Savage Sons (House of Winterborne Book 2)

by Luanne Bennett

  “Oh yeah? What makes you think I need you?”

  Because Ryker’s back.

  I stopped walking and glanced at him sideways. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner to let me know?”

  Because I just found out tonight when the Flyers filled the trees. Sacrificial lambs sent to guard their queen. Too bad they’re useless against the likes of a Caspian.

  “So you followed me?”

  His voice went quiet in my head for a moment. Then he flew into the air and hovered in front of me. Of course. I always know where you are. It’s my job.

  “Can you please move? I need to get home.”

  Not until you admit that we need each other. I may be a crow, but I’m an immortal crow, and I can advise you as well as Monoclaude did.

  “What do you get out of this alliance?”

  His black eyes grew shinier, tapering into half-moons. A home. I miss having a home.

  “I offered you the conservatory before. I’ll leave the door open so you can come and go as you please.” I chuckled. “I’d like to move in there myself sometimes.”

  He landed on my shoulder again as I continued toward the Upper West Side. Thank you, but it’s not the safety of four walls that I need. I simply need to belong. Somewhere.

  We walked in silence for a few minutes, with me understanding exactly what he meant. He needed connection. “On one condition. I can’t keep calling you crow. What’s your name?”

  He went quiet for a moment, as if he was trying to decide if he should tell me something as powerful as his name. Fetch. That’s what they used to call me before…

  “Before your life was turned upside down. Interesting name.”

  I was called that because I used to fetch objects from all over the city and bring them home. A bit of a thief, I suppose.

  “All right, Fetch. Let’s start over. I’m Morgan. Care for some dinner?”

  I’d love some, but Hawk is waiting for you back at the penthouse.

  “I’m glad to see you two getting along.”

  Why wouldn’t we? We have the same priorities.

  I caught a glimmer of something from the corner of my eye. It was the alchemy pendant I’d thrown over the terrace wall the night I foolishly concluded that Fetch had killed Monoclaude. The night I swore I’d kill him if I found out he was guilty.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, taking it from his shiny beak. “Where did you find it?”

  I didn’t. It found me, just like it did the night I gave it to you. It binds you to your familiar.

  “I guess that would be you. Thank you for returning it.”

  The Winterborne Building came into view, and he flew from my shoulder and sailed into the sky, over the rooftop and toward the river where he always went.

  Jakob was waiting for me when I walked across the street and entered the lobby.

  I nodded in his direction. “I expected to see you out there tonight.”

  “I would have joined you, but you were right. I’m dead to Cabot. I’m afraid our hunting together will be limited to Order business.” He gave me a weak smile. “I understand it didn’t go very well.”

  “No, but it could have been worse. I think they were sending a very clear message tonight.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “The Caspians are letting us know how easy it is to strike right under our noses.” I shook my head. “I swear, Jakob, they were in and out in the blink of an eye. They got to the Flyer queen so easily.”

  “And now you know why Samuel is so determined to keep Cabot and Ethan off the battlefield.”

  “I was pretty useless myself tonight.”

  He seemed amused by my comment. “From what Olivia just told me, you’re the reason Cabot is still breathing. In fact, I think Jules’s blood is your new secret weapon.”

  “Jules! Where is she?” We needed to have a talk about what happened tonight—if I could ever look her in the eye again.

  “She’s fine. Edward drove her home right after you scared the hell out of her by taking a dive over the side of the building.” He nodded toward the elevator. “Now go upstairs. Hawk is waiting for you.”

  Chapter 15

  At seven a.m., I walked Hawk to the terrace to see him off for the day. The night before, after I told him about my fine-tuned senses and the incident with the knives, he explained that Jules was probably a Violet, a rare and highly prized type of donor that vampires paid top dollar for because their blood contained a powerful form of energy. Wait until I gave her the news. She’d probably laugh and tell me I was out of my mind. But it did explain some things, like her ability to stay up all night and her never-ending supply of, well… energy. He also said it looked promising that I’d gotten my cravings under control. Blood like hers should have sent me into a frenzy, but I’d managed to restrain myself nicely, even if it took plunging over the wall to do it.

  I glanced at the time and headed for the kitchen to start some coffee before Samuel arrived. It was early, but he was as eager as I was to review the security footage from the pawnshop.

  “Morgan?”

  Jakob must have let him up.

  “I’m starting some coffee. Be right out.”

  When I walked into the living room, the first thing I noticed was how tired he looked. I figured his extracurricular activities had kept him up all night, and it disappointed me that he’d become such a cliché. The uncle I remembered was better than that. The way he doted over Charlotte, I knew he loved her, so I was having a hard time with the idea that he’d be unfaithful or had an arrangement with her as James had alluded.

  “You look like you were up all night.”

  He let out a long sigh. “I was. But don’t worry, I’ll be good and rested for the fundraiser.”

  I wanted to ask him where he’d spent the night, but it really wasn’t my business. “I hear you invited Olivia. Let’s hope I can get her on the list.”

  “I’m sure you’ll manage. We need to find out how much Mr. Fuller knows about his campaign manager, and nothing loosens a man’s lips like a beautiful woman.”

  “You don’t really think she’ll get anywhere near Benjamin Fuller, do you? I doubt he’ll be doing much mingling with the crowd.”

  He laughed. “He’s not the president, Morgan. Senate and congressional candidates fall somewhere between B-list celebrities and bottom-feeders. He’ll be falling all over himself to woo rich benefactors tomorrow night, and the Winterbornes will have him salivating. Besides, he’s not our only target. Anyone connected to the campaign bears scrutiny, including Decker. If Olivia can get under his skin, she can find out what he really is.”

  “I thought we were all in agreement that he’s a Caspian? He has the mark.”

  “But is that all he is?”

  “I’ll call Avery this afternoon and see if she can sweet-talk Decker into allowing me a plus two instead of one.”

  “Good.” He sat down and opened his laptop. “I hear you failed miserably at the park last night.”

  “You could say that. They got to the queen. The Flyers didn’t seem all that broken up about it though. They’ll just appoint a new one if she doesn’t make it.”

  “Animals can’t afford to waste time grieving. They bury their pain quickly and move on. It’s how they survive.”

  Picturing a dog losing her litter and moving on to start the next one made me see his point. We were the ones destroying ourselves with grief. “I guess I don’t really think of them as animals. More like indescribable creatures.”

  “I hear Ryker showed up.”

  “That’s what Cabot said. He didn’t make himself known to me though.”

  He gave me a consoling look. “Unfortunately, he will. Your father has no intention of leaving you alone. You’re too important to him.”

  I huffed. “You think Ryker has paternal feelings for me?”

  “I think he’d sell you to the highest bidder if you weren’t worth more to him as his slave. He wants your power, and he’ll keep com
ing until he breaks you.”

  “Which he’ll never do.”

  “Let’s hope not. I wouldn’t want to go up against you, Morgan.”

  His eyes were humorless, making me uncomfortable at the thought. “Let’s look at the footage.”

  I looked at the screen when he pulled up the first video. “So how many hours of this do we have to plow through?”

  “None. I’ve already gone through a lot of it, and I think I’ve found our customer.” He hit the Play button and pointed to the screen. “Keep your eye on the woman walking out.”

  Foster’s shop was right next door, but it was still a little difficult to make out the details. I saw a woman walking out with her hands full, but it just looked like she was carrying a crate filled with random stuff she’d bought. “What are you seeing that I’m not?”

  He paused the video to enlarge it. “Right there.”

  The image was slightly pixilated, but I could see that she was carrying something under the crate. It was a box about the same size as the one my mother had sent me. “The size is right, but how do we know he didn’t sell ten random boxes that week? Old boxes are pretty common in junk shops.”

  “Take a closer look.”

  He blew it up a little more, and I could see the lines flowing down the sides.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I think you found it.”

  “It’s not the clearest picture, but he did say it was a woman who bought it. If we check her out and the box doesn’t match, we’ll have to go through another ten hours of footage.”

  “Ten hours? You’ve been up all night looking at these?”

  He gave me an odd look. “What did you think I was doing?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “We got lucky,” he continued. “She left through the front entrance of the parking lot instead of the rear. The camera got a shot of her plates.”

  The gods must have been looking down on us, because that was pure luck. “You have her address?”

  He nodded. “The car is registered to a Judy Mendenhall in Queens. Looks like we’re going for another drive.”

  Judy Mendenhall lived in a two-story house at the edge of Queens with a sign out front hanging from a pole. We slowed down to read it—Rooms For Rent—and then parked in a space at the end of the block.

  When we walked back down the sidewalk and headed up the stairs to the porch, the front door swung open. A woman in her fifties with frizzy gray hair and a cigarette clenched between her teeth stepped outside.

  “Are you here about a room?”

  Samuel took the lead. “Not exactly.”

  She glanced down the block to where he’d parked his expensive car. “I didn’t think so,” she muttered around the butt. “What can I do for you?”

  “You were at a shop in Brooklyn about a week ago. A place called Hidden Treasures.”

  “Yeah? So what? I’ve been in a lot of junk shops lately. It’s what I do for a living.”

  I thought we might have a better chance of getting inside if we were a little more direct. “You bought an old box about this big.” I demonstrated with my hands. “It was probably pretty dirty and had a bunch of symbols all over it. We’d like to buy it from you. At a substantial profit over what you paid for it of course.”

  She squinted at me for a second and took the cigarette out of her mouth. “I remember it, but I don’t have it anymore. I sold it over at the Brooklyn Flea last weekend.”

  I glanced at Samuel and did my best not to look like the ceiling had just caved in. “Would you mind if we came in and asked you a few questions?”

  She got a wary look on her face. “Why?”

  “Please. It’s important.”

  Samuel sweetened it for her. “We’ll compensate you for your time.”

  Her expression relaxed. “Sure. I got a few minutes.” She snuffed out her cigarette in a planter and pushed the door open. “I haven’t had time to clean though, so you’ll have to pardon the mess.”

  It was like we’d just stepped into an episode of Hoarders. The place was packed from wall to ceiling with boxes filled with old newspapers and other junk, and the distinct smell of cat feces filled the room. I wanted to yank the curtains apart and beg her to open the windows.

  “You should see my place,” I said with a short laugh. “I haven’t cleaned my bathroom in a week.”

  She wasn’t buying it. People who drive cars like Samuel’s tend to have housekeepers.

  “Have a seat,” she said, nodding to the sofa. “Want something to drink?”

  “Thanks, but we’re fine.”

  She shoved a stack of old magazines off the chair across from us and plopped down. “So? What do you want to ask me?”

  “Why don’t we start by making sure the box you bought is the one we’re looking for? Like I said, it’s got a bunch of symbols all over it. They look a lot like hieroglyphics, but they’re not actually carved into the wood. They’re part of the grain.”

  She seemed to be visualizing it. “Yeah. I thought that was a little strange. I’ve never seen wood like that before. Looked pretty rare.” She got a sly grin on her face. “That box was a real find. Most of the stuff I get from the junk shops only makes me a few bucks. Margins is where the profit comes from, you know. Have to sell a crapload of it to make a wage, but it’s a hell of a lot better than going to a nine-to-five every morning.”

  Samuel tried to steer the conversation back to the box. “You said you sold it where?”

  “The Brooklyn Flea. I set up a table out there most weekends.”

  Before this week, I doubted my uncle had ever set foot in a thrift shop or a yard sale, so I clarified it for him. “It’s a flea market in Brooklyn.”

  “Sold it for two hundred bucks. Hell, I only paid five. But I knew the second I cleaned off all that grime that I had something pretty special. Old as hell too. I had a fifty-dollar tag on it, but there were two guys interested. The one who offered me the most walked away with it.”

  I could see that Samuel was thinking the same thing I was, but what would a Caspian be doing at a flea market? Granted, the Brooklyn Flea is pretty famous in New York, and they were looking for that box in Brooklyn. But the likelihood that they’d run across Judy Mendenhall’s table was pretty remote.

  “Can you tell us what he looked like?” She’d probably sold her stuff to dozens of people that weekend, if not hundreds, so I knew it was a long shot. But a profit like that as a result of a bidding war was probably more memorable than usual.

  “Old, fat, half-bald. I’ve seen him a few times over the years. Just your garden-variety collector looking for a deal. He’ll probably turn around and sell it for even more.”

  “I don’t suppose he paid by credit card?”

  She shook her head. “Cash only. I don’t mess with plastic.”

  Having come to a dead end, we stood up to leave. All we knew for sure was that the box she bought at Wesley Foster’s shop was the one we were looking for. And now it was out there in someone else’s hands. The needle in the haystack had just disappeared again.

  Samuel handed her some cash and his card. “If you see him around the market again, call me right away. There’s more of this if you find him.”

  To clear the smell of her house from my nose, I took a few long, therapeutic breaths as we walked down the sidewalk. “Well, that was a letdown.”

  “It could have gone better, but it also could have gone worse.”

  I glanced at him as we walked. “Oh yeah? How could it have gone worse?”

  “The buyer could have been a Caspian.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t?”

  He laughed humorlessly as we reached the car. “Because a Caspian will never grow old or fat and definitely never go bald.”

  Chapter 16

  Decker was more than happy to add an extra guest to the list for the Whitney event. It pleased Samuel, who seemed awfully comfortable sending his daughter into the lion’s den to entice a bunch of men into revealin
g their secrets, but I had to remember what Olivia was—a seasoned assassin with a nasty bite and a flair for magic that gave her the advantage over any vampire. But a Caspian wasn’t just any vampire.

  Jules showed up at seven o’clock. I’d asked her to come over while I got ready so we could talk about what happened the other night. The sooner we got it all out in the open, the sooner we could get back to normal. At least I hoped we could.

  She headed for my bedroom as if nothing had happened. “Let me see your dress.”

  Although the party was at a museum, it wasn’t black-tie, so I’d chosen a cocktail dress that showed a good amount of skin. “Is this okay?”

  She nodded a few times. “Perfect. Redheads look great in black.”

  Black, the universal color of power and elegance. “Everyone looks good in black.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” she said as she started going through my shoes. “You can wear the red ones if you want to make a statement, but I’d stick with the black satin pumps.”

  She spent more time than necessary rooting through my closet before casually bringing up the conversation we’d both been dancing around. “Do you need some blood?”

  “What?”

  “Blood,” she repeated, pulling her head out. “It’s not a big deal, Morgan. You didn’t go psycho on me the other night, so we’re good.” She started fiddling with my clothes again but suddenly turned around and pointed her finger at me. “But if you ever jump off a building like that again, I’ll kill your ass.”

  She knew I traveled, but she’d never actually seen me do it before, so I understood how jarring it must have been to see me go over the edge like that. But I’d done it for her, just in case I got a little cocky after getting a taste of her blood. The truth was, I’d been in control the whole time. I managed to hold myself back even though I wanted more. After I found myself standing in the park, I knew I wouldn’t have hurt her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Jesus, Morgan, I didn’t think you could scare me anymore.”