by Zoe Arden
I told them the truth, explaining exactly what I'd seen over my last two days at the warehouse. They were angry that I'd kept so much from them, but I was already so miserable from my fight with Colt that they didn't have it in their hearts to yell at me, too.
They sat back in silence, crinkling their brows. I knew they didn't think I was making everything up. They knew me better than that.
"Mutants," my dad murmured softly.
"Man-made mutants," Eleanor corrected.
They were all slack-jawed and wide-eyed, their expressions as if they'd seen Godzilla himself coming down Main Street.
"You know what I think," said Trixie, finally breaking the silence. We all looked at her expectantly.
"No, what?" Eleanor said, exasperated.
"Dean Lampton's got something to do with this."
I saw Eleanor's expression harden. "Dean Lampton is a hard man to judge," she said, having had enough dealings with him to know his temper, "but I'm not sure he'd be involved with something this dark."
"He might," I said. "Dean's always been power-hungry. Having the ability to create creatures from scratch like that might have set off his God-complex. Maybe he thinks he's Dr. Frankenstein."
"I don't know," my dad said. "I agree with Eleanor. Dean's power-hungry, but he's not evil."
I laughed. "I suppose that depends on your definition of evil."
My dad looked cross-eyed at me.
"The only way to know for sure is to go down there," I said.
"Where?" asked Trixie. "You don't mean back to the warehouse."
"No, to COMHA. To see Dean."
"You're going to the mainland?" my dad asked.
"Why not?" I was glad they believed me about the creatures I'd seen but irritated that they didn't seem to want me to do anything about it.
Eleanor said, "Dean will never agree to see you."
I smiled slyly. "That hasn't stopped me before." I'd gotten into COMHA a few times when I shouldn't have. It wasn't easy, but it was possible.
"If Colt finds out you went to see his boss, he'll only be angrier," my dad said.
I shrugged. "I don't think Colt is speaking to me right now anyway." My bottom lip quivered, and I had to fight back fresh tears. "Do you think he meant what he said? About us being over?"
"I doubt it," said Eleanor, giving me a hug. "He was angry. People say a lot of things when they're angry."
"She's right," my dad agreed. "Give him a few days to cool down, then call him."
"Better yet," said Trixie, her eyes lighting up, "send him a cookie basket. Or bake him a cake."
"Maybe," I said, doubtful that Colt would roll over for a basket of cookies. Then again, who didn't like cookies?
"Just wait it out," my dad said. "He'll come around, you'll see. As for Dean..." He shrugged. "I'd leave things as they are."
My eyes widened. "As they are, things stand with Damon being the sole suspect in an ongoing murder investigation and dozens of creatures being manipulated into existence. Where is Burch getting those creatures from anyway? Is he stealing mermen and witches and humans and splicing them together, giving them injections?"
Something hit me then. I'd been so upset about Colt it hadn't occurred to me till just now.
"Oh, my roses," I said. "The missing tourists."
Trixie, Eleanor, and my father all looked at each other.
"No," Eleanor said, taking my meaning. "No. They wouldn't..." But her face had gone white. "You think Burch and his men are stealing human tourists to experiment on?"
Suddenly, I thought of not just Colt's random appearance at the warehouse, but the breakfast he and Dean had shared over a week ago at Mack's Bar, when Dean had made the unusual trek to Heavenly Haven instead of making Colt go to him.
"I think there's a good chance that's exactly what's happening," I told them, standing up.
"Ava, think this through before you go talk to him," my dad said.
"Even if Dean's not involved, he's the head of the Council on Magic and Human Affairs. If humans are being kidnapped to aid some bizarre magical science experiment, he should know about it." I paused and drew in a deep breath. "Maybe he already does."
* * *
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
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I walked up to COMHA headquarters with my eyes open wide, taking in my surroundings. I didn't know if I could trust anyone right now. Just because I was on Florida's mainland didn't mean I was safe. People went missing every day, from every location.
There'd been a lot more than just three mutants down in that basement, and there were only three missing people who had been reported as of late. The numbers just didn't add up. I wondered if others had gone missing from Heavenly Haven that we just didn't know about. How many solo travelers? How many students on spring break? How many families?
I approached the gates cautiously. A golden toilet plunger stood on either side of the gate, welcoming people. COMHA had been cleverly disguised as a toilet plunger manufacturer, keeping most inquiring minds at bay. No one was interested in toilet plungers.
I was happy to find that I recognized one of the guards. Glenn Maverick was a tall, lanky man without a lot of muscle, but he was a master at intimidation. All he had to do was blink at you the wrong way and you'd crumble. He was friends with Colt and generally we got along. I could tell something was different today though. He looked harshly at me as I stepped up to the gate.
"Hi, Miss Fortune," he said.
Uh oh. He never called me that; he always called me Ava.
"Hi, Glenn," I replied, trying to keep things light. The last thing I wanted was to make him angry, especially since he was my only way in at the moment. "Since when it is 'Miss Fortune?' "
His answer did nothing to make me feel better. "Colt's not here." He crossed his arms over his chest and thinned his smile.
"He told you what happened, huh?" I said, my voice thickening.
For a moment, Glenn looked confused.
"What do you mean?" he finally asked. "What happened?"
He saw my tears, and his expression went from stern to worried.
"Is he okay?" Glenn asked.
I nodded. "Yeah, he's fine, he just..." I shrugged, unable to think of anything better than the truth. Colt was probably going to tell him what had happened anyway, they were friends. "Colt and I had a fight," I said, deciding to leave it at that.
He relaxed a little. "Oh, is that all?" He smiled reassuringly now. "Hey, don't worry. He'll get over it. It was probably his fault anyway."
I smiled wearily. "Is Dean Lampton in?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
The sympathetic smile faded off Glenn's face. "You can't see him," he said, refolding his arms across his chest. "The last time I let you in, I got night duty for a month. My wife was mad as all heck. She made me sleep in the guest room."
"I'm sorry," I said, trying to keep my voice level. No wonder he was so mad at me. I couldn't let on how desperately I needed to see Dean. Desperation would ruin everything.
"I was only asking because... because he left something at Mack's Bar last time he was there."
Glenn eyed me suspiciously. "When was that?"
"I don't know exactly," I said, thinking back. "Over a week ago. He met Colt there for breakfast."
Glenn rubbed his chin with large fingers that needed a manicure. "I remember Dean mentioning that, actually." He relaxed his shoulders. "He was looking forward to their sausage biscuits." There was a pause. "What is it he left? Leave it with me and I'll make sure he gets it."
"I can't," I said.
"Why not?" Glenn asked, skeptical again. He'd gotten a lot tougher than the last time I'd encountered him.
I looked around as if I was about to let him in on the biggest secret ever. "Dean's getting married," I said. I was as surprised as Glenn was at the words that popped out of my mouth.
"Mar
ried? I didn't even know he was seeing anyone."
"They've been keeping it quiet," I said, sliding my ring off my finger behind my back. Glenn had seen it before, but he was a man. Men wouldn't remember the cut of a woman's engagement ring unless they'd given it to her himself, and maybe not even then. I pretended to pull my ring out of my pocket and showed it to him.
He whistled. "That's nice."
"It is," I agreed.
"Let me call up to him," he said, reaching for the phone.
"Sure," I said, trying to sound like that was a good idea. "Just be careful what you say on the line. You know how these leaks can be." I looked quickly away, as if my comment was nothing more than an afterthought.
Glenn paused. "Leaks? What leaks?"
I acted surprised. "Didn't Colt mention it to you?" I clapped my hand over my mouth, as if I'd just let something big slip out. "Dean probably told him not to. Uh oh."
"What leaks?" Glenn asked again.
I leaned in conspiratorially. "Apparently, there's a leak in the building. Someone's been tapping into phones and slipping confidential information to the press.”
Glenn's face paled. "You're kidding."
I shook my head. "I should never have said anything. Please don't tell anyone. I wouldn't want to get Colt in trouble. I don't think he was supposed to tell me."
"I won't say anything." He paused and looked at the phone in his hand. "Maybe you'd better go on up. The last thing anyone needs right now is Dean stomping around angry. He's already touchy enough as it is."
"Oh?" I asked.
"Yeah. I thought he was just in a bad mood, but now I know why. If there's one thing Dean hates more than werewolves, it's leaks."
My ears perked up at this information. "Dean doesn't like werewolves?"
"No. Had a run-in with one years ago and almost got bit."
He buzzed me through the gate, and I made my way to Dean's office. His secretary was at her desk. I watched her through the double doors, waiting for a chance to get past her. She was even more ruthless than the guards when it came to letting people in to see Dean.
I waited impatiently, trying to think of something to speed things along. There was a glass of water sitting at her desk. I wiggled my finger and the glass fell over, sprinkling her lap. She jumped up, startled, and let out a small shriek before hurrying to the washroom to dry herself off.
I hurried past her desk and opened Dean's door without knocking. He was hunched over his desk and didn't bother looking up when I came in. His stocky body looked pinched and malformed as he hunkered inches from his paperwork. Apparently, Dean needed glasses.
"Mrs. Price," he began, "I've told you a million times about knocking before entering."
"Sorry," I said.
He looked up, his round face already glowing pink. "Ava Fortune," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "How did you get past Mrs. Price?"
"She wasn't at her desk," I said, hoping the woman wouldn't get in too much trouble.
"I'll have to speak to her about that." He let out an irritated breath. "What do you want?"
"I wanted to ask you about a warehouse in Mistmoor Point. Standards Warehouse."
He looked blankly back at me. "What about it?"
"I think they're kidnapping tourists and conducting experiments on them."
Dean frowned. "What kind of experiments?"
"Injecting them with different... I don't even know... DNA, maybe?... to make these mutant creatures that are part merman, part werewolf."
"Werewolf?!" Dean yelled, jumping out of his seat.
"Not just werewolves though. I saw witches mixed with leprechauns and fairies with dragons and all sorts of things I can't explain."
"Experimentation like that is illegal," Dean said, then added under his breath, "No matter how useful it might be for controlling our enemies."
He stayed standing but didn't move.
"Do you know anything about it?" I asked. "Are you involved?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Were you speaking to Grace Kendall about this before her death?"
I blanched. Most people referred to her by her alias, Grace Beyers. Dean was the first one to call her by her real name.
"What makes you ask that?" I said.
"Darn it!" he said, slapping his hand on his desk. "I told that woman not to go spreading rumors. She just couldn't keep her mouth closed, could she? No wonder she's dead."
He must have seen the expression on my face because he forced himself to calm down.
"I didn't mean..." He stuttered. "I'm not saying she deserved what she got, I'm just saying that people who spread rumors are more likely to end up with a knife in the gullet."
"What rumors was Grace spreading?"
"About the warehouse," he said, waving his hands in the air, frustrated. He stopped and took a closer look at me. "She's the one who told you about Standards, isn't she?"
I shook my head. "Damon Tellinger told me."
He sighed. "I should have guessed that." He paused and flexed his fingers. "You're not the first person to ask me about Standards. Grace Kendall came to me a month before her murder, making the same claims you are."
"Grace knew about the mutants?"
"At the time, I dismissed her claims as lies, but now..." He shrugged. "She was killed for a reason. That much I know."
"What do you mean?"
"I spoke with Dr. Dunne over at Sweetland Hospital. He told me that the knife that was used to kill Grace Kendall had its tip laced with poison. She would have died from the stabbing even if her wound hadn't been fatal."
I let that sink in for a minute.
"Ava," Dean said, leaning toward me. "I wouldn't go digging much further, if I were you. Grace ended up dead because she asked too many questions. The same thing could happen to you."
My breath ran out of my chest. "Is that a threat?"
Dean shrugged. "A threat, a warning, take it as you will so long as you take it. Stay out of this." He paused and walked to his office door, holding it open for me. "And when you see Glenn Maverick on your way out, tell him I want to see him."
* * *
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
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I waited until the next morning before going to see Colt. I was hoping that enough time had passed between now and our argument that at least he wouldn't slam the door in my face.
I was wrong.
The second Colt saw me standing on his doorstep, he slammed the door. Slam might have been a little strong of a word, but it wasn't far off. The door rattled in its frame, and I heard him bolt it from the other side.
"Great," I muttered to myself, knocking again. "Colt, come on, open up." There was silence from the other end. "I'm sorry."
I held my breath, waiting.
"Colt," I said, starting to wonder if this was as pointless as it was beginning to feel. It was like I was talking to a rock.
Maybe that's what he wanted. He probably figured the less he said, the more likely I was to go away.
"I'm sorry about everything, all right? Really, I am." Silence. "I went to COMHA yesterday and talked to Dean."
The door unlatched, and Colt stepped outside.
"You what?" he yelled. "What in the whole wide wizarding world would you have done that for?" he demanded. "You think talking to Dean behind my back is somehow gonna make things better?"
"No, I... I went to tell him about what I found at the warehouse."
Colt sighed and shook his head. "You just don't get it, do you? There's nothing going on at that warehouse. It's all in your head. Yours and Damon's."
"You might be mad at me," I told him, "but since when do I go around hallucinating mutants?"
He paused, and I could tell he didn't have a good answer for that.
"What did Dean say?" Colt asked. "Did he throw you out of his office? How'd you get in anyway?"
I blushed. "Tell
Glenn I'm sorry the next time you see him."
Colt drew in a heavy breath. "He's gonna blame me for whatever you did."
"That's not fair; he can't do that."
"He can, and I won't blame him for it." One of the neighbors poked her head out of the apartment across from his. "Come on," he said, pulling my arm. "Get inside."
He shut the door behind us. I looked around. "You cleaned," I said. "It looks nice."
He rolled his eyes.
I said, "Dean told me that Grace Beyers came to see him a month before her death and told him the same stuff I've been trying to tell you. There are manmade mutants being bred in the basement of Standards Warehouse."
Colt folded his arms across his chest and looked blankly back at me.
"Oh, my roses," I said. "You knew."
His cheeks colored slightly, but he didn't look away. "What I knew or didn't know is none of your business. I work for COMHA, not you. You're my fiancée, not my boss."
I looked hopefully at him. "Am I still your fiancée?"
He looked away. "I don't know right now," he said so softly I had to strain to hear him even though we were no more than three feet apart.
"Dean spoke with Dr. Dunne. Did he tell you that, too?" I asked.
Colt looked at me with interest now.
"What about Dr. Dunne?" he asked.
"The tip of the knife that killed Grace Beyers was laced with poison. She would have died no matter what. Even a scratch could have done it. She was specifically targeted, according to Dean. It wasn't a random killing."
Colt paused, thinking. "Why would Damon want Grace dead?"
"He didn't," I snapped.
Colt went on as if he hadn't heard me. "All this time, I've been thinking Damon killed her just because she got in his way when he was trying to make his escape. Or maybe she saw him and recognized him."
