by Jami Gray
“Are you saying that you, a top level employee, would be unable to do your contracted job?” Ice coated Mulcahy’s words and a razor-sharp threat lay underneath them.
After years of enduring unspoken criticism from this man, she should have expected the cut, but it never made it easier to bear. Temper and panic simmered under her skin, triggering an immature need to push the lethal man behind the desk. Taking a deep breath, she met his eyes and managed not to flinch. Barely. “No, I can and will do it. Besides, there’s no guarantee these two assignments will overlap.” Okay, so she might nudge him a little. She never was good at backing down.
Mulcahy’s eyes didn’t warm. “And if they do?”
Then she was screwed. Instead of sharing, she played his detested game. “Why are you so certain they will?”
“You’re not the only one who finds it curious that Talbot wants us to investigate this series of accidents, but won’t hire Taliesin Security for protection.” He paused, straightened a perfectly aligned pad of paper, then continued, “The current increase of interest in our company from various points outside, plus Talbot’s sudden request to look into a series of accidents, some of which are years old, doesn’t sit right.”
“Especially since he’s had plenty of time to question these so called accidents.” Gavin leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees.
Their boss nodded. “Exactly. The last few deaths have been relatively close together, which may explain why questions are being asked now.”
“But…” she prompted. Really, she didn’t want Mulcahy to focus on her, but she was curious to what was whirling in that Machiavellian mind.
“The Talbot Foundation has fingers in everything from genetics and nanotechnology to religious artifacts. More disturbing to me, are Jonah Talbot’s ties to those agencies, both political and military, who know what Taliesin truly houses. A careless word in the wrong ear might expose the Kyn.” He grimaced. “Although according to his company’s press releases, all their research and discoveries are for the benefit of mankind.”
“You don’t believe it.” Gavin’s voice was sure.
Mulcahy templed his fingers and flicked an unreadable glance at Raine. “No. I’ve found the more powerful you think you are, the more you think you can get away with. Talbot has a healthy ego, one which would normally question why a great many of his long time business associates are suddenly dying. His timing is suspicious. If, in fact, he knows Taliesin Security is the largest local employer of the Kyn and houses some of the world’s top warriors, wouldn’t an intelligent man start by finding out if we were the ones doing the killing?”
He shook his head and rose from his chair. “It doesn’t add up.” Walking to the front of his desk, he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “Whatever either of you find, you share with the other. I want regular reports.” He reached behind him and picked up two slim folders from his desk. “What information we have is in here.” He handed each of them a file. “Raine, trace these questions back to the source, quietly. If I’m right and it’s Talbot, it’s a well-known name. Taliesin does not want, or need, the bad publicity. Gavin, you start looking into these deaths.” He studied them both. “Questions?”
They shook their heads.
“Good.”
Both she and Gavin turned to leave. As her hand touched the doorknob, Mulcahy’s voiced floated over, “Watch each other’s backs.”
Chapter Three
Trapped in traffic on a two-lane highway heading west toward the coast in the middle of October, Raine was going to be late for her appointment. To make things even worse, the gray skies threatened rain. If Mother Nature made good on her promise, it would slow her down even further.
Meanwhile, Gavin was meeting a demon and enjoying an excellent meal at one of Raine’s favorite restaurants, the Portland Chart House. Not only did diners enjoy a stunning view of the Willamette River, but the food was excellent.
She didn’t envy Gavin and his date. Okay, maybe a little. Especially as she was currently stuck behind Ma and Pa Winter driving their dreaded fifth wheel from Kansas as they stay a good ten miles below the posted speed limit on a road never meant to handle the heavy traffic.
To be fair, Gavin was pursuing his leads with Natasha Bertoi, a blonde, petite Fey and half-demon combination who proved beauty truly was a treacherous bitch. Natasha’s mind was as sharp as Raine’s blades, and just as able to draw blood. She was one of the Kyn leaders in possession of the names of the Wraiths. More importantly, she was the ruling head of the Amanusa house, which the half-demon contingency called home.
Yet Raine had every confidence Gavin would walk away unscathed from his luncheon. Females, even demonic ones, were endlessly fascinated by him. She’d bet good money Natasha wouldn’t prove to be any different.
The flash of brake lights in front of her, made Raine quietly curse as she slowed even more. If she ever made it to the coast, a witch waited for her. Not just any witch, but the head of the Northwest Magi house, one whose word was rarely questioned. Not that anyone dared, since the power he wielded was intimidating enough.
She checked the clock on the dash and winced. Nothing good ever came from keeping powerful people waiting, especially a witch like Cheveyo. No one was quite sure what blood ran through his veins, but his black hair, dark eyes, and bronzed skin hinted at Native American. Like most Kyn, he appeared younger than he was, and since he looked to be in his mid-thirties, his age was anyone’s guess.
Today he would be her intermediary with Paul Dixon, the young male witch who shared some disturbing stories. Paul, a compu-geek who worked IT security for Taliesin, found an electronic breach in one of the company’s basic firewalls. Since she shied away from computers—they tended to do everything, including explode, whenever she tried to use them—having Cheveyo there to translate should be helpful.
From what she had read in the file, a specialized Trojan virus was discovered in the company’s email system. Designed to gather information about Taliesin’s network, it located vulnerable ports within the firewall. Once in, it recorded security clearances and employee information, before sending a copy back to the hacker.
Luckily, Taliesin’s own anti-virus program caught it before more than basic information was compromised, and shut the virus down. It managed to trace the originating hack, only to discover it was now defunct.
Paul was one of Cheveyo’s pet students. After reporting the virus to Mulcahy, Paul requested his mentor’s presence for any future questions.
Raine snorted softly. The rumors of the company’s internal investigations seemed to grow more menacing each year. It made her wonder how the general Kyn population would react if it ever came to light that the Wraiths weren’t just some scary story. Her lips twitched with dark humor. However, the expanding stories explained why so many employees felt the need for representation before things became too involved.
In her experience, witches were more liable to think everyone was against them than most. A holdover from The Burning Times, when they were burned at the stake by anyone who could light a match. Although, to be perfectly honest, more humans had been burned than actual witches, but still the point remained the same. Back then, the ability to sense upcoming events was extremely handy. Unfortunately, that little talent only helped the real witches, not the poor, unfortunate humans who didn’t fit society’s idea of “normal”.
Today she planned on using that same paranoia to see if she could get something out of either witch that hadn’t been in the report. Perhaps through their contacts in the Kyn community, they could link any strange happenings to the current situation—okay, strange by Kyn standards, at least.
She finally made it to the edge of town. Traffic was still a bitch, but she could see light at the end of the road. Some of the larger vehicles were pulling into the gas stations and hotels lining the main street. She checked the clock again, grateful to see she might actually make it in time. Turning into the maze of local streets, she searc
hed for the elusive public parking lot that wasn’t already full.
She hadn’t bothered to call ahead, since the note in the file Mulcahy gave her stated she was expected by the two men at an address near Cannon Beach. Weaving her way through the small town, her search ended at a small, half-empty parking lot. Shutting off the SUV, she opened her door and stepped out. The cold wind fluttered the edges of her trench coat, creating the faint sound of kites snapping.
The wind crept through the thin silk of her shirt and tickled icy fingers over her torso, making her wish she had thought to grab a heavy sweater before leaving Taliesin’s offices. Weapons would have been nice, too, but this was supposed to be a friendly get together. So the eight-inch blades hidden in her boots would stay put—unless needed. Her other, longer blades stayed tucked away in the SUV. Pushing her hands into her pockets, she pulled the coat closer, hoping its illusion of warmth would become a reality, and headed down the boardwalk to the beach. The address, one of the many seaside homes peppering the coastline, lay in the direction of Haystack Rock.
Dodging the small meandering crowds milling in and out of the shops dotting the boardwalk she moved into a narrow walkway between a gray, weathered two-story and a pale rose, one-story cottage. October might not be prime tourist season, but the wildness of the Northwest Coast and fabulous saltwater taffy kept people coming year round. Turning slightly, she barely missed being plowed into by two small boys arguing over a bag of the gooey treats. It didn’t take long to reach her intended target, the more contemporary, light-blue cottage facing the roiling waves of the Pacific.
Pausing at the small gate surrounding the carefully tended front yard, she drew the salty scent of the ocean deep. It rode the wind as it mixed with the furious energy of the storm clouds rumbling distantly over the turbulent sea. The people walking around her faded away as the call of natural magic thrummed through the air and vibrated faintly under her feet with each breaking wave.
Instinctively, her powers stretched to gather what the world offered. It pulled on the swirling magic, surfing the waves, gently urging it toward her. The nearby humans remained oblivious to the innate magic swirling around them. Their ignorance left her amazed. For the Kyn, the physical world was akin to a deep ocean of magic.
The slight click of a door opening to her left had her turning to see a slender man with shaggy, dirt blond hair watching her warily. “Ms. McCord?”
She nodded once. “You must be Paul Dixon.” Releasing her hold on the magic, it slipped like an undertow back into its endless sea. She stepped through the gate, hearing it latch behind her.
Paul returned her nod. “Please come in.” He stepped aside, motioning her through.
She stopped a couple of steps below the porch. Entering a room with someone she didn’t know at her back wasn’t happening. “After you.”
He took a cautious step back. “Of course, if you’d follow me then?” He moved through the door into the warm interior beyond.
She followed and pushed the door shut without turning. Pale wood floors graced the open spaces where functional, yet tasteful, furniture rested. Large windows framed the constantly changing view of the ocean. Yet it was the pictures on the walls, which caught her attention. Some captured the sense of wildness found in nature, both of prey and predator. Others framed the surreal beauty found in the rugged forms of wind twisted trees and lightning-kissed skies crowning dark mountains.
Paul headed further back to the kitchen where Cheveyo stood at the gleaming stove dressed in crisp khakis and a forest green shirt. His black hair barely brushed the collar as he turned to her.
She couldn’t keep her lips from twitching at the somewhat feminine-looking apron tied at his waist, sporting the saying ‘It’s a witch thing. You wouldn’t understand.’
“Like it?” His voice rumbled as he gestured one handed to his attire.
“It suits you,” she managed with a straight face. If a six-foot-six witch could pull off wearing such a girly apron, he would be the one.
He snorted and turned back to the pot on the stove. “I’m making chowder. Have you eaten yet?”
“No, actually, I haven’t had the chance.”
“Well, consider yourself invited. Paul, grab some bowls for us, would you?”
Paul walked to a cupboard and took down three soup bowls. He set them on the stone counter, then moved around the kitchen, pulling out utensils and cups.
“So, take off the coat and have a seat, Raine.” Cheveyo motioned to the table standing to her left. “I give my word you have nothing to fight in my house today.”
Some of her tension eased. Witches didn’t give oaths lightly, as they had a nasty way of coming back to them threefold if broken.
Laying her coat over the back of a chair, she settled in, watching Cheveyo open the oven door. The smell of warm bread filled the kitchen as he pulled out a pan. He sat it on the counter to cool as Paul filled a copper teakettle with water. After placing it on the stove, Paul dished up the soup while Cheveyo cut thick slices of steaming bread.
Once lunch was on the table, only the occasional clinking of spoons against bowls broke the comfortable silence. She didn’t feel the need to rush into things, and the two men seemed to agree.
Finishing her meal, she met Cheveyo’s steady gaze. “You’re an extremely good cook. Thank you for lunch.” It may not have been the Chart House, but it was close.
He inclined his head slightly. Paul cleared the bowls from the table and set out tea. “So Mulcahy asked you to find out who breached Taliesin’s security, and who’s asking questions?” Cheveyo asked bluntly.
“Yes.” She sipped the light herbal tea. “I saw the submitted report. Mr. Dixon was able to trace the virus back to a defunct address. Do either of you have any idea of the hacker’s identity?”
The younger witch finished rinsing the dishes and turned to look at her. His washed-out, blue eyes moved nervously from her to Cheveyo as he walked back to the table. “It was a dead end.” His voice was steady, despite the trembling hand he ran through his disheveled hair. From the looks of it, he’d been running his hands through those strands a lot today. “It led back to a dummy account under Belinda Curtis, who doesn’t exist as far as I can tell. I checked all the available databases, both public and ours. Neither one hit on anything.”
She traced the handle of her cup as she studied the younger man. “So, some hacker just got lucky and managed to find a chink in our firewall?”
He shook his head. “No. Taliesin’s firewalls are challenging, so it had to be a really good hacker. They didn’t get very far before the updated virus scan caught it.”
The list of names that got copied, do you know any of them?”
Paul shot a quick look to Cheveyo before he nodded. “Yes, one or two.”
“And?” she prompted.
“One of them was a low level witch, Diane Layton. She schedules the security systems’ assignments. The other was a wizard, Justin Black, who does secured runs.”
Runs were assignments involving transporting objects from one place to another in secure settings. Depending upon the client—Kyn or human—these objects could be either magical or religious in nature.
When Paul paused, she nudged. “Are they friends of yours?”
“Diane is.” Cheveyo’s deep voice was laced in steel. His black gaze was intimidating, a clear indication she needed to watch her tone. He expected respect, and since she wasn’t planning on starting anything, she needed to remember whose house she was in. “She’s a fountain of gossip,” he continued. “She told Paul of a situation which he feels might be connected.”
Witch paranoia at its finest. She was quick to squelch the thought since the very lethal man in front of her might take some exception to it. Instead she made sure to show only polite interest as the two men continued.
According to Cheveyo, Diane’s gossip had Justin picking up a woman at a local dance club and bringing her home to show her his collection of old manuscripts. That mus
t be the new line, although it seemed just as lame as others she’d heard.
After a rousing night of metaphorically reading dusty tombs and drinking large amounts of alcohol, Justin woke in the morning with a hell of a hangover. The mystery woman was gone and his house a little less clean than before. Nothing was taken, and luckily nothing would’ve been found, as he was a low level employee.
His security clearance as a runner prevented access to any vital information. Unfortunately, the only name the wizard had managed to get, before his late-night reading session, was Linda. Paul thought it close enough to the non-existent Belinda Curtis on the hacker account to tell Cheveyo. Mulcahy’s file recorded the same information, but she wanted to see if any new facts would emerge.
“None of this is news to you,” Cheveyo stated evenly, dark gaze studying her intently. “However, I have something else that could be connected.” His lips shifted briefly as his large frame relaxed into the chair. “Which is why you are here.” A tone of arrogance squeezed through his words.
It looked like her rusty diplomatic skills were about to be put to the test. “You know the rules, Cheveyo, I only answer to Mulcahy.” She shifted back from the table, crossing one leg over the other. She wanted to make sure she could get to one of her blades fairly quick in case things got dicey. No pun intended.
It never failed to amaze her how little it took to make a person feel in control of a situation. Within the Kyn, information played a vital role in the power struggles pushing back and forth among the magical throng. The downside? That information always came with a price tag.
Cheveyo’s asking price to Mulcahy was her fighting hellish traffic to the coast to accommodate Paul’s request for the older witch’s presence. Otherwise Paul could have been picked up and brought into a conference room at Taliesin. Taliesin didn’t sweat the ACLU.
But bargaining with another Kyn leader was tricky. Especially for Wraiths, since they answered first to Mulcahy, then to their own respective leaders. Only Mulcahy could demand their services anywhere, at any time, and have them go without question.
