Ask and Answer

by Clara Coulson

  Kat checked the time on the computer screen. “So, odds are, the list was just finished a couple hours ago, and now it’s sitting there on a company computer, waiting to be sent over via email when whoever’s coordinating with the Radigans’ event planner gets to work in the morning and finalizes the package of info they need to send over.”

  “Mhmm.” Giannopoulos clicked on the link to the catering company’s site. “Give me fifteen minutes to get into their system, and I’ll have you guys added to the list. All you’ll have to do is show up at Arnold’s in the morning, don the white chef coats, show off some rudimentary cooking skills for a couple hours, and then take a trip in the back of a catering truck to the Radigan estate.

  “There’ll be a cursory ID check at the gate, but as long as your names match what’s on the list, there shouldn’t be a problem. Bertram’s company has catered a ton of events for Radigan—because Bertram contributes to Radigan’s campaigns. So the security guys won’t give anyone in the right uniform more than a passing glance.”

  “Well,” Cortez said, “that’s a plan. What does everyone else think?”

  They all deliberated about the feasibility of the plan and the potential repercussions of being caught while snooping around the place. Eventually, they all agreed that this was their only decent shot at uncovering the truth about Radigan’s plot before the demon in its new host body got its hands on any more shifter families and literally tore them to pieces.

  While the plan wasn’t without substantial risk, they weren’t going to get any closer to stopping the murders, taking down the rogue magician, and exposing Radigan for the criminal he was without risking their own necks in the process. So it was agreed that Kat, Yun, Cortez, Hunt, and Liam would pose as part of the catering team, while Casey waited in the wings with a number of other shifters in case the team inside needed reinforcements.

  Franc would also be stationed outside, ready to call in the cops if Radigan tried to cut his losses and sicced the demon on somebody during the event. If anyone questioned Franc’s presence near the Radigan estate, she could just claim she’d gotten a tip from a confidential informant that some sort of criminal activity was going to occur during the event, but that she didn’t want to call in backup without proof that something untoward was actually happening.

  Once they had a solid outline for who was going to do what, the group split up, and everyone ran off into the night to prepare for their role in the absolute destruction of a Pennsylvania state senator.

  14

  Liam

  Since the demon hadn’t shown up at the storage unit, Liam felt fairly confident that no one from Radigan’s camp had eyes on any of them. So Liam and Kat took a sleepy Yun home, told her where to meet them in the morning, and then returned to the bookstore with Nick in tow.

  Liam only had one spare bedroom, but Nick was more than happy to take the couch, as he was planning to stay up all night fine-tuning the plan. He was positively pissed that he’d lost thousands of dollars’ worth of computer equipment, and he wanted to ensure that his revenge against Radigan, the rogue magician, and the demon would be complete.

  Liam left him to it with a warning not to make another go at Radigan’s home computers, since Nick was not equipped to handle whatever magic-integrated system Radigan possessed. Nick reluctantly promised not to poke the hornet’s nest again, but he also told Liam that he expected to be compensated for the loss of his stuff by being put into contact with someone who could help him magically upgrade his next setup.

  Liam didn’t know any such person, but Hunt might have connections within the Circle who could provide that sort of upgrade. So Liam promised to ask the gruff ex-Enforcer about it, when it was convenient to do so.

  He didn’t like the idea of relying on Hunt for anything—he was still suspicious about the circumstances of the man’s “retirement”—but he also didn’t think Hunt was outright lying to them about this case. The man was genuinely upset about the reappearance of Glasya-Labolas and wanted to kick it back to the Inferno again.

  When the fate of the city’s sociopolitical stability wasn’t at stake, Liam could snoop into Hunt’s past for answers. Until then, he would take all the help the man was willing to provide.

  Kat had a lot of raw magic energy at her disposal, but she didn’t have a lot of spellcasting finesse. Liam had a lot of finesse but very little magic energy with which to demonstrate it. Hunt had both finesse and a large enough magic store to make a big difference in any fight.

  And Liam knew that this wasn’t going to end without at least one more fight.

  I’d like to hope it won’t end with somebody’s death, he thought, but the odds of that are pathetically slim.

  After sharing a nighttime snack of takeout leftovers with Kat and Nick, Liam took a shower to scrub the soot off his skin and plopped onto his bed. He heard Kat do the same in her room, though her shower ran for much longer.

  While he’d never asked her directly, he’d gotten the impression that Kat liked to think in the shower. That the white noise drowned out the chaotic world around her and allowed her a few minutes of peace to ponder her situation.

  Briefly, he wondered how she was really feeling beneath that mask of firm resolve she always wore—she’d been through a lot of pain, mental and physical, today—and considered telling her she didn’t have to participate in the plan if she wasn’t comfortable with it.

  Of course, that would be a token gesture. Kat would never agree to sit the fight out.

  So much cruelty had been inflicted upon her during her captivity in Advent 9’s lab that witnessing any sort of serious injustice infuriated her. The wholesale slaughter of shifters was far too awful a crime for her to ignore. If she had even the remotest chance of bringing down the people responsible, she would grab it by the reins and refuse to let go even if it dragged her along the rockiest ground.

  Liam smiled at that thought. Once upon a time, he himself had pursued justice with that much fervor, and Kat crash-landing into his life had reignited a spark of that fiery passion that had been doused when Julia and Hayden died. Kat was a good person, and she was good for him.

  He strived to be just as good for her, but his magic shortcomings were holding him back. She needed a different teacher, one who was a great deal stronger than him. Either that, or he needed to get a lot stronger a lot faster.

  Slow and steady might win the race, but it certainly doesn’t win the magic slugfest.

  Just as Liam’s eyelids were growing heavy, his internal debate consuming the last of his energy, his phone buzzed. He swiped it off his nightstand to find that Franc had sent him a message. Got a lead on that file you asked about. Should have it by six, when my contact gets to the office. Talk at six thirty?

  Liam replied in the affirmative and set the phone back down. He’d asked Franc to see if there was any way she could gain access to the case file for the FBI’s investigation into the death of Malcolm Radigan. He was hardly surprised that Franc had come through with a reliable contact so fast. She was a well-regarded officer, even when she was a rookie, known to be competent, personable, and dedicated.

  If helping Liam take down a state senator didn’t derail Franc’s career, she might climb all the way to the top one day. And then she’ll be the one orchestrating the cover-ups for…

  He blinked awake, unaware of when he’d fallen asleep. The clock on his nightstand read ten till six, and the sky was still dark, waiting for the late winter dawn to come. Liam shrugged off the blanket he’d burrowed into sometime during the night and shook the lingering flashes of a confusing dream from his head.

  Crossing to his wardrobe, he dug out a white button-up shirt and a pair of black slacks, and tried them on. They were years old, and a bit tight around the middle, but they would pass muster at Arnold’s, especially when he added the white chef coat.

  After he shoved his feet into a pair of dress shoes, Liam combed his hair and b
rushed his teeth, all the while avoiding his reflection in the mirror. Even in his peripheral vision, he could tell he had dark bags under his eyes, and he knew that above those bags, he would be greeted by a haunted look.

  It had been so long since he’d witnessed a bloody murder scene that he’d almost forgotten how much it weighed on the soul. And this case weighed more than most.

  The stability of Salem’s Gate was riding on their success.

  He would never be free of guilt if they failed to take down Radigan.

  As Liam was turning off the bathroom light, his phone screen lit up the dark room. Franc’s name popped up, and Liam answered quickly. “You got the goods?”

  “You bet I do. My contact faxed me the whole file.” She flipped through several pages. “Most of it’s stuff that was thoroughly covered by the press at the time, but there are a few interesting details in here that didn’t get out.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that two other family members were injured during the riot.”

  “Really?” Liam hadn’t heard about that. “Any serious injuries?”

  “Doesn’t look like it.” She paused for a moment, presumably scanning a page. “Says here that the wolf shifter actually slammed into the side of the limo, and one of its legs went into the vehicle through the door that Samuel Radigan was holding open for Malcolm.

  “Samuel’s wife, Sally, and his one-year-old daughter, Daphne, were struck by the leg and sustained minor injuries. They were both treated at the same hospital where Malcolm Radigan was declared DOA, and they were both released after just a few hours.”

  A vague feeling of suspicion bobbed up and down in Liam’s mind. There’s something to this. I can feel it.

  “Does the report detail their injuries?” he asked. “Any facial disfigurements, or something that would otherwise impair quality of life?”

  “The report doesn’t mention anything like that,” Franc answered. “All it says is that Daphne needed three stitches to close a laceration on her shoulder, and that Sally had a couple broken fingers that needed to be set and splinted.”

  “Hm.” Liam’s suspicion was slowly coalescing into a short list of possibilities. “And the report makes no mention of any potential long-term health concerns?”

  “No, none.” Franc sucked in a deep breath. “What’re you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that Malcolm’s death might not have anything to do with the murder plot, at least not directly.”

  She exhaled loudly. “You think something recently happened to Sally or Daphne? Something caused by their injuries all those years ago? And that whatever happened pushed Samuel Radigan over the edge?”

  “That makes a lot more sense than waiting almost twenty years to avenge your brother’s death.”

  “But what could’ve happened?” she pressed. “I admit I don’t know all that much about shifters, but I do know that a simple cut or bite won’t change a human into a shifter. That process is really complicated, so it can’t be that Sally or Daphne was turned, right?”

  “Yeah, but exposure to the various bodily fluids of shifters can have other complications.” Liam sat down on his mattress, resting his elbows on his thighs. “A small percentage of humans have an allergic response to certain components of shifter blood or saliva. If a person has that response to their first exposure, even if it’s mild, then the next time they’re exposed, the response is likely to be severe, up to and including anaphylaxis.”

  “Ah, now I see what you’re getting at.” She dropped the heavy file onto a flat surface, probably her desk. “If Sally or Daphne has that allergy, then one of them could’ve suffered a recent exposure that had serious health consequences. Clearly, neither of them died; the press would’ve caught wind of that. But when politicians or their families undergo medical treatment, they often manage to keep it under wraps for a while.”

  “If one of them did end up in the hospital,” he picked up, “the doctors might’ve told Samuel Radigan that the severity of the symptoms were the result of…”

  “The initial exposure way back when,” Franc finished. “And the anger caused by that revelation might’ve been what triggered Radigan to plot this murder scheme.”

  “It’s a solid theory, if I do say so myself,” Liam said. “But right now, it’s just a theory.”

  Franc hummed thoughtfully. “Can your hacker guy get into hospital systems undetected?”

  “He can get into any system undetected,” Liam said automatically, then amended, “unless it’s protected by ‘network wards,’ or whatever they’re calling that field of magic.”

  “While you’re playing dress-up at the catering company, have your guy search local hospital records for recent admissions of Sally or Daphne. If your hunch turns out to be correct, we may be able to use details about their condition as leverage against Radigan. Assuming we manage to claw our way through his army of lawyers and get him inside an interview room at some point.”

  “I’ll have Nick email you whatever he finds.” Liam checked the time. “All right, we’re supposed to be at the Arnold’s building at eight to start prep work for the brunch, so I better get Kat up and touch base with Gabby, Yun, and Hunt.”

  “Okay.” She rolled back her squeaky desk chair. “I’ll be in my stakeout position on Hargrove by seven thirty. If I see anything alarming before you guys roll in, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Be safe out there, Franc.”

  “And you be safe in there,” Franc replied. “I would prefer not to have to work a murder scene where you’re the body on the floor.”

  15

  Kat

  Kat woke from a dream about men in white coats holding her down while she screamed—and almost lashed out at Liam, who stood beside her bed.

  Her brain caught up to reality in the nick of time, and she dropped the glowing fist she’d raised to strike down a tormentor whose ephemeral face was already fading to black. She slumped back against the pillow, breathing hard, and wiped the sweat off her face. Unclenching her fist, the magic energy gathered in her hand retreated back into her soul, and the green glow subsided.

  Stricken, Liam said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Wasn’t you.” She rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep to restore all the energy she’d expended yesterday. “Just had a bad dream. Is it time to go?”

  “Twenty minutes,” he replied, his tone still apologetic. “I didn’t want to wake you too early. I know you needed the sleep.”

  “I only wish it had been more restful.” Yawning, she tossed the covers aside. “I haven’t had a dream that realistic in a while. Must be the stress from all this.”

  Liam frowned. “You don’t have to put yourself in danger, Kat. This isn’t your responsibility. If you want to stay—”

  “Oh, stop it.” She placed her hand against his chest and gently pushed him back. “You’re a private investigator. Not a cop. Not a soldier. It’s not your responsibility to throw yourself into the lion’s den either. But you’re doing it anyway because it’s the right thing to do. If you don’t, mundane cops like Franc will have to, and they’re far more likely to end up dead than you are. And you can’t abide by that.”

  She rose from the bed. “Neither can I, Liam. A9 hurt a lot of innocent people when they were hunting me, and no one could do a goddamn thing to stop them, least of all me. So if you think I’m going to stand by and let some other asshole slaughter innocent people wholesale when I can do something to stop him, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “What A9 did wasn’t your fault,” he murmured.

  “I didn’t say it was.” She grabbed the clothes she’d set on the nightstand and headed for the bathroom. “But just because I’m not at fault for a wrong doesn’t make it right for me to look the other way.”

  Liam sighed, but he didn’t protest further.

  After he retre
ated from her room to give her privacy, Kat threw on a baggy white button-up shirt and a pair of basic black slacks, the mandated caterer’s uniform. She then washed her face, bound her hair in a simple bun, and stuck on her charmed glasses. That reminds me, she thought as she observed her dressed-down reflection in the bathroom mirror, Liam still needs to teach me about that glamour stuff.

  Exiting her bedroom, she located Liam in the living room, chatting with Giannopoulos, whose appearance had degraded from jittery asocial hacker to computer science major who’d stayed up for forty-eight hours straight to finish the end-of-semester project he should’ve started six weeks prior. Five empty energy drink cans sat on the side table next to the couch where he’d set up “shop” with his one remaining computer.

  As he spoke to Liam, he gestured wildly with his hands, like some conspiracy theorist talking about alien abductions. “Some of the family connections are super thin, man,” he said. “Radigan really had to go digging to find his targets.”

  Kat strode down the hall. “What’s this now?”

  Liam shoved his hands into his pockets, unwilling to meet her gaze after their awkward encounter in her room. “Nick figured out why the Wilsons and the Averys were targeted. Turns out that Patrick Wilson and Lisa Avery are both distant cousins of Gregory Nordstrom, the shifter who killed Malcolm Radigan. Nordstrom didn’t have any closer family.”

  Kat scowled. “So Radigan just decided to ‘punish’ anyone who had even a remote family connection to Nordstrom? That’s crazy.”

  Liam scratched the faint stubble on his chin. “Rage has this bad habit of blinding people to logic.”

  “If his rage is that strong, how come he waited so many years to try and satisfy it?” she asked.

  “Well, I have a theory about that.” Liam explained some interesting facts about shifter biology that Kat hadn’t known.

  “An allergy, huh?” She tugged on her bun, considering the potential consequences. “I guess seeing a loved one in the hospital, on the brink of death, due to some mishap caused by a shifter who also killed a different loved one, could drive somebody off the deep end. But that’s hardly an excuse for going after people who had absolutely nothing to do with the situation that led to the illness.”