Taken

by Jennifer Blackstream

  This time, he did stop walking. He fixed me with an intense scrutiny I wasn’t ready for.

  “Whose crime do you seek to punish?”

  I tried to look away but couldn’t. “Depends on the case I take,” I answered. The words came out weaker than I wanted, smacking of an excuse more than an answer. Goddess, I needed him to stop staring at me like that. Like he was reading my soul.

  “That’s not what I mean. Your mentor trained you to be a village witch, an interesting, but relatively safe occupation. But you decided to become a private investigator, and you claim your intention is to seek out and punish Otherworld criminals. That, my dear witch, is rather the opposite of a safe occupation.” He took a step closer to me, holding Grayson as if he weighed nothing. “It is my experience that those who seek the role of punisher do so because there is someone specific they wish to punish. Isn’t that right, Agent Bradford?”

  “Keep walking, we need to get Grayson out of here,” Andy responded shortly.

  Flint grinned but started walking. “Touchy.” He looked at me again. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I picked up my pace, moving forward to walk beside Andy. I didn’t much like having Flint behind me, but right now it was better than letting him make eye contact again.

  “We are coming back for them,” Andy said quietly.

  I didn’t get the chance to answer. I saw the gate now, and there was someone standing inside the gate. Waiting.

  It was dark, but the light from the gatehouse illuminated a black-skinned woman with long, sloping ears that came to a point, a shock of white hair that erupted from her scalp like a tower of flame, and enormous black wings covered in silky feathers. Spots rained over the smooth skin of her bared shoulders before the graceful lines of a pale pink tunic covered her body and fell to mid-thigh. Black claws tipped her fingers and toes, digging into the earth as she stared at us with opalescent eyes.

  A second figure joined her. She was tall, close to six feet, with long, thin limbs, and pale skin tattooed with intricate blue lines. She wore a green robe underneath a darker green cloak that seemed to rustle with a breeze that didn’t touch anything else.

  Each one wore a badge. A silver star pinned over their hearts.

  “Who are they?” Andy asked under his breath.

  I had to try twice before I could speak. I didn’t stop walking; there was no point. They’d seen us, and if we ran, it would only go worse for us. The woman with the black wings was a strix, a descendant of a flesh-eating bird. They weren’t known for their restraint, and though she had to be disciplined if she wore that badge, I didn’t want to know how she dealt with runners. And the delicate sylph to the other side could call hurricane force winds if it pleased her to do so.

  “That,” I said hoarsely, “is the Vanguard.”

  Chapter 18

  “I’m Agent Andrew Bradford of the FBI. I’m taking this young man into custody until I can determine that he’s not in danger here.”

  I stared at Andy where he’d marched up to the strix and held out his badge. He sounded for all the world like he was meeting with a fellow agent, or perhaps a bureaucrat from another agency. Not a creature that was probably thinking of how easy it would be to fly him a few hundred feet into the air and drop him onto the pavement.

  “I don’t think you properly explained things to him,” Peasblossom whispered.

  The strix studied Andy as if he were a bird with a particularly rare plumage. Her attention lingered on his bare chest, revealed as it was by his button-less shirt and jacket. “Greetings, Agent Bradford of the FBI. I am Oksana of the Vanguard. This is Tamden.” She gestured at the sylph. “We are also officers of the law.”

  Oksana had a Russian—or, more likely, Dacian—accent. It made her both more and less pleasant to listen to.

  Andy nodded. “That was my understanding.”

  “Oh?” Oksana’s milky-white eyes shone as they caught the gatehouse light. “Then you know who we are.”

  “Yes. Mother Renard has told me about you. She said that you are honorable people who uphold the laws of all cultures, without prejudice.”

  I mentally gave him Brownie points for remembering to use my title in formal situations. I stepped forward to meet Oksana. “I’m Mother Renard.”

  The strix held my gaze, and for a second, I had the vague feeling she was going to argue with me. Then the moment passed and she inclined her head at Grayson.

  “We received a call saying you kidnapped that boy from his rightful guardian. Is he sleeping or dead?”

  “Sleeping,” I answered immediately. “I had reason to believe the boy came to the Otherworld under illegal circumstances. I came to question his guardian to make certain that was not the case.”

  “And you used magic against his guardian for what reason?” the sylph asked.

  Her tone was breathy, as if the wind that was hers to command lived and breathed in her voice. I met her eyes, grateful to find they were a normal shade of blue, and not the rotating storm clouds they could be. “During my conversation with his master, Grayson—the boy—became panicked, hysterical. I believed this to be a sign of impaired mental capacity, a factor that supported my suspicion that he did not possess the necessary faculties to qualify him to sign a binding legal document. The kelpies were unwilling to continue the discussion, so the situation escalated beyond what I would have liked.”

  “You know as well as anyone that one’s mental capacity after being in the Otherworld is not indicative of their mental capacity before entering the Otherworld,” the sylph said. “You have no way to prove that the boy was not in full possession of his faculties when he signed the contract.”

  “He is a minor,” Andy said firmly. “Our laws do not allow him to enter binding legal agreements.”

  Oksana brushed off the assertion with a wave. “I am familiar with your laws—and their ambiguity and inconsistency. You apply them differently according to race, finances, and, in some cases, pure personal preference. I’m sure Mother Renard has already explained to you the basis on which the kelpies could argue their case.”

  “The other two children who were taken are dead,” Andy said. “Are there no laws to protect them?”

  “A murder committed by a human, and a suicide,” Oksana responded. “Even if you were in a position to exercise human laws on sidhe land, with sidhe citizens, your argument is moot.”

  “You haven’t heard my full argument,” Andy said.

  “You wish to argue jurisdiction?” Tamden asked.

  “Yes.”

  Tamden and Oksana shared a look. Then the sylph nodded. “Very well. I will summon an arbitrator.”

  I didn’t know what Andy had been expecting her to do. Maybe open a portal or use telepathy. But I knew him well enough to know that quirk of his left eyebrow when she took out a cell phone was as close to shock as he got.

  Tamden walked away to complete her call, speaking too low for me to hear. Flint might have heard her, and I was certain Oksana did. But the strix gave nothing away, and Flint seemed to be putting some effort into remaining completely, one hundred percent neutral.

  “And you, sidhe?” Oksana asked. “What excuse will you offer for the attack on two of your fellow guests?”

  Flint responded to the taunt with a slow smile. “I did not participate in any attack. I merely performed my duty under the laws of hospitality.”

  Oksana’s feather ruffled as she lifted her wings, adding to her already considerable height. “I wonder if Marilyn will see it that way? I am not a participant in your politics, of course. You have made quite a name for yourself. Gathering power at the expense of sidhe lives.” She took a step closer, forcing Flint to tilt his head back to keep meeting her eyes. “You smell like blood. I believe the rumors are true. And if anyone ever proves it, then you will be tried and sentenced.” Her head tilted in a distinctly avian manner. “I wonder if I will be the executioner. I do that sometimes. When th
e judge feels a crime is sufficiently horrendous, I’m permitted to hunt criminals as my people hunted in the old days.” She sighed, a disturbingly wistful sound. Then she shrugged. “But then again, I do not care for the taste of sidhe meat. So perhaps it will be another.”

  What a stomach-turning tangent to go off on, I thought, feeling more than a little queasy.

  “You don’t like the taste of sidhe meat?” Andy asked. He crossed his arms. “What do you prefer?”

  Oksana grinned, baring teeth far too sharp for comfort, given the conversation. “Human.”

  Andy paused. “There’s much of a difference?”

  “It is the difference between chicken and turkey.” She glanced at Flint. “I don’t care for turkey. Too gamey.”

  Andy looked at Flint too. “Have you tried gravy?”

  Oksana’s eyebrows shot up, and she barked out a laugh. Andy, bless his soul, didn’t move when she clapped a clawed hand on his shoulder and shook him till his arms fell to his sides. “I like you, human. If I am called on to execute you, I will make it quick.”

  Andy regained his balance and straightened his coat. “Thank you.”

  Oksana was still grinning when Tamden returned, slipping her cell phone into her robes. “He will be here momentarily.”

  “How long is that?” Andy asked. He checked his watch then cursed when he found it waterlogged. He faced Oksana with renewed determination tightening his shoulders. “The kids might be sold any min—”

  A brilliant blue circle of light erupted in midair, cutting Andy off before he could finish. A man stepped through. He wore a black tunic and black pants, with silver handcuffs of various sizes hanging from his belt. His eyes were dark, black or dark brown, and he had a short but thick beard that covered his jaw and outlined a stern mouth. He faced me and Andy with a briskness that spoke of authority.

  “You are Agent Bradford of the FBI and Mother Renard of…?”

  “Dresden,” I said, my mouth dry.

  He nodded. “I am Mac Tyre. It has been brought to my attention that you wish to argue jurisdiction.”

  “I wish to argue a point of law,” Andy said. “A point of human law.”

  “Explain.”

  Andy stood straighter. “Under human law, no person under the age of eighteen may enter into a legally binding contract.”

  “Is this a distinction between who is an adult and who is a minor?”

  “No,” Andy said. “This is a question of contract law. In Ohio, a contract signed by a person under the age of eighteen is voidable by said person. Period. There is no hearing to determine competency for someone under the age of eighteen. It simply is.”

  Mac Tyre studied Andy, no trace of emotion betraying his thoughts. “I will discuss the matter with you, but under one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “You agree that once I render my decision, you will abide by it. I will give you your chance to argue your case, and you may argue it as long as you like, provided you continue to make logical arguments. But once we have finished the discussion, and I make my decision, you will agree to be bound by my ruling.”

  “I—”

  “Let me be crystal clear,” Mac Tyre interrupted. “I will listen to your arguments. I will counter your arguments. We will debate the facts. If there comes a time when the argument becomes repetitious, and no new facts are offered or argued, then the debate is over. I will make a judgment, and you will accept it. Meaning, you will no longer attempt to interfere in this case. And by this case, I refer not only to this boy”—he nodded at Grayson—“but the other children who are in a similar position.”

  “What if another child’s circumstances vary significantly from Grayson’s?” Andy asked.

  “If you can demonstrate significant differences in their circumstances, I will hear you out and make the determination at that time.”

  “Then I agree.”

  Mac Tyre held out his hand. “And, of course, I’ll need your gun.”

  My stomach dropped. As ready as I’d been earlier to take Andy’s gun, I had to admit that I actually felt more comfortable knowing he had a means of defending himself.

  I stared at Andy. He sounded so sure of himself. So utterly confident. How did he do that? I felt like I was going to throw up, and I wasn’t meeting monsters for the first time.

  Mac Tyre faced me, and I fixed what I hoped was a composed expression on my face.

  “Do you agree to let him argue this case on his own and be equally bound by my ruling?” he asked.

  I started to nod, then had an idea. “Yes, but I would make one more request?”

  “You may ask.”

  “There are three more children here, and they’re going to be auctioned off shortly. I would ask that you put an injunction on the auction until after you make your ruling on jurisdiction.”

  “Yes,” Andy said. “Yes, that seems a necessary precaution, given how our discussion could change things. There’s no need to traumatize the children unnecessarily.”

  “I cannot agree to that,” Mac Tyre said. “Without cause, I cannot interfere in what is a business and cultural right. Once I’ve made my ruling, we can proceed then.”

  “Would you be willing to stipulate that none of the children be removed from this property until you’ve made your decision?” Andy asked.

  Mac Tyre considered that. “I will make the request. But if she refuses, then there is nothing I can do.” He looked to the strix. “Oksana, if you will take the child?”

  Andy tensed, but didn’t try to stop the feathered woman from taking Grayson out of Flint’s arms. I bit my lip, beyond grateful that I’d put Grayson to sleep. I couldn’t bear to think of how the traumatized teenager would have reacted to Oksana.

  All in all, things had gone much better than I’d expected. Though I wasn’t so foolish as to think we were in the clear yet. Andy’s actions thus far gave us a strong argument that we had genuinely believed we were in the right. But I doubted they’d heard from the kelpies yet. And if the kelpies decided to press charges, things could go very badly, very fast. The one thing we had going for us, besides Andy’s sincere belief he’d been defending a child as a member of human law enforcement, was that the kelpies would likely not want to admit to being bested by a human.

  “You should leave now.”

  Flint’s voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I jumped. “What?”

  He studied me, his expression serious. “You are making more enemies here than I think you realize, and regardless of what the Vanguard decides, the enemies you’ve made will find a way to punish you for this. Leave now while you can.”

  “I’m not leaving without those kids.” I glanced at Mac Tyre. “That is, unless he rules in favor of the sidhe.”

  Flint stared at me without saying a word. He didn’t need to speak. We both knew Andy would fail.

  Not surprisingly, Marilyn met us outside, out of sight of her guests. She did not seem happy. Mac Tyre stopped us when we were still several yards away. “I will speak with Marilyn first. Wait here.”

  Oksana and Tamden remained behind with us. Oksana’s wings blocked most of my view of the main house, so I didn’t see Morgan until she was a few feet away from me.

  “Mother Renard, Andy,” she said, sounding concerned and a little breathless. “Are you all right?”

  No thanks to you, I thought bitterly. “We’re fine.”

  Morgan glanced at Oksana and Tamden. “Someone called the Vanguard?”

  “It wasn’t you?” I asked.

  She frowned. “I want to help. What do I have to do to convince you of that? Why are you so convinced I mean you harm?”

  “You can convince Marilyn not to go through with this auction.” I nodded to where Mac Tyre was speaking with the hostess.

  Morgan didn’t look. “Mother Renard, you know my relationship with Marilyn would make me the last person she would do such a thing for. I—” She stared into space for a second, then grabbed my hands. “But I do have
an idea.”

  Before she could say anything more, Mac Tyre returned with Marilyn. “Marilyn has elected not to quarantine anyone on the property.” Andy opened his mouth, but Mac Tyre held up a hand. “However, she has graciously agreed to allow you to visit the children in question to satisfy yourself that they are all right, and not in any danger.”

  I glanced at the hostess in question. Despite the polite smile and the obvious effort she was putting in to seem cooperative, there was no mistaking the hardness in her gaze. She was angry. And eventually, that anger would find an outlet.

  “Thank you, Marilyn,” I said. “Where are the children?”

  “The artists are there.” She gestured toward the five-car garage on the other side of the driveway. “There’s a studio on the upper floor.” Her smile tightened. “If you’ll follow me?”

  “Of course.” I took a few steps after her, then paused when I realized Andy wasn’t coming with me. “Andy?”

  “Agent Bradford and I will continue our conversation out here,” Mac Tyre said. He motioned toward the chairs and table set out around the fire pit. “I think it would be best if he not wander amongst the guests.”

  Torn, I looked from the rooms above the garage, to the fire pit, to Andy. “You’ll be all right?”

  He nodded. “Go check on the kids.”

  I tried to ignore the unease rolling through me as I watched Mac Tyre lead Andy to the fire pit. I’d had no choice. Telling Andy he was doomed to fail wouldn’t have swayed him, would never have convinced him what a waste of time this was. He had to see for himself. And he wasn’t given to bursts of temper that might put him at risk with Mac Tyre.

  At least, I hadn’t thought so before tonight. Before he’d shot Bradan. And Rowyn.

  “Are you coming or not, Mother Renard?”

  Marilyn’s icy voice sliced through my thoughts. I found her glaring at me with open hostility, those crystalline eyes cold and unforgiving.