The last thing the page noted about succubi made me re-read it twice. Eggs must remain cold to hatch. Eggs? It had never occurred to me that I wouldn’t give birth to a living baby if I ever got knocked up. Not that I was planning on it happening. Maybe never. I didn’t want to be executed for murder. That was one more thing about succubi. We drained the life of a human sex partner. No ifs ands or buts.
Whatever source they’d gotten this last tidbit from had to have been making it up. How would anyone know that except a succubus? The egg-business was too specific. A notation confirmed a nine-month hatching period. Ambient energy provides amniotic nutrition. No additional details. But what there was felt more than anecdotal.
Could the notes have been made by someone like me? Another succubus living in the mainstream? Unregistered if they were. I shook my head. It was a funny idea. But not helpful for me or this case.
I tossed the file away from me and pulled out the one on Anton Thrace. A lot of vital statistics. Birth certificate. Family-tree going back five generations. All of his people born and raised in America for the first four generations. German-Italian ancestry before that. Parents still alive. Human.
There were the usual law enforcement dossiers. Police and FBI. No criminal record. Not even speeding tickets. I suspected that was only because he didn’t drive. There was a California State ID. No driver’s license.
I flipped through the official background dossier. Home-schooled in rural Virginia. Odd until I saw the date of an animal attack reported to the local sheriff. Thrace had been six, playing in the woods with a sister. A wolf attacked. Killing the girl. Leaving him changed.
The parents kept his secret until puberty. He’d broken free of his monthly restraints and killed most of the family livestock. His folks still hadn’t turned him in. He’d done it himself. After that, he was sent to the Federal Lycanthropy Assessment compound in Nevada. Eventually deemed in control of his beast and released at eighteen. Hired by Gibraltar almost immediately after.
Interesting but not relevant. I scanned his personal biography until I came across a sheet of associations. Nothing official. A couple of suspected romantic entanglements. Men, as I’d expected. Camera shots of stolen kisses in out of the way spots. Clearly Gibraltar had had his security man followed on his off-duty hours. I wondered if that had only been in the beginning of their relationship. Or if it was ongoing. I’d have to remember to ask.
The next page jumped out at me. The word ‘werewolves’ was typed in all caps and underlined. Eight names were listed under it. People Thrace had met at the Federal Assessment facility. All men. I didn’t know if the place was co-ed or if they just kept the sexes apart for obvious reasons. But I assumed it wasn’t coincidence.
Two had the word ‘born’ next to their names. Since everyone was born—except succubi apparently—I assumed it meant they’d been born lycanthropes. If so, it surprised me that they’d been placed in the assessment facility. Being born into a werewolf family meant being raised in a pack. People who would help teach them to maintain control over their beast. They shouldn’t need to be placed in federal care.
There were dates of Thrace’s contact with the eight. None of them more recent than five years earlier. I wondered if that was the time that Thrace had come out. When they’d cut their ties with him. Most the eight resided in Nevada. If the sheet was current. Outside of Las Vegas in the less populated foothills. A four hour drive if I needed to ask them about their former friend at some future date.
Nothing in Thrace’s file suggested he was involved with the vampires. Or that he needed money. I found a financial page at the back of his file. He was worth a lot in both cash and real property. No gambling debt. Hell, no debt of any kind. In this economy, that was impressive. Or would’ve been if I hadn’t known how much he made a year working for Gibraltar. He spent some of it, but that still left a tidy sum in his savings.
I stood and stretched before picking up the file on the Atlantic Revenants. It looked like several hours’ worth of work. I needed some coffee. Or a soft-drink. Anything with caffeine. Male life-force might replace food to sustain me, but even a succubus could benefit from a little pick-me-up.
I pressed the button and someone appeared almost instantly. Not Hoshi. Another Asian. Japanese or Korean, I wasn’t that good at distinguishing them apart. Maybe the racial overlap from all the invasions in the historical record had something to do with that.
“I’m not done, but I need some caffeine. Coffee preferably.”
The man stared at me, inscrutable. Not because he was Asian. He had an effective cop face. Finally he nodded and disappeared without asking if I wanted milk or sugar.
I went back to the last file and flipped it open. I skimmed everything because a lot of the material was inconsequential. I wanted a feel of the organization before I worried about the finer details. The coffee arrived without a knock. A woman dressed as kitchen help set it down on a tray away from the video equipment and slipped away before I could thank her.
Smart of them to protect their gear. Not smart to relegate a woman to the job of serving tea. It made me question Thrace’s comment that all the staff was male. Or didn’t the kitchen staff count?.
I took a sip, ignoring the packets of artificial sweetener. It was black. I preferred just a dollop of cream but it hadn’t been provided. Didn’t matter, I had a lot to do and too little time to find Vincent.
After a third swallow of coffee, I skipped to the back of the file. Sure enough, the financial records and supporting documents were there. Copies of deeds. Articles of incorporation. The coven was set up independent of its members. But specific members served as the operating board. Not all. There were probably documents hidden away that anticipated the loss of all current leadership at once due to disaster. But they weren’t in the Amperdyne security file.
Money wasn’t an issue for them, either. True. Maybe they didn’t have the tens of millions that Thrace had tucked away. But the assets of individual vampires had been deeded over to the coven when they’d joined. The Revenants had nearly three million in cash and the properties were worth another five.
That was unusual. The Feds frowned on monetary incentive to recruit vampires. Something else to look into when I had the time. Sloppy of Amperdyne not to have provided information on that. Or on anything deeper than public legal recordings.
There were police reports. A few stop and frisks by cops who’d failed to realize they weren’t completely human. No drugs or alcohol. No murders laid at their feet. But there were a couple of battery charges. Filed by separate individuals. With the same supporting witness. Also unusual but immaterial.
I recorded all the seemingly pertinent facts in my notebook, skipping more than I bothered to read. I didn’t care where the individual vampires came from. Or their family backgrounds. If there was a clue there, I was pretty sure Amperdyne would figure it out. I was looking for more tenuous connections. Logical motives. That sort of thing. The stuff missing from the file. Again. For a security company, Amperdyne seemed to focus on raw data. Overlooking the patterns behind the obvious.
Finally, tired of reading, I pushed the thick file away and adjusted the chair to face the screen. I stretched and finished my coffee. Then started examining the footage.
I played with the controls a bit to get the feel of them. Rewinding to the moment Vincent was taken. The EMP left a hazy blank spot on the recording for several seconds around the abduction. That didn’t matter. I wanted to see who’d come and gone. What Vincent, himself, was doing just before the EMP blast.
The first image that came into focus as I scrolled slowly back from the blank spot was Vincent draping himself with a quilt. It was summertime and he was dressed. His expression grim. I zoomed in.
I couldn’t tell if he was being surly or determined. Definitely not happy. The detail of his expression was amazing and I had to appreciate the image resolution of the expensive security equipment.
The image continued to scroll slow
ly in reverse. The quilt came off his shoulders and he bounced upwards. Off of the bed. Away from the stuffed hippo next to his pillows. I paused the recording. Studying his expression again. He glanced at something in his hands. A piece of paper. Maybe writing on his palm. The angle was wrong to see. I tried another dial. Changed the camera. Zoomed in on his hand.
Not a note. An origami wolf made of lavender rice paper. I resumed scrolling slowly back to see where it had come from. He set it back down on the windowsill and walked backwards toward the door to his bathroom. I zoomed in on the wolf from all angles. No writing I could detect.
I sped backwards. Vincent came out of his bathroom. Left his room. The origami wolf just sitting there. Probably not a message then. A souvenir or gift from someone. Time passed and I stayed with the room. I’d track Vincent’s movements outside the room later. The teenager came back in. Or rather, went out, walking backwards into the room.
This time he wasn’t alone. A young woman sat on the edge of the bed. Mid-twenties. Hazel eyes. Shoulder-length hair the color of freshly cut wheat.
Vincent joined her, laughing. Picking up the hippo, he handed it to her with surprise. She took it. Which meant she’d given it to him.
I zoomed in on the woman’s face. She looked enough like Vincent, Blake and Henry Gibraltar that I knew she was the third grandchild. Maureen Edwards. I stopped the video. Played it forward to re-watch the scene. She wished him a happy birthday. He took the hippo. Squeezed it before setting it next to his pillows in a place of pride.
I scrolled backwards again. The cousins danced around the room talking and laughing. Suddenly the origami wolf was gone. I slowed the recording but their bodies blocked my view of the window. I switched cameras until I found one pointing directly down from the top of the window-frame.
Vincent’s cousin plucked the paper wolf from the sill. Placed it in her purse while the boy wasn’t looking. Another birthday gift? If so, then why had Vincent seemed troubled by it?
Maureen left the room. A few moments later, a male servant came in. Vincent picked up a package from underneath his bed and gave it to the man. Dressed in a uniform of sorts. Gardner or janitor. Definitely not part of the Amperdyne security team. I had to keep replaying what I saw backwards in my mind.. The servant had brought in the package. Vincent stared at it only a moment before sliding it under his bed.
Was this the source of the EMP? The file hadn’t mentioned the package. Or the cousin’s visit. Which meant the documents were incomplete rather than simply inadequate. They still weren’t cooperating fully with me. Even after my warning.
“That’s it!” I stood up, annoyed. I pressed the button and the same man as last time opened the door.
“Finished?”
“No. Not with the video feed. But I am finished having my hands tied. Take me to Gibraltar. Now!”
“Mr. Gibraltar’s in a meeting.” He stared at me, allowing his own frustration to show. He didn’t understand why I was angry. “You’ve been given access to everything.”
“Where’s the report that references the visit from Maureen Edwards? The gifts Vincent received the day he disappeared? Especially the mysterious package he shoved under his bed?
“There’s no report. We were told you understood. No written reference to any of the grandchildren.” He glanced at the screen. “If Vincent hadn’t disappeared, that footage would’ve been erased by now. No trail leading to the identity of the non-heirs.”
I opened my mouth then clamped it shut. He was right. They’d mentioned something to that effect. I hadn’t assumed it would include surveillance details.
“Who do I ask about those things then?”
“Joseph has the relevant information. Didn’t he share it?”
“Apparently I didn’t ask the right questions.” I left out the part where he’d flirted with me enough that I’d kicked him out as soon as I could. I’d anticipated having all the information I needed in the files he provided, instead. “Has any other information besides the grandchildren been excluded from the files?”
“Meetings with the vampire coven.” He didn’t try to play coy or pretend that I didn’t know about it. Was Henry Gibraltar, himself, bugged? Or had he told Amperdyne details of our first meeting?
“You’re assuming that what they did for Gibraltar and Vincent’s disappearance are unrelated.”
The man nodded silently.
“What if you’re wrong? I need to know.”
“No.”
I waited but he didn’t expand upon that limited response. “Then it’s your fault—and his—if I fail to find Vincent in time. If you’re wrong.”
“If we’re wrong, we must accept the consequences.”
I nodded. Billions of potential earnings was a lot to risk. I’d have to trust that they were too paranoid about losing that kind of money to make a mistake. But they hadn’t provided deep background on the legal-work done for the coven. Was that because it would reveal their deal with Gibraltar? Or sloppy research?
It pissed me off but I took a deep breath. Politeness never hurt anyone. “Any other deliveries or visitors before the cousin?”
He shook his head. “Most deliveries are done at the corporate offices where things can be fully vetted. And only special people visit the home.”
“Why wasn’t this package sent to the offices?”
The man’s gaze flickered toward the screen. Not quite as surreptitiously as he might have liked. “We aren’t sure where it came from.”
I stared at him. “Who brought it in?”
The man shook his head. “It doesn’t match any of the items brought in by the staff. And while this is a serious concern, the package wasn’t the source of the EMP.”
“Are you sure?”
He frowned. “It shares the epicenter of the blast. But we couldn’t find any electronic components in the box.”
“What about magic?”
His eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly together. “Magic?”
“Surely a spell could short out electronics as much as an electromagnetic pulse.”
He cursed in either Japanese or Korean, neither of which I spoke, before disappearing out the door. I opted to follow. He went through several narrow passages until he entered the main surveillance room again.
Yuri looked up at us and scowled. “What’s going on?”
They spoke in what I finally decided must be Japanese, without regard for my presence. I watched as Yuri’s expression changed from questioning to astonished and then finally, furious. He faced me, finger pointing. “You’re sure?”
“I only asked if you’d checked the possibility.”
He paced, agitated. “We protect against a good many things, Miss Savage. But magic isn’t one of them. Attacks by magic, certainly. We have cornerstones on the property which prevent death spells and such. But nothing which would keep out something—how would you call it? Inimical?”
“I think you mean inactive. Passive.”
“Yes, passive.” He studied my lips as if I wasn’t being completely honest. He mouthed ‘inimical’ to himself a couple more times. Trying to feel the meaning of the word. I didn’t want to tell him he’d gotten it reversed.
I tapped my fingers along the wrist of the opposite hand, thinking. “Where are the items from the box?”
“Returned under the bed. The room has been left intact for the purposes of law enforcement.”
“One way to find out. Bring in a witch.”
“No! Mr. Gibraltar will not allow anyone like that in this house. Allowing you here is stretching his tolerances.”
“Why?” I glared at Yuri. “He’s guarded by two other preternatural beings.”
“They are not the children of a devil.”
“I guess that’s a demotion.”
He didn’t understand my joke. “What do you mean?”
“A devil instead of the Devil?”
He blinked, puzzled. His English was good. But not native good. Idiomatic expressions were
always harder to master. He pressed his finger to an ear, his gaze losing focus. Someone was speaking into his earpiece.
When he was done I made an alternative suggestion. “Fine. Then let me take the box to a witch myself.”
“Not acceptable.”
I waited. He folded his arms across his powerful chest and just looked at me. Unpleasantly. I counted to three. Took another deep breath. Not because of my hunger this time. I didn’t want to wind up punching him in the face.
“Why not?”
“You might lie. Pretend it is or isn’t the source.”
I snarled with surprise. “And why the blazes would I do that?”
“To thwart our investigation. Make us look bad.”
His attitude had changed since that moment with the earpiece. “Why don’t you trust me all of a sudden?”
“Because of your relationship with the blood-suckers.”
“My relationship?” I was too confused to remain properly pissed off.
“Mr. Gibraltar will pay you for your time. But you are no longer welcomed here.”
I didn’t move. “What’s going on?”
The man whose name I didn’t know started to touch my bare arm. He wasn’t wearing gloves and an angry part of myself almost let him. But I didn’t want his death on my conscience. Even a brief contact could create a spike of power that would kill him. Not always. But if it did, the connection would remain for lingering seconds after he released me.
A scientist friend was working on ways of testing how my metaphysical powers worked. Why physical contact was so potent. So far he hadn’t had much luck. Either way, understanding it or not, the results would be the same.
No matter how upset I was with Yuri and Gibraltar’s little games. I jerked away and headed toward the entrance. Doors opened in front of me as I remembered my way out. I saw no one except for the man scurrying in my trail, making sure that I left.
When I finally stepped outside, the sun was already well above the Santa Ana Mountains. It must’ve been around ten or so. I’d been reading and watching video footage a lot longer than I’d realized.
The Billionaire's Heir (Sucubus For Hire Book 1) Page 11
