Dark Debt

My grandfather clasped his hands on the table. “We know the Circle wants something. Hopefully, you’ve interrupted any immediate plans to take that payment in violence by getting your vampires safe. That was a very smart move, and a very impressive effort by the Houses.”

  Morgan nodded.

  “Now you’ll reach out to the Circle, find out what they want. As we’ve discussed, it seems unlikely that’s money at this point. It may be another job. It may be more House access. Considering the time that has passed since the unsuccessful attempt on King, I suspect they’ll be ready to tell you.”

  “Okay,” Morgan said.

  “Can I see your phone?” Jeff asked, removing a small black box from his pocket.

  Morgan pulled out his phone, handed it over.

  Jeff nodded, pried a tiny card from the side of the phone, then slid the card into a slot in the black box. The box’s glossy exterior began to glow.

  “New toy?” I asked.

  “A little multifunctional device I’ve been working on. Does a little of this, a little of that. A little telephony, among other things.”

  After a moment, the box turned black again, and the tray popped open. At the same time, the Ops Room’s wall screen filled with graphs and charts.

  “And there we go.” Jeff popped the card out, put it back in Morgan’s phone, returned the phone to him.

  “I’ve borrowed your telemetry data,” Jeff said, spinning his chair around to look at the screen, bringing one chart to the center.

  “All right,” he murmured. “I’m going to eliminate any calls that came from the same number more than once, and any that match your contact list.” That left a handful of plotted points on the screen. “You recognize any of those?”

  Morgan eliminated a few numbers, leaving four on-screen.

  “Those are burn phones’ prefixes,” Jeff said, gaze scanning the screen. “All different numbers. No apparent connection between them, and the calls all pinged different towers.”

  “They’re very careful,” Jacobs said.

  My grandfather nodded. “That’s how they’ve stayed in business so long. They are a remarkably careful group.”

  “So the number you have will probably be another burner phone,” Jeff said. “When they’ve called you, how long does each call last?”

  “They’re short. A minute, maybe?”

  Jeff nodded. “Probably too short to trace, but we can at least determine which tower they’re using. So, when everybody’s ready, you’ll place a call to the number you’ve got, and I’ll do what I can to nail it down.”

  “How do I play this?” Morgan asked, looking around the table.

  “We’ve got two goals,” Jacobs said. “Addressing the situation with your House and, if possible, acquiring enough information to identify the Circle’s key players and shut them down.”

  “The latter being the only real way to ensure that the former happens.”

  “Frankly, yes.”

  “When they call back, you’ll be matter-of-fact, but polite. In their minds, Navarre owes them a substantial debt, and they want to collect. They’ll have a demand, and you want to know what it is. You don’t have to negotiate with them, argue with them. You just need to know what they want. There’s a chance they won’t want to make that demand on the phone. That’s fine, and we can cross that bridge when we come to it. The key is to engage them in communication so we can move forward.”

  Jeff looked at Luc. “Can we use your earbuds? I can dial them in so we can all hear the call.”

  Luc nodded, pulled the box of earbuds from a locked desk drawer, lest his vampires should steal the tiny plastic nubbins.

  Juliet beat me to the teasing. “You afraid we’re going to borrow those without asking, Dad?”

  “You take my car, you stay out after curfew, you don’t call your mother regular,” Luc said in his best Chicago accent. “Bet your ass I’m locking up the silver.”

  Luc passed the box around the room, and we took earbuds, slipped them in.

  “We work long hours,” Luc said to Morgan. “Many of them are hard. We try to keep the tone light—but that’s no reflection on the work quality.”

  Morgan nodded, but there was weariness in his gaze. Too many nights spent worrying, instead of commiserating with his vampires, his Novitiates and staff. And now those vampires were spread across the city like cottonwood seeds in the wind.

  “We’re ready if you are, Morgan.”

  He nodded, pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, tapped in the numbers, lifted the phone to his ear.

  The room went silent.

  “Gold star,” Morgan said after a moment, and then hung up the phone again.

  “Gold star?” Ethan asked.

  “That’s the code for our account.”

  “How long will it take them to respond?” Ethan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Morgan said, and we all prepared to wait.

  * * *

  It took less than five minutes.

  Morgan’s phone rang, the ring tone a soft, alternative song I recognized, the vocalist mourning the end of a relationship. My chest squeezed sympathetically, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Morgan wouldn’t have appreciated the sympathy, especially not from me.

  “Give me three . . . two . . . and one,” Jeff said, then pointed at Morgan. “You’re a go.”

  Morgan blew out a breath, lifted the phone to his ear. “Navarre.”

  The answering voice—deep and slowly and clearly affected by a voice modulator—echoed in my ear. “You were not instructed to call.”

  “And you were instructed in the beginning not to touch my people. You did it anyway.”

  “You first refused your assignment, and then botched it.”

  “You came to my House, assaulted one of my vampires. They are not on the table.”

  Merit, Ethan said silently, and I nodded my understanding, did my part.

  Morgan, I said silently, activating the unusual telepathic link between us. Calm down. Remember what this call is about.

  He still looked furious, but rolled his shoulders in an apparent effort to calm himself.

  “We’re not especially concerned about your preferences,” said the voice. “Your loan is in default.” There was a moment of silence. “We will afford you the opportunity to negotiate.”

  Morgan pursed his lips, blew out a relieved breath. “That’s acceptable.”

  “One hour. Michigan Avenue helipad. The copter will be waiting.”

  “Helicopter?” Morgan said. “Why do we need a helicopter?”

  “We select the location, Navarre.”

  Morgan looked around the table, settled on me. “You want to deal, I want a guest. Merit, of Cadogan House.”

  Ethan’s magic bloomed hot and bright beside me, and I covered a hand with his. His wasn’t the only irritation. My grandfather, Jeff, and Luc looked pissed on my behalf.

  But their reactions, while appreciated, were irrelevant. We couldn’t let Morgan go alone, and I was as reasonable a choice as any. Certainly more reasonable than having another Master go with him, handing them both over to the Circle.

  “One hour,” the voice said, and the line went dead.

  Morgan put the phone down, then was brave enough to meet Ethan’s furious gaze.

  “That you would dare to volunteer Merit without her, or my, consent absolutely astounds me.”

  “I had to take someone. Who else at this table would you send?”

  “So you’ll throw her to your wolves without even asking her permission?”

  “Did you ask her permission to make her a vampire?”

  Ethan’s body went rigid, and he moved to stand, but I squeezed the hand on his arm.

  “Morgan,” I said, “quit being an asshole. Ethan, he’s right. I’m the best person to go. I’ve dealt wi
th Jude Maguire, I’ve got skills, and I can talk to Morgan telepathically. That’s a big advantage.”

  “He might have asked you.”

  “He should have,” I agreed, leveling an unflattering gaze at Morgan. “But he didn’t, and it’s done.”

  Ethan’s gaze didn’t waver. “How long will it take to get to the helipad?”

  Jeff scanned the map he’d already pulled up on the screen. “Current estimate is twenty-three minutes.”

  “We get there early, scope it out. That gives us twenty minutes to get this operation ready to go.” He glanced at Morgan. “And when it’s done, you and I have business.”

  Morgan nodded, and the preparations began.

  * * *

  I let them deal with the logistics, ran upstairs to change clothes. This wouldn’t be a social call. I’d need as much protection as possible, so I pulled on leather pants, a red tank, my leather jacket, black boots. I wanted to tuck a dagger into my boot, but the CPD still had it. Not that it mattered; the Circle would undoubtedly search me and take it, and since it had been a gift from Ethan, I didn’t want to lose it.

  The possibility that Balthasar would be there, would be involved, occurred to me, and turned my stomach. I was looking forward to a good down-and-dirty fight, but not one that took place in my mind. I considered, grabbed the bracelet from the nightstand, fastened it. Better to be safe than sorry where he was concerned.

  I splashed water on my face, brushed my hair so I could tie it up. When I emerged from the bathroom, pulling my hair into a ponytail, Ethan stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, still vibrating with irritation.

  “He’s put you in a damn fine position.”

  “It was an asshole move,” I agreed, snapping the elastic into place and ensuring that the ponytail was snug. “But he’s right—he didn’t have a better choice.”

  “They now know you’re coming,” he said as I walked toward him. “They’ll be prepared for you, and might consider taking you as an asset.”

  I nodded, offered up the realization that had made my heart thump beneath my chest like a nervous rabbit.

  “If they really wanted to negotiate, to give him a new assignment, they’d have done it over the phone. Bringing us to their HQ is risky. Which means they don’t really want to negotiate.”

  Ethan’s brow furrowed, and he nodded. “We think you’re right.”

  “So they want to kill us, or use us as bait to get something else. Like Sanford King, who is currently inaccessible to them, since he’s in protective custody. And they’ll assume my grandfather knows where he is.”

  “And they’ll assume they can use you to get to your grandfather.”

  I nodded. That was a lot of weight on my shoulders, and I really didn’t want to get kidnapped again. I’d already been held by a demon and a group of jingoistic elves, and didn’t want to make it an even three.

  “Morgan’s aware of all this?”

  “He is. Your grandfather spoke with him about it.”

  I nodded, considered. “I think we go in with the assumption this will be a hostage exchange, that they’ll come out swinging. From our perspective, we’re trying to nail a location, identify players, so we can turn the mess over to the CPD.”

  “I am so proud of what you’ve become,” Ethan said quietly. “And it terrifies me.”

  I grinned at him. “It terrifies me, too. But it’s also surprisingly fun. In between the bouts of terror and anxiety.” I put a hand on his chest, felt his own heart pound beneath my pulse, and was relieved when it didn’t add to my anxiety. “I know you’ve already planned an escape route. What is it?”

  He smiled, just a little. “Brody will have the car ready, your grandfather will have two CPD units and the van ready to go, and I’ve arranged for a helicopter, just in case.”

  “Any sense of where they’ll be taking us?”

  “Either someplace they don’t want to be followed on the ground, or a place offshore.”

  “An island in the lake?”

  “That was Arthur’s thought.”

  I nodded. “That could work. It would also explain why the CPD hadn’t been able to find their lair. Depending on its location, they may not even have jurisdiction over it.”

  “Your grandfather thought of that as well,” Ethan said with a smile. “He’s contacting authorities in Wisconsin and Michigan, just in case. Those seemed the most likely possibilities.”

  I put a hand on his chest. “I’ll take care of myself.”

  “Oh, I know you will,” he said, and pressed his lips to my forehead. “Because if you don’t, you and Morgan will both have to answer to me.”

  We met in the lobby, each group standing together in its own cluster, Morgan standing alone.

  “Brody’s outside with the SUV,” Luc said. “Ethan, Morgan, Merit, and I will ride together. Detective Jacobs and the Ombuds’ folks will follow in the van.” He glanced at me. “You’ve got the earbud, and we’ll communicate that way. We’ll also want to track your location.”

  “They’ll take any electronics,” Jeff said. “So we can’t track her with GPS.”

  “What about my raven bracelet?” I asked, lifting my wrist and glancing at Catcher. “If I wear it, could Mallory use that to find me?”

  He considered. “Actually, yeah. She could.”

  “Get her,” Ethan said. “And get her on it.”

  Catcher nodded, ran for the stairs.

  I glanced at Luc. “Has Juliet found Balthasar yet?”

  “No visual confirmation. We’ll let you know if we find him.”

  Morgan looked alarmed. “Balthasar? What’s he got to do with this?”

  “We don’t know,” Luc said. “Possibly nothing. But keep your guard up.” He looked us over, the jeans-clad man, the leather-clad woman, going into battle without so much as a dagger.

  “Your instincts are going to be your best defense here. We’ve got the chopper on call to get you out, but if there’s any delay in finding you, you’ll have to keep yourselves alive.”

  “That’s on me,” Morgan said, looking at me. “She’s my responsibility, and I accept and acknowledge it.”

  “And when you return?” Ethan prompted.

  “Then we’ll settle our accounts.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  FLIGHT OF FANCY

  Ethan and Luc escorted us into the building, past the empty security desk, and toward the elevators, where Luc selected the top floor.

  “Any questions?” Luc asked.

  “Not from me.” I looked at Morgan. “Anything else you’d like to say before we do this?”

  Morgan shook his head.

  “In that case,” Luc said, “be careful.” He looked at me. “Remember your training, keep your stance strong, and don’t be afraid to kick ’em in the balls.”

  Luc obviously favored a sentimental motivational speech.

  The elevators opened to a tile-floored foyer and glass doors that led to the helipad outside. The helicopter was waiting for us, a sleek white oval with orange stripes, its blades already thushing, the door open, a big man in black fatigues standing outside, waiting for us to enter.

  My heart began to thud with nerves, excitement, the likelihood of battle, the possibility of loss.

  Ethan slipped a hand around my neck, pulled me forward, pressed a hard and possessive kiss to my lips that nearly left me breathless in a completely different way. Be careful, he said silently.

  I will. Keep that helicopter ready.

  He drew back, and I put a hand on his face, took a long look at him, committed his features, his mouth, his eyes, to memory.

  I followed Morgan to the helicopter, and the man directed us into our seats, strapped us in. And then we were lifting into the air, the sensation so much as if I’d suddenly been able to sprout wings it brought inexplicable tears
to my eyes. I glanced down, watched Ethan grow smaller in the distance, and hoped to God I’d see him again.

  * * *

  The city disappeared behind us in a matter of minutes, and we floated above the darkness of Lake Michigan.

  An island, I said to Morgan, an eye on the shoreline so I could keep my bearings, and explain, if it provided necessary, where we were.

  Yeah. There aren’t that many close to Chicago. They’ll be able to find us.

  If we have to play sacrifice the pawn, don’t volunteer.

  You, either. You’re a Master, and I’m a Sentinel. We can handle this.

  Some minutes later, a light began to glow in the darkness, a pale hulk growing larger in front of us.

  I tapped Morgan’s hand, pointed to the shape.

  He leaned over to peer out the window. What is that?

  I’m not sure, I said. But when the helicopter began to descend, I decided we were about to find out.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, landing didn’t really improve my understanding. We’d approached a large island and landed on a concrete helipad, the lights bright enough to obscure anything else around it.

  We hopped out of the helicopter, duck-walked away from the rotors, looked back in dismay as it lifted off again into the night.

  Shit, Morgan said, squinting from the light.

  Yeah, I agreed.

  As the helicopter receded, the sound of waves crashing on the shore some distance below us filled the air.

  “Let’s go,” said the man in fatigues. We followed him to the edge of the helipad where two more figures, also in black and carrying automatic weapons, gestured us toward a well-trimmed and mulch-covered path through dense woods not yet greened by spring. After a moment, we emerged onto the small, flat lawn of what looked very much like a traditional Midwestern ranch-style house, except this one was much, much larger.

  “What is this?” Morgan asked.

  “Torrance Hall,” the guard said, apparently not seeing the need to be circumspect when it wasn’t expected we’d be leaving the island again. That was concerning.

  “It’s where some of the old-school Chicago mobsters kept their booze and money. Ferried it back and forth to the city when supplies ran low.” He shrugged. “Boss likes the ambience.”