The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song)
Page 15
give the orders. More to the point, his
talent—and greatest gift—was intuition.
He knew where to be, when to be there,
and who he needed with him.
If I went against that, I’d be doing to
him exactly what Creede had done to
me, and I’d be risking lives doing it.
It was a bitter realization. It hurt, and I
hated it. But it was the truth. So, rather
than pull up to the parking lot and flash
my FBI consultant’s badge at the security
guard standing there, I drove past and
parked in the first shady, curbside spot I
found. It was a no-parking zone, but I
didn’t plan to stay long.
I had just started trying to figure out
exactly what I was going to do next
when Okalani stepped off the curb less
than thirty feet ahead of me.
The last time I’d seen her, she’d been
a pretty girl of fifteen or so with exotic
features, dark brown skin, and hair that
would’ve been kinky-curly if it hadn’t
been kept cropped close to her skull.
She’d looked and acted like a kid. Now,
even though not that much time had
passed, she looked older, harder. The
baby fat had left her cheeks and there
were harsh lines at the corners of her
mouth.
Holy crap.
I threw open the car door and started
climbing out, calling her name.
She turned, and when she saw me, I
had microseconds to recognize the
expressions that flickered across her
face. Recognition, guilt, and terror. She
turned, as if to someone standing beside
her, though there was no one there. As
she did, I saw something flicker at the
edge of my consciousness. It was
something familiar, yet foreign. I started
toward whatever I saw … and smelled
something I’d smelled before.
Okalani’s eyes went wide with
horror. “No!” she screamed, and leapt
toward me, blocking me from reaching
past her.
Our fingers touched, the briefest of
contacts, and I felt the world lurch
sideways.
When everything was still again I
found myself in a darkened room lit only
by the little red dots from plugged-in
surge protectors and a crack of light
around each of four doors. Not much
light to see by, but I don’t need much.
Besides, I knew where we were. I’d
been in this room dozens of times while
attending the college. We were in one of
the auditorium classrooms.
Okalani was with me, her breathing
harsh. Not from the effort, from tears.
“Were you the bait? To get me close
enough to murder?” I kept my voice
level even though I wanted to shout at
her. I had a feeling I knew exactly what
had just happened. It was that little turn
that gave it away. If she hadn’t done that
I would never have noticed the man-
shaped shadow that stretched along the
ground beside hers. A shadow that
seemed to have no source … and he’d
made the same mistake Bruno had. I
could smell his cologne, a very unique,
European scent that wasn’t often
encountered in SoCal. Jan Mortensen.
He’d been using magic to hide himself,
but forgot those two telling details.
Lucky for me. If he’d stuck around a
little longer when I’d gone to visit Bruno
in his office, I might be dead now.
Okalani sobbed. “I couldn’t let him …
they said you were evil and needed to
die, but seeing you, I just couldn’t.
You’re not evil. You’re not.” Her whole
body was shaking with the violence of
her emotions.
Who the hell was Jan Mortensen and
what did he have against me?
Crap. Okalani might be an idiot for
getting involved with him, but she’d
saved my life. “Thank you.” I’m not
much of a hugger, but it was obvious she
needed to be held, so I took her in my
arms. It was awkward. I’m not really
good at that sort of thing, and she was
wearing this huge backpack besides.
“Tell me.”
“I … I can’t. They’ll kill me.” It
wasn’t just an expression. It was the
honest truth. She held out her arm and I
saw the mark of a binding oath on her
skin, throbbing an ugly red. She’d nearly
already said too much. Binding oaths
were serious business. I’d watched
Creede’s partner decay before my eyes
after breaking one.
Suddenly she realized just how
serious the situation was. She’d been too
shocked before, acting on instinct. Now,
looking at the mark, it really hit her. I
could see it. She looked around in panic,
her dark eyes so wide with fear that the
whites showed all around the iris. But it
wasn’t just the throbbing red pattern on
her arm that was bothering her. She’d
finally realized where we were.
“Oh, shit. No, no, no! We have to get
out of here!” I had to grab both of her
shoulders and give her a light shake
before her eyes would focus on me
again.
“Okalani, talk to me. Why is it bad
we’re here?”
She reached up and ran fingers
through her hair, not to smooth it, but as
though she wanted to rip it out. “We are
so screwed. Princess, I am soooo sorry.
I’ve been taking classes since I moved
here. This semester was Practical Matter
Teleporation. Dr. Greene’s assistant set
up a spell so that everything teleported
on the university campus for the next
twenty-four hours would come here. It’s
for homework—she’s going to review
the final product after transit, to see if it
survived the trip. And she’s sealed the
room so nobody can tamper with their
results. I have to get us out of here. I told
Jan about the assignment. He knows
we’re here. He’ll come here looking for
us any minute. Oh my God, oh my God.
Where can we go? What’m I going to
do?”
“Calm down!” I snapped it as an
order. Amazingly enough, it worked. She
stopped
babbling.
She
was
still
trembling and terrified, but she seemed
capable of listening. “You said the
room’s shielded—”
“I can teleport through shields. But
where can we go? They’re everywhere.”
She could teleport through shields?
Oh, I really wished I hadn’t heard that. It
was bad on so many levels. Nobody
ethical
would’ve
taught
her
that
particular trick. It would mean she’d be
the Louvre would be easy pickings.
High-security prisons wouldn’t hold her.
I forced the thoughts from my mind. I
didn’t have time to think about that right
now. Soon, very soon, Okalani and I
would be having a chat. But not now.
“We need a plan. I promised your mom
I’d find you and help you, and that’s
what I’m going to do. But you need to
stay calm and listen.”
“My mom sent you?” There was a hint
of anger in her voice, but there was
hope, too. The kid I’d known on Serenity
wasn’t completely lost.
I spoke to what was left of that kid,
hoping there was enough of her still
inside the young woman in front of me.
“Your mom loves you, Okalani. She
misses
you. And
she’s
worried.
Terrified you’re in trouble.”
That proud chin rose, so much like her
mother’s. “I can take care of myself.”
Yeah, right. She’d been doing a bang-
up job of that. But sarcasm, while
merited, wouldn’t help. I sank onto the
edge of the stage, narrowly avoiding an
odd assortment of items on the floor.
Apples, oranges, the mounted head of a
bull moose, and even an old Henry
repeating rifle. I had more to say to
Okalani, but first, I needed to let Rizzoli
know about Jan before he escaped
completely.
Dominic, it’s Celia. Can you hear
me? If you can, think the word yes as
hard as you can. Scream it in your
mind.
Yes. The sound was distant, like a bad
connection on a cell phone. But it was
him. I’ve always found it fascinating that
the words I hear in someone’s mind have
the same intonation as if they were
actually talking. Dom’s mental voice
was pissed. I didn’t have to ask why.
Yeah, yeah. I know. But you can’t
have believed I’d stay at Emma’s house
like a good girl, could you? Anyway,
Jan Mortensen was using the same
hiding spell Bruno uses—remember the
potted plant when we first met?
Mortensen was on the corner of Market
and College less than five minutes ago.
The kid he was with is a teleporter. She
whisked me away before he could do
anything unfortunate.
That got his attention. His voice
strengthened in my mind. Whisked you
where exactly?
I wasn’t positive I should say, but
someone had to get us out of here safely.
We’re in one of the small auditoriums
on the first floor. The one where Dr.
Greene is having the assignments sent.
Ask someone in the Paranormal Studies
class where that is. I paused, listening
with my ears rather than my mind. Yes,
I’d definitely heard someone messing
with one of the auditorium doors. And
Dom, you might want to hurry. I think
Mortensen may be here.
I heard the sound of a hand pressing
hard against the door’s trip bar, but it
didn’t open. The door was locked.
Okalani whimpered. “We have to go.”
She grabbed at my arm.
She had it halfway right. She needed
to go. She might be sixteen, but to me she
was still just a kid, and she was a
witness. Maybe the only witness who
could help us unravel what the hell was
going on. But if I left with her, Jan
would just leave, disappear before
Rizzoli and the others could get him.
I stood up and grabbed hold of her,
facing her and taking one of her arms in
each hand. Staring into those frightened
brown eyes, I willed her to do what I
said. “Okalani, I need you to listen to
me. You need to go to your mother’s,
have her hide you somewhere safe, and
then call me. I’ve got connections.
People are on the way here now. I’ll
work something out. Give me twenty-
four hours; I’ll get in touch with you. But
you have to go to your mom’s. Now.”
“But my father—”
I heard the sound of a key turning in
the lock. Jan was a teaching assistant. Of
course he had a key. Shit, shit, shit.
“Go!” I whispered harshly, giving her
a hard shove. I felt the whiff of
displaced air as Okalani vanished.
She’d been telling the truth about the
shields.
I took cover behind the lecturer’s
podium. Squatting down, I drew the
Glock from its ankle holster as the door
opened and the room was filled with
blinding light.
Dom. He’s here.
We’re on our way.
Weapon drawn, I peeked around the
edge of the podium. It was Jan, and he
saw my movement. With a word and a
gesture he threw a ball of fire the size of
my head straight at me, like a sizzling
comet. I dived and rolled out of the way
as the podium was engulfed in flames
that spread like napalm across the stage.
He didn’t stop firing, either. I kept
rolling, right off the edge of the stage,
knocking miscellaneous crap to the floor
with me. There was so much stuff on the
floor by then that I stumbled trying to get
my feet under me. Man, what I wouldn’t
give for one of those body binding
charms.
Another blast hit the stadium seats
beside me. I smelled burning paint,
cloth, and hair. My hair was singed, but I
wasn’t hurt … yet. On the other hand, I
hadn’t been able to stop moving long
enough to get off a single shot.
“FBI! Freeze!” Dom’s bass bellow
came from the doorway. He had his
weapon aimed at Mortensen. The mage
screamed a single word in a language I
didn’t know, and an explosion rocked
the room, moving outward from where
he’d stood, sending chairs, chunks of
concrete, and twisted metal speeding
outward in a deadly storm.
I heard Bruno’s voice shout a phrase
in a tongue that might be early Latin. I
was going to need a Rosetta course for
ancient magical languages pretty soon.
The fire disappeared but I still took what
cover I could on the floor between the
nearest two rows of seats and waited a
moment that seemed an eternity for the
wreckage to land.
When I felt it was safe enough to poke
my head up I saw blood and destruction.
Dom was alive but he and three other
agents were injured. Bruno was curled
in a fetal position near the wall,
moaning. His counterspell hadn’t been
without consequence.
There was no sign of Jan Mortensen.
15
If I hadn’t been friends wi
th Rizzoli it
would’ve been worse. If Dom Rizzoli
was more of an ass and less of a
professional, it would’ve taken longer.
After all, there were injured agents, an
injured civilian (Bruno had a cracked
rib and needed some stitches where he’d
been hit by a piece of flying debris), a
missing witness, and an escaped villain
—to say nothing of considerable
property damage. Not a banner day for
the feds or the agent in charge.
But it wasn’t my fault, except for the
small matter of showing up at the
college. I specifically hadn’t followed
Rizzoli. I wasn’t lying about that and he
said he understood. So my questioning
was friendly and relatively short,
particularly when compared to what had
happened at the police station the
previous day. I was even able to clean
up a little after the session so I didn’t
look quite so much like the sole survivor
in a disaster movie.
I sat in the lobby of the federal
building, waiting for my ride and
thinking.
The lobby of the federal building is
beautiful. The floors are marble, the
atrium area stretches up three stories. A
mural stretches along two walls,
depicting scenes from the beginning of
the Bureau to the present. The entrance
doors and reception desk take up the
third wall. The fourth is unpolished
black stone and nearly covered with
two-inch brass plates with the name,
rank, and date of death of agents who
have died in the line of duty. It’s a grim
reminder of the price paid to keep the
public safe.
No new plates would be put on the
wall because of this morning’s fiasco. I
was glad. We’d been lucky. I was lucky
they’d arrived in time. The feds were
fortunate in that Bruno had managed a
partial shield when the blast hit.
That had been one hell of a spell. It
wasn’t the work of a student. Not even a
graduate student. It was the kind of spell
used by trained combat mages in military
operations. You do something like that
without a team behind you, you’re going
to be wiped out for a week or more.
Good news for the feds and all of the
others out hunting Jan. They’d still have
to contend with any traps he’d set for
them. But he wouldn’t be doing any new
magic for a few days at least.
“Wow, that’s grim.” Dawna came up
beside me. She stared up at row after
row of little brass plates.
“It’s supposed to be.” I turned to her.
“Thanks for coming to get me.”