The Mark of Kane (A Thaddeus Kane Novel Book 1)

by LW Herndon

  I turned to her after the crowd thinned out and tried a different tactic. “I appreciate what you did for Samuel with the child-welfare guy. I don’t really have an issue helping you with your project.” I glanced around and lowered my voice. “Given that we stay within my conditions. But I’m not about to let you in on every bit of my business. Frankly, since the sorcerer seems to be zeroing in on demons for expendable slaves at the moment, I would think you’d look upon leaving quickly as an act of protection for your precious little self.”

  Fast thinking on my part, though my point wasn’t entirely self-serving. Shalim had lost two clan members to the sorcerer’s bindings within the last year. Decibel was at risk.

  “Puleeese.” She tried to outstare me. It didn’t work. I’d had years to perfect this skill in much worse circumstances. She squinted as if she could spy into my mind and prod my conscious will. “If you betray me, I’ll make you pay dearly.”

  I produced a shocked look and placed my hands over my heart. “You wound me.” Then I draped my arm around her shoulder again. This time she allowed herself to be pulled along toward the exit. “What have I ever done to make you distrust me so?”

  Okay, a little insincere, even to my ears, but she laughed. From my perspective, we’d escaped the hospital unscathed. One evil neophyte sorcerer down, one innocent barely hanging on, and a new situation with Anne Kidd added to my “investigate” list.

  I gave her a squeeze. “So tell me what else you’ve found.”

  ***

  Decibel spread the sheets of paper on the table beside my pie plate. She tapped the top one with a shiny purple fingernail. “Jezrielle Carter was the sole survivor of an attack on her family by a killer four years ago.”

  I pulled a picture from the bottom. A shot of Jezrielle’s adopted parents’ bedroom after the murder. The black-and-white left nothing to my imagination. The dark gray matter on the walls wasn’t paint, and the shade dominated the shot.

  “So they ruled her out?”

  “Cynical, aren’t you? However, yes. She was at school, waiting to be picked up by a friend’s mother who was late. If the mother had made her timetable, Jezrielle would have been home when the killer showed up.”

  I reread the police scene summary in my hand. “How many were there in her family?”

  “Five others: adopted parents, one older brother, and two younger ones.”

  “Why does this say that there were six people found at the scene?”

  “Girlfriend of the older brother. Killer probably thought he’d killed Jez with her family. FBI put her in protective custody during the investigation, but her mother’s brother, Sol Marguessa, showed up to claim Jezrielle.”

  “And…” I continued reading, “he declined protective custody and took his niece into hiding.”

  I shifted back through the documents on the table to extract one with birth details and looked up to read Decibel’s face. “He’s the one who placed Jez with the family through adoption?”

  Her face gave away nothing, but she slid an additional document my way. “Seems there is no record of Sol Marguessa prior to seventeen years ago.”

  I folded the documents back into the file Decibel had provided. Leaning back, I discreetly canvassed the diner, digesting the bits and pieces of information while the waitress refilled my coffee. “What about the killer?”

  “They captured a suspect six months later and were able to pin it on him with DNA, but it doesn’t add up to me. The guy was a small-time crook and felon.” She gestured a hand at the file. “He doesn’t fit the pattern of bloodlust this crime represented.”

  “Drugs?”

  She shook her head. “Again, small-time. Some pot, no money, and no major shit.”

  “Could have been a soul-bound human or spell-bound demon. I haven’t had a chance yet to check my pictures from the scene of Ayden’s neighborhood. His family’s murder wasn’t messy, not like Jez’s,” I said. Ayden’s fire, the advanced planning required, and the midafternoon attack ruled out any of Shalim’s missing foot soldiers forced to work for sorcerers. Lack of nighttime concealment and no access to a local fault line delivered an operational challenge beyond most demons’ scope. Shalim was ancient enough to open a portal and operate at full force during the day, but few could. Strong sorcerers would have the power and skills to do so also, though I would have smelled residue of them at the scene. Unless they were cloaked somehow.

  She slid a photo packet my way. “I got them developed. See anything familiar?”

  I skipped past how she had taken my camera and helped herself to the film as I fanned the images from the roll on the Formica tabletop. Groups of teenage girls clustered together, firemen, and police officers—nothing unusual there. Half of Jez’s shoulder as she’d wandered through the crowd, the rest of her blocked by someone else’s navy windbreaker. The last two shots were actually the first I’d taken, details of the edges of the Marlow property. An older man in discussion with a uniformed officer, and behind him, a slighter man with dark hair and a recognizable face. The apprentice I’d just sent to an unpleasant end in the hospital stairwell.

  I glanced at Decibel. “This confirms the sorcerers for the later killings.”

  She stared at the picture for a minute. Her mind had probably run through the same what-ifs mine had. If we’d seen this guy’s face soon enough, perhaps we could have stopped him before he’d entered Samuel’s room. Then again, we hadn’t seen him earlier and she had no vested interest in Samuel’s well-being, aside from cementing my participation in her efforts.

  Shaking the thought, I focused back on the Marlow crime scene. “They’ve evolved their methods, become more sophisticated, but depending on how far back these murders go, I don’t think they’re in this alone. What do we know about the killers of the other immortal neophytes?”

  She frowned and snapped back, “I already checked into that and found nothing.”

  “You keep busy.”

  “This is important, Kane. I’m not spinning my wheels just to save mankind’s little wonders.” Irritation laced her sarcasm.

  I slowly put down my cup and leaned forward so she would hear what I said even though I kept my voice low. “I said I’ll help you. I never agreed to commit all of my time to this. You can either take that condition or leave it. I have other commitments pressing up my ass. It doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can or that I won’t step on your delicate toes.”

  She twisted her head to look away, annoyance written in the nervous energy of her clenched fingers and posture. “Right.”

  “Before you get all bent on this issue, you seem to be rather good at squirreling up confidential, and mostly illegal, information. Where does a demon come up with hacker computer skills?”

  She shrugged and lifted a hand, scrutinizing her latest manicure. “One picks things up along the way.”

  I leaned back. Skills were good. They were helpful, but there was a lot more to Decibel than the demons from my past experiences. She had a bit too many human characteristics, making her difficult to classify, and it had nothing to do with her nails and clothes. I’d never minded working with demons. They are predictable and fairly black-and-white once you understood what compels them. Deviations from those classifications could be dangerous, and I was uncertain how dangerous Decibel might actually be. That I found disturbing.

  My phone vibrated. I looked at the number and hesitated a second. Then I looked at Decibel and flipped it open. Two seconds later, I slid the phone into my pocket, threw down ten bucks, and grabbed my jacket. “Seems Jezrielle wants to check out my threat level.”

  “Where?”

  “She’s in my loft.” I shook my head. “I really need a better security system.”

  CHAPTER 9

  I slid back the grate of the elevator and turned the key in the wall pad until the small flashing red light turned green. Jezrielle stood at the far end of my loft, in front of the window. As far away from me as she could get. “Breaking and enteri
ng a skill you’ve acquired in the last few years?”

  “I’m still alive.” Her lips thinned and the perfect edge of her short brown bob skimmed her jawline as she lifted her chin a bit in defiance.

  My guess, she was hiding more fear than the sarcasm in her words’ quick bite.

  “You could learn to reactivate the security system too, when you break in.” I skirted the main area, heading to the wall of kitchen appliances and cabinets. “Want anything to eat or drink?”

  “I’m not here to socialize.”

  “You figure I’ll slip you a Mickey?”

  Narrowed eyes joined her thinned lips. “I have no reason to let my guard down with you.”

  “Lack of trust, too. Yet you’re here?” I glanced around the room. “And so, supposedly, is Sol?”

  She stiffened at the name but said nothing.

  “Okay, so you’re here to sniff me out and see how dangerous I am. You’ve been fine running and hiding for the last few years. Why tread on thin ice now?” I put down the beer I’d taken out of the fridge and leaned a hip against the stove in front of me. That and the eating counter separated me from Jezrielle. I hoped it gave her a little more distance to feel safe or gave Sol a false sense of security.

  It might have worked. I smelled the fragrance and bit back a curse as the drift of cinnamon and sandalwood wound its way into the room and settled on the rectangle of rug by the couch.

  Jez’s head whipped from the rug area around to me with Decibel’s materialization, and her frown morphed into a hostile glare. I stared at the ceiling, shook my head, then took a swig of my beer, and set it down with a large thunk.

  Decibel jumped, turned toward me, and actually had the decency to look a little remorseful. The look disappeared in an instant.

  Jez skirted to a far corner of the room, leaving as much distance between herself, Decibel, and me as possible. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

  I crossed my arms and looked at Dec. “I asked you to stay out of this.”

  “Stay out?” Jez stared at me in shock. “She’s a frigging demon, and you speak to her like she’s a chum.”

  “We’re all something.” I took another swig of the beer. “And you’d be what, since you’re throwing stones?” The click of a gun cocked behind my head confirmed Sol’s presence.

  “Don’t make any sudden moves, and slowly, very slowly, head over to the demon bitch.”

  “Hey, now,” Dec complained and started to move toward us, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t seem to leave the rug. “What the—”

  I pointed the beer bottle toward her feet. “A containment ward under the rug?”

  Her brows shifted skyward in annoyance. She crossed her arms and spun around, muttering obscenities under her breath. Her complaints were too human and not at all unexpected. What unsettled me was that I’d become so familiar with Decibel’s traits.

  “Move now and join her,” the hoarse, gnarled voice repeated from behind me.

  I left my beer, walked over to Decibel, and turned to face Sol. The man’s eyes were light brown, bright, and focused. The dust of white whiskers and the liver-spotted hand holding the gun spoke to age. Evidence of a tremor was visible in the quiver of the barrel. His body’s mortal age would pass for seventy. I would wager money the brain behind the eyes was thousands of years older and sharp as a tack. “So you’ve got this all figured out?”

  “Looks like.”

  “Eliminating us does what for you?” I asked conversationally, while Sol backed away from us toward the kitchen counter. The slight relaxing of his shoulders reflected his confidence that he’d contained both the demons in the room.

  I ran a second quick probe of my guests. My sense of Jezrielle had diminished to zilch. No scent, no physical impression. Only my eyes confirmed she was still here. He was shielding her. My sense of Sol was an entirely different matter.

  “Two fewer threats to Jezrielle,” he added and leaned back against the counter, the gun still fisted in his hand.

  “You’ve evolved to killing anyone you see, whether they intend to harm Jez or not?” I positioned myself at the edge of the rug. “If I’d wanted her dead or wanted her at all, why wouldn’t I have taken her at Ayden’s house?”

  “Too many witnesses. And you didn’t have your stronger demon half there.” Sol’s lips pressed together with conviction, his resolve and obstinacy unshakeable. He accepted every word with a belief that belied rational thought, hardly objective. His reaction was emotional, focused, and desperate—another series of telling traits.

  I looked at Jez. She’d moved back to the window, circumventing the rugged area, and closed the distance between herself and Sol. “Did you feel threatened by me outside Ayden’s?”

  “She’s not going to answer you.” Sol’s thumb clicked off the safety.

  I walked away from the rug and grabbed the gun from him before he could shoot. In less than the blink of an eye, I’d disarmed him, taken out the cartridge, and released the bullet in the chamber. Turning to Jez, I held up the empty gun and slowly placed it on the counter farther from Sol. “Did you feel threatened at Ayden’s house?”

  Lips still parted in shock, Jez shot a glance at Sol. She probably felt threatened right now, but she answered me anyway. “No.”

  I headed back to the kitchen and turned my back on Sol, hoping the old man wouldn’t try it again.

  He just couldn’t resist. Predictable.

  I spun and kicked him in the chest seconds before he reached me. Twisting his arm behind his back, I forced him to the ground. Jez cried out and started for us.

  “Stay back. I have no plan to hurt him, and I won’t, if he will stop his attacks.” I directed my statement to Jez, since Sol seemed to be unwilling to take in my clear attempt at simple English and continued to struggle against my hold.

  “Sol, please. Let me just talk to him for a minute.” Jez’s hands curled into fists as she sought eye contact with her protector.

  Not really in a position to argue, he went slack. I released him and moved away. He gave a tense nod for Jez’s benefit, a searing glare at me, and stomped across the floor to stand beside her.

  “Why didn’t the ward restrain you?” He forced the words slowly from between his clenched teeth with a sophistication I found almost admirable.

  “Just doesn’t.” I shrugged. “Now, did you want to exchange information, or did you just come here to add another notch to your walking stick?”

  The answer was obvious, but for Jez’s sake, I attempted to wipe the slate.

  She gripped Sol’s arm to stop his response. “What do you have to share?”

  “That’s rich. You break into my home. Assault me. Twice.” I pointed my retrieved beer at Sol. “And restrain my…” I glanced at Decibel who stood with her arms crossed and pissed as hell. “Associate.” She downgraded the expression to puzzlement for me but gave a smug look to Sol and Jez. “And I have to spill what I know first?”

  I would have laughed at the look on Jez’s face if it wouldn’t have ticked her off and taken time to smooth over. My time was disappearing way too fast to waste on more peace efforts. I also predicted she’d be too stubborn to give in first. “Fine.”

  Decibel whipped around. That quickly, we were back on frosty terms.

  “Based on the several murders in this area, under the guidance of dark magic—” I held up my hands to both offended parties. “This did not involve anyone here. My associate and I are confident the attacks are planned and orchestrated from within the Consortium of Sorcerers’ ranks.” From the look on Decibel’s face, I was out of the dead zone again. “Their methods vary between the use of acolytes, human vessels, and ensnared demons. This team is eradicating pre-immortals and other preselected teenagers in an escalating rampage.”

  I walked over, flipped the rug’s edge with my foot, and shook my head at the paint on my pristine hardwood floor. I tried, unsuccessfully, to scuff through the marks with the heel of my boot.

  “We know all tha
t?” Decibel hissed under her breath from beside me.

  I looked up, still annoyed at the insult to my hard work, and gave her a terse nod.

  Sol wasn’t impressed. “So what?”

  “So the Consortium has evolved since they killed your adopted family.” I glanced at Jez, leaving the old man from my discussion. “They’ve forgone random acts of violence by humans under compulsion and shifted to manipulating more dangerous beings, adding blood rituals into the mix. Now why would they do that?” I moved back to the counter and looked pointedly at Sol. If he wanted to speak, he could add the information I knew he still held back.

  My senses cataloged him as my first exposure to a full-fledged immortal. His mature scent wasn’t Jez’s fresh combination of spring and wine, more an aged cognac with a deadly twist. He shielded her well enough, once again foregoing the effort for himself. Protecting her like a lion with a cub, and yet she called him Sol. His lack of response to my questions and his glare between Dec and me indicated that he wasn’t about to play nice.

  Jez finally spoke up. “I thought demons didn’t run together outside of their clans.”

  “That’s true.” I looked from her to Sol again. “What makes you think we’re not the same clan?”

  She frowned. Her sideways glance to Sol’s closed eyes told that answer. I raised my brow at Decibel. “He’s almost as fast ferreting information as you are.” I shook my head. “I truly have no secrets anymore.”

  “So your clan has made an alliance with hers?” Jez asked again.

  “Not a chance.” Decibel scoffed and turned her back on both of them.

  “Friendship isn’t a demon characteristic, so what’s up?” Jez’s expression had changed to puzzlement.

  “Friendship? Not the term I’d use,” I admitted. “At least from a human context, but demons have strong loyalties. I would imagine that once a human being lives for hundreds, thousands of years, their loyalties take a different spin as well. Right, Sol?”