Sapphire Flames

by Ilona Andrews

  “Give me back my phone.”

  “I thought so. You have an alert that tells you when I post.” He looked unbearably smug, like a cat who had just licked the steak left to rest on the counter and gotten away with it.

  “I have many accounts on alert.”

  “You follow your sisters, your cousins, your grandmother, and me.”

  I really hated technology. “How did you even find my profile?” I’d made sure to not post pictures of myself or link it anywhere.

  “I looked at Nevada’s friend list.”

  The road forked, and I took a left onto a small private drive. An iron gate seated into a stone wall blocked access. Usually wrought-iron letters announced the name of the property, but there was nothing above the gate except a sign that said private property. The gate swung open and I maneuvered the Mercedes through.

  “So let me get this straight, the great Alessandro Sagredo took the time to look for me on Instagram, and when you couldn’t find me, you looked up my sister and went through her friend list one by one until you figured out which of her three hundred–odd followers belonged to me?”

  “Yes.”

  People in glass villas shouldn’t throw boulders, Signor Sagredo. “And why would you do that?”

  He gave me his wolfish grin. “I wanted a picture for the frame on my nightstand.”

  I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

  Alessandro shook the phone at me. “Don’t you want to see what I posted?”

  When I got my hands on that damn phone, I would throw it out the window. Then I would stop the car and go look for it, because all my contacts and business things were on there, but throwing it would make me feel so much better.

  The road turned. A grand driveway rolled out in front of us, flanked on both sides by enormous mature live oaks. Their branches, green despite winter, braided above the road into a beautiful canopy. At the end of that long green tunnel a giant house waited.

  Built with beige stone, Duncan’s mansion sprawled at the top of a very low hill like a medieval fortress. Its lines managed a nod to both a Spanish castillo and a Mediterranean villa, but it was unmistakably Texas. Thick walls, terracotta tile roof, circular driveway, enormous mission-style doors; everything about it said Southwest and wealth. One look at the house and you knew it was custom built to match one person’s vision. There was no other house like it.

  Alessandro blinked. “What did he call it on the phone?”

  “His little ranch.”

  He swore.

  “Before we go in there, I need to warn you. Linus Duncan is a Hephaestus Prime,” I said. “Named after the Greek God of weapon smithing.”

  “I’ve dealt with Hephaestus Primes before.”

  “Not like him. He can make an antitank grenade launcher out of scrap metal in seconds and explode our car with it. You have to be on your best behavior. There are weapons everywhere in that compound.”

  Alessandro smiled.

  “I mean it, Alessandro. You’re too vain to die.”

  He reached over and grasped my left hand, his face solemn, his eyes earnest. “Tesoro mio, I’m always on my best behavior.” He brushed his lips against my fingers.

  “Stop that! I’m serious.”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll mind my manners.”

  We reached the driveway and passed through a second set of gates, standing wide open. I parked and we got out.

  The tops of two short towers rising from the second story split and twin turrets slid out, bristling with barrels. Behind us identical turrets emerged from the wall.

  Alessandro arched his eyebrows, a calculating look in his eyes.

  “No,” I told him.

  The tall mahogany and wrought-iron doors swung open. An older man strode out wearing jeans, a sweater, and a black cook’s apron. Tall and still athletic, with a Texas tan and a wealth of wavy hair that used to be black and now was mostly silver, he cut a striking figure. His features were bold and handsome: square jaw, large nose, lively hazel eyes under the sweep of wide brows. He saw me and smiled, his teeth even and white. The warmth from that smile sparked all the way to his eyes, making the crow’s feet at their corners stand out. His whole face lit up, as if I had brought him a gift he’d always wanted.

  Linus Duncan raised his arms. “My dear, finally. I made fajitas. I used your guacamole recipe. I think I’ve got it, but it might need a pinch of salt.”

  “You said he was sort of a friend,” Alessandro murmured.

  “I might have understated. He’s more like a favorite uncle we’re all scared of. Best behavior. You promised.”

  I ran up the three steps to the front doors and hugged Linus.

  Linus’ Houston mansion was elegant and refined, with exquisite molding, frescos, and ten-thousand-dollar chandeliers. At the ranch, however, Linus went full Texas. Everything was stone and mahogany and huge fireplaces.

  Alessandro squinted at the deer antler chandelier and drawled in a perfect imitation of a local, “Teeeksus.”

  I elbowed him and hissed, “Stop it.”

  Ahead of us, Linus turned. “People expect it.”

  We followed him through the great room and a sunroom to the outside, to a massive patio of Oklahoma stone and a state-of-the-art outdoor kitchen. Padded chairs ringed a table filled with all the things fajitas required, shredded cheese in a pretty bowl, grilled peppers, guacamole, sliced tomatoes, chips, salsa, and queso. An enormous chiminea outdoor fireplace lorded over it all, the fire blazing in its hearth.

  Linus headed for the grill, opened it, hooked a skirt steak with tongs, and flipped it over. “Almost there.”

  An odd-looking turret slid out of the chimenea’s side and pointed itself at Alessandro with a soft whirl. He took a step to the right. The turret turned, tracking him.

  “Is that really necessary?” I dipped a chip into the guacamole. He was right. It did need a pinch of salt.

  “It is. He’s a dangerous man and it greatly distresses me to find him in your company.”

  Alessandro gave him his wolf grin.

  “The turret is fully automated. Nullifying me or it will have no effect on its ability to explode your handsome head.” Linus brushed some marinade over the meat.

  I added some salt to the guacamole and mixed it.

  “Yes,” Alessandro said, his voice breezy. “But it’s just one turret.”

  “Do you see what he’s doing?” Linus turned to me and waved his tongs. “He’s goading me into revealing my weapon placement.”

  A loud clang echoed as two dozen assorted turrets and automated guns slid from the walls of the house, the roof, and the ground. A dozen red dots danced over Alessandro’s chest and back. He stopped moving.

  “I never understood why you have laser sights on automated turrets,” I said, arranging chips in a bowl.

  “It’s a warning. It communicates that standing still is the wisest course of action.”

  The turrets slid back, all except the one in the chiminea.

  “Catalina is very dear to me.” Linus moved the steak onto a cutting board. “I think of her as family. Should you harm her in any way, I’ll skin you alive and roll you in salt.”

  “And lime?” Alessandro asked.

  “If you wish.”

  “She has nothing to fear from me, but I do wish you would try.”

  “Ahh, the arrogance of youth.”

  “Ahh, the overconfidence of old age.”

  “Are the two of you finished?” I asked.

  “My dear,” Linus said, “we’re just getting started.”

  Linus pulled three frosted bottles of Corona out of the mini fridge built into the outdoor kitchen and brought them over. “The steak needs to rest.”

  I opened my beer and sat down.

  Linus passed a bottle to Alessandro, took a wedge of lime from the table, and squirted the juice into his beer. “What are you doing in my city?”

  “I didn’t see your name on it when I landed.”

  “That’s be
cause I have no need to announce it. You arrive, you don’t introduce yourself, and now you’re here in the company of this bright, capable young woman who is entirely too intelligent to risk being involved with you.” He gave me a pointed look. I knew that look. It said that he wasn’t mad, just disappointed.

  How did I get myself into these things?

  “I’m here on business, the young lady and I have a professional arrangement, and what happens between us outside of it is none of your concern.”

  My beer went down the wrong way. I coughed, and the two of them turned to look at me with identical concerned expressions on their faces. I waved my arm at them. “Please carry on with your manly posturing. It’s very entertaining.”

  Linus rolled his eyes and took a swallow from his beer. “It’s not about posturing. It’s about courtesy. Manners matter. They separate us from savagery and cut down on unnecessary violence.”

  “You’re being a bit harsh with him. He’s a guest.”

  “No, you’re a guest. He’s a guided missile and I want to know where he’ll explode.”

  I had to defuse this before it turned ugly. Experience said that Alessandro would do anything to avoid answering questions about himself. I turned to Alessandro. “How is it that he knows what you are, and I don’t?”

  Alessandro saluted Linus with his beer. “My apologies. I should have come by. It was rude of me.”

  Ta-da. It worked.

  “Apology accepted. What’s done is done.”

  Linus rose and began carving the steak.

  “You’re not an assassin, are you?” I asked him.

  “No.”

  “Just checking. Lately it seems like everybody is an assassin.”

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Yes.” I had to do it quick, like ripping off a wax strip. “Is there a reason why Diatheke would try to hire Sigourney Etterson to kill you?”

  Linus stopped cutting.

  A long moment passed.

  “There are certain things in life that are just not done,” he said, his tone measured. “Abandoning a wife and three children after soiling the family name is one of them. I was always fond of Sigourney. She had been dealt a lousy hand and she handled it with grace.”

  “Is that why you chose her as the Gold Staff?”

  “Yes. It was a small thing I could do for her. So, to answer your question, Diatheke tried to hire her because if she came to visit me, I would let her in. I might share food with her, like we’re doing now. I would not suspect her. She was my friend. I take it she refused?”

  “She did,” Alessandro said.

  “Did she hire you?” Linus asked.

  “Yes.”

  Linus turned to me. “And your part in this?”

  “Halle is missing. Someone, probably Diatheke, killed Sigourney and planted a second corpse at the scene before burning the house to the ground. I suspect Diatheke is holding Halle hostage, for whatever reason. Runa hired me to get her back.”

  Linus shook his head. “Sigourney should’ve come to me . . .”

  “She had a history with Diatheke,” Alessandro said. “Years ago.”

  She might not have wanted Linus to know about it.

  Linus threw the knife on the table and stepped away from it. An odd expression claimed his face, a mix of sadness and rage. He stared at the knife for a long breath, not really seeing it, then his face relaxed into his familiar friendly expression. He imposed it over his grief like a mask. The effort of will it had required must have been staggering.

  “Have you made any progress?” he asked.

  “We know that someone called Magdalene is involved and possibly holding Halle.”

  “The name doesn’t ring a bell. What else?”

  “Diatheke tried to kill you,” Alessandro said. “There is that.”

  “We were hoping you could tell us why.”

  Linus smiled. “My dear, on any given day there may be a number of people trying to kill me. I didn’t just put together my arsenal for your visit. It’s a necessity.”

  Alessandro leaned forward, his expression harsh, his gaze focused. “Benedict operates in your city. You know him. He’s calculating and careful. Trying to eliminate you is a risky move. If he failed, it would put the firm into your crosshairs, and they bend over backward to avoid drawing official attention. The reward must have outweighed the risk. This is more than just money. What would he have to gain from your death?”

  “That is the question. I’ll have to think on it. Let’s eat. The food is getting cold.”

  He brought the meat to the table. We passed things around, putting together our fajitas.

  “By the way,” I said, sprinkling cheese on top of the meat. “Have you ever heard of warped mages?”

  Affable Linus vanished in a blink. His gaze pinned me, his eyes iced over and focused. Fear punched through my spine in an electrifying jolt. He was looking at me like he was about to hurt me. I sat very still.

  “Did you kill one?” Linus’ voice snapped, harsh and commanding.

  I looked into his eyes and knew with absolute certainty that I had to answer the question. “Yes.”

  Magic flared around Alessandro. His eyes sparked with orange. “Don’t take that tone with her.”

  “Did you take pictures?”

  “No.”

  Linus looked at me as if I had been unforgivably stupid.

  “It was running around in ‘your city’ and we killed it.” Alessandro leaned forward, the Italian Count forgotten. “A thank-you is in order.”

  We could never do this again. Putting Linus and Alessandro into the same room was like throwing a mongoose and a cobra into a pit.

  “How could you not have taken pictures? Your generation takes pictures of everything.” The cold hardness in Linus’ eyes didn’t ease. It was like being face-to-face with an attack dog, expecting a charge but not knowing what would set him off. One wrong word and we would meet a hail of bullets.

  “There wasn’t time. Besides, we kept his bones.” I braced myself.

  Linus paused. “Where are they?”

  “In the warehouse.”

  “Where in the warehouse?”

  “They’re in a plastic bin, locked in the weapons cage.”

  “Who else knows?” Linus asked.

  “Just the two of us. Well, the three of us, now.”

  Some of the tension eased from his face. Linus pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number.

  “Go to the Baylor warehouse. There will be a plastic bin with bones waiting for you. I need you to identify them. Don’t wait, do it there. Call me when you’re done. Once identified, transport the bones and secure them in the Scroll vault. On my authority.”

  Linus ended the call. “Catalina, call your family and tell them that Mr. Fullerton from Scroll is coming to pick up the bones. He’ll need complete privacy.”

  I let out a breath, took out my phone, and called Bern.

  “Yes?” my cousin said.

  “There is a plastic bin in the cage. Please get it and take it to the conference room. Mr. Fullerton from Scroll is on his way to you. Please show him the bones when he arrives. Please don’t tell anyone and don’t ask any questions.”

  “Will do.”

  The conference room had an excellent security camera concealed in the smoke alarm. Whatever Fullerton did with the bones, I wanted to know about it.

  I put the phone down and looked at Linus. “What’s going on?”

  “The proverbial shit has hit the fan and now we’re all getting splattered with it. Let’s eat. We will know more once Fullerton calls. While we’re eating, tell me everything about the warped mage. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Fullerton called twenty minutes later. By this point, we had finished eating. Linus answered the call and walked away to the house.

  While he was on the phone, Arabella, Runa, and Leon simultaneously texted me three different pictures of the same helicopter landing in front of our warehouse followed by
their versions of “What the hell is going on and why wasn’t I told about it?”

  If I had told them about it, Fullerton would find them playing beer pong with Lawrence’s bones. There was no better way to prank my sister than to hand her a box with a glitter bomb inside and tell her to not open it. She never met a secret she could resist.

  I didn’t even know Scroll had a helicopter. Scroll was an independent entity that worked for everyone but answered to no one. Why was Fullerton obeying Linus without question? Why did I have a feeling that everything had just gotten dramatically worse?

  We already had an assassin firm gunning for us. How much worse could it get?

  “What exactly is your relationship with Linus Duncan?” Alessandro asked.

  That was an excellent question. I got the plastic lids for the bowls from their spot in the outdoor kitchen cupboard and began putting the food up.

  “He served as a witness to the formation of our House. There is an old tradition among the Houses that a witness also acts as a guide and adviser. Like a godfather or godmother but for the entire family. Linus takes it seriously.” I hadn’t realized until ten minutes ago how seriously.

  “It’s more than that.”

  “What are you implying?” Because if he was implying what I thought he was implying, he needed to backpedal real fast or I would stuff his head into that chiminea.

  “Not that.” Alessandro looked at Linus, then looked at me, then looked at Linus again, opened his mouth . . .

  “What is it?”

  Alessandro started to speak and clamped his mouth shut, staring behind me. I turned around. At the house, Linus was looking straight at us. He shook his head once with deliberate precision and went back to his phone call.

  “Sono un idiota,” Alessandro muttered.

  And he’d just called himself an idiot. While I agreed in principle, he hadn’t done anything particularly stupid right this second. Something obvious must’ve occurred to him and I wanted to know what it was.

  “Do you want to enlighten me?”

  “Never mind,” he said. “Your godfather is walking over, and he looks unhappy.”

  At least unhappy was an improvement over homicidal.

  Linus marched toward us. “Come with me.” It didn’t sound like a request.