by Jami Gray
As disturbing as the incident sounded, it wasn’t a far stretch to imagine. Sleepers, by nature, tended to suffer from a multitude of mental disorders. Mix that mental chaos with magic, and the results could be frightening to say the least.
I indicated Umber’s cast. “I’m surprised that’s all you got away with.”
A ruddy color washed through his cheeks. “Yeah, well, that’s why I pay big bucks for my security wards. Got ’em calibrated for both magical and nonmagical attacks. ACRT made it in under three minutes.”
Arcane Criminal Response Team was a specialized unit that focused on handling magical crimes. “ACRT? What kind of magic was he throwing around?”
Umber frowned. “That’s the thing. I don’t know.”
I cocked my head. “I’m not following.”
And I wasn’t. Magic was pretty obvious. If someone burned you, that was a fire mage. If someone came after you with inhuman strength and ninja-like moves, chances were that was a combat mage. If someone tried to drown you in the middle of a desert, you were dealing with a water mage. Magical skills tended to be fairly straightforward. Well, except for mine.
“There was a coat of ice on the door, but there were scorch marks along the pavement. And that poor cat looked as if it had been torn apart with claws. The way he came at me, I didn’t give him a chance to get his hands on me, but I’m damn sure if he’d managed to do that, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”
I barely managed to refrain from looking at Zev. This type of weird shit was exactly what I’d hoped to hear about, just not from such a close contact as Umber. I ran a hand over the back of my neck, my mind racing. Is it connected, or am I just drawing lines where none exist?
I dropped my hand and curled it into a fist on my lap. “Did anyone at ACRT have a clue what his deal was?”
Umber shook his head. “I don’t think so. They got there, and it took, like, three of them to get him restrained. By the time they had him locked down, he was screaming nonstop, and I swear he was bleeding from his eyes and shit.”
Okay, yeah, that is definitely not normal by any definition. “I wonder what he was on?”
“Shit if I know,” Umber muttered. “But whatever it is, it’s bad fucking news.”
The ugly suspicion crowding my brain made that truer than he knew. “Maybe it’s a one-off. You know, like, a bad reaction or a bad batch of whatever he was taking.”
“Maybe, but…” Umber’s face darkened with unease. “You know my customers and how they talk?”
I nodded.
“Whispers are floating around, and none of its good.”
“You got something to share? I can maybe poke around for you.” It wasn’t an unusual offer—I’d done it before. Sometimes he took me up on it, sometimes not.
Fortunately, this time he did. “I’ll see if I can pin anything down and tag you.”
His quick response told me I’d be hearing from him sooner rather than later. I forced a casual smile. “Sounds good.”
Zev and I stuck around through the next race, but questions and worries crowded out my earlier enthusiasm. Now all I wanted to do was to get home and go over the damn file I hadn’t had time to review before. Picking up on my preoccupation, Zev pulled me away from a group of mechanics, most of whom were about two and half sheets to the wind already, and started leading the way to where we’d left his bike. We broke free from the crowd, and I returned the handful of goodbyes aimed our way.
At the bike, Zev handed over my helmet before claiming his. “Talk to me.”
I bit my bottom lip, worried what I said next would sound paranoid. “Do you know anyone at ACRT?”
He lowered the helmet he was about to put on. “I have a connection, yeah.” He studied me. “You want to know about the sleeper?”
“Yeah.” I shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the helmet in my hands. “It’s probably nothing, but…”
“Better safe than sorry.” There was nothing condescending or impatient in his voice.
I looked up. “It’s just… ice? Scorch marks? Claws? All of that points to more than one magic-based attack, but if all Umber saw was just the one guy…”
“Then where did all that come from?”
“Right.”
His gaze lifted and went unfocused as he considered. Finally, he said, “I’ll reach out, see if we can get a copy of whatever report might be on file.”
“You mean like an autopsy?”
He shook his head. “More like an incident report. Sleepers generally don’t rate an autopsy unless there’s a solid reason.”
“I’d think the weirdness involved would be enough of a reason.”
“You’d think. But I’m not betting on it.” Zev blew out a long breath. “Come on. It’s late—” He grimaced. “Early. Let’s get you home so you can catch some sleep. I’ll be at your place at eight so we can head over to the Sellareses’ place.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You’re not getting in unless you come bearing large quantities of espresso.”
He dropped the hand with the helmet and used his other to pull me close. Since I liked his closeness, I went with it, the soft thunk as our helmets hit drowned out by my rising pulse. I put a hand to his chest, my fingers curling in just a bit as if I could snag and hold him prisoner. In this position, I had no choice but to tilt my head back to keep eye contact.
He grinned down at me. “Do I get a prize if I do?”
That teasing note struck a chord deep inside me, leaving a gentle burn behind. Knowing our little window of time was quickly closing, I held his T-shirt in my fist and rose up on my toes so I could taste that sexy grin of his. It was a soft brush, a barely there touch of tongue to his lips, but my toes curled, and for a brief moment, my world lit with a beautiful glow. I drew back—not much, just enough so I wouldn’t be tempted to follow that kiss up with something needier, hungrier.
“That work?” My question came out husky.
His fingers tightened on my hip, and his appreciation of my kiss was unmistakable. His voice was as rough as mine when he said, “Yeah, for now.” Zev’s sexy grin began to shift into an expression I was scared to name, but before it went all the way there, he pressed his lips against mine in a loud, obnoxious smooch and pulled back. “Bike, woman. Now. Otherwise, neither one of us will be good for anything tomorrow.”
With the moment broken, I followed directions and let him take me home.
Chapter Ten
Thanks to the early-morning cop-free highways, Zev managed to get me home in record time. Since he was going to be on my doorstep in a few hours anyway, we left my Mustang at the Guild, and he dropped me off at my condo. Well, at the front lobby actually, but same diff. It was closing in on three in the morning when I walked through my door.
I shrugged off the irritating rasp of Lena’s additional security wards, which she insisted on after the Thatcher mess. Nothing like the imminent threat of unwanted Family interest to make you want to ensure that your privacy is protected. Since I not only understood but also shared her concerns, I dealt with the annoyance of extra security.
A soft indigo glow from the under-counter lighting acted as my nightlight as I moved through the space. Lena’s door was closed, no light spilling from below, which meant she was sleeping, like most normal people would be at this time. I grabbed the file I’d left on the counter and took it and a glass of water with me to my bedroom. A two-minute shower later, I was on my bed, folder open. Most of what was contained in the file was familiar, thanks to the discussion over tacos. I focused on the details about the dead and missing.
Jonas’s burnt body had been found over by the university, miles away from his home. The pictures of the scene made me reconsider seeing his remains in person. His wasn’t the only documented death. Chloe Sellares had died in an apparent mugging gone horrifically wrong a block away from her home. Her apartment was located near the university district, in one of the newer buildings that seemed to pop up faster than corner coffee shop
s. I had no idea who thought squeezing a building into every square inch equaled urban utopia.
Just for giggles, I looked up where LanTech’s previous labs had been located and found them in a corridor lined with squat, block-wide buildings differentiated only by the signs on their doors. The location was almost midway between Jonas’s home and the university—not a surprise if Jonas had wanted a short commute. A quick review of nearby businesses turned up a warehouse specializing in tech production, corporate offices of CharmOne Bank, and a mix of university and corporate research groups. All in all, it made sense for LanTech to set up shop there. I also looked up Origin’s lab and found it just north of the university district, where innovation was quickly becoming an overused buzzword. It looked like Chloe’s commute about equaled Jonas’s, just in a different direction.
After reviewing the notes, I dove into the lab reports from both LanTech and Origin, and that was where my low-grade headache graduated to eye-blurring brain soup. The scientific terminology was daunting, but my handy-dandy online glossaries were there to help. Some of the more complex terms, like caudate nucleus or hyperacusis, made me regret my inattention in my college science courses. I wasn’t sure why they all couldn’t be as straightforward as blood-brain barrier or intracranial pressure. It would have made my reading so much easier.
By the time I finished, I wasn’t sure if my assumptions were solid or just wishful thinking. The best I could decipher was that the Delphi serum was a chemical compound that acted like a switch on the part of the human brain where magical abilities lived. If that switch was naturally in the off position, it flipped it on, activating whatever latent abilities hid in the dusty corners, turning a non-magically inclined person into a mage. If the switch was already in the on position, the addition of the serum not only boosted existing abilities but also woke those that slept, turning an existing mage into a mage on steroids or, in some cases, into a hybrid mage of terrifying proportions. It was the last part that left me with concerns and questions. The official reports submitted by the research teams indicated that most of their conclusions were hypothetical, based upon early lab experiments with rats, which fit with what Stephen and Leander had shared in the meeting. But unease slipped under my skin like an embedded sliver, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the reports were incomplete.
By the time four o’clock rolled around, the words were chasing each other across the page. Giving up, I set the folder aside, turned off the light, and collapsed into sleep… only to have my damn alarm go off what felt like mere minutes later. Without opening my eyes, I fumbled around until I managed to figure out the correct combination to shut off my phone’s alarm. It took an ungodly amount of effort to drag myself upright and start getting ready. By the time I walked out of my room, it was perilously close to eight o’clock in the morning. I wasn’t surprised so much as resigned when I saw Zev’s broad shoulders and dark hair at my counter. Lena stood in her preferred spot on the other side of the counter. The cup halfway to her mouth did nothing to hide her smirk.
I sighed. “Please tell me you have my coffee.”
Instead of answering, he angled his body just enough to watch me approach and nudged an oversized cup with a familiar logo on the counter next to him. I dropped onto the stool next to him, and the tantalizing scent of warm sandalwood that was quickly becoming the bane of my existence enveloped me. Since I didn’t want to give in and bury my nose in his neck to sniff him like a pathetic pup, I grabbed my coffee and took that first delicious sip. My groan was a purely habitual impulse.
“What time did you get in?” Lena asked, the smirk no longer on her lips but her amusement evident in the glint in her eyes.
“Way past sanity.” I took another sip. “But it was necessary.”
Lena made a suggestive hum. “I’m sure it was.”
I pinned her with a glare, while next to me, Zev just grinned. “Seriously?”
Lena laughed. “You’re so easy.”
“I wish,” Zev said.
I turned my glare from the laughing hyena I roomed with to the exasperating male next me. “You two need to grow up.”
Lena’s laughter faded to a snort. “Nope. Adulting is highly overrated.”
Since I couldn’t argue with that, I switched subjects. “What’s on your agenda today?”
Lena quirked an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be my question to you?”
I leaned over and bumped my shoulder into Zev’s. “I’m with this one unless Sabella calls.”
Her gaze flickered between us before dropping back to her cup, her lips in a mysterious half smile. “Right.” She took a sip and pushed off the counter. “I’m finishing up a case for the Guild, doing prelims on a new assignment. Should be finished around three, but Evan’s off tonight, so…” Her shrug was a little stiff. She and Evan, the Guild’s top electro mage, were dipping their toes into a mutually shared attraction that they’d finally given in to a few weeks earlier.
It was my turn to wiggle my eyebrows. “Don’t wait up?”
She flipped me off and headed toward her room. “And I’m out of here.”
“Later!”
“Bye, bitch,” Lena called over her shoulder and disappeared into her room, leaving me all alone with Zev.
Quiet settled in, stretching into a long moment as I enjoyed my coffee. Next to me, Zev did the same, his arms braced on the counter. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but I waited until Lena’s shower turned on and my brain was sufficiently fueled before starting up our conversation. “You get any sleep?”
“I had a few things to deal with when I got back, so I only got a couple hours.” He studied me. “I’m thinking you got about the same?”
“Yeah, I stayed up to review Sabella’s file.”
His gaze swept over the kitchen, probably looking for the file that was safe in my bedroom. “Should I be worried about Sabella’s file?”
I let my lips curve up and angled my head to meet his gaze. “Not unless you’re hiding something from me.”
He leaned in so close that all I could see was his face. “That’s your thing, babe, not mine.” He must have caught my tiny knee-jerk flinch, because he said in all seriousness, “Yeah, that’s something we’ll get to.”
Please, not anytime soon. I sent the fervent prayer to anyone listening, but I was fairly sure they were all on vacation. I managed to squeak out a breathless reminder. “Professional, remember?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He pulled back, and I tried to subtly draw air into my tight chest. When his eyes narrowed, I was sure I’d failed on the subtle part. “Anything in that file I should know about Chloe?”
My brain scrambled to recalibrate and found purchase on the idiosyncrasies of locations. “Her apartment is near the university. In fact, it’s blocks away from where Jonas’s body was found.”
He frowned. “That’s miles from Jonas’s house.”
“I know.” I took another fortifying sip. “So do we know if Chloe and Jonas knew each other?”
Zev shook his head. “We don’t, but we’ll make sure to ask.”
“If they did, it’s a connection.” I watched his long fingers spin his cup around in a slow circle.
“Or it’s nothing, considering they’re all researchers in the same field.”
He played the devil’s-advocate role well, but in the end, it didn’t matter. One way or the other, we’d find the answer soon enough.
We pulled into a neat two-story home on the outskirts of Chandler with five minutes to spare. That time of the morning, the planned neighborhood was fairly quiet. I noted a couple of walkers chugging down the sidewalks, headphones on, gazes straight ahead, faces shiny with sweat, determined to conquer the pavement before temperatures rose to debilitating afternoon levels. Zev pulled his SUV to the curb, leaving the driveway open in case one of the two cars that were parked in front of the garage needed an exit. I got out and waited for him to round the hood and join me at the walkway that cut through a xeriscaped front yard. Behind the
safety of my sunglasses, I studied the nearby neighbors out of habit and winced. Holy fifty shades of beige! Outside of the mix of one- or two-story structures, there wasn’t much variation to be found on the block.
Zev and I headed to the slice of shade offered by the overhang guarding a narrow porch and the front door. We didn’t get a chance to knock. The door swung open, and an older man in jeans and a button-down short-sleeved shirt waited in the frame.
Zev stopped and pulled off his sunglasses. “Mr. Sellares?”
The older man’s nod was a bit jerky. “Mr. Aslanov.” He turned to me. “Ms. Costas.”
I came up to Zev’s side, dipped my chin in acknowledgement, and took off my shades. “Mr. Sellares, thank you for seeing us.”
Another jerky nod. “Thank you for being so prompt.” He stepped back and motioned us forward. “Please come in.”
Zev murmured his thanks and stepped aside, giving me room to enter first. I stepped over the threshold and felt my shoulders sink under the invisible weight of grief that lived and breathed within these walls. The loss of a loved left behind heavy reminders, but when it found a space to curl up and claim as its own, it became a heavy, unmovable blanket until even the tiniest spark of hope sputtered out. Here inside the Sellares home, grief had set up permanent residence.
Chloe’s father closed the door and then led us through a front room that was so neat as to be disturbing. I bet even dust didn’t dare settle on the furniture. The front room spilled into an open space that was both a kitchen and a living room. A woman rose from a small, round table with the obligatory centerpiece—a candle in the midst of glass stones. A sturdy mug with steam rising from it marked her spot. Introductions were quietly exchanged and beverage offers made and then refused before Zev and I settled into padded seats across from Chloe’s grief-worn parents. The sun spilled across the laughing faces forever captured in family pictures chronicling the years of toddler to young adult. Memory-filled frames lined shelves and walls, holding back the newer addition of shadows lingering along the room’s edges.
