by Jami Gray
She didn’t think he could pale any farther, but she was wrong. Lines of pain bloomed at the corners of his mouth and his voice sounded breathy. “What are you talking about?”
Gavin took over. “An outside consultant was called in by both the Chavezes and the tribe whose land you’re looking at purchasing. Unfortunately, he’s gone missing.”
An unhealthy red color started at Ransom’s neck and worked its way up his face. “I run a legitimate business. We don’t go around kidnapping people.”
Raine never saw the shadows move. Ransom’s body jerked and went stiff. He clawed at his throat, as his face went from red to pale to purple in a matter of moments. The man was silently being choked to death in his leather office chair.
Jumping up, Raine cleared the far end of the desk as Gavin rounded the other side.
Ransom’s heels drummed on the floor.
She grabbed his hands, forcing them away from his neck and locking them to the chair arms. She was surprised by how much strength she needed to use to subdue a mere human. The force of their struggles rolled the chair back until it hit the wall and stopped. Meeting Gavin’s gaze over the gasping man, she saw a matching grim realization. They needed to see what they were fighting. She dropped her shields and her blood iced over. “Chindis.”
Gavin flicked his hand, and magic rolled through the room. The blinds in the hall window snapped shut, giving them the illusion of privacy. The last thing they needed was Carrie waltzing in while they tried to save her boss from some truly pissed off ghosts.
Raine tightened her grip on Ransom’s jerking arms. “Shit, Gavin. If we don’t do something they’re going to rip him apart.”
“At least we know he’s linked,” he muttered, adjusting his shield to merge with hers. Together they drew the magical protection around the dying human. When it clicked into place, an unearthly howl ripped through the psychic plane as the lurking ghosts were denied their feast. Instead of turning on her and Gavin, they disappeared, winking out as if some large rubber band had snapped them back into the ether.
She sent her magic out in pursuit, but ran smack into a silver blue wall. “What the hell?” Blinking, she found Gavin glaring at her over Ransom’s twitching body.
“Don’t even think about it,” he snarled. “I don’t have time to go riding to your rescue.”
His comment stung, but he was right. No matter how much she wanted to hunt the ghosts down, they couldn’t follow the chindis and save Ransom at the same time.
Switching her attention to the more immediate situation, she winced at the gaping holes dotting Ransom’s aura like vicious wounds. “Holy hell,” she muttered.
Gavin shot her a grim look even as he tried to undo the damage the Chindis had wrought. Since Gavin was the one with healing magic, she opened her side of their bond, lending what strength she could.
Cassandra, a healer witch who saved both Raine and Gavin at separate times, once explained that human auras served as the simplest forms of psychic protection, similar to the shields Kyn utilized in their everyday existence. Raine found it ironic that magic protected even those who didn’t believe it existed. Yet in this case, she could clearly see what Cassandra meant.
Gavin frantically patched the numerous holes in Ransom’s aura, but it was like trying to hold a dam back with a colander. There were leaks everywhere. She laid a light touch on Gavin’s arm.
His head jerked up. “What?”
“You won’t make it.” Her voice was quiet, but sure. He was fighting a losing battle. “Can you shrink a protection circle around him? Like this.” She showed him an image of a protection circle warping to the outline of Ransom’s body, like a shrink-wrapped spell.
He narrowed his gaze, thinking. “It’s worth a shot, but…”
“But?” she prodded.
“I’m not sure how long it will hold. It may keep his body alive, but it only gives us a few moments to question him before it snaps into place.”
The cold logic that served her as a Wraith woke. Ransom’s survival wasn’t important, the information he held, was. Whether he was working with another Kyn, or simply a stupid human who managed to trigger this entire mess on his own, he was involved. If Gavin set the protections in place, Ransom would appear to have slipped into a coma. However, there was a slim chance they could get some answers before he did. Eventually the spell would fade and Ransom would be dead. Either they let him die now, where they would be the last ones seen with him, leaving a lot of questions they didn’t have time for, or set the spell and try to get some answers. The choice was easy.
“Do it,” she said. “We need to see what he knows.”
Gavin gave a short nod and began to weave the spell into place. She kept a careful eye on Ransom. When his eyelids flickered open, she made sure her face was the only thing he saw.
“Ransom,” she called. His panicked gaze flittered then latched on to her. “You need to tell me who set those ghosts on you.”
“Know you,” his voice was a hoarse whisper. His gaze kept sliding away from hers as his body twitched.
“Ransom, focus,” she hissed. “Why are you being haunted?”
“Land wasn’t theirs. It belongs to humans, not the monsters.”
“Monsters?”
“K—Kyn. They call themselves Kyn.” His eyes flicked back and forth. She heard his heartbeat began to race. “Made a deal—take out the witch, get the land.”
“Not much longer,” Gavin growled between clenched teeth. He was trying to give her time, but it was running out.
She tightened her hold as Ransom began to struggle in earnest. “Who’d you make a deal with?” He writhed under her hands. “Who? Give me a damn name!”
“Noooo!” His raspy cry was a harsh whisper of air as the protection circle locked into place. He sagged into a boneless heap.
There would be no more answers. She cursed and met Gavin’s steely gaze.
“I have to call for medical assistance,” he said. “It’ll give you a few minutes to check his desk.”
She rose to her feet, as Gavin pulled a still breathing Ransom out of his chair. He laid him on the floor, loosened the CEO’s tie, and unbuttoned his shirt.
“What the hell, Gavin?”
He didn’t bother looking at her. “Have to make it look like we tried CPR.”
She turned away, shaking her head. Let him set the scene. A computer screen dominated the massive desk, but very few papers were visible.
Gavin grabbed her wrist. “Leave the computer alone. It won’t do you any good.” He handed her the phone. “Call 911.” He slipped out of the office, calling Carrie’s name.
Holding the phone to her ear, a screech of static filled the line. Damn it. She consciously dampened her magic. Finally, a dial tone emerged. She dialed 911.
Call complete, she went back to the desk knowing Gavin would keep Carrie away. She hit a lock on the bottom drawer. Flexing her wrist, she snapped the flimsy device and yanked the drawer open. Inside, under a cardboard tube, lay a pile of folders.
Pulling the tube free, she cast a quick eye to the door, and listened carefully. Carrie’s sobs were answered by Gavin’s voice, but no sound of the EMTs.
She flipped through the files. It took a few moments to understand what she was looking at—mineral right reports and property deeds. She didn’t have the luxury of time, nor could she risk taking the files with her. Eyeing the tube, inspiration struck. She popped the top off the cardboard tube and pulled out the rolled paper. She began to unroll it when the muffled sounds of the arriving emergency crew filtered through. Re-rolling it into a tighter tube, she tucked it under the spine sheath strapped between her shoulder blades. Shaking her head to settle her hair along her back, she replaced the now empty tube in the drawer and closed it. When the office door swung open she was hovering over Ransom.
“Over here,” she pushed frantic desperation into her voice. “I’ve been doing CPR, but I don’t know if it’s working.”
“Let us take over.” A young
EMT gently nudged her out of the way and took over.
She fell back and slowly got to her feet, watching the EMTs work. Making her way to the office door, she snagged Gavin’s jacket from the chair, moved past an incoming EMT, and strode down the hall, slipping the jacket on.
She reached the front office to find Gavin with an armful of sobbing brunette. Barely squelching the momentary urge to jerk the woman out of his arms, she ignored his questioning look when he saw his jacket. Stalking by them, she threw herself onto the couch lining one wall of the reception area and glared at the clinging weeping willow.
Even knowing she was being petty didn’t stop the possessive feelings reeling through her. She passed time with some pleasant images of ripping the little human out of Gavin’s arms and tossing her through the glass doors. Or maybe she should toss them both through the doors. A serious consideration when she remembered his scathing comment in Ransom’s office. Ride to her rescue? One stupid situation and suddenly she was the damsel in distress?
A pair of scuffed black shoes interrupted her daydreams of saving Gavin’s ass. Blinking, she lifted her head, taking note that the shoes’ owner wore a pair of tan chinos and a tan belt where a badge rested. A soft summer blue button-down shirt complete with tie and dark jacket ended at bronze skin with short, dark wavy hair and dark eyes.
“Ms. McCord?” The voice was a pleasant tenor.
“Yes?” she answered cautiously.
“Detective Montiel, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Giving the detective a nod, she set aside her thoughts of Gavin’s payback to concentrate on answering the nice detective’s questions.
He motioned to the couch she sat on. “Is it okay if I sit next to you?”
“Go ahead.” She scooted closer to the armrest, giving him room.
Montiel sat down, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “Your name is Raine McCord, correct?”
She nodded even as she split her attention between answering the detective and sending Gavin a telepathic question. “What’s our story?”
“You reside in Portland, Oregon?” Montiel asked.
“Yes.” Short and simple, the easiest way to answer.
Gavin’s steady voice broke into her thoughts. “We were hired by Whiteriver as consultants on the land deal with Ransom.” She glanced over to see him answering an older detective’s questions.
“Why were you here?” Montiel continued, eyes sharp.
“Mr. Durand and I are security consultants for Taliesin Security. We were asked by Ms. Whiteriver to come in and advise her on a business deal Mr. Ransom was pursuing.”
“Had you every met Mr. Ransom before today?”
She shook her head.
“So you don’t know if he was acting out of character or not?” Montiel pushed.
She sighed, letting a look of concern filter over her face. “I have no idea, Detective. We arrived for our scheduled meeting and his secretary told us he was unavailable.”
Montiel narrowed his eyes. “Why didn’t you leave?”
She met his shrewd look. “Because we had driven three hours to make this meeting on a limited schedule. We weren’t sure we’d be able to make another appointment. Plus, it struck us as curious that the appointment which had been set the day before was suddenly canceled.”
Montiel consulted the pad in his hand. “The secretary says you two bullied your way in.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Bullied?” She let a small smile curve her lips as she looked at the sniffling woman talking to another officer. “Seriously, Detective, I think that’s a bit strong.”
“Really?” Montiel’s face and tone were neutral, but watchful.
“The poor woman shouldn’t play poker,” she murmured, turning her attention back to the man in front of her. “It was obvious she was lying when we arrived. We weren’t in the mood to play games.” She shrugged. “So we announced ourselves to Mr. Ransom.”
“And his reaction?”
“He was understandably upset.”
“Did you threaten him in any way?”
“No, sir.” She paused. “He seemed ill.”
“How so?” Montiel pushed.
“He was pale, shaky, and sweating.”
Her description settled something in the detective’s mind. “And in regards to your conversation with Mr. Ransom?”
She crossed her arms. “It was limited and non-productive.”
His mouth tightened. Obviously, not liking her evasive answer. “What happened while you were talking?”
There was no way to say, Well, you see detective, there were these pissed off ghosts who weren’t really happy with the man so they decided to choke him to death.
Instead of letting her dark humor free, she tried to look appropriately somber. “He starting choking and grabbing his chest.” She tightened her arms, feigning distress. “Then he collapsed. Mr. Durand and I started doing CPR.” She gave a helpless shrug, “We weren’t sure what else to do.”
The young detective asked a few more questions and took down her contact information while Ransom was wheeled into a waiting ambulance.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Raine opened the passenger door on the rental sedan and paused before getting in. The feeling of being watched left the spot between her shoulder blades itching. Resting one arm on the car’s roof, she took a moment to scan their surroundings. The parking lot at Ransom Developments was half-full and the early afternoon traffic on a nearby street was a dull, persistent buzz.
A slight breeze twisted through the maze of steel and glass reaching into a shockingly blue sky. Unlike downtown Portland—where trees blocked out as much sky as the tall buildings—here in Phoenix, the towering structures etched their sharp edges against the expanse of blue. Squinting against the twinkling glare of sunlight on the myriad of window glass, she felt exposed.
“You okay?” Gavin drew her attention back to earth.
“It’s too open here.” She ducked into the car.
While he settled behind the wheel, she shrugged off his jacket and handed it to him. He tossed it in the back, shooting her a piercing glance. “What do you mean?”
“It felt like I was being watched.” She twisted her hair so it lay over one shoulder. Reaching around, she pulled the rolled up paper from under her spine sheath and set it in her lap. Over the rumble of the car’s engine, she continued, “Maybe because it’s too exposed. It’s all structures and pavement. At least in Portland, buildings and nature tend to blend a bit.”
He stretched one arm along her seat, his attention on backing out of the parking space. “It’s why Portland has one of the largest populations of the Fey. However, due to the large spans of desert, the Southwest holds the highest Lycan and magi populations.”
“Makes sense.” She watched the cityscape flow by as he navigated the streets. “So, if Ransom Developments is threatening to take some of that space, it would really put a crimp in Chavez and Whiteriver’s style.”
“Yeah,” he answered. “We both know territories are zealously guarded. From what little I’ve seen with the shifters, there are a few things you don’t mess with. Pack and territory are at the top.”
“What about the magi?” She turned to him. “What’s their priority?”
“That’s easy.” A small, bitter smile appeared. “Power.” He gave a stiff shrug. “For magi, whether witch or wizard, power defines who and what you are.”
She chewed her lower lip, thinking. “For the Amanusa, power is key as well.”
“That’s different,” he said. “Power for the magi is what you wield and how you use it. For the demons, it is how you use someone’s power against them and what you can make them do for you.”
“Manipulation versus ability. It makes a sort of twisted sense. What better way to ensure chaos than manipulating those around you,” she mused. “Kind of like siccing a bunch of vengeance hungry ghosts on someone who’s threatening to take your territory.”
“It’s
a possibility.” He slowed for a red light. “So what do the Fey value?”
She hadn’t really given it much thought. Considering what they suspected, it was probably time she did. She thought of her uncle and his CEO position at Taliesin Security, the business front for the Northwest Kyn. Once focused on something, very little could sway him. Even being a blood relation couldn’t warm his personal logic. She was testament to that. “Power, territory, and politics. Not necessarily in that order.”
“So, which House is the biggest threat?” Gavin muttered as the light changed.
Her answer was very certain. “All of them.” She tapped her fingers absently on the document on her lap.
Slanting a look at the movement, he asked, “What did you find?”
She wasn’t surprised at his change of subject since it was hard to argue with the truth. “Something helpful, I hope.” She began unrolling the document. “It looks like a map of some sort.”
It was a struggle to get the paper to lie flat, not only because it was damn big, but because the stupid ends kept curling inward. Muttering a curse at the stubborn object, she glanced up. “Is there any place we can pull over and lay this thing out?”
“There’s some sort of coliseum at the next exit.” He merged to his right. “Should have a parking lot.”
“That works.” She let the map re-roll itself.
He followed the signs to Phoenix Coliseum. In a few minutes, a large round building appeared on the left side, complete with large, empty parking lots. Driving around the grayish white building, he found a spot.
She released her seatbelt and snagged his jacket from the back seat. At his raised eyebrow, she said, “Need something to hold the edges down.”
Hopping out of the car, she met him at the hood. Together they laid out the map. Using the jacket, Gavin’s wallet and the car keys, they anchored down three of the corners. Gavin held the fourth.
The document was a stylized map. Red lines moved across the paper in waves, while dotted lines and various squares and triangles created a crisscross pattern. The only recognizable parts were the block-lettered captions.
