Hypnos

by RJ Blain

  The senator took his time looking us both over, and then he laughed and relaxed. “I recognize when I’ve been beaten at my own game. Well played, Detective Davis. I have zero investigative experience or skills, and I have no business judging actual investigators.”

  I was tempted to run to my old man and tell him I’d found a politician capable of admitting his ignorance.

  Congressman Mandel sighed. “All right. I can see when I’ve been outmaneuvered as well. That was well played. Why aren’t you a politician, Detective Davis?”

  “Why would I want to be a politician? I have an important job, and my skills and talents would be wasted in politics.”

  I grinned at Raymond. “Hey, that’s what I tell my old man when he asks why I’m not a cop.”

  Raymond chuckled. “You’re not a cop because you’d take your old man’s job and force him into retirement. I haven’t figured out why you haven’t taken over your boss’s job yet.”

  “My boss is more politician than FBI agent, that’s why. If I wanted to be a politician, I’d be a politician. Fortunately for the politicians, I have no desire to spend my days talking. I’d rather be doing.”

  Both politicians sighed, and Congressman Mandel shook his head. “I want to say we didn’t deserve that, but we did.” The man’s gaze focused on something behind me. “The President and First Lady have just arrived. I was instructed to tell you we’re to remain seated. He said you were still recovering?”

  “My current broken bone count is at fifty-three fractures, three major breaks, and a broken skull. I’ve been pieced back together with magic, but I appreciate not having to stand.”

  The politicians winced at my injury report.

  “She’s recovering from internal injuries as well.”

  “I had no idea your health had been so severely compromised,” Senator Camden said, his brow furrowing. “We were under the impression you had sustained minor injuries.”

  I turned to Raymond. “Do minor injuries require ten hours of emergency surgery?”

  “Last time I checked, no.”

  I shrugged. “Inaccurate information is the bane of all investigative work.”

  On television, the President of the United States was a larger-than-life personality, a surprisingly young man who oozed charm and used it to his advantage. With his dark hair and pale eyes, he drew the eye with his looks, but the force of his personality held the most attention. Most men who rose to his rank did so in their mid-fifties, but President Jenson had launched his successful campaign several days after he had turned thirty-five. As the youngest man to hold the position, he’d created waves in the political world. Some called him too inexperienced for the job. Others envied his youth.

  I had a few inches on him, and I’d never realized such a powerful man was vertically challenged.

  President Jenson held out the chair for his wife before sitting. “Sorry we’re late,” he said, flashing a grin. “I wanted something more relaxed, but my social managers told me I had to do this right or I couldn’t do it at all. This was the best I could do considering the circumstances. Honestly, if given the choice, I would’ve swung by your home to meet you, Special Agent Abrams, but that was deemed too much of a security risk.”

  I understood security and respected that, especially after Euthal had taken a walk through San Francisco after eliminating almost everyone capable of dealing with him.

  “It’s quite all right, Mr. President,” I replied. “Welcome to San Francisco.”

  “It’s a lovely city. As I’d rather be able to move onto more pleasant pursuits, let’s get the unpleasantries aside first.”

  “Unpleasantries, Mr. President?” I refused to allow him to intimidate me. I only had enough room in my life for blind fear of one man, and Donners held the top spot.

  “I’d like to hear from you, directly, about the warlock case. My intel is usually watered down for the sake of efficiency, and I suspect I’m missing large chunks of the story. I was told enough to justify the nuking order, but I feel I may be missing important information to help justify my actions to the general public.”

  “Has there been an inquiry?”

  “Of course. I was prepared to bomb a vibrant city to protect many more lives from this warlock. Has the issue with this warlock been defused?”

  One day, I swore I would get my hands on Euthal, and when I did, I wouldn’t make any of my previous mistakes. At the first realistic chance, I would go for the kill without any hesitation. “I think he’s been defused for now. Will he remain defused? No. Considering how unfortunately durable he is, your judgment about using a bomb of that scale to eliminate him wasn’t flawed. However, if anyone survived that, you would run the risk of creating an even bigger threat.”

  “I was assured that the bomb’s lethality rate would far surpass even New York.”

  I’d grown so numbed to the discussion of nukes I didn’t even flinch at the mention of New York. “New York’s survival rate was very low, sir—and we’re more dangerous than even warlocks on a bad day. Would the risk have potentially been worth it? Potentially, yes. No one should have that sort of power at their disposal. It’s best if that magic he attempted to use remain lost.”

  “You mean the statuette.”

  “My statuette, yes. It’s legally mine. I will not authorize any studies being done to determine how to repeat the warlock’s actions. It took the life of an innocent woman to bring that power to life. As far as I’m concerned, no one should have access to that sort of ability. Euthal was able to take out how much of San Francisco in a matter of hours.”

  “You make an excellent point, Special Agent Abrams. Tell me. What do you think happened to this power he used?”

  I hadn’t seen any sign of Hypnos since he’d disappeared in Raymond’s cruiser. Perhaps I skirted the truth, but the truth was best left buried. “I don’t know, Mr. President. With luck, none of us will ever find out. For us, the best thing that can happen is that this power remains gone. I know I won’t be making any efforts to revive it.”

  “What will you do with your statuette?”

  I allowed myself a grim smile. “I’m debating between putting it on my bookshelf at home or dropping it into the deepest, darkest hole I can find. There’s a promising one in Russia.”

  “Russia?”

  “It’s a borehole located in Pechengsky. It’s over seven miles deep. I figure if I dumped it in there, no one would find it ever again. I figure I’ll just dump it on my bookshelf. It’s inert now, so unless it somehow becomes active again, it’s a very pretty but expensive reminder of what happened here.”

  “I was told the statuette is still in the government’s possession.”

  “They are permitted to run basic tests on the statuette to determine its properties. Beyond that, they require the owner’s permission for additional work. I will not be granting permission for the statuette to be tested.”

  “Why not?”

  “As I said, Mr. President, no one should have access to that sort of power. No one. At best, it’s a weapon of mass destruction. At worst, it’s a very quick way to bring ruin to cities. Any teleporter could repeat Euthal’s trick. Within the matter of as little as a few hours, a teleporter with that power could wipe out every major city in the United States. Let’s leave the statuette inert and an ornament on my bookshelf rather than the sort of weapon that would make the United States a threat to every other sovereign nation on the planet. Haven’t we learned our lesson with nuclear warfare?”

  “It could be a useful tool,” President Jenson countered.

  “Those affected are taken to a prison, where they have their life energy drained to fuel another’s power. They are tortured. The fewer number of people taken, the greater the torture is, but it does not change the fact that it is damaging to those who are influenced. One moment, you are conscious. The next, you’re a victim incapable of fighting against what has captured you. I was fortunate.”

  “How so?”

 
“I have the right sort of magic to fight back against its influence. I was able to fight back. If you want to speak to some taken, it might change your opinion of how this power could be used as a weapon, but I will not take part in the torture of innocents.”

  “See? This is exactly why I wanted to find out more from the source. Nothing in my files mentioned the victims being tortured.”

  I couldn’t tell if President Jenson lied. “I’ve done that dance twice, and the second time, I spent a week at the bottom of the ocean recovering. Some powers are best left undisturbed. This is one of them. If I had to make the call, sir, I’d probably make the same choice you did, requesting a nuke to ensure that force could never be used again. That the bomb was a dud worked well. I held my own against Euthal this time. Next time? Who knows.”

  “You seem confident there will be a next time.”

  “Until he’s eliminated or gets what he wants, there’ll be a next time. In that, your choice to nuke was a wise one. Now, that said, I refuse to apologize for destroying the nuke.”

  The President of the United States chuckled, and he relaxed in his seat. “Yes, well. I would be quite put out if someone had hit me in the head like that, too. You were rather offended over the bomber’s excellent aim.”

  “I’ve been told there is a video.”

  “There is. It was broadcasted on the news to reassure the public the threat had been dealt with.”

  Great. That was the last thing I needed. “How did the public react, sir?”

  President Jenson chuckled. “You’re a very popular lady right now, Special Agent Abrams. How does it feel to be an American hero?”

  “Ask me next week after my collection of broken bones has a chance to heal.”

  “I may just do that. Tell me. Special Agent Abrams. How would you feel about moving to Washington?”

  Raymond’s gaze settled on me, and out of the corner of my eye, I was aware of him raising a brow.

  I didn’t think on it more than a few moments. “As I’ve met my draft requirements, I would retire before moving to Washington, Mr. President. The life I want is here, and I do not value my career within the FBI enough to warrant a move to Washington. I do the work I do because I love my city, I love the people I work with, and I enjoy the work here. With all due respect, I would decline any offers of transfer.”

  “Even if the transfer came with a substantial raise in salary, position, and power?”

  “I have no need for any of those things, but I wouldn’t say no if my good performance earned me a raise for my work here.”

  President Jenson nodded. “I respect your dedication. Perhaps understanding why might change your mind. Special Agent Donners will be retiring in the next few years, and you’re the ideal candidate to replace him. Your courage in the field and ability to work under extreme stress would make you invaluable in Washington.”

  “The way I see it, Mr. President, I’m invaluable to California. My answer remains the same. I would refuse such a transfer.”

  “I was told you would say that much. Washington is too close to New York, isn’t it?”

  Somehow, I kept my expression neutral. “Yes, Mr. President, it is.”

  “You’ve been back to New York since the bombing, or so says your file.”

  “Necessity.”

  “And what if I told you having someone of your caliber in Washington is a necessity?”

  “Perhaps if you moved the post to somewhere else, like Oakland, California, you might be able to convince me to listen to your pitch, Mr. President. Until then, there are plenty of other capable individuals who would actually want the job. I respect Special Agent Donners a great deal, and I would not accept any amount of money to do his work.”

  “He said you would say something along those lines, although he didn’t use such a favorable term regarding your opinion of him.”

  “I have PTSD, Mr. President. He triggers it. That doesn’t mean I don’t respect the man.”

  “He also didn’t mention you would be so upfront about your past traumas.”

  “Times change, and so do people, but you could offer me all the money in the world, and I would not willingly transfer to Washington. Everything I want in my life is here, and money can’t replace that.”

  President Jenson nodded, and he smiled. “Just as long as we have an understanding that I will continue to pursue this idea, as I believe it is in the country’s best interest to have someone like you replacing Special Agent Donners when he retires.”

  “I understand, but that is not going to be sufficient to change my answer, Mr. President.”

  “Truth be told, I would be disappointed if you were so easily convinced. Enough work. May I ask a question?”

  “Of course, Mr. President.”

  “How is it a woman like you is single?”

  I struggled against my urge to laugh in his face and lost the battle. When I regained control of myself, I said, “For some reason, men get offended when they find out I’m prettier, smarter, and a harder worker than they are. Add that in to my tendency to miss dates because I’m working, it’s a forgone conclusion.”

  Raymond snorted, but he didn’t expose our recent relationship status change.

  “I see you find something amusing, Detective Davis?” President Jenson asked.

  “Everything, sir. A piece of advice, if I may?”

  “Of course.”

  “Never underestimate Special Agent Abrams. Without fail, she will catch you by surprise.”

  In Raymond’s case, I’d just catch him, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Detective Davis. So, from my understanding, you primarily focus your investigations on thefts?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief that the table conversation focused on Raymond, wondering how I’d survive a whole evening of small talk and politicians.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We didn’t make it home until two in the morning, and I made it as far as my chair before determining consciousness was optional. Raymond, dressed in his uniform, coaxed me awake, fed me breakfast, and left for work.

  My new phone, which we’d replaced on the way home from the hospital, rang within five minutes of his departure. I sighed and answered, “Abrams.”

  “Hey, boss,” Luke said. “You ready to go deal with the idiot brigade?”

  Idiot brigade? “Which idiot brigade? I have so many of them. How do you like your new job?”

  “Hate it. Can you come back to work full time yet? We want to go do real work, but we’re stuck in your office until you’re back on duty. Your job sucks, and I don’t even know the quads I have to coordinate, which makes your job even suckier.”

  “Seriously. Which idiot brigade? So many of them, Luke.”

  “Eddy and the boss.”

  “Oh. Those idiots. I don’t want to. I ache head to toe. The damned formal dinner event was completely dry because of my fucking painkillers. Apparently, FBI agents are known to hit the wine at formal events, and since I wasn’t supposed to have any wine, nobody got any.”

  “That’s just wrong.”

  “I know, right? First, I had to wear a dress. Second, I had to wear a dress. Third, I’m still wearing the fucking dress because I can’t get out of it without help, and the help left for work. I didn’t even make it to bed.” I sighed. “I’m just going to wear some perfume and hope it’s strong enough.”

  “Maybe you could stink the idiot brigade out?”

  I sniffed under my arm, pleased to discover I wouldn’t actually be capable of stinking the draconic siblings back into their human forms. “I’d need to ripen a bit more for that. Can I leave the idiots until tomorrow? I want to go back to bed. Or to bed, period. I slept on my chair.”

  “Sorry, boss. The Washington folks are getting edgy.”

  “The Washington folks can kiss Eddy’s ass.”

  “Not yours?”

  “They might like it.”

  Luke laughed. “Can you go knock sense
into them, please?”

  “I’m running on an empty tank, Luke. What do you think I can do that your team can’t?”

  “Yell impressive-sounding threats that they might actually take seriously.”

  Why me? Grunting, I slipped on my dress shoes and gathered my purse. I checked the stand near the door to discover five sets of keys. “Why are there so many sets of vehicle keys in my bowl, Luke? I don’t have five vehicles.”

  “You have five vehicles.”

  “I do?”

  “You haven’t been in your garage since you’ve been home?”

  “No. Raymond parked his cruiser outside last night. It was closer to the front door and had fewer steps.”

  “You have an SUV, a sports car, and two motorcycles. The extra set is probably his spare cruiser keys. Should have a police stamp on a metal coin on the ring if it is.”

  I searched through the keys, and sure enough, I found a disc stamped with Oakland Police. “Okay, I found his spare keys. Why are there keys for two motorcycles?”

  “Well, there’s a funny story behind that. A cop and an FBI agent went on a joy ride, stealing two motorcycles. The motorcycles were found, in pristine condition, and returned to the dealership. The dealership gave them to you as thanks for preventing a nuke from being dropped on our heads. Raymond took care of the paperwork to keep busy while you were napping.”

  “Cool. I own a motorcycle?”

  “You own a motorcycle. Actually, you own several motorcycles, but your father’s sulking because he was one-upped by the dealership.”

  “Huh. I’m a motorcycle chick now. Who knew?”

  “Your insurance company.”

  “Cute, Luke. Okay. I’ll take my motorcycle on a drive. I’m not happy about this, but I will do it. Where are the idiots?”

  “They’re fighting over Mt. Diablo.”

  I groaned. “That’s an hour and a half from here.”

  “Closer to two right now. Traffic’s shit.”

  I groaned. “I don’t like my boss or Eddy enough to drive through two hours of shit traffic.”

  “Your new motorcycle has lights and a siren, and since you’re on official business, you can just breeze through. You could be there in an hour.”