said.

  Lucas nodded, and I knew they hadn't found Stephen alive.

  ***

  Stephen had been killed in his car, shot in the temple, then placed in the reclined driver's seat, with sunglasses on and a ball cap pulled down to cover his wound. To anyone walking past, it would look as if he was dozing in his car. Odd, but not alarming
.

  I told Lucas that I'd had the feeling I was being followed. Cassandra concurred, and Lucas deployed the team to search the lot while we stayed with the body. If I hadn't said anything, would Cassandra have mentioned her suspicions? I doubted it, yet not because I thought she'd intentionally prevent us from finding the killer. Why would she? She didn't care. And that, really, was the crux to understanding Cassandra. She didn't care.

  An hour later, the team concluded that the killer was gone. I'd have liked to stay, to hear their findings, but it's difficult enough to conduct a clandestine crime-scene investigation in a hotel parking lot without having onlookers.

  "You've been quiet," Lucas murmured as we headed for our car.

  "Thinking."

  When I didn't go on, he said, "Share?"

  I motioned that I'd discuss it in the car. I waited until we were on the highway before speaking. I told myself I was collecting my thoughts, but I think I was waiting to see whether Cassandra would speak first. She didn't.

  "He's a hunter," I said. "He strikes fast, leaves the bodies where he killed them, uses the most convenient method, and changes plans if things get complicated. An experienced killer."

  "Yes, as Esus said-" Lucas began.

  He noticed I'd directed my comment to Cassandra, and stopped. She continued staring out the side window. Either she was ignoring me, which wouldn't be surprising, or I'd drawn the wrong conclusion, which, given my track record of late, wouldn't be surprising either.

  "He's an expert stalker, too," I said. "Dana never heard him coming. Joey didn't have any warning. Even a druid god didn't hear him attack. I'm sure he was following me in the parking lot, but I only heard the odd footfall, saw one flash of movement. And I couldn't pick him up with my sensing spell."

  Lucas glanced across his shoulder at me. "So you're suggesting that Esus may have been mistaken, that our killer may indeed be noncorporeal, a demon or another entity."

  "I wouldn't call it a demon," I said. "Though some may argue the point. The kind of entity I'm thinking of lives right here in our world. The killer took down a two-hundred-plus-pound trained bodyguard. Felled him like a tree. That doesn't happen by jabbing him in the back with a hypodermic. He'd still have had a moment or two to fight. This kind of killer has a special way to incapacitate his victims. But so far, he's only used it twice-on Dana and this guard. That's why both had neck injuries. To cover the marks. Marks that are very difficult to detect, but ones that I'm sure every Cabal autopsy looks for."

 

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