As I sat, I caught Paige's frown of concern. When she asked whether I'd eaten, I insisted I was fine.
"I could use something," Karl said. "Let me call down--"
"You two talk to Lucas," Paige said. "I'll call room service and get sandwich platters and appetizer trays for all of us."
A deft way of making sure I ate, and I didn't miss Karl's discreet nod of thanks.
Karl mapped out sketches of the blueprints he'd seen, blank in some spots and uncertain in others. He finished as room service arrived.
"This is an office floor at Cortez headquarters," Lucas said, pointing to one of the drawings as we ate. He picked up another. "And this looks like the executive level. Not to slight the gang's abilities, but breaking in there would be extremely difficult."
"He means impossible," Paige said. "He's just leaving himself some wiggle room, should the unthinkable happen and he's wrong. You were on that floor yesterday, Karl. What did you think of the security?"
Most people on the council were wary of Karl, but Paige saw no need to be cagey about his occupation. He seemed to appreciate the candor, and gave a complete evaluation, admitting that he doubted even he could break in without inside help.
"Which you wouldn't get," Paige said. "That's considered treason, punishable by the highest penalty."
"Execution?" I said.
"Too lenient."
"With a breach that severe, an example must be made," Lucas said. "Which isn't to say that the gang wouldn't be able to find someone willing to risk it for a high enough reward. We're already searching for Juan Ortega, who may have committed treason, acting under someone else's authority and killing Bianca. But no single person outside the family would have enough clearance to bypass all the security required to access the executive level after hours. Finding enough people willing to take that risk?" He shook his head. "That, even I would admit, does approach impossible. Still, I'll notify my father."
He picked up the other two sketches. "As for these, they appear to be house plans, though I don't recognize either. This one could be a high-ranking Cabal employee, given the size. The other looks like an apartment. I should fax them to my father." He glanced at Paige. "Is there a fax in the building?"
"I didn't see one. The front desk would probably do it. Or if you want privacy, there should be a twenty-four-hour print shop somewhere nearby."
She was reaching for the phone book when he said, "It would be easier to drop them off," and picked up his cell phone again.
I anticipated a strained conversation--business-like at best--but it sounded like any son talking to his father. Lucas explained what we had, asked about dropping by and Benicio seemed to readily agree. Then Lucas glanced at Karl, who didn't pretend he couldn't hear the other side of the discussion, and shook his head.
"They've had a very taxing day, Papa," Lucas said. "They want to get back--"
Pause.
"Yes, perhaps it would but--"
Another pause, then he covered the receiver. "My father would like you and Hope to accompany us. He wants to ask you about the plans directly."
Karl hesitated.
"Once that's done, your part will be over," Lucas said. "You can head to the airport from there if you like."
Karl nodded.
WE TOOK SEPARATE cars. Karl had no intention of hanging around any longer than he had to. The moment we were done, we'd be heading to the airport.
Benicio lived on Key Biscayne, a secluded island south of Miami Beach, accessible only by a long toll causeway that had Karl muttering, looking in his rearview mirror as if trying to judge how far we were from the airport. It wouldn't be more than a thirty-minute drive, but the closer we drew to the island, the more distant Miami seemed. The island was gorgeous, heavily wooded with white-sand beaches glittering under the remains of a perfect sunset.
If I worked in Miami, I'd want to live on Key Biscayne, though as we started passing houses, I knew I could never afford it. There were probably less expensive areas, but I didn't see a house that would sell for under a million. Even the hotels looked out of my price range.
Benicio lived on the waterfront, of course. The homes on the large, secluded lots weren't mansions, but I was sure it had to be one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Florida.
Lucas pulled into the drive of a house set back and partially obscured by forest. The eight-foot fence looked merely decorative, but Lucas stopped to talk into a tree, which I presume discreetly held an intercom.
After a moment, he glanced at Paige, as if saying something. Karl rolled down his window as Lucas turned back to the intercom.
"Is he having trouble?" I asked.
"No one's answering."
I put my window down and inhaled. It even smelled different than Miami, the warm air not quite so humid, the smog gone. A breeze fluttered past, rich with the scent of some heady tropical flower. It was so still and quiet I could hear water lapping against the beach, at least a quarter mile down the winding drive.
Lucas got out of the car. We joined him as he examined the intercom. Karl took a look, but it wasn't his area of expertise, so he focused on something that was--the secured gate.
Paige got out too, waving her cell phone. "No answer from your father, but he might just be busy."
"I'll call the duty guards," Lucas said.
"Is the gate usually guarded?" I asked Paige.
"It isn't manned, but there are guards who patrol the yard. One during the day. Two at night. That's who Lucas is calling."
The distant symphonic ring of a cell phone started. We peered into the darkness, trying to pinpoint the sound.
"It's near the house," Karl said as he walked back. "The gate's still secured."
The ringing stopped.
"Voice mail," Lucas said as he hung up. He looked more puzzled than concerned. My first thought was that this was the gang's target. But Lucas would have recognized the blueprints, and the locked gate meant no one had broken in.
"Is the fence electrified?" I asked.
Lucas shook his head. "My father prefers to handle intruders more discreetly. It's wired to an alarm system that would alert the guards."
As he headed back to the car, Paige said, "Please don't tell me you're going to ram the gate."
A tiny smile. "Nothing so dramatic."
He pulled the car up alongside the fence.
"Ah, a step stool," Paige said.
Lucas went first, then helped Paige down on the other side. As I crested the fence, a vision flashed and I nearly toppled over. The sudden movement snapped me from the vision, and I let Karl help me down, then closed my eyes, trying to recapture the vision. After a moment, I heard a voice.
"About time. How long does it take you--" The man swallowed the last words. "Jesus, Frank, what are you--?"
"Hands where I can see them," a second voice hissed.
I struggled to see faces, but could make out only shadowy figures against a black backdrop.
"Have you lost your mind?" the first man said. "Whatever you're doing--"
"How do I get in the room?"
"Room? What--?"
The vision snapped as abruptly as before. As it faded, I felt a faint lick of chaos. Lucas, Paige and Karl all stood around me, waiting.
"Someone with a gun. Someone named Frank. He was asking about a room. How to get into a room."
"What room?" Paige asked.
"I don't know. I couldn't--" I gave an angry shake of my head. "I'm sorry. That's not enough, I know. Let me try again--"
"No," Karl said. "We're here now. Quicker to look ourselves. The cell phone sounded from just over there."
Lucas handed Karl his phone. "Hit redial if you need it. Paige and I will head to the house. If anyone's in the yard, we can warn the guards inside."
"Any problems, call my cell," Paige said.
Karl turned to me. "Stay close."
I nodded.
"I mean it, Hope."
"I know."
HOPE
DEATH INTER
RUPTED
Security spotlights lit up the house, but most of the yard was dim and shadowy, and the perimeter black. It was still so quiet I could hear the waves.
Karl stuck to the dark edges. He had me walk beside him--on the fence side, where presumably he thought it was safer, but was also tough for anyone not blessed with a werewolf's night vision. I switched my chaos sensors on full.
As we passed between the fence and a small stuccoed outbuilding, Karl tugged me closer and I snapped from my reverie. Before I could reorient myself, a blinding light made me stumble back.
"For Christ's sake, Nico, do you mind?"
A flash of darkness as the man shielded his eyes against the light. But it moved closer, a halogen beam, so bright that the figure holding it was only an outline.
"Can I get a little privacy here? I'm taking a--"
The pffttt of a silenced shot.
I reeled, the vision fading. Karl gripped my forearms to hold me steady. I tugged free and followed the vibes to the outbuilding.
He caught up in two long strides, and I braced myself to be pulled back, but he only took my arm and whispered, "Gun?"
I thought he was asking about the vision--what kind of gun the man had. A testament to how tired I was, I guess. After a moment I realized he meant, "Do you have your gun and if so, get it out."
When I did, he motioned for me to head around the building one way while he went the other.
I hugged the wall. I could sense Karl behind me, watching to make sure I was alert enough to do this. Once reassured, a soft crunch of undergrowth told me he was moving, then all went silent.
I made it around the first corner before the vision hit again. It was the same scene from the same angle. I bit back my frustration. There had to be a way to train myself to at least change the viewing angle. Another reason why I'd love to speak to another Expisco.
Three more steps brought me to the next corner. The main house was fifty feet ahead, but I tried to ignore it and concentrate on this building. Presumably the door was on the next wall. I stopped, listened. I could feel only low-level chaos, which might be coming from Karl.
When I reached him, he had the door cracked open, face against the gap, sniffing. When he looked at me, I knew what I'd seen wasn't some random or past vision. Someone had been shot inside.
"Will you wait?" he whispered.
I shook my head. The low strum of chaos rose to a steady beat. I touched his arm and lifted my lips up to his ear.
"I'll see it anyway, whether I go in or not."
His chin dipped in a nod and that drum of chaos subsided.
He opened the door and stepped into the dark room, his head up, nose working. I could make out a dinette table and chairs, a small fridge and microwave, a sofa and a bank of maybe a half-dozen lockers. A staff lounge for the guards.
Karl's gaze moved to a closed door. Light shone under it.
"Stay right--" He bit the words off, chewed them over, then said, "Cover me."
I followed, gun ready, as he stopped outside the door, head tilted to listen as his nostrils flared. He turned the handle, then threw open the door.
A figure sat on the toilet, and my first impulse was to back out, apologizing. Then I saw the blood.
The man was slumped against the back of the toilet, mouth open. Male and under forty were the only characteristics I noticed, and not because of the extent of his injuries, but because I couldn't tear my gaze from those injuries long enough to notice anything else.
He'd been shot twice in the face, at close range. The first bullet had shattered his cheek. The second left his nose a mangled flap of gore, dripping blood.
I remembered the blinding flashlight beam and the shot. Had he seen death coming? Had he felt the bullet? Had he suffered at all? I hoped not, but somewhere from within me came an altogether different wish, not that the man suffered horribly, but that maybe, just a little spark of something, a flare of chaos that I could--
I swallowed hard and rubbed my hands over my face.
"It must be--" I whispered. "One of the guards. Paige said--"
The man's eyes opened. I fell back with a yelp.
Karl hauled me toward the door.
"What are you--?" I began. "He's alive. We have to--"
My words came out shrill and jumbled. I fumbled for my phone, but my fingers were shaking so badly I dropped it. As I wrenched against Karl's grasp, the man gave a low moan. My gaze flew to his.
His eyes were so blank and empty, I was certain that groan had been his last, that I hadn't reacted fast enough, that I should have--
His lips parted, a bloody froth bubbled and I stared, transfixed.
"He's gone, Hope."
"Gone? Are you crazy?" I tried to pull away. "He's alive. Can't you see?"
I wrenched around, saw those blank eyes and knew Karl was right. Not a lick of chaos emanated from the man--no fear, no pain, just emptiness. But I kept struggling to get to him, because there was the off-chance I was wrong and I would not walk away. The impulse to help was still there, not yet buried under that lust for chaos, and I clung to it with everything I had.
Karl pulled me to the door. I could see him talking, but his words floated past unheard. Then came two that didn't: Paige and Lucas.
I reached for my phone. "We have to call--"
He took the phone, stuffed it into my pocket and caught my hands when I went for it again.
"You won't stop me from warning them, Karl. I won't let--"
His grip went tight enough to hurt now, face coming down to mine.
"That guard is still bleeding, Hope. That means he was just shot, and whoever shot him was taking him out before going after Benicio--before heading into the house."
"Which is why we have to warn--"
"And set off Paige's cell phone? Yes, we have to warn them. But not that way."
He scooped up my gun, which I hadn't even realized I no longer held. When I reached for it, he held it just out of reach. His gaze searched mine then, without a word, he handed it back and we hurried from the building.
LUCAS
8
I TOLD MYSELF I was overreacting. Laughed as I imagined what I looked like, slinking through the shadows under cover of a blur spell.
Were the guards watching me from the darkness of the yard, struggling not to laugh? Or inside, at the monitor station, busily taping the footage to pass around a Cabal e-mail loop: look at the guy, he's so paranoid he can't even walk up to his dad's front door without hiding under a spell.
No one could have broken into my father's house.
Paige had joked earlier that I hated to use the word impossible, in case I was proven wrong. But this situation came as close to impossible as I could imagine.
The front gates couldn't be operated without a signal from within the house, and anyone climbing the fence would set off an alarm, notifying two patrolling guards, the house guard and Troy. But we'd climbed the fence...and no one was rushing out to stop us.
I pushed back the thought in favor of the hope that I was making a monumental fool of myself.
My father was fine.
Even if someone breached the fence, he couldn't get into the house. My father refused to employ illegal or supernatural security methods in the yard--he couldn't risk having a drunken teen scale his fence and slam into a barrier spell. But with the house, he had no such compunctions.
Even the Cabal vaults--which contained not only a fortune in bearer bonds, but all the powerful spells and supernatural secrets accumulated in centuries of Cabal-hood--were not as carefully guarded as this house. My father was more valuable to the Cabal than any bond or spell. Lives had been sacrificed to provide the highest security the supernatural world knew.
There was only one door, which had to be opened by the guard within. Once inside, the visitor found himself in a completely secured concrete box. To get into the house proper required another door to be opened, which could only be done by my father or Troy.
There
was another way through the front door. Should my father be in the yard or on the beach, he'd hardly want to knock at his own door, so a retinal scanner allowed him access. It was also set to recognize one other person: me. As for why I might need to get inside without him, he never said, only that I'd find out if the need arose.
After motioning for Paige to stay back, I stepped in front of the camera and waited. If, by chance, the perimeter security was malfunctioning, and all was well inside, the guard would spot me and open the door.
I counted sixty long seconds. Paige stayed where she was, asking nothing.
I activated the scanner.
A whir as the lock electronically opened. I cracked open the door and cast a sensing spell, checking for signs of life. It came back negative.
The room within looked like any vestibule. Even the guard's desk was decorative teak, with the LCD security screens inset in frames.
The guard sat in his chair, head on his arms, which were folded on the desk, as if he'd fallen asleep. Only the spilled take-out coffee cup told me otherwise. Paige brushed past me, her fingers going to the man's neck.
"Dead," she said. "But what...?"
She let the sentence trail off, knowing I'd be asking the question already. There was no blood or other sign of trauma. He seemed simply to have laid his head down and gone to sleep.
Paige bent to sniff the spilled coffee, and I knew her conclusion before she voiced it.
"Poison."
That made no sense. None of it did. But questions flew from my head as I turned and saw the interior door propped open with a pen. As I stared at that crude instrument, brain insisting I make sense of it, Paige pointed to a pencil by the main door. Half a pencil, the other half presumably outside, after it failed its purpose in keeping the heavy door--
The interior door was open. The guard dead. My father inside.
It took all I had not to throw open that door and run in. I cast another sensing spell, then slid through the interior door. I heard her cast a cover spell, and quickly did the same, annoyed that I'd lacked the forethought to do it without prompting.
The cover spell let us stay hidden, as long as we remained still. I looked around the living room. There was nothing that I couldn't scan in an instant and say "yes, that belongs there."
Paige tapped my arm and motioned toward the kitchen, meaning she'd check in there. While part of me wanted to keep her close, another part knew that if my father was in danger, every moment was critical.