He was waiting for me when I stepped off the plane.
“You okay?” he said.
I nodded shakily, hoping the cinnamon roll and sandwich I’d eaten on the plane stayed where they were.
He shouldered my bag, and I followed him through the small airport and out into a parking lot surrounded by desert and baking under a blisteringly hot sun.
“Um, where exactly is Nouakchott?” I probably should have Googled it earlier, but I didn’t have Wi-Fi on the plane and besides, I’d been distracted by thoughts of Ryerson and Alec, the creepy voice in my head, and making a mental catalogue of runes that could be useful if the plane decided to fall out of the sky.
“Mauritania. On the west coast of Africa.”
“We’re in Africa?”
He glanced at me. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
I tried to wrap my head around that. Sure, I’d seen a lot of new places in the last week, but before that the farthest I’d traveled was from DC to Cape Cod for a family reunion when I was twelve. Africa felt like a different world.
“No problem,” I said, but my voice cracked and my mouth felt dry.
Alec had texted us a few minutes before the flight to say he’d decided to fly in wolf form after all. Ryerson hadn’t been happy about that, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Not if we were going to make our flight.
We waited for Alec outside in the heat until my shirt molded to the small of my back and I tried to remember how many pairs of underwear I had packed. Whatever the number was, I should have doubled it.
Alec never showed.
“Maybe they haven’t unloaded the pet carriers yet,” I suggested hopefully.
The look Ryerson gave me said he didn’t believe that either. He muttered a curse and then pulled out his phone and punched in a number.
I dropped down onto a stone bench outside the doors. I had believed Alec when he said he’d meet us here. Had he lied to me? Or worse, sent us on a twenty-hour flight on a wild goose chase?
“We’re here,” Ryerson said into his phone and hung up.
I thought about asking him who he’d called, but it was hot, and I was too depressed by the thought of getting right back on the plane thanks to Alec’s shenanigans. If he’d ditched us, he and I were going to have words. And I was definitely calling his mother.
Two minutes later, a white work van pulled around the corner and stopped at the curb in front of us.
I glanced at Ryerson. “What’s with the murder van?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Murder van?”
“The windowless van no girl in their right mind would park next to, much less willingly climb inside.”
“It was necessary.”
I frowned at him, and then the side door slid open and a familiar man stepped out. He saw us and grinned.
“Tiago!” I hopped off the bench and threw myself at him.
Startled, he made an “oof” sound as his arms came around me. Apparently, spies don’t normally greet each other with tackle hugs. Noted.
I stepped back. Tiago grinned down at me, and then his attention shifted over my head to Ryerson. I turned in time to see Ryerson shake his head in answer to some unspoken question.
I frowned, shifting my glance between them. What were they up t—oh. Oh.
Anger flashed through me, and I whirled on Ryerson. “You were going to double-cross Alec. To turn him in.” I waved a hand at our ride. “That’s why the murder van.”
“Keep your voice down. And it’s not a murder van. An abduction van, maybe.”
I was so angry that the fact Ryerson had actually made a joke, on purpose no less, fell flat between us. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know you’re mad, but look around. He’s not here, so he double-crossed us too.”
“That doesn’t make it better!”
“Come on, you two,” Tiago said. “Let’s go to the hotel so we can regroup. You can talk about this there.”
With one last wary look at me, Ryerson turned and climbed into the van.
“Ains?” Tiago said. “Coming with us?”
I was furious with Ryerson, but I realized I wasn’t surprised. Not by Ryerson’s actions and not by Alec’s either. And that, more than anything, pissed me off. I also couldn’t hang out at the Mauritanian airport all day. So I glared at both of them to let them know I was not okay with this, and then followed them into the murder van.
I didn’t speak to either of them the whole drive, which wasn’t long since we didn’t leave the city. When we did stop, it was along a sand-swept street, packed with mostly one-story concrete buildings. The few cars parked on the street were older-model boxy sedans. Our hotel, on the other hand, was colorful and modern looking, with palm trees, an elegant fountain, and balconies off every room. The fountain was dry, and the palm trees looked a little brittle, but the hotel itself was still lovely. Which was fan-flipping-tastic. The first time the CIA sprang for something outside the slums and I was too angry to enjoy it.
I hardly noticed the décor as Tiago led us to a room on the third floor. As soon as the door was open, I stormed through the main room and into one of the three bedrooms. There was no overnight bag indicating the room had already been claimed, so I threw myself on the bed to think.
Yes, I realized I was being dramatic. But I was so sick and tired of Ryerson and Alec’s feuding. It was more than that, though. Alec had left us, sure, but could I blame him, considering what Ryerson had tried to pull? Was Alec right about him? Would Ryerson always put the Company first, no matter who it hurt? As if he sensed my annoyance, Golem crawled out of my pocket and settled himself on my stomach. He crossed his arms, and his features shifted and scrunched into a scowl. I wondered what had upset him, until I realized he was mirroring me. It was so cute I almost smiled.
A soft knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I sat up in bed as Ryerson eased the door open.
“Can we talk?” he said.
I blew out a deep breath. “Sure.”
He came inside and closed the door then folded his arms and leaned against it. “I know you’re mad,” he started.
“Bloody right, I’m mad. How could you? We had a deal. You broke it.”
Ryerson’s eyes flashed. “He broke it first. And what did you expect me to do? Not tell the CIA he was with us? That’s my job. They ordered us to turn him over now, not after the mission. What was I supposed to do? Ignore a direct order, all to protect a guy who killed five of his own team and then fled the country like a coward?”
I glared at him. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m surprised. You’re a company man first. Just like Alec said.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that Alec assumed you’d betray him, and he was right. That’s why he ditched us at the airport.”
“So Alec running away again is my fault?”
I shrugged. “If the combat boot fits.”
Ryerson’s eyes blazed. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Finally, he said, “He’s not a good person, Ainsley. No matter how charming he is.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong about him. I just wish he was wrong about you.”
Silence fell between us, thick and heavy.
Finally I rubbed a hand down my face, suddenly tired. “So what happens now?”
Ryerson pulled in a deep breath, collecting himself. “The CIA did some digging during our flight. They believe the Grimoire may well be in Mauritania.”
Well that was good news, I supposed. I was still angry, though. Ryerson didn’t look happy either. Golem climbed onto my knee, tiny arms crossed, and harrumphed, glaring at Ryerson.
Smart man that he is, Ryerson watched Golem warily as he pushed a hand into his pocket and pulled out … chocolate?
He set the small wrapped candies on the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry you’re upset,” he said, and then he left.
I scowled after him and his non-apology that really only made me
madder and then side-eyed the candy wrapped in crinkly gold paper at the end of the bed.
Golem harrumphed again and then glanced up at me to see if we were still mad. We were, and he tightened his scowl. But his black button eyes trailed to the chocolate.
Oh, curse it.
I grabbed the candy and Golem hopped off my knee, clapping his hands, his manufactured ire already forgotten.
I gave Golem one, idly wondering about the digestive workings of clay people, and popped one into my mouth, groaning a little at the creamy chocolate deliciousness. Golem’s disappeared just as quickly, and I made a mental note to buy us each a vegetable at some point during this trip.
As if he’d just had a thought, Golem bolted upright, grabbed the last chocolate, and scrambled off the bed. “Puppy!” he declared.
I assumed he meant Alec. Since I hadn’t heard any bodies hitting walls, I said, “I don’t think the puppy is here right now. Besides, puppies can’t eat chocolate. It’s poison to them.”
Golem looked horrified.
I had no idea if that rule applied to werewolves, but better to be safe than eaten alive by a werewolf with digestive distress, I always say.
I stayed mad for another twenty minutes and then decided that avoiding Ryerson was boring and wandered into the living room, which had gotten crowded.
Ryerson, Tiago, and two men I didn’t recognize were checking over the weapons they’d spread across every available surface. They all wore black pants with lots of pockets, black long-sleeved T-shirts, and tactical vests. All on their own, my eyes strayed to Ryerson and the way his T-shirt stretched across his strong shoulders and the tactical vest lay flat against his chest.
He’s a pretty one, said the voice inside my head appreciatively.
I started to nod in agreement and then mentally smacked myself.
Go away, I demanded. Or at least, I think I did. I thought it really hard, anyway.
But the voice had gone quiet once more. I shook my head to clear it.
“You the witch?”
I spun toward the voice, relieved to find one of the unfamiliar guys looking at me, waiting for an answer. So much better than hallucinating voices.
“Yeah.”
He was burly with thick forearms, ruddy skin, and a reddish-brown beard in desperate need of a trim. His gaze trailed from my eyes down the rest of my body, and I felt my eyes narrow.
“Ainsley, this is Carl,” Ryerson threw the redhead a warning look as he strapped a wicked-looking knife to his leg and then nodded toward the other man who had curly dark hair, dusky skin, and an easy smile. Unlike his partner, I liked him immediately. “And that’s Ibrahim. Now that Ainsley’s here, let’s run through the mission specs one more time.”
Tiago looked over a gun and then tucked it in his vest and reached for another. “The Company hasn’t had enough time to put together a comprehensive dossier on Bilal Abdellahi, but we do know that he’s a skilled thief and has been working as an independent contractor for the last five years, hiring out his particular skills to the highest bidder. From what we’ve gathered, he’s managed to work up quite a client list over the last few years. Cartels, arms dealers, even governments. All of his clients have one thing in common: they can pay.”
I frowned. Granted, I had been in this country for a grand total of an hour, but hotel aside, I hadn’t seen a lot to suggest Mauritania was a particularly wealthy country. In fact, I remembered a lot of bumpy, unpaved roads on the drive from the airport. Then again, the hotel was nice, and the van had been windowless, so we could have passed the West African equivalent of the Taj Mahal and I wouldn’t have known it.
“So why ship the book here?” I said.
“We don’t know. Bilal has only one known associate in Mauritania. We’re going to pay him a visit.”
I eyed their tactical gear. “I don’t suppose we’re going to knock and ask him politely where the book is.”
“Bilal’s associate is an arms dealer,” Tiago said. “They respond better to force than polite inquiries into their black-market trading habits.”
“Plus it’s a good night to kick some ass,” added Carl enthusiastically as he shoved a gun into the holster at his waistband.
Ryerson’s mouth tightened in irritation, while Tiago rolled his eyes and said to me, “Ignore him. He’s an idiot.”
Carl didn’t look offended, but he gave Tiago the finger on principle.
Ryerson laid out the plan, which involved a lot of side doors and smoke bombs and the element of surprise. But it was missing something. Or rather, someone.
“While you all are up to secret-agent shenanigans, what do I do?” I said.
“Shenanigans?” Tiago said on a grin.
Ryerson didn’t look at me. “You’re not coming.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because Razak Darego, our arms dealer, is not known to have any magical ability or any associates with magical abilities. Which means you can sit this one out.”
Tiago shook his head. “I’d feel better if she was there.”
I rewarded him with a bright smile.
“I wouldn’t,” said Carl, sizing me up. “She’s a civilian. She’ll just be in the way.”
Magic tingled in my fingertips, and I tamped it down. Still, I couldn’t help but think Carl would look good with bright pink hair. And maybe a dancing otter stamped on that big head of his.
Instead, I said, “We think there’s a good chance this guy either has the Grimoire or is expecting it, right? Why would he need it unless he was working with a mage or a witch? It would be useless without someone to read and perform the spell.”
“She’s right, Connor,” Tiago said. “We might need her.”
“Maybe he simply plans to sell it,” Ryerson argued, but it was clear he’d already lost. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. She comes with us.”
I grinned, until I remembered that I was fighting to go toward the danger. Smooth, Ainsley, I thought.
This night is looking up, agreed the voice in my head.
Great.
16
The problem with a midnight raid is finding ways to entertain yourself until midnight. Also, it turns out midnight raids aren’t really at midnight at all. They’re more like three-a.m. raids. There really should be a spy handbook for this sort of thing.
Around eleven, the hellhound showed up. He just sort of poofed into existence on the middle couch cushion right between Carl and Ryerson, who had been analyzing blueprints spread across the coffee table. Carl screamed and flipped over the arm of the couch, landing rump first in a ficus plant. The hellhound yawned and laid his head on Ryerson’s thigh, watching Carl with glowy red eyes and a bored expression.
The guys spent the rest of their time re-reviewing the mission plan and debating contingency options. I tried to pay attention and then got bored and ordered sandwiches from room service. The guys seemed pleased with this decision, until I ate them all. So I ordered more, and then Golem and I spent the next hour trying to teach the hellhound—or Oreo, as Golem named him—to roll over, until it got frustrated and vanished in an annoyed cloud of hell smoke.
Finally, we all piled into the murder van and Tiago drove us out of the city. It took some convincing to get Golem to agree to stay behind, but I found him a nature channel, some program about lions, and he was riveted. Sure, maybe a size-shifting golem would have been useful for breaking into an arms dealer’s home, but I wasn’t certain Golem was invincible and until I knew for sure, the more trouble I could keep him out of, the better.
We drove to the outskirts of the city, where storefronts and streets strung with telephone wire slowly gave way to housing, and the desert crept in, lining both sides of the street with sand. We drove past a home surrounded by a low wall that had nothing on Isadora’s palatial compound but dwarfed all the other homes we had passed so far. Tiago rolled the van to a gritty stop two blocks away, and we got out. The night air was chillier than I expected, sending a shiver across my
shoulders, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. The guys moved silently, a deadly parade of stealth operatives, and me. One block away, Ryerson raised two fingers and pointed down an alley that wrapped around the back of the sprawling house. Carl and Ibrahim silently peeled away down the alley, quickly swallowed by the night.
Tiago and Ryerson pulled their guns and moved quickly along the low wall, crouching to avoid being seen. I didn’t have to crouch. One of the few perks of being short. I didn’t have a gun to pull, so I called my magic to me. It came so fast I nearly tripped in surprise. It tingled in my hands, ready to be used, eager for it.
You’re welcome, said the voice in my head.
I ignored it because, well, one problem at a time.
We rounded the low wall, and Ryerson motioned Tiago and me to one side of the door while he moved to the other. Ryerson tried the knob. Locked.
Luckily, they’d brought a witch.
I caught Ryerson’s eye, and he nodded, backing away. I tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach that he was trusting me, even with something small, and focused on the task in front of me.
The trick to breaking and entering was to break the locking mechanism. Easy enough, except the darkness was thick and cloying, and I didn’t know where the lock was. But the moon caught the shine of the brass doorknob, and I moved my fingers over the wood until I felt the rough metal of the keyhole and traced a rune over it. Whispering the incantation, I pushed magic into it, and the lock creaked and then clicked.
Trying not to feel too pleased with myself, I nodded at Ryerson, who eased the door open and motioned for us to follow him inside.
As I peered into the ominous darkness of the house, it occurred to me this would normally be the time someone would tell me to wait in the car.
Suddenly, I missed that.
When I didn’t move, Tiago stepped around me, grabbing my hand and tugging me into the house after them. My fingertips felt heavy and numb with magic, but I didn’t let it go. Not yet. Hazy shadows lingered in every corner as we pushed deeper into the house. I had almost convinced myself they were just that—shadows—when one of them peeled away from the wall in front of us.
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