“Bleach,” Bug said softly. “He had them smell paper towels soaked in bleach. The scent lingers on clothes even in the dryer.”
The beasties dashed left, rounded the corner, and stopped before a square foot-wide vent secured by a metal grate.
“Use the small tooth,” Cornelius intoned. “Open the burrow.”
“I’m in a Disney movie,” Augustine said, his face disgusted.
One of the ferrets reached over and pulled a tiny screwdriver out of the ferret-badger’s harness. The beast raised it up and put it into the screw. The other ferret squeezed it and the electric screwdriver whirred quietly, pulling the screw out. The screwdriver slipped. The ferret patiently repositioned it again.
Augustine blinked.
It took them almost five minutes, but finally the screws came loose and the three furry burglars hooked their claws into the grate and pulled it out.
“Balu, enter the burrow. Loki, enter. Hermes, enter.”
The badger squirmed into the vent, with the ferrets following it. Lint dust floated in the air as they moved. One of the ferrets sneezed adorably. Please don’t get killed, little beasties.
Cornelius’ burglars double-timed it through the air vent. Abruptly the metal tunnel ended in a T-section, with the perpendicular tunnel running left and right. They must’ve had more than one dryer attached to it.
“Loki, wait. Hermes, wait.”
The two ferrets obediently crouched down.
“Balu, charge.”
The badger shot forward and smacked into the T-section’s wall. The entire tunnel quaked. A dent bent the soft metal.
“Again.”
The beast rammed the wall ahead. The view from its camera turned, shaking. The tunnel sagged. The weight of the badger had strained the connection between the wall and the semi-rigid metal duct running to the dryers. A narrow gap formed between the duct and the length of the dryer vent.
“Open the hole,” Cornelius intoned. The ferrets hooked their claws into the gap.
Rogan watched, an odd expression on his face.
Three minutes later Loki, the lighter ferret, squirmed out of the hole and pulled off the clamp, disconnecting the duct.
Rogan lifted his cell to his ear and said quietly, “Margaret? Look into putting pressure sensors into our dryer vents . . . Yes. Dryer vents.”
Augustine was typing something on his phone, his face unreadable. Serves you right.
The burglars dashed into the house, navigating the vast mansion and following commands as Cornelius patiently talked them through their heist. Bug had been right. The place swarmed with security personnel and detectives. Once, just before the ferrets ducked behind a curtain, Hermes’ camera caught a glimpse of Lenora Jordan, the Harris County district attorney. In her late thirties, with medium brown skin and a mane of hair twisted into a careless bun, she strode through the house with a scowl on her face. Baranosvky’s murder was big enough news to drag her out of bed and she clearly wasn’t happy about any of it. A team of haggard-looking people in professional clothes trailed her, watching her every move. Most likely those were Baranovsky’s lawyers. He must’ve made provisions for his death.
Lenora Jordan was my hero. When I was growing up, I’d wanted to be just like her.
Slowly, foot by foot, the furry beasts made their progress into the depths of the house.
I was so tired. It’d been a long night. If I just closed my eyes for a moment, I’m sure nobody would mind . . .
Rogan’s hand skimmed my back as he leaned forward to glance at my face. “Coffee?”
I jerked awake. “Yes. Thank you.”
I should’ve said no. Ugh.
He stepped away and returned with coffee, cream already in it.
Augustine raised his eyebrows at him. “You really are trying.”
Rogan gave him a flat stare. Lesser men would’ve fled for their life, but Augustine was clearly made of sterner stuff.
“Congratulations, Nevada.” Augustine allowed himself a narrow smile. “I do hope you appreciate the full gravity of this momentous occurrence. Mad Rogan actually physically moved his body to bring you a cup of coffee instead of simply floating it to your lap. The manipulation is so blatant it’s painful to watch. Sadly for him, I’m still a better employer.”
Rogan paused by him. “If you need any pointers on how to properly treat a woman, I can give you a lesson later.”
“Please.” Augustine held up his hand. “Spare me. Do you honestly think that she is dumb enough to fall for that? What’s next? A picnic under the stars? Just how underhanded are you planning on being in your hiring process?”
Pot, kettle. “Thank you, Rogan,” I said. “The coffee is delicious.”
“You haven’t even tried it,” Augustine pointed out.
“The coffee is delicious,” I repeated and sipped. It tasted divine, probably because it had at least half a jar of sugar in it.
“We reached the computer,” Bug reported.
Baranovsky’s personal computer was a tower of alien design, complete with weird plastic scales. The ferrets dismantled it in under a minute, plucked the hard drive out, dropped it into a plastic baggie they pulled out of Hermes’ harness, and began the long trek back to the laundry. The coffee wore off somewhere between the first and second floor. I pulled my legs to me and tried to nestle deeper into the seat. I had spent too much magic today. I needed to learn to pace myself.
I hung on through the narrow escape through the staff rooms and the mad dash across the rain soaked forest. Finally, the screen showed the truck. Rogan opened the door and the wet beasts dashed inside and swarmed over Cornelius’ lap, chirping and screeching like there was no tomorrow.
Cornelius’ face lit up. He smiled, the first genuine smile I had ever seen on his face. It was a beautiful smile, filled with simple powerful joy. Loki thrust the drive in the baggie at him, hitting Cornelius in the face with it. The animal mage took the drive, handed it to Bug, and petted the furry beasts. I exhaled. Something had gone right. I was sure we would pay for it later, but for now, I could sit here and just watch Cornelius with his animals.
Soon the beasts calmed down, the ferrets overjoyed at offerings of cooked chicken, while the ferret-badger munched on plums. Cornelius slumped in his seat, exhausted.
“That was incredible,” I told him.
“Thank you. The biggest problem is keeping the ferrets on task. They are like hyperactive toddlers.”
“Found it,” Bug announced.
The screen ignited, showing a nighttime recording of a man in a light trench coat exiting a high-rise. A taller man in a suit followed him closely. A bodyguard.
The angle of the video was much too low for a street surveillance camera. Somebody was recording it from a car. I’d done it hundreds of times and my videos looked just like that.
The bodyguard and the man waited for a moment. A car pulled around the corner and the headlights illuminated the bodyguard and the man in the trench coat. Breath caught in my throat. Senator Garza.
The car slid to a smooth stop. The bodyguard opened the door.
Lightning ripped from the corner of the screen, its feathery tendrils clutching the bodyguard, Senator Garza, and the vehicle and binding them into a single glowing whole. The lightning burned and burned, the two men jerking in its lethal embrace. The front of the car melted. Fire burst from the rear, popping the tires.
The lightning blinked and came back again. Slowly, shakily, the camera panned left. A lone man stood on the street, older, dark-haired, wearing a business suit, his hands raised in a trademark mage pose, arms bent at the elbow, palms up. The camera zoomed in on his face. His features were slack, his expression almost serene, but his eyes furious, churning with the pain and despair of a man not in control of his own body.
The lightning died. The camera panned back. The car burned, a charred wreck. Garza and the bodyguard sprawled on the sidewalk, their bodies smoking.
The view switched back to the man. He stared at
the two bodies, a horrified expression on his face, then turned and fled.
“I know him,” Augustine said, his voice sharp. “It’s . . .”
“Richard Howling,” Rogan said. “Controlled by Olivia Charles. House Howling killed Senator Garza.”
It was obvious now, and putting together the pieces seemed like an afterthought. I did it anyway, just so I didn’t miss anything.
“For some unknown reason, Olivia Charles wanted Senator Garza dead. Most likely, he stumbled onto their scheme and became a threat. They needed to take him out and do it in a way that wouldn’t come back to them.”
“So they kill two birds with one stone,” Augustine said. “Olivia used her magic on Richard Howling, forcing him to kill Garza, which eliminates the threat and potentially implicates Richard Howling.”
“But why use Richard Howling?” Cornelius asked. “If she could impose her will on Howling, she could’ve taken control of Garza’s bodyguards.”
“It must’ve been a concession to David,” Rogan said. “It’s unlikely that this is the first time he killed for them.”
Augustine nodded. “Richard’s sister is married to a different House. With Richard out of the picture, David becomes the only viable choice as the head of the Howling House. Like I said, dark horses never turn out well. They tend to hate their handlers.”
“Everything was going well,” I continued. “Except Olivia and David didn’t know that Forsberg had Garza under surveillance. When Forsberg realized what was on the recording, he tried to use it to his advantage. He turned it over to his legal team with instructions to make a deal either with Garza’s people, with Howling, or with someone else. Olivia found out, and she and David Howling killed everyone involved to keep the recording from getting out. Why would Forsberg have Garza followed?”
“Because Forsberg was a Steward,” Rogan said. “There are a number of factions within the Assembly, but the two largest are the Civil Majority and the Stewards. The Stewards are pro-mage and the Civil Majority is pro-people.”
“That’s an oversimplification,” Augustine said. “The Stewards see themselves and the Houses as the primary guiding force of human society. They reject the current democratic model and advocate for greater power and influence of the Houses. Simply put, they want to rule. The Civil Majority takes its root from the quote by Johanna Hemlock, a nineteenth-century philosopher and Prime. The Civil Majority seeks to limit House involvement in politics.”
“What’s the quote?” I asked.
“In a country ruled by a civil majority even the smallest minority enjoys greater protection than a majority living in a country where power is hoarded by select few,” Cornelius said.
“That sounds almost altruistic,” I said. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but Houses are not known for giving up power.”
Augustine sighed. “No, it’s not altruism. It’s self-interest. Our policy of noninvolvement has been working really well so far. We’re wealthy and secure, and we have a lot to lose. Garza was the darling of the Civil Majority. Matthias Forsberg was an active member of the Stewards. The Stewards likely conspired to torpedo Garza’s rise to power, so Forsberg must’ve put him under surveillance, hoping for some dirt from which the Stewards could’ve manufactured a scandal.”
I rubbed my face, trying to brush the drowsiness off.
“So Olivia and her people obtained the recording,” Rogan said, “and now it’s an unexpected bonus. What do they do with it?”
“Blackmail is an obvious choice,” Augustine said. “Howling controls the Moderates, the third-largest faction within the Assembly. This might be about Assembly elections.”
“No.” Rogan pushed from his seat and began stalking back and forth like a caged tiger. “These people want destabilization. Chaos. The surveillance recording wasn’t supposed to exist, but it does and they have a copy of it. If we hide the recording and they choose to sit on their copy, Richard Howling becomes their puppet. If we forward the recording to Lenora, she will have to arrest Richard Howling. There would be a public outcry over Garza being murdered by a head of a House. David still gets what he wants. If they release their copy ahead of us, David again gets his House and the DA’s office will look incompetent. There will be a huge wave of public outrage.”
“Doesn’t matter what we do, they win,” Augustine said. “This isn’t just usual House politics. This feels like a seismic shift within the power structure, one I’m not sure we have the combined power to oppose. Rogan, are we on the wrong side of this?”
Rogan pivoted to him. “They murdered civilians and nearly demolished downtown, which would’ve killed thousands more. They will never be the right side. I intend to win this war.”
“I know that.” Augustine’s face was tired. “I just wonder if history will view us as heroes or villains.”
“Depends on who writes it,” I told him. “We have to take it to Lenora.”
Rogan studied me. “Why?”
He knew perfectly well why. “You said yourself, these people are interested in chaos. You can’t create chaos unless you rile up the public. They will release the video, they will do it somewhere it can’t be contained—like the social networks—and they will stoke the outrage. It will look like the DA’s office deliberately hid the fact that a beloved senator and champion of the people was murdered by a Prime. I don’t understand why they haven’t released it already.”
“They’re waiting for the right moment,” Rogan said.
“And that’s exactly why the more time Lenora has with the video, the better.”
“We’ll talk to Lenora’s office in the morning,” Rogan said. “I’ll need time to pull together paperwork.”
He knew I was right so why the hell was he stalling?
“Are you going to apply for a Verona Exception?” Augustine said, a calculating look in his eyes.
“Yes.”
“You will require the cooperation of House Harrison.” Augustine turned to Cornelius.
“What is the Verona Exception?” I could look it up on my phone but I was too tired.
“It’s named after the Capulet and Montague feud,” Cornelius explained. “Romeo and Juliet begins with the Prince of Verona issuing an ultimatum to both families promising to put to death the next person who rekindles the feud. Then he walks off stage and washes his hands of it until their actions force him to return.”
“A Verona Exception means filing a claim against House Howling with the DA’s office,” Rogan said. “Troy is my employee and so are you by virtue of my agreement with Cornelius. Howling attacked you both, made no effort to offer any reparations, and can’t be reached by normal means.”
“But you don’t know that.” My brain was so slow and tired, and when I pushed it to make rational thoughts, it threatened to collapse. “You haven’t called the head of his House.”
“I’ll call Richard in the morning,” Rogan said. “He’ll disavow any knowledge of the incident. He doesn’t want to be involved, which is why he made David into a dark horse in the first place.”
“A Verona Exception effectively states that this now becomes a matter of open warfare among specific members of these three Houses,” Augustine said. “By granting the Verona Exception, the DA’s office will acknowledge that enough evidence exists to warrant retribution from House Rogan and House Harrison and empower them to enact this retribution, provided they don’t demonstrate gross disregard for civilian welfare.”
“So it allows them to wash their hands of it and let us fight it out?” I asked.
“Yes,” Rogan said.
It made sense. The DA’s office had some magic users on staff, of whom Lenora Jordan was the most dangerous, but if they got involved every time two Primes fought, the result would be catastrophic for police personnel.
“It’s standard procedure,” Rogan said. “The DA gets involved when the safety of the public is at stake. I’ll need a sworn affidavit from you and dispensation from House Harrison stating that they allow Corneli
us to engage.”
“That may be a problem,” Cornelius said quietly. “We have a small House. We act cautiously and we don’t get involved. My parents maintained this policy for years and now my sister preserves it.”
The same sister who had sent a card and some flowers when she learned her youngest brother’s wife had been murdered.
“I’ll speak to her tomorrow,” Cornelius said.
Tomorrow might be too late. If that video hit the Internet, there would be riots. I didn’t almost die about ten times trying to save Houston from being burned only to see it tear itself apart.
I turned to Bug. “Can I have a copy of the video, please?”
He glanced at Rogan.
I pretended to sigh. “This is getting tiresome. Rogan and my employer signed a contract, and that contract goes both ways. If we have to share evidence with you, you have to share evidence with us, especially since my employer obtained it. I would like a copy of the video, please. Email would be great.”
“Do as she says,” Rogan said. He was smiling. I had no idea what was so funny.
My phone chimed announcing a new email.
“Thank you.”
“Take your time, Cornelius,” Rogan said. “Like I said, paperwork takes time and Lenora may not even see us tomorrow considering the Baranovsky mess. This is a delicate matter.”
“If my sister refuses, I’ll proceed on my own, but our case would be stronger with us both.”
I got up. “Where is the bathroom?”
Rogan pointed to a door in the far wall.
“Thank you.”
I got up, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door behind me. Was there conflict of interest? I had promised Cornelius that I would give him the name of his wife’s murderer, but I had made it abundantly clear that I wouldn’t kill that person for him. Cornelius’ agreement with Rogan technically had nothing to do with me. It only specified mutual cooperation and bound Rogan’s hands.
No, there was no conflict of interest. I was in possession of a video showing the murder of two citizens. It was my obligation under the law to report it. I texted Bern. This is very important. I’m going to email you something. Can you find a way to send it to Lenora Jordan so it won’t be traced back to us?