Tatiana pursed her thin lips. “Not at all, dear. Henrietta knew full well that her baby was half-Anemoi. But after the Compact was put into place, she decided it was too risky to reveal that she was one of the few people who remembered their existence. And honestly, by then I think that she had come to regret her agreement to participate in the first place.”
Donata felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
“Wait. Great-great-great-grandmother Henrietta was the one Witch who managed to give birth to an Anemoi child?”
Tatiana nodded, giving her niece time to process the rest of the bomb she’d just dropped. She tapped her chin thoughtfully with one long finger. “She didn’t say so in as many words, but I think she was afraid that, like the Dragons, the Major Anemoi would feel they had the right to take the child to raise as their own. And no matter what she had promised the Anemoi, once the child was born and she’d held it in her arms, she just couldn’t give it up. No matter how much was at stake.”
“But . . . but that would mean . . .” Donata blinked rapidly, putting down the glass that threatened to slip out of her suddenly numb fingers. “That would mean I’m part Major Anemoi.”
Holy crap.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Donata stared out her office window at black clouds that matched the invisible one hovering over her head. She couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday’s unsettling conversation with Aunt Tatiana.
Of all the bizarre things she’d learned in the past six months, this had to be the freakiest. Not only was she now one of the few people on the planet who knew the identity of the lost sixth race, but she carried their genetic material buried somewhere deep in her DNA. And so did her sisters. No wonder Tatiana had always discouraged them from experimenting with nature magic. Who knows what might have happened if they’d tried?
Unseasonal hail slapped against the glass, making her jump back in surprise. Her brow furrowed as she pondered the possibility that she might have the ability to ease the unpleasant weather patterns bombarding the city of late.
Tatiana had told her that—in theory, at least—Donata and her sisters had the potential to do powerful weather magic. Of course, to do so might draw the attention of the Major Anemoi. And she’d already had plenty of that, thank you. Besides, weather magic was tricky. Best to let the streak of stormy weather simply run its course.
Anton Eastman. She was going to have to confront him eventually. Unfortunately, she still had no idea what she was going to say to him when she did. Knowing the truth about his origins and motivation didn’t make things any easier. If anything, it complicated the issue even more.
As her great-aunt had said last night, while his approach was despicable, it was perhaps understandable if he was driven by the need to save his race from extinction. Donata had no intention of having a child with the man—well, creature, or whatever he was—but could there be some other way that she could help? DNA samples, maybe? Or even allowing them to harvest some of her eggs?
Her stomach knotted at the thought. But just because the concept of having her bits and pieces used to create an Anemoi/Witch hybrid made her uncomfortable to the point of nausea didn’t mean she shouldn’t consider it. If a person had the chance to save an entire race, how could she not take it?
The phone on her desk rang and she jerked, wondering if it was Anton, finally returning her call. Or maybe Peter? She hadn’t talked to him since she’d left Raphael’s house, although he’d sent her a brief voicemail message telling her the time of his father’s funeral later today.
“Officer Santori, Witness Retrieval Office,” she said crisply. After all, odds were it was one of the other police officers at the precinct, calling to find out the results of a case they’d sent up to her. Detective Chambers had been particularly eager for her to talk to the victim of a home invasion robbery-murder he was investigating, since it was one in what was shaping up to be a dangerous spree. She was planning to get to that ghost next, so he’d just have to keep his pants on. Chambers, not the ghost, of course.
But the voice on the other end of the phone wasn’t Chambers. Or Anton. Or Peter either. It belonged to her brother-in-law John. To the best of her recollection, he’d never called her at the precinct in all the years she’d been working there.
This couldn’t be good news. Her pulse rate sped up as she envisioned something horrible happening to her sister Lucia. Or to Sophia Gaia. Oh, goddess, no—not little Sophia.
“John—what’s wrong? Are Lucia and Sophia okay?” Her heart lodged in her throat, making it hard to swallow. Against her will, her mind went back to last spring, when the Chief’s granddaughter had been kidnapped by a criminal with a grudge. If someone had harmed Sophia—her hand spasmed around the receiver.
“No, no,” John hastened to reassure her. “Both your sister and Sophie are just fine. This has to do with what we were talking about at dinner on Saturday. I wondered if you could come to my company offices.” He was talking much more quietly than usual, as if he didn’t want to risk being overheard, and his voice held a note of concern. And maybe a hint of fear.
Donata blinked rapidly, trying to make the switch from personal worry to professional worry. She was still worried, though. Ignoring the stack of files waiting for her attention, she grabbed her leather jacket off the back of her chair. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew John well enough to be sure he wouldn’t call her if it wasn’t urgent. The man was normally so calm it was annoying.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Do I need to bring backup?” Of course, if it had to do with the Paranormal issues they’d been discussing, she wasn’t sure who the heck she’d bring.
She could hear John take a deep breath on the other end of the phone. “No, I don’t think we have to worry about violence. At least not yet. But I need you to come right now; can you do that?”
“I’m already halfway out the door,” she said in answer. “I’ll be there in fifteen. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
His voice dropped even lower. “Trouble, Donata. That’s what’s going on. Big, big trouble.”
* * *
He hadn’t been kidding.
Donata listened through an intercom link as an unseen man spoke in ringing tones to a bunch of people, all clearly Paranormals. Since Witches who owned large companies tended to employ as many of their own as they could, the group they were eavesdropping on had the potential to be sizable.
That was not good news, all things considered.
The speaker had all the earmarks of a successful rabble-rouser; a powerful manner, forceful delivery, and a stirring message. Unfortunately, that message could get them all in a hell of a lot of hot water. Boiling, even.
“It is time to come out of the shadows,” the man was saying, the intensity in his voice almost palpable, even through the intercom. For those in the room with him, it must have been positively inflammatory. The hair stood up on the back of Donata’s neck, and one hand crept to the butt of her gun.
“For too long we have lived like phantoms in the Human’s world,” he continued. There was absolute silence from his audience, a sure sign that he held them riveted.
“They get the best jobs while we toil in their service. Their religions are openly accepted, while ours are mocked or shunned. The Old Gods grow angry. Gaia herself has roused to strike back at them for their desecration of her once-pure waters and majestic forests. Do you not see the signs all around you? Earthquakes, hurricanes, floods. Even the winds and cold that have beset us here carry the message of her anger. Gaia has had enough of these puny creatures that would dare to use Her resources with such wanton disregard for the consequences.”
A dull murmur of agreement started to build. Donata and John looked at each other anxiously. John had informed her on her arrival that after their talk on Saturday, he’d been concerned enough to reroute the communication
s system in a way that had allowed him to listen in to random conversations. He’d started to think he’d overreacted until he’d stumbled across this one. That was when he’d called her.
She wasn’t sure whether or not she was happy he’d done so. This was starting to look more like a job for the Alliance Council enforcement units than for one lone Witch-cop. But John still hoped to be able to save his employees from the drastic and possibly fatal repercussions of an official response.
The man’s voice grew deeper and even more resonant. Donata wondered if he was using magic to boost his persuasive powers. Of course, he might just be a fanatic; they could be remarkably compelling, simply due to the depth of their own convictions.
“We Paranormals are superior to Humans in every way. So why are we allowing them to frighten us into staying in hiding? Gaia herself supports us. We are her children. The goddess Morrigan calls upon us to unleash the hounds of war! I say it is time to come out into the open. We should show those Humans what Witches can really do. If all the Paranormal races work together, we can wipe them from the face of the earth, and reclaim the planet for ourselves, and for Gaia!”
A deep rumble grew into impassioned cries of “Yes!” and “Death to the Humans!”
Donata headed for the door. “I’ve heard enough,” she told John. “We need to stop this before it goes any further.”
He nodded grimly and led her out of his office and down one flight to the conference room being used for the illicit gathering. Donata didn’t bother to knock. She just opened the door, pushing it hard enough that it banged against the wall behind it, startling the group inside into sudden silence.
About twenty faces turned to stare at her, and at John, who stood behind her and glared at his errant staff. The only one without a guilty expression was the tall man in an ill-fitting gray suit who stood on a chair toward the back of the room. He just gazed at them and sneered, a rabid gleam lighting otherwise cold black eyes.
“Are you all out of your fucking minds?” Donata asked. She made sure they could see the badge that hung on a cord around her neck, as well as the butt of her gun, although for the moment she kept her hands away from it.
One short, balding executive drew himself up to speak, and Donata shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it.” She grimaced. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you are all in? If I turn you in to the Council, you’re toast. I hope you kissed your children good-bye before you left home this morning, because in all likelihood, you’ll never see them again.”
Several women in the group started to cry as what she said sank in, and even the men turned pale.
Donata crossed her arms over her chest, her voice harsh with frustration. “Did you think you were playing a game? That there would be no repercussions?” She nodded toward the man on the chair. “It all sounds great when this idiot tells you to take over the world, but you’ve clearly forgotten what happened the last time we tried that. We got our asses handed to us on a plate, and came pretty damned close to being wiped out altogether.” She held up her finger and thumb with an inch between them, to show the group just how close.
“Do you really want to bring on another Inquisition?” she asked. “Do you really want to put your families through the horror of a war we can’t possibly win?”
The man she’d interrupted climbed down off his chair, but made no move to leave. His chin went up as he gazed around the room.
“The Witch-cop is wrong,” he said, voice filled with fervor. “We may have lost last time, but this time we have new allies. Allies so powerful they could tip the balance in our favor. This time we can win. We will win. We must win.” His ringing tones caused some of his listeners to waver, straightening their spines and moving closer to him.
I don’t freaking think so, Donata thought.
“Fine,” she said, pulling her gun out of its holster and offering it butt first to the man closest to her. “Here you go. Why don’t you take my weapon and walk down the hallway? I think I saw a bunch of Humans working in an office a couple doors down. Feel free to shoot them. Viva la revolution, and all that.” She waggled the gun a little.
The man recoiled like she was trying to hand him a snake. “Are you crazy? I work with those people. I can’t shoot them.” He backed away from her, hands out in front of him as if to fend her off.
“Well, duh,” Donata said, sliding the revolver back into its holster. “My point exactly. Humans aren’t our enemies. Hell, most of us have friends who are Humans, and plenty of us have Humans in the family.” She glared around the room. “Were you planning on killing all of them too?”
A few people looked at the floor. Clearly no one had thought the emotionally charged speech through to its obvious conclusion. The trick with rabble-rousing was to get people so worked up they didn’t bother to think at all—then get them moving before the fever wore off and common sense returned.
Donata wasn’t going to let that happen. Not on her watch.
“And where does the killing stop, if we go to war? Is it enough to kill all the Humans? Or maybe we should eliminate anyone with even a drop of Human blood in their family tree.” She peered around at the crowd. “I know my family is all pure-blooded Witches. But that isn’t true for most Paranormals. Our lines have gotten pretty diluted since the last war. How much Human is too much? Half? A quarter?”
People started eyeing their neighbors, although whether checking for signs of purity or to make sure the folks around them weren’t about to attack, it wasn’t clear.
“Don’t listen to her,” the speech maker said loudly. “Don’t let her weaken your resolve. The planet is depending on us!”
Donata strode over to stand in front of him. She’d had enough of this nonsense.
“You want to help the planet, pick up your litter, asshole.” She spun him around against the wall so fast it knocked the air out of his chest.
While he was still recovering from the impact of the attack, she whipped out her cuffs and placed one on each of his wrists with a decisive click. They might have been a smidge snug, but she wasn’t taking any chances with this guy.
“You’re under arrest for intent to start a riot,” she said as she turned him back around to face his erstwhile audience. “And anything else I can think of to charge you with while we’re waiting for a squad car to come and pick you up.”
She raised her voice and spoke to the rest of the room, making sure she made eye contact with each person in it.
“You got lucky this time,” she said, speaking slowly and clearly to be sure she made her point. “You have a boss who values you enough to want to save your sorry asses from the Council enforcers, goddess knows why.” She inclined her head in John’s direction and he nodded back, face stern and stained.
No one in the room met his gaze.
“And even luckier for you,” she continued, “John happens to be married to my sister, so I’m willing to give you all the benefit of the doubt—this one time—on his say-so.”
She shook her prisoner hard enough to make his teeth rattle and shoved him toward the door. He didn’t resist, although his scowl could have peeled the paint off the pristine white walls of the conference room.
Once in the doorway, she turned back and faced the group to issue a few parting words of wisdom.
“Just to be clear, when I say this one time, I mean it.” She gave them her best don’t-mess-with-me-I’m-a-pissed-off-Witch glare. It must have been pretty fierce, since another woman burst into tears, and the man standing next to her looked like he was close to doing the same thing. “Any one of you gets so much as a traffic ticket, I’m turning you over to the Council. No arguments, no plea bargaining. No begging for mercy.”
John stood behind her and added, “And you can consider yourselves dropped a pay grade and officially on probation, as well. You should be grateful you still have jobs here at all, after this disgracefu
l behavior. I’m disappointed in all of you. Truly disappointed.” He turned and walked away, leaving a cowed silence behind him.
The three of them got into the elevator and Donata pushed the button for the garage level.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with, you stupid bitch,” the agitator said with bitter satisfaction as the elevator slid smoothly downward. “I’ll be out of jail before you can touch up your manicure. And the people who sent me will be coming to get you next. You’ll be sorry you ever stuck your damn nose in where it didn’t belong.”
Donata snorted, startling her brother-in-law.
“First of all, I’m a cop—I don’t have a freaking manicure, you ass.” She waved one untouched hand in front of him as evidence and John stifled a laugh.
The elevator dinged as they arrived at the bottom floor and walked out.
“And for another, I’m not taking you to jail. I just said that for the benefit of your little pals in there.” She gave him an evil smile. “I’m taking you to see an old friend of mine from the Alliance Council. I’m sure he will be very interested in learning all about the people who sent you.”
Her smile widened as the cuffed man turned three shades lighter and swallowed hard.
“And as I’m sure you know, they don’t have to call your lawyer or obey any pesky rules about the way they treat their prisoners. One of us is going to be sorry, all right, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to be me.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Since she couldn’t exactly haul her prisoner downtown on the back of her motorcycle, Donata asked John to loan her a car. He went one better and gave her his own personal limo, complete with driver. At least she was going to arrive at the local Council headquarters in style. And she was bringing a gift. Hopefully that would make Clement Moore happy to see her.
Veiled Menace Page 20
