by Cat Adams
“This is the Santa Maria de Luna Police Department. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial nine-one-one. If it is a nonemergency, please enter the extension number now. To reach our company directory, press seven.”
Oh, shit.
Okalani Clark, Ricky and Okalani’s daughter, was Okalani CLARKE. With an E. Laka’s former husband was my hit-and-run driver and would-be killer, J. Clarke. Ricky was a nickname. Maybe his middle name was Richard. Not that it mattered.
I sat there, cursing myself inwardly for being so incredibly dense. How had I missed something so obvious?
The pleasant recording responded to my nonresponse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your entry. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial nine-one-one. If it is a nonemergency, please enter the extension number now. To reach our company directory…”
I pressed a series of numbers from memory. I needed to talk to Alex.
She picked up on the first ring. “Detective Alexander.”
“Alex, it’s me.”
She gave a huge sigh. “Now what?”
“Gee, glad to know you’re happy to hear from me.”
“Celia, I like you. I really do. But every time you call, there’s trouble, and not just little trouble, either. Your trouble usually comes with a body count. So don’t be surprised if I’m not thrilled to hear from you.”
“Well, crap.” There was an uncomfortable pause.
She was the one to break it. “Well? What is it?”
“I have a problem.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Of course you do. Tell me.”
I started with the hit-and-run attempt and kept right on going until I reached the present, with Okalani missing and Jan Mortensen wanting her dead. “I could be wrong. Hell, I hope I’m wrong. I like the kid. And I don’t ever like to think about there being crooked cops in the department.”
“Nobody does,” Alex agreed. Her voice was serious. “Rick’s not with the department anymore. He was asked to resign a couple of weeks ago.”
That shocked me. The PD doesn’t fire someone lightly. There are long, complicated processes involving internal affairs and board hearings. “He was asked to resign?”
For a long moment we sat in silence. I’d just come to the conclusion that she wasn’t going to answer me when she sighed and started talking. “Several very valuable things went missing from evidence. Everybody from the Chief on down had to take a polygraph. Anyone who refused would be put on suspension, pending investigation.”
“I take it the investigation went badly for him?”
“There wasn’t enough proof to satisfy the DA. But, yeah. He did it. We don’t know exactly how he did it. But we know it was him.”
I had a pretty good idea how he’d done it. I didn’t like getting Okalani in trouble with the cops, but this would give Alex a great excuse to bring the kid in for questioning if she found her. It might even save the girl’s life. She’d be safer, harder to get to, in police custody. Assuming of course she’d stay there.
“Did you know Clarke has a kid?”
“Had. He had a son. Kid got drained by vamps after a football game a couple of years ago.”
“Has,” I corrected her in turn. “A daughter, who was raised by her siren mom on Serenity. She’s the teleporter who helped us when we put Dahlmar back on his throne. She moved to the mainland to live with her father. She’s admitted to me that she can take things through magical barriers. You might want to bring her in and talk to her about it, and while you’re at it, you might ask her about her father’s anti-siren sentiments and their connection to Jan Mortensen.”
Alex’s breath whooshed out in a low hiss. “Why are you bringing this to me? You know the feds are going to want to talk to her.”
“So are King Dahlmar and Queen Lopaka’s people. I thought I had her stashed safely away, but she bolted. I think she’s trying to save her father. That’s the first place Mortensen and the others will look for her. She’s in trouble, a lot of trouble. You may be her best shot.”
Alex paused. “So, find Ricky and we find the girl?”
“I think so.”
The thumping I heard might be Alex’s fingers drumming on the desk. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I heard he’s gotten himself a job working security for one of the big movie studios outside of L.A. But we’ll check it out. No civilians on this one.”
“Thanks, Alex.”
“Whatever.” She hung up on me without saying good-bye. That hurt, but not enough to matter. Not today.
18
I went to see my aunt to ask her to be merciful. After all, the queen knew Okalani. The kid had been helpful during the whole situation with King Dahlmar a couple of years ago. Hiwahiwa, the queen’s personal assistant, was close to Laka and Okalani as well. I hoped that Queen Lopaka would take all of that into consideration and be lenient. My mistake.
“High treason is a capital offense.”
I was in my aunt’s hospital room, sitting in the chair beside her bed. It was a small room filled with lots of equipment and I was feeling a little claustrophobic, especially since equipment was hardly the only thing in the room. Flowers covered nearly every flat surface, towering arrangements from heads of state around the world. A saltwater aquarium burbled beside me, colorful fish swimming in lazy circles. The sound and sight were soothing. I needed to be soothed. Her Royal Majesty was not feeling the love right now. There was no mercy in her for a subject who’d conspired with terrorists.
Normally I would’ve agreed, which made me less than effective at arguing on Okalani’s behalf. But I was doing my best, playing up the young woman’s past service. “She saved your life, if you remember, and kept Dahlmar on his throne. Adriana wouldn’t have met him if not for Okalani. She ferried mages back and forth when the rift was chewing up the world. All while knowing she could die at any time. Really, she’s done a lot of good for the sirens.”
The queen sat rigidly straight—she would’ve been upright even if the bed hadn’t been adjusted to the sitting position. She was wearing a lovely peignoir the shade of pink you find inside the bend of a conch shell. Her color was good. Apparently her recovery was progressing rapidly now that the doctors had consulted with physicians from Serenity who were, naturally, more familiar with siren biology. “You act as though Okalani is still a child. Perhaps in your world she is. But in our world, she is not. I, myself, had been on my throne for three years by the time I was her age.”
“But you are … extraordinary. Most people are not.”
“I admire your compassion.” Her tone of voice contradicted her words. She heard that thought, or else she read my body language, because she said, more gently, “Truly. I do.”
One of these days I was going to have to learn to shield.
Yes, you will. In truth, you have much to learn. I understand your feelings. I even admire them. But I am queen. I have been so for hundreds of years. My first duty is to my people. Okalani betrayed us. That betrayal cost lives—siren lives and human lives. She worked willingly with people whose goal is to exterminate us like vermin. Even sincere contrition is simply not enough. She must pay for her crimes, and the law established by my people is clear. The punishment is death. But if she cooperates, shares everything she knows, I will allow her an … honorable death.
What the heck was that? I don’t understand.
Her actions have dishonored her entire family. Her mother, any siblings, the family for three generations in either direction will bear that shame in the eyes of my people. It is our tradition. But if she truly helps us to stop this madness, I will allow her to commit Akkana—ritual suicide. Nothing can save her, but it will at least spare her family the taint of her shame.
Ritual suicide? That was the good option?
I am sorry, Celia, truly.
I couldn’t tell if she was or not. I was just hoping something would change to make any action unnecessary. So am I.
The queen spoke her next words aloud, givin
g me at least the illusion of mental privacy. “Go. Think about what we’ve discussed.” She reached over, patting my hand. I’m not really the patting type, and neither is she. It seemed an odd gesture. Then again, she was in an odd mood—angry, regal, but also extremely tired and very worried. “Pack everything you will need for several days. My jets are busy today ferrying most of my sister queens home, but I will have Hiwahiwa arrange a flight for you tomorrow. I would that it were sooner, but we will simply have to trust the Secret Service a bit longer.”
“I could fly commercial.”
She smiled more broadly, her eyes lighting up a bit. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you for offering. Frankly, security would have a fit, and rightly so. No, tomorrow will be fine.”
I surprised myself by saying, “I wish you were coming, too.”
“As do I. I hate this more than you know. Chiyoko has kindly offered to stay and to advise Adriana.” The bitterness in the queen’s words was palpable.
“Oh, hell.”
“Indeed. I had hoped that using the video conference idea you had given me, showing her that I am recovering, would dissuade her from this unseemly grab for power…” She let the sentence trail off unfinished.
There was nothing I could say. From what I’d seen nothing, ever, would dissuade Chiyoko from anything. I had never spent more than a few minutes with her, but they’d been memorable. Besides, power-hungry people are never satisfied. It’s an addiction. Any addict always wants more.
I looked at my aunt. She was wearing out. Sirens might be tough, but they weren’t invincible, and the terrorists had very nearly succeeded in killing her, thanks to the information Okalani had provided.
Perhaps the queen was right. Or not. I just didn’t know. I did know there was nothing more for me to do here. “I’ll let you get some rest. Try not to worry any more than you have to.”
She gave a snort of amusement, then nodded, a silent gesture giving me permission to leave.
Taking my cue I rose, bowed, and walked away.
Baker led me down one of the back stairwells after notifying Griffiths that we were leaving and telling him where to meet us. I’d turned off my cell phone to meet with the queen and switched it back on as we went down the stairs. There were five missed calls, all from Laka.
I knew I should call her back. Maybe Okalani had come back. More likely, she hadn’t and her mother just wanted updates. Whatever, I didn’t want to deal with it. Not now, with my conversation with the queen so fresh in my mind. Later. I’d crush Laka’s hopes for her daughter later.
The car pulled to the curb, Griffiths at the wheel. Baker led. She was cautious, spraying Griffiths with holy water from both a general purpose container bottle and from one that looked to be part of her own private stash, to make sure it was truly him and not a shape-shifted spawn, before letting me get into the backseat.
“Where to?” Griffiths half turned, looking at me over the top of the front seat as Baker climbed in on the passenger side.
“Home,” I answered. “Take me home.”
* * *
“Princ … Ms. Graves, we’re here.”
I blinked in surprise, waking. Griffiths seemed to be a quick learner, or perhaps Baker had clued him in on the “no princess” policy. I reached into my bag and pulled out the remote that granted me entry to my home. It’s not just one where you push a button, like a garage-door opener. I have to enter a code and press my fingerprint to a pad. Magical biometrics. Good stuff.
Cooper Manor is a large estate with elaborate security, for which I’m grateful every day. There’s a long, winding drive through manicured lawns that leads to the mansion. A small branch off of that drive leads to my parking lot.
“How long was I asleep?” I was shocked. It wasn’t even ten in the morning and I’d dozed off?
“You’ve had a rough couple of days,” Baker said. “And there are more of them on the way. Rest when you can.”
She was right, of course. My life had been rough, and for longer than a few days. But the fact that I’d fallen asleep was a good sign—I’d chosen well. With Helen Baker as my “partner,” I felt secure. And Griffiths must have proven himself to my subconscious, too. Trust is a wonderful thing. As Griffiths pulled the car into the little parking lot near the guest cottage, I made up my mind. I needed more than rest. I needed peace. Until I got things straight in my head and my emotions under control, I was going to be useless. “I’m going to the beach.”
They didn’t say a word. Of course, they were sirens, so they’d know all about the call of the ocean. I pulled my house key from my pocket and tossed it to Baker. “My bedroom is the yellow one. Feel free to take either the blue or the white.”
I climbed from the car, grabbed a beach umbrella from the storage box on the back deck, and went looking for peace. My private bit of beach is a little strip of sand and rocks that edge onto the ocean. It’s too rough and rocky for good boating or surfing, but it’s beautiful. I found a sandy spot next to my favorite rock, pitched my umbrella, and sat staring at the ocean and watching the gulls play.
Within ten minutes I reached an unpleasant conclusion. Two hours later, I hadn’t changed my mind.
I couldn’t help Okalani, no matter how much I wanted to.
I’d given my information to the police via Alex and to Rizzoli via voice mail. Alex was good at her job. If she found the kid, Okalani would be arrested and probably turned over to the feds. If the feds found her, or got her from the police, she might be able to make a deal—information in exchange for witness protection. I’d seen it happen before.
But if the sirens found her, she’d be killed. Honorably or dishonorably, she’d be just as dead.
The best thing I could do for Okalani was stay the hell away from her and pray that the good guys who didn’t want her dead found her before the ones who did; and that either set found her before the villains.
It sucked.
Staring at the ocean didn’t make it suck any less. I was hurt, sad, and angry. I wished … Not that it mattered what I wished. As my mom used to say, “If wishes were horses, we’d be up to our eyeballs in shit.” In fact, I might be anyway.
19
My flight would leave at 2:00 P.M. from a private airstrip not far from town. It was probably an hour’s drive from the office. Since it was private, I’d be able to pack whatever weaponry I cared to bring. I could strip the safe bare if I wanted. I was going to take spell disks, my guns, various ammunition, my knives, and some One Shot brand squirt guns filled with holy water. I probably wouldn’t need the special loads on Serenity; there are no monsters on the islands. Well, there aren’t supposed to be. But we’d be going straight from Serenity to Rusland, and I might need them there, so I needed to pack them now if I wanted them later.
I would also have time to meet with the client who’d been on the books since the day I got back in town.
I could hear Ron and Dawna arguing the moment I climbed from the car. So help me God, if I hadn’t had to go to the bathroom so bad I would’ve climbed back in and have Griffiths drive us somewhere else. But the morning rush hour had offered up bumper-to-bumper traffic and I’d drunk two large mugs of coffee. So I steeled myself and entered the lion’s den.
“I’ve had it!” Ron is not a small man. He towered over Dawna, even in her heels. But she stood toe-to-toe with him, not giving an inch. Years of putting up with his crap had finally come to a head. I could tell that from across the room. Ron was an idiot if he didn’t recognize it. “That woman is a menace.”
That woman? That would be me. It always is.
“All right, what’s up?” I asked. Baker had entered ahead of me and Griffiths was behind. They both kept one hand close to their sidearms, ready to act as backup, but they didn’t need to. On my worst day I could handle Ron without breaking a sweat. He’s a big bully, but there’s no substance to it.
He whirled around at the sound of my voice. “You!” He pointed a meaty finger at my face.
“Yep, me. Now, what’s the problem?” There was an edge in my voice you could shave with. Like Dawna, I had pretty much reached the end of my ability to put up with Ron’s abuse.
“I’m moving out! I can’t take any more of this. Terrorists! There are actual terrorists after you, with bombs. You being here endangers all of us.” He started to move forward, to try to use that big body to intimidate me, but Baker suddenly appeared just in front of him. She wasn’t aggressive; she barely even seemed to move. But she stopped him cold.
“Okay,” I said in a perfectly pleasant tone of voice. Because, truthfully, imagining Ron out of my hair really was just so incredibly pleasant.
He stood there, blinking a little as if we’d startled him. “Okay?”
I sighed. “Ron, actual terrorists have made viable threats. Any sane and rational person would get as far away from that as possible. I’m a little startled to find out you’re rational, but hey, good on you.” I heard a soft snort of what might have been suppressed laughter. Griffiths, I think. I didn’t look. If I did, Ron would notice and we’d have more of a fuss on our hands than we already did. “You want out of your lease, I’ll let you out. Hell, if you can get moved out by the end of the week and leave the place clean, I’ll not only give you back your deposit, I’ll refund this month’s rent as a gesture of good will.”
It took him a few seconds to take that in. He’d won. But he was Ron, and he was an attorney, he had to push for just that little bit more. “My moving expenses—”
“No.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “No.”
I turned aside and moved around both him and Baker, to the reception desk where Dawna had resumed her usual seat. I was not going to argue. If he took the offer, fine. If he didn’t, he was a fool. Either way, I was finished with it, and him. “When’s my client due?”
Behind me, Griffiths gave a polite cough.
Apparently, I’d been too involved to notice a new arrival. Just great. Peachy. I pasted a smile on my face and turned to greet the newcomer. Points to me, I was even able to hold on to the smile when I saw who it was.
