Grave Cargo: Arcane Transporter 1

by Jami Gray

  See? That was one of the drawbacks of being with the Guild. It didn’t take long to go from laid-back to lethal. “I don’t know that anything is wrong.”

  Her jaw firmed, and she folded her arms over her chest. “Something’s bothering you, so spill.”

  “Okay.” After sucking in a deep breath, I did just that, recounting the events of the morning—the dead body, Detective Brenner’s strange behavior, and Lena’s continued radio silence. “I was kind of hoping she’d be here, but she hasn’t been in yet.” I was a bit relieved to see my worry reflected in Nat’s unsmiling face. At least it wasn’t just me. “Tracking people’s your thing, so tell me, am I overreacting here?”

  “I don’t know.” Nat sank onto the bench, arms braced on her knees. “We both know the value of listening to our instincts. If yours are telling you something’s wrong, they’re probably right.”

  That was exactly what I was afraid of.

  “Have you tried tracking her phone?” Nat asked. “That would be the first and easiest step.”

  “I was going to ask Evan, but I’m not keen on pissing off the director and using Guild resources for a personal matter.” I used air quotes on the last two words.

  She shook her head, her tone wry. “Still getting used to the contractor gig, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “Right, then.” She sat up, slapped her palms against her thighs, then stood. “Go get Sylvia’s permission to have Evan track Lena’s phone.”

  I tapped my foot against the floor. When I caught my nervous tell, I stopped the motion and curled my fingers into fists. “I’m not sure it’ll be that easy.”

  She cocked her head, puzzled. “Why not?”

  I grimaced. “I think Sylvia’s still upset about me going from employee to contractor.”

  Nat waved my worry off and rolled her eyes. “I doubt that. If anything, she’s probably secretly doing a victory dance. She makes more money off of her contractors than her employees.”

  Nat would know. Unlike me, who was barely starting my contractor road, Nat had long since left me in the dust. She was one of a handful of contracted Hunters and reputed to have astronomically high retrieval rates. On top of that, it was rumored she was on private retainer for one of the moneyed elite Arcane Families.

  But the Hunter wasn’t done. “You’re the best Transporter in the state, which means Sylvia can hand-pick your Guild assignments. The more elite the job—”

  “The higher the pay, and the bigger her commission,” I finished.

  “Right.” Nat smirked, but it faded as she studied me. “Look, Sylvia may be a hard-ass, but there’s a reason she’s held the director position as long as she has. She actually gives a damn about her employees. You and I both know she considers her contractors the same as employees.” She leaned in. “If you think something’s up with Lena, go talk to Sylvia.”

  Firmly chastised, I stood up. “She’s my next stop.”

  “Good.” Nat pulled a backpack out of her locker and looped it over a shoulder. “If it were me, I’d go through Lena’s desk, find out what she was working on.” She shut the locker door and then turned back with a small frown. “Have you thought that maybe she’s with her mystery man?”

  I blinked. “Mystery man?”

  “Yeah.” Now it was Nat’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Rumors are she’s been seeing someone recently.”

  Reminding myself this wasn’t gossiping about my best friend but cultivating leads, I asked, “You have any idea who?”

  Nat shook her head as she shifted the backpack higher on her shoulder. “No, you know how it is, office gossip. Probably just jealous nellies.”

  I wasn’t so sure, especially considering Lena’s recent behavior—huddled over her phone like it contained the answers to life, late-night conversations behind closed doors, and even later nights coming in. “Maybe.” But even I didn’t sound convinced.

  Chapter Three

  I walked with Nat through the now-empty gym. We parted ways as she headed out, and I turned toward the director’s office, which dominated the far corner of the floor. Reaching the inner sanctum of the director’s office meant first getting past Adele, the scarily efficient and fairly intimidating executive assistant. On top of zealously guarding Sylvia’s tight schedule, Adele also managed the Guild duty assignments. A fortysomething woman with grown children and a corporate “O” something of a husband, she was intimidating as hell, more so than Sylvia herself, and everyone treated Adele appropriately.

  “Morning, Adele.” I stopped in front of the desk and waited for acknowledgement.

  It didn’t take long before Adele looked up from her screen, her cool professionalism shifting to warm acknowledgment behind the purple tortoiseshell frames. “Good morning, Rory. How are you?”

  “Good, and you?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Her bright gaze dropped to my empty hands, and an amused eyebrow rose. “No report?”

  It was a well-known fact that anyone who turned in assignment reports late did so at their own risk. Adele’s patience did not extend to those who—and I quote—“waste my time by not managing theirs.” Guild agents who wanted to continue being assigned solid assignments did their best to be prompt with paperwork. Otherwise, they might find themselves dealing with a dog who thought it was a cat in heat.

  “I’m actually going to file it now, promise.” I made a crossing motion over my heart and returned Adele’s grin. “You know I wouldn’t dare disappoint you. It’s not good for my health.”

  Adele laughed. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. You understand the importance of respecting the system.”

  “I don’t know if it’s so much respect as fear. I’ve seen what happens when someone fails to meet your expectations.”

  That earned me a sly look. “Better to be feared than loved.”

  “If you say so.” Since I was already standing there, I asked, “The assignment board indicated you had a job for me?”

  She turned to her computer, fingers moving with scary speed. “Not me. That one came straight from the director.”

  And just that fast the stars aligned. “Any chance I’ll be able to steal a few minutes to get the details?”

  Proving her legendary status, Adele didn’t even consult her calendar before answering, “She’ll be on the phone at least another twenty minutes, but she has fifteen before she needs to leave for a lunch appointment.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Can do.” Her humor drifted into her normal professional demeanor, and she set the appointment on her computer. “Will you be nearby in case she finishes early?”

  “Yep, I’ll just…” I waved a hand back toward the front, where the computer stations gathered.

  “Sounds good.”

  I didn’t go far, just to the nearest unassigned workstation with a sight line to Sylvia’s office. If there was one drawback to being a contractor versus an employee, it was the paperwork. As a contractor, covering not only your ass, but also the Guild’s, required copies of copies versus the single report I’d filed for years. I pulled the completed forms off the printer and was adding my signature on the last copy when Adele called my name. I looked up to find her motioning to Sylvia’s door.

  “Better catch her now.”

  “Thanks.” I tucked my forms into a folder, handed the whole deal over to Adele, and headed into Sylvia’s office.

  The stylishly dressed, statuesque woman stood near one of the long windows stretching along one side of the office. She carried an air of classic elegance that disguised the ruthless mind within. With one hand braced on the window’s ledge and the other propped on her hip, she turned as I entered, speaking into the headset half-hidden in the chestnut strands pulled back in a sleek chignon. She sent a perfunctory smile that eased the normally austere lines of her face and waved me to one of the two chairs in front of her desk.

  I took a seat, doing my best not to listen in as she went back to staring out the window. She ma
de a couple of noncommittal noises between longer pauses, obviously letting whoever was on the other end do all the talking. Based on her frown, whatever they shared did not make her happy.

  To give her the illusion of privacy, I studied the office. The clean, minimal lines felt like stepping inside a high-end IKEA display. The only jarring note was the cluttered desktop. A couple of coffee mugs were hidden between piles of paper and folders. Colorful sticky notes peeked out here and there. A half-melted candle sat in the middle of a copper plate, probably used for a scrying spell. All in all, her office was the antithesis of my borderline-compulsive need for organization. Every time I had to sit on the other side of Sylvia’s desk, I got antsy.

  Today, though, I was pretty sure those ants had more to do with my worry about Lena than Sylvia’s personalized chaos. It didn’t stop me from nudging the pen holder until it lined up with the desk’s edge.

  Sylvia tossed a pair of wireless headphones onto a pile of folders, dropped into her chair, angled it to the side, and crossed her legs. “Sorry, it was the directors’ quarterly meeting.” Her head dropped back as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “They should consider calling them what they actually are—quarterly bitch sessions.”

  My lips twitched. “Ahh, but isn’t that why you make the big bucks, Madam Director?”

  She lifted her hand and pointed a maroon-tipped finger my way, shaking it in mock threat. “If you aren’t careful, I’ll assign you as my proxy.”

  That did make me laugh. “I’d never make it out alive. Maybe you should sic Adele on them.”

  She gave a delicate snort. “That would be something. Not only would she keep them on point, they’d be too scared to argue with her.” She sat up, a crafty yet pleased smile chasing away the remnants of her earlier frustration. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” Wicked humor lit the coffee-colored gaze. “And I’ll be sure to share it was your idea.”

  A small squeak of panic rose as she lobbed my teasing back at me. “Whatever I did to piss you off, I’m sorry.”

  Her laugh was short but genuine as she settled back in her chair. “I’m guessing you’re here about the pending job?”

  I shifted my shoulders. “Mostly.”

  She watched me with avid interest. “Mostly?”

  Despite the friendly banter, I couldn’t squish the niggle of apprehension about my impending request. “I’d like to ask Evan to do a trace on Lena’s phone.”

  “Why?” The one word carried a cool sharpness indicating I was now addressing the director.

  It also served as a reminder that I should have led with an explanation. A fumble I was quick to correct. “This morning, I came back from a coffee run to discover my condo was shut down for a magical homicide investigation. Authorities were still processing the scene when I left, so they aren’t letting anyone in or out. I tried to reach Le—”

  Sylvia held up a hand, palm out, cutting me off. “Back up, Costas. Magical Homicide?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Anyone we know?”

  Considering the Guild tended to touch on all things Arcane, the question was valid. “No idea. Like I said, I arrived just after the first responders arrived.” Since it looked as if details were going be required, I filled in the blanks. “I didn’t see the body, and no one I spoke to seemed to know who it was, either, but I caught that the victim was male. You may want to reach out to Detective Brenner for more information. He was waiting for ACRT to arrive when I left.”

  Sylvia snagged a pen and jotted something on a nearby sticky note. “How does Lena connect to this?”

  “Since it was an active scene, they weren’t letting people in or out, which meant I couldn’t get back into my condo. So I tried calling Lena to let her know what was going on.” Realizing I was sitting on the edge of my seat and leaning forward, I forced myself to ease back. “She never answered.”

  Sylvia tapped the pen absently against the sticky note. “And you automatically jump to the worst possible conclusion that Lena is in trouble?”

  As hard as it was, I stifled my wince. Hearing that assumption aloud cut uncomfortably close to the truth. “Not initially.” As a defense, it sounded weak, but determined to get my point across, I kept going. “I got home after midnight, and the last time I talked to her was before I headed out for my job. I’ve been trying to reach her for the last couple of hours with no luck. It’s not like her.”

  Sylvia studied me for what felt like an eternity, then she asked, “Could she have turned her phone off? Perhaps overslept?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d feel better if I knew for sure.”

  She frowned. “Was she planning on coming in to the office?”

  I shook my head. “The board indicates she just closed a case and is working another. I’m assuming if she had been home, she would’ve called in to check for messages and then headed out to do the fieldwork on the next job.” That normally consisted of knocking on doors and in-person interviews, not hanging in the office. “But I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.”

  Her lips thinned, and whatever her thoughts, they were hidden behind an inscrutable mask. Finally, she gave a small nod. “Have Evan trace her phone and make sure she’s out there. Let me know what you find.”

  Relief coursed through me. “Will do.”

  She set aside her pen. “Good. Moving on. Are you free tonight?”

  The way she asked left me with one answer. “Yes.”

  Her tight smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I need you to do a run.”

  I took out my phone and pulled up the customized app where I kept my assignment details. “Rating?”

  “Basic transport.”

  Sounded easy enough. When she didn’t elaborate, I looked up.

  Sylvia’s dark gaze pinned me in place. “Client is requesting a level-four NDA.”

  My relief went up in a puff of smoke. A high-level nondisclosure agreement meant the straightforward transport was more a combination of armed escort and driver.

  Sylvia confirmed my suspicion when she continued, “You’ll meet at the given location then drive the client to the destination. Once there, you’ll accompany them inside, wait until they’re done, then return them safely home.”

  “Threat level?”

  “Moderate, but nothing active.”

  If the client wasn’t under an active threat but expected trouble, it meant they were moneyed, so appearances would be crucial for this assignment. “Is the client providing the vehicle?”

  “No. You’ve been authorized to use a class-three vehicle.”

  I blinked and continued noting the details on my phone. A class three meant the car would be protected by non-military-grade armored doors, bullet-resistant glass, and a low-level aegis ward set to minimize magical threats. All standard for personal security. “Do you have the client’s contact information?” When she didn’t answer immediately, I looked up to find her watching me, her thoughts clearly on something else. “Sylvia?”

  She gave a small head shake, throwing off whatever thought she had. “Before I share that, if you agree to the job, your pay will be the standard rate plus twenty percent.”

  My checking account would love me, even after the Guild took their cut. Before I got too excited, hard-earned cynicism shoved to the fore. “What’s the catch?”

  “At this time? Nothing.”

  “But?”

  “But…” She drew out the word. “If the client is satisfied with your performance, the offer for a retainer position may follow.”

  “A retainer position?” That meant the client had to be tied to one of the Arcane Families. They were the only ones with the money and need for privacy that would drive a request like this.

  Her reluctant nod had me reconsidering my options. I made a point of steering clear of the powerful magical Families for my own peace of mind. A decision that worked well for me up until six months ago, when I took an under-the-table delivery job, only to learn I’d been unwittingly d
rawn into a kidnapping-blackmail scheme involving the local Cordova Family. On the plus side, that fiasco had allowed me to graduate from employee to contractor and move out of my barely livable apartment and into the condo I now shared with Lena. The downside? It put me in the crosshairs of the Family’s Arbiter, Zev Aslanov. No one wanted to mess with an Arbiter, no matter which Family they served. Arbiters existed to resolve messy situations broiling behind the public curtain. Although six months had passed in blessed silence since that night, momentary twinges of worry that Zev would show up at my door haunted me. Some of those twinges had nothing to do with worry.

  “Rory?”

  My name jerked me out of my spinning thoughts, and I managed to say, “A retainer position is quite the offer.”

  Sylvia eyed me shrewdly. “Is it something you would consider?”

  Personal biases aside, it was a rare career opportunity, one I’d be a fool to reject, and I was no one’s fool. “Yes.”

  She continued to study me for a long moment with an uncomfortable intensity that left me in no doubt that the wheels were spinning in her ruthless mind. As the moments ticked by, apprehension and nerves dug deep claws into my chest, making it hard to breathe. Finally, she looked away and riffled though a haphazard pile of papers. I managed to suck in air without being obvious about it. She pulled out an oversized sticky note and held it out. I pinched the paper and went to pull it away.

  Sylvia held tight, her gaze searching mine. “Be certain about this.”

  Her question revealed she had noted my desire to stay under the radar with the Families. I appreciated the chance to reconsider, but the reality remained that to succeed professionally, earning a retainer position would be key, and that meant working with the Families. “I am.”

  It came out stronger than I felt, but believable enough, because she let go of the note. I drew it back, sucked in a big breath, and read the note. It took a moment for the letters to make sense, and once they did, I couldn’t figure out why Sylvia was concerned. Yet something about the name nibbled on the edges of my memory. I frowned. “Sabella Rossi?”