by Linda Grimes
into cyberspace. Using a tissue from the box in my desk drawer, he lifted the rock by its edges and examined it more closely.
“Looks Norse to me,” he said. “Probably wiped clean, but we’l let the lab guys check it anyway.”
“What does the note say?” I asked, my stomach rerunning the sick feeling I’d had at my condo.
Bily read it aloud, leaving it where it was. “‘Dear Miss Haligan, please give this to Miss Worthington, as a token of our
regard.’ That’s al, and then it’s signed with the same symbol as the stone. Now, what could that mean, do you suppose?”
Mark’s phone buzzed; he listened for a minute before disconnecting, placing the rock back on top of the parchment at the same
time. “It’s a rune. Mannaz—the equivalent of the letter ‘m.’ It means ‘man.’”
“But why leave it here with me?” It didn’t make sense.
“Somebody wants Trey to know they’ve been folowing Mina. It’s a threat.” Mark’s mouth was grim, his eyes cold. He was
pissed. “Howdy, check your files. See if anything’s missing.”
The room where I keep my backup computers and paper files was tiny, more like a large walk-in closet, and something in it
was different. Not ransacked, like my condo, but disturbed. “Someone’s been in here,” I said.
Bily gave the room a once-over. “Yeah? Looks al right to me. How can you tel?”
“I’m not sure. But something is making the hair on my arms stand up.” I scanned everything, floor to ceiling. My eyes stopped
on the bottom drawer of the last filing cabinet on the wal opposite the door. I pointed to it.
“There. It’s not quite closed. I always close the drawers al the way.” I shrugged. “It’s one of my things. So, unless one of you
left it partialy open after you were through pilfering my files…?”
“Nope, I’m not that sloppy,” Bily said, unapologetic.
Mark didn’t grace the suggestion with a response. Of course he wasn’t careless. He took a pen from a half-ful box on one of
the shelves and used it to open the drawer. The files looked the same as always—tidy. I may be a little messy at home, but I keep
my office organized.
“I don’t see anything missing, but you better check for yourself.” He handed me the pen.
“Why bother? I’m sure you know them as wel as I do.” I smiled sweetly. I think. Maybe I just bared my teeth.
“As a favor to me,” he replied, taking me by both shoulders and pushing me down to drawer level.
“Al right, al right.” I shrugged his hands off, trying to ignore the tingle they left behind, and was as careful with the pen as he’d
been. Damned if it would be my fault if the perp’s prints got smudged.
“Everything seems to be in order,” I said minutes later, after a careful perusal.
“Doesn’t realy mean anything,” Bily said. “They probably made copies and put the files back afterward. Or faxed themselves
copies from the handy little machine right there, like I did.”
I stood, planted my hands on my hips, and looked from one to the other. “We are going to have to have a talk. You can’t just
treat my office like—”
“Later.” Mark took me by one of my jutting elbows and hustled me back into the main office. “Somebody’s coming.”
“Geez, what do you have, super hearing?”
He pushed me toward my desk. “Sit down and look busy,” he said quietly, and slid back into the file room. He left the door
open a crack.
I finaly heard it—footsteps in the corridor. Who would be coming in at this hour of the morning? Cleaning staff maybe, or some
newbie lawyer trying to rack up bilable hours. Or whoever left the rune, still here in the building, I thought, grateful I wasn’t
alone.
The door to my reception area opened. “Ciel? You here?”
Ah. Thomas.
“Yeah. Come on back.” I met him as he came into my office. He puled me into a bear hug instead of giving me the usual peck
on the cheek. Medium tal, medium build, medium-brown hair. Gorgeous face. Why did al the men in my life have to be better-looking than me?
“What are you doing here so early?” I said when he relaxed his hold enough for me to breathe.
“I heard about the bungalow.” He held me away from him, examining me from top to toe. “Are you al right?”
“She’s fine. I told you I was going to drop her at your place after we checked her office. You could’ve waited,” Mark said
when he and Bily joined us.
Thomas gave them both a hard look. “And I told you to keep Ciel out of your business.”
“Our paths crossed unexpectedly,” Mark said. “I had Bily keeping an eye on Ciel after I found out about her involvement with
Mina Worthington. I was there, too, so she was never in any real danger.”
“Oh, yeah? Nearly being blown up isn’t real danger?” Thomas tended to puff up into ful grizzly mode when he perceived a
threat to his baby sister. I know it’s because he loves me, but it’s annoying as hel.
“A little close for comfort, you have to admit,” Bily said matter-of-factly to Mark, and ignored the flinty glance that folowed. I
guessed we weren’t going to bring up my close encounter with the kidnapper.
“Don’t worry. She’s officialy uninvolved now,” Mark assured Brother Bear. “You take her for a few days while Bily and I get
a handle on things.”
“Excuse me?” I turned on Mark and jabbed him in the chest with my finger. It might have made more of an impression had my
fingernail been long enough to be felt through his shirt. “I am not an object to be passed back and forth between you men.” I
swung back to Thomas and poked him, too. “Just because I rent space from you doesn’t mean you can tel me what to do.
You’re not my father.”
“Shal I get him on the phone? Or maybe Mom? Would you listen to them?” God, I hate that reasonable tone lawyers
invariably fal back on.
“No, no, and no! I can make my own plans and take care of my own problems.” I stopped short of stamping my foot.
“This isn’t your kind of problem, Ciel. Let Mark handle it.”
“Mina is my client, so she is, de facto, my problem.” I didn’t stick out my tongue either, but I wanted to. It is incredibly difficult
not to revert back to childish behavior when you’re surrounded by the Boys Club.
“And you can deal with her any way you like, with Mark’s permission.”
“Uh-oh. Probably could’ve phrased that better, Tommy boy.” Bily was leaning casualy against the wal, arms crossed, a smile
playing at one corner of his mouth.
I rounded on him, finger out and at the ready. “And you. You’re no better than the nanny twins. Sneaking around, spying on
me like I’m some incompetent boob who can’t keep herself out of trouble.”
He stood up straight, raising both hands in the air. “I surrender. You’re absolutely right, I couldn’t agree with you more. Men
are pigs. Girl power!”
Grrr. I stomped around to the back of my desk, drawing power from its massive proportions. “Get. Out. Of. My. Office.”
Al three of them looked at me for about a second, and then went on as if I weren’t there.
“By the way, whose piece of shit is in my parking place?” Thomas said, his tone deceptively casual.
“That would be Mark’s,” Bily said. Mark changes cars the way most people change socks. Makes it harder to keep tabs on
him, I guess.
Thomas glanced at his Rolex. “The tow truck wil be here in about three minutes. Just so you know.”
Mark laughed. “You lawyers are retaliatory bastards, aren’t you? Hey Bily, do me a favor, wil
you?” He tossed his keys
across the office. Bily caught them and left, looking happy to make his exit.
Mark stroled over to my desk and perched one leg on the edge, his knee pushing aside my secondhand mahogany pen caddy.
“Okay, Ciel. There is a way you can help.” He ignored the warning look on Thomas’s face.
“How?” I eyed him suspiciously.
“Tel me where you sent Mina. It’l save me time if I don’t have to check out al your hidey-holes.”
Thomas relaxed. I think. Sometimes it’s hard to tel with him. Mark looked at me blandly.
“You mean there’s actualy something you don’t already know? How refreshing.” I sat and, careful not to disturb the rock and
parchment, readjusted my pen caddy. (Territorial? Moi? Just a tad.)
He shrugged. “I could find out easily enough, but why waste time? Look, I just want to make sure she’s stil al right.”
“Why wouldn’t she be? No one but me knows where she is—I don’t keep that information in the files here.” On my laptop,
maybe, but he’d made that safe, right? It would be rude to question his competence by bringing it up now.
“You don’t think anyone—anyone at al—might have been watching when she left?”
“We were careful. I’m always careful,” I said, my eyes unconsciously seeking the reassurance of the polished leather album ful
of thank-you cards and letters from my satisfied clients. At least they al thought I was good at my job, great even.
“I’m sure you are.” The patience in his voice went down a notch. “And that probably suffices for most of your jobs, but this
one is different. Whoever took Trey wil be looking for Mina, too.”
“And they’l find me. Give me a bodyguard if you’re so worried, but Mina is fine where she is.”
“Can you be absolutely certain?” Thomas piped in, maddeningly reasonable again.
“Yes.” The laptop, Ciel. “No! I don’t know, let me think.” I swiveled my chair toward the window behind me so I wouldn’t
have to look at the two of them staring holes into me. The view wasn’t much—another old building across the street—but at least
the dawn was beginning to cast a rosy glow on it. The thing was, they were right. Even if the laptop was secure, how could I be
positive Mina wasn’t at risk?
I have three undisclosed locations where I send my clients while I’m filing in for them: a remote island beach, a secluded cabin
by a lake in upstate New York, and a middle-of-nowhere dude ranch. They’re al run by trusted associates, and cost a mint to
maintain. On the surface they are ultra-exclusive getaway spots for wealthy people who need some time alone, which has the
advantage of being basicaly the truth. If ever investigated closely, however, they would appear to be mental health facilities for
members of the moneyed set who may have had a smal nervous breakdown.
Thomas thought of the camouflage—he said no one would be likely to let it slip that they’d spent time in a mental institution, no
matter how exclusive. If someone were crazy enough to blab … wel, if they tried to explain me, and what I do for them, they’d
only confirm the necessity of their stay in such a place. Machiaveli was a piker compared to my big brother.
I heard Bily reenter the office. “What’s up with Ciel?” he asked in an exaggerated whisper.
“She’s thinking,” Thomas whispered back, equaly audible.
“Good grief—stop her before she hurts herself.” Back to normal volume from Bily.
I slowly spun my chair around to face the three of them. Choosing to ignore Bily’s rudeness, I said, “I’l cal and check on
Mina. If you’l wait in the reception area?” I indicated the door with my hand.
“Not good enough” was Mark’s terse response.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Wel, for one thing,” Bily said, with a significant look at Mark, “somebody in a rent-a-dent out front appeared to be awfuly
interested in this building. Or rather, he was until I started to approach him. He took off before I could discuss it with him.
Disappeared before I could get back to your car, so there was no way I could folow.”
“Crap. Do you think it was whoever left the rock and went through my files?” I said.
“I supervised the security on this building myself—trust me, nobody got in without my knowledge,” Thomas said.
I pointed at the rune. “Yeah? How do you explain that, then?”
He shrugged. “I put it there. A messenger delivered it the other day—said it was a gift for one of your clients. Seemed harmless
enough, so I brought it up.”
Mark pounced on the information. “What did he look like?”
“Scrawny little guy in bicycle shorts. He makes deliveries here al the time.”
“Not much help there. Did he say who it was from?” Bily said.
“Just a friend of Ciel’s client. Said Ciel would know who it was,” Thomas said.
“Wel, obviously I don’t. But what about my files? If the messenger wasn’t in here, who messed with them?”
That made my brother shift uncomfortably. “I may have checked them myself after I heard about the explosion on the news—
stop giving me the evil eye, Ciel. I had to see where you were, didn’t I? Believe me, I was not reassured when I found out,
either.”
“Fine,” Mark said. “At least we know no one has been in Ciel’s office—”
“Other than every fricking one of you,” I said, putting my glare on wide-beam.
“Other than us,” he conceded. “Tom, I’d like the number to the messenger service.” Thomas left, with a nod. “Ciel, I need to
know which location—a cal won’t be enough. I want to get some people on site.”
“There’s a security guard at each—”
Mark snorted.
“They’re good at what they do,” I insisted.
“If they were good enough, they wouldn’t have to take pissant guard jobs at secluded resorts.”
Pissant? Ouch. “Yeah? Wel, you ran their background checks. If they’re no good, you can blame yourself.”
“They’re good enough for general security, which is what you need. This situation has gone beyond that.”
Bily interrupted with an appealing show of dimples. “Come on, cuz, tel Mark what he wants to know so he can get on with his
job. You know he’s not going to let up on you until you do, and that’s just annoying to al of us.”
Much as I wanted to keep on arguing, I knew Bily was right. “Fine. She’s at the lake house. Now, do you want me to cal or
what?”
“No need. I’m on it.” Mark puled out his cel phone, dialing as he left the room, pausing only to take a slip of paper from
Thomas, who rejoined us.
“And just what am I supposed to do now?” I holered after Mark, not expecting a response.
Thomas filed the void. “Mom caled. She said to remind you about the party. You, too, Bily.”
We groaned in unison. My mother, the inimitable Aurora “Ro” Haligan, along with Bily’s mom, Maureen “Mo” Doyle, threw a
party every autumn. Everyone in New York’s adaptor community came. There are more of us than you might think—at least sixty
or seventy in NYC alone. Most major cities have at least a few. There’s probably a common ancestor, way back down the line
somewhere, who started the bal roling with a mutated gene. That little gene has realy branched out during the intervening
generations.
The party was the one social event of the season where adaptors could let their hair down and just be themselves. Attendance
by the hostesses’ family members, while not technicaly compulsory, was strongly encouraged, to the point where if you didn’t
show up you’d best be dead. Or at least hospitalized.
“Come now. It’s not so bad.” My brother dismissed our misery with a wave of his hand.
“How can you say that after last year?” I said.
“The fire was put out quickly, and the catering staff didn’t press charges,” Thomas said, his voice projecting calm evaluation of
the facts.
“Only because you bought them off,” I said.
Thomas shrugged. “Come on. Nero apologized, and Mo did get a new kitchen out of it.”
“Mommo gets a new kitchen every other year, regardless of smoke damage,” Bily pointed out. His mash-up of “Mom” and
“Mo” had begun shortly after Auntie Mo had married his dad, and had stuck. “And as I recal, you weren’t even there last year,
so you have no solid basis for underplaying the calamity.”
My ears perked. “What do you mean he wasn’t there? I saw him myself, chatting up Felicity Belgrave. Mom was thriled—she
has high hopes that Thomas wil settle down and give her some grandchildren so she can lord it over Auntie Mo.” I smiled sweetly
at my big brother, savoring the one topic that could rattle him. He was far from ready to give up his bachelor lifestyle.
He coughed, and didn’t meet my eyes.
“What?! Who’d you pay off to be you for the evening? Nobody’s good enough to fool Mom for long.”
Bily cleared his throat and nonchalantly buffed his nails on his shirt.
“It couldn’t have been you—you were chasing me around al evening as Attila the Hun.”
“Only most of the evening. Every now and then I would let Auntie Ro discern just a shade of Thomas beneath my barbaric
exterior. A masterfuly subtle performance, if I do say so myself.”
“But I saw Thomas after the unmasking was complete, and I saw you, too.”
“Yes, but did you ever see us at the same time?”
Thomas gave Bily a sour look. “I had assumed confidentiality was a part of our agreement. See if I ever hire you again.”
“And I had assumed ‘hired’ meant I would be paid for my work. Seems we were both mistaken.”
Thomas laughed. “Are you sure you won’t consider law school? You’d be a natural.”
“Sorry. You legal beagles lead too exacting a life for me. I prefer the freedom to folow my fancy.” He sauntered around the
