by Jenn Stark
It was almost evening by the time a van and a sleek sedan pulled into the parking garage of the château. A half-dozen beefy-looking attendants emerged. One of them I recognized, and my brows went up.
“Ma-Singh,” I said, mentally promising myself I’d kill Nigel in the face when I saw him next.
“Madame Wilde.” Soo’s highest-ranking general—now my highest-ranking general—stood aside as his men and women filed past him, carrying boxes. Ma-Singh was the human incarnation of a Siberian bear—not enormously tall, but bulky, with thick black hair and a weathered face from which peered two fathomlessly dark eyes. He dressed simply, in a tunic, long pants, and heavy boots. His long, slightly curved sword hung from his side, as much a necessary appendage as the general’s muscular arms and legs. I suspected the man slept with the blade—I’d rarely seen him without it. “I was in Beijing overseeing the transfer of electronic data and backups when your request came in. Forgive me for not informing you that I would be accompanying the delivery. I did not want to alert anyone within the organization or outside it, as secrecy was paramount per your instructions.”
At least Ma-Singh was with the program. “No—no, I’m glad you’re here,” I said, and despite my preference to keep him out of the loop, I wasn’t unhappy to see him. Ma-Singh had been the first general to accept my position within the House of Swords, and he’d remained steadfastly loyal through all that had followed. Furthermore, he knew Soo—had known her for years. That could only help.
It took only a few minutes for Father Jerome, Nigel, and me to decamp to a suitable conference room with Ma-Singh and his people, Nigel patently ignoring my dagger eyes over not following my instructions. The priest and Ace seemed to fade into the background as everyone swirled around, but my attention was drawn quickly enough to Soo’s equipment. I couldn’t shake the feeling that time was ticking away, winding down to an explosive revelation that had something to do with these technoceutically affected children coming out of the woodwork.
“Okay,” I said as the equipment and files were spread out on the table. “This is everything?”
“Everything Madame Soo has amassed over the past fifteen years.” Ma-Singh nodded. He held up a hand as the workers finished their preparations and departed. Then he strode forward himself and keyed a few strokes on the laptop. Instantly, the screens around the room flickered to life. He stood back and gestured to me, and I placed my palm against a slick device that was connected to the laptop. A moment later, new information started scrolling across the screens. Unfortunately, it was in Chinese.
“What about the years prior to that?” I asked as the general returned to the keyboard.
Ma-Singh’s voice remained noncommittal. “Madame Soo had previous records destroyed, as per usual protocol, within the first few years of ascending to the leadership position.” He eyed me. “You would be wise to follow her example, should you wish to start fresh.”
I stared at him. “She destroyed all the old records?”
“She took what was useful and discarded the rest. The majority was not useful, however. Madame Soo’s approach to House management was quite different from her uncle’s or even her mother’s before her. Understand, this was fifteen years ago. She had inherited the House from a man she did not trust and did not approve of. His practices were not hers. To ensure there was no uncertainty, she employed a scorched-earth protocol to any activities he undertook that were not in keeping with her vision.”
“And what about the people charged with carrying out those activities?” No wonder members of the House of Swords were walking around on eggshells. “Did she scorch their earth too?”
“Each according to his crimes,” Ma-Singh said implacably. “Some she killed, as they were in collusion with her uncle and responsible for the death of her mother at the hands of Gamon. Some she repatriated, if she felt they could be loyal to her. Others she maintained without trusting their loyalty, reasoning that a known mole was better than an unknown one.”
I lifted my brows. “She knew she had spies in the House of Swords.” Instantly, I thought of Marguerite and Roland. “Spies for whom?”
“That information she did not choose to share, but there are encoded files requiring a personal scan. I suspect they are also keyed to your fingerprint.”
“Right,” I said, but I didn’t bother arguing. Soo might not have expected to die, but she’d been prepared for it. She’d been prepared for a lot of things.
Had she known that I would be delving into her personal files as well?
Probably. And following that line of reasoning, she’d probably deleted anything she didn’t want me to find. I frowned, wishing I had Simon with me. The Fool of the Arcana Council was one of the most proficient tech wizards I knew, and he’d be able to slice through Soo’s protections like a hot knife through fudge.
But Simon was part of the Council, and the whole point of this venture was to avoid their involvement until I understood more.
“Let’s start with the basics,” I said, turning to the screen closest to me. “I’m interested in technoceuticals. Specifically, what Soo’s involvement was in that market. Buyer, seller, manufacturer, crusader for or against. That sort of thing.”
“Of course,” Ma-Singh said. “I ran security for those operations for several years when Madame Soo first gained her seat.”
He leaned toward the keyboard again, but I lifted a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You were the strongman for the technoceutical operations how, exactly?”
He turned to me. “That’s perhaps not relevant now, Madame Wilde,” he said. When I didn’t relent, he continued. “Soo returned to the House fifteen years ago and elevated me to the rank of general, along with several other high-ranking lieutenants. She kept a few of the old guard, but not many, so there were several holes to fill. At the time, the House was involved in a number of black market activities. Most she discarded, keeping only three. Gemstones, technoceuticals, and money laundering.”
“Money…” I winced, then passed a hand over my eyes. A problem for another day. “What did she discard?”
“Human- and sex-trade trafficking, funding of terrorist groups in countries with interests central to the House of Swords, most political activity. She had a strong desire to rebuild her House, and that took most of her attention in the early years.”
“But where did these businesses go? Surely her associates didn’t simply wave good-bye and carry on happily without her patronage.”
Ma-Singh shrugged. “Madame Soo can—could—be very persuasive when she wished,” he said. “She offered an amicable settlement to most of the workers, and didn’t worry too much about them leaking her processes to a competitor. And those she did worry about—”
“She killed. I got that part,” I said, wincing. “We’ll deal with that later. Where was she on the technoceutical spectrum?”
“She disapproved, to some extent, but elected not to dismantle that operation. The House of Swords did not deal in technoceutical marketing or purchasing directly, but Madame Soo retained an interest in the creators of the drugs. The labs.”
“What kind of interest?”
“She was one of their largest donors and offered security along their supply chains. She wanted to know what was new, what was coming, what had been abandoned and why. She didn’t care who was buying—there would always be a market. She wanted only to know what was being manufactured and what was being requested. Especially that last.” He pointed to the computer, and I nodded.
With a few keystrokes, he brought up a rolling screen. “These are the experiments that took place at the dozen or so Asia-based labs that Soo had identified as the highest producers.”
I frowned at the screen. “There must be a hundred of them.” And all the experiments were tech-based versus human-donor based. That made me feel at least marginally better.
“Close—seventy in China alone, the rest scattered throughout the Asian continent,” Ma-Singh said. “Europe and Africa focused on purcha
sing, the US and Eastern European bloc were the top sellers. Additional production facilities emerged in North and South America, especially in recent years. But it was easiest for Soo to focus on the Asian labs, since she could investigate them virtually undetected.”
I frowned. “Why was that?”
“Tech companies were—are—on every corner in the industrial parks where these technoceuticals are made. It was easy for her operations to blend in.” He looked at me. “For what it’s worth, Soo’s preferred labs were technology based, not human-donor based. In the main.”
In the main. So not all tech-based, apparently. I forced myself to stay focused. “Where in the US are they making this stuff? And please don’t tell me Vegas.”
“As with China, you need only look at the hotbeds of digital production,” Ma-Singh said. “New York, Silicon Valley, the Seattle-Portland corridor, Nashville.”
I blinked. “Nashville? Seriously?”
Ma-Singh’s attention was back on the screens. “This is what you must see.” He pointed to the information scrolling past. “Madame Soo made substantial donations to several major producers in the years since she took control of the House—especially in the past few years. She believed she was close to a breakthrough.”
“A breakthrough for what?”
Ma-Singh frowned at me, as if this above all others was the dumbest question I’d asked yet.
“For what the House system was originally created, all those centuries ago,” he said. “A way for mortals to compete on a level playing field with the gods of magic.”
Chapter Eight
It didn’t get any better from there.
By the time Ma-Singh had finished sharing the details of Soo’s various hard drives, I realized that not only was Interpol correct in their interest in her operations, but with very little effort, they would have had her dead to rights. And by her, of course, I meant me.
“You don’t look particularly pleased.”
Nigel had joined me on the palatial back porch of the château, where I looked out over the stream and lush grasslands that fell away from the mansion to what looked like honest-to-God vineyards far below. I studied the waving grass with a bit too much intensity, and he took my silence as an invitation to sit down. Lurking behind him some distance away, Ma-Singh loomed. The general was also somewhat concerned about my state of well-being. Which was good, because it was getting a little fragile.
“So, Soo was a drug kingpin,” I said, my elbows on my knees.
Nigel glanced sharply at me, then shrugged. “Yes.”
“I’ve worked with drug kingpins before. I’ve made good money from drug kingpins.”
“Like Mercault,” Nigel observed, and I nodded.
“Like Mercault. And a dozen other clients—some who dealt in organics, some in the pharmacological trade, and some in technoceuticals. I was able to keep the fact that they made their money through drug trafficking separate from the fact that I was making a very good living with their money.”
“I can attest that there was and is a good living to be made,” Nigel said. “You’ve also funded Father Jerome’s activities—and can continue to do so, up to and including a château like this.”
“No.” I dismissed that immediately. “I’ve sent a lot of money his way, but not enough to make this happen. That was Mercault.”
Nigel frowned but let that pass, willing to let me stew in my own juices until I reached the appropriate level of marinade.
It didn’t take long. “But now, I am Mercault. A drug kingpin in my own right. I don’t like that.”
“Ah.” From Nigel’s tone, it didn’t strike him as surprising that I’d reached this conclusion, but he remained eminently unimpressed with the magnitude of my realization. “You do represent the House of Swords now. You’re its figurehead.”
“And I hate technoceuticals.” In my mind’s eye, I could see the thousand and one kids I’d encountered who’d fallen victim to the drugs. Not as users, really—only recently, witnessing these babies, that poor young woman secreted away in the château, had I ever truly considered the face of an end game that included children. But I’d seen what Connecteds had gone through to help create these technoceuticals. The children especially, their bodies pillaged for raw materials to fuel the dark practitioners’ unholy alchemy, resulting in a synthetic power boost. “It’s not worth it—can’t be worth it.”
Nigel seemed to understand. “Even if what Father Jerome and Ma-Singh say is true? That there has been a development that allows humans to fight on a level of true magic practitioners?”
“Even then,” I said firmly. “It doesn’t matter what the outcome is. Not if you’ve seen what I’ve seen. The terror in kids’ eyes, or, far worse, the forlorn remains of their once-beautiful, perfect bodies. Technoceuticals aren’t safe in the hands of mankind…even well-meaning mankind.” My lips twisted. “And let’s face it. The majority of mankind is a long ways away from well-meaning.”
“Certainly the sectors in which we operate,” he agreed.
I jerked a thumb back toward the château. “We’ve got twelve kids in there. Twelve. Who’s to say they wouldn’t have been born special all on their own, without souping up the DNA of their parents? Who’s to say there aren’t children being born right now, without the benefit of drugs, who are every bit as special but aren’t genetically altered?”
Nigel lifted his brows. “You don’t agree that humans should better their potential?”
“Not on the backs of other humans,” I retorted. “No, I don’t. We’re not talking a cure for smallpox here, Nigel. The FDA isn’t managing this process. We’re talking innocent Connecteds being ground up for drug manufacturers to mass-produce magic pills and serums. The fact that those magic pills and serums are starting to work…” I grimaced. “I don’t want to be a part of this. I can’t be.”
Another scrap of memory stirred in my mind. A dream of riches in the light, so much of humanity in the dark. And a line of Council members in between.
“Well, you do have that choice,” Nigel said. “Soo had her own purge fifteen years ago. You can dismantle the technoceutical arm of her operations, just as she backed away from human trafficking and the sex trade.”
“Right,” I said morosely. “Technoceuticals only account for a third of her profits.” I rubbed a hand over my forehead. “I’m sure I can cover that by selling online Tarot readings.”
“That’s not all that’s bothering you.”
“Of course it’s not,” I snapped. “We’re an hour away from Lyon, Nigel. An hour. There are kids trapped in some stupid Interpol bunker getting tested less than forty miles away from us because no one has any idea what they’re capable of. That makes Interpol no better than SANCTUS or even the dark practitioners. At least the other Connecteds have a reason for what they’re doing. They understand these kids are special. The others…” I shook my head with disgust. “Interpol doesn’t have any clue. And those kids are so close.”
Nigel leaned back in his chair. “So we go get them.”
“Sure,” I muttered. I scowled down at the table. How many children had I seen while astral traveling under the behest of the Arcana Council, or in the course of my work for Mercault or even Soo? How many children abused, abandoned, violated for who and what they were. For the thing that made them special, unique. And now there was this drug—a traceable drug—maybe from one of Soo’s own suppliers. Something that was being administered to these children, not taken from them. Who was doing that? Why?
Nigel was silent for far too long, and I sensed a presence behind me—not too close, not encroaching. But solid. Real.
I looked up, and Ma-Singh stood closer now, his arms folded. I swiveled my gaze back to Nigel. “What?”
“You’ve spent how many years searching for artifacts and people on the arcane black market?” Nigel asked quietly.
“Ten,” I said. “More.”
“Working for the highest bidder.”
I squinted at hi
m. “Usually, yeah. Or, if the job appealed, or if I was bored. What’s your point?”
“My point is, now you don’t have to wait for someone to give you a job, Sara. Just as Soo did not have to wait for someone to give her permission to rid her House of the things she hated most. You are the head of the House of Swords. That means a lot of things, but one of the most important is that it means you get to choose. What to do. Where to go.” He smiled grimly. “Who to rescue.”
My eyes widened as the impact of his statement truly hit me. I looked from him to Ma-Singh, who nodded gravely to me.
“Okay,” I said. “Then I want to go get those kids.”
The men moved almost as if they’d been spring-loaded, waiting for my command. Ma-Singh turned on his heel, striding back into the château. Nigel pulled out his phone.
“It will be best if we have Luc with us. Fortunately, he’s nearby. He knows the area well, and he knows the organization. It’s likely he’s had run-ins with Marguerite and Roland, and even if not, he can get their schedule. For this to go most smoothly, we want to keep a low profile.”
Ma-Singh reappeared with a laptop, the machine comically small in his large hands. He deposited it on the table, already open, and hit a few keys.
“Within Interpol’s Lyon operations, we have two administrative personnel friendly to the House of Swords,” Ma-Singh said quietly. “It’s most likely they are not holding the children on-site, or even in a specialized holding facility. The organization is well funded, but not that well funded. Every expense must be approved all the way up the chain of command, and most likely they wouldn’t want to draw attention to these children if they don’t have a clear reason why they should maintain control over them.”
