Reeve of Veils (Inheritance Book 4)

by Amelia Faulkner

  “More troubling?” Laurence rubbed his jaw. “Like, just how more troubling can this even get?”

  “Well. I for one would never stoop to getting my own hands dirty. It is not where the head of any organization should be. If this is indeed Wilson’s plan, then he must put himself out there, or the power would reside within another. I suspect this is why he attends so many functions; to ingratiate himself with all and sundry.” He selected the folder with Perez’ report and flipped it open before he passed the entire thing to Laurence. “But it does mean that the eyes are not on his hands while they follow the head.”

  Laurence dragged his chair forward and leaned against the table as he grabbed the folder. He flipped it open and stared in mounting horror at the crime scene photographs, then pushed it away and swallowed air. “Oh, Goddess,” he groaned.

  Frederick crinkled his nose. He was rather more used to poring over such images in the course of his university career, and it would get no better when he became fully qualified, but Laurence was less used to these things. “It is rather, isn’t it?” He closed the folder. “That unfortunate fellow was Ignacio Perez, a public relations representative for Glen Lansky.” At Laurence’s bemused shake of the head, he added, “Lansky is a local Republican who has campaigned for voter restrictions. In a circumspect manner, Mr. Perez would only like rich people to have the right to vote around here, and wishes to restrict the types of photo identification one can use. Perez was Lansky’s most valued spin doctor, as he was rather good at being that one person of color every racist needs on hand to claim that they aren’t at all racist.”

  Laurence had the decency to look outright mortified. “You think Perez was murdered.”

  “Indubitably. The wildfires conveniently missed just about every other home in his neighborhood, yet consumed his before they died out in that area. Forensic investigation has found no accelerants at the scene, no fragments of any device which could tie the event to arson. The fire simply seems to have gone off-course and consumed a house all of its own accord.”

  “Sebastian.” Laurence winced as he said it.

  “That is the conclusion I would also draw.”

  “They killed a guy just to… To what?”

  “Resource-stripping.” Frederick shrugged. “A valid tactic in war. Target your opponent’s resources while accumulating your own. When Wilson makes his move, his enemies will be weak and his own power will be strong. He is engineering an easy win. This raises a pressing concern.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Wilson is willing to kill his enemies.” Frederick arched an eyebrow. “And that places us all in grave danger should he discover that we are hardly his allies.”

  Laurence trapped the tip of his tongue between his teeth, then pulled his wallet from his jeans. “Unless we’re worth more as puppets,” he muttered.

  He watched as Laurence fished out a note and passed it over. The little scrap of paper was crumpled and soft, and from the color of it and the childish handwriting it was reasonable to deduce that one of Wilson’s children had penned it.

  I didn’t choose to go.

  The message seemed clear enough. “Interesting. His control is not total?”

  Laurence shook his head. “No, I think you literally have to do exactly what he tells you to, but your mind’s still your own.” He rubbed at his eyes. “That’s what I saw in my vision, when I looked back at… At the kids he killed.” He swallowed. “Goddess, these kids, they just… they beat their own friend to death and they were crying and begging and they couldn’t stop themselves…”

  Frederick grimaced. The memory was potent enough without Laurence reminding him of it. “You cannot tell Icky any of this.”

  Laurence nodded weakly. “I know. Soraya can see him. Her range doesn’t seem to stop her when it’s people she cares about.”

  “And we must assume that she cannot keep secrets from Wilson.” Frederick pursed his lips. “My concern is that he is rather… obtuse.”

  Laurence snorted. “Worse than that. I think he’s capable of rewriting his own experiences.” He bit his cheek briefly and glanced to the view through the windows. “I know I asked before. About his childhood…”

  Frederick shrugged. He had waited for the opportunity to place this suggestion, and now Laurence had handed it to him on a silver platter. “Dear boy, it appears to me that if you truly want to know a single thing about Icky’s upbringing, you are uniquely placed to find out for yourself.” He looked toward the windows himself. “You have a gift,” he added. “And none of us can prevent you from using it.” He flit his gaze back to Laurence and met his eyes as he buried his words in a place Laurence would not be able to resist returning to.

  “Would you want to prevent me?” Laurence murmured.

  Frederick shrugged. “You are a smart young man. You have inferred what you believe the truth to be. On the basis of your evidence I… would be a fool if I did not consider your deductions to be a plausible explanation.” He took a deep breath. “I suppose, then, that your question is one of will. If you are correct, do you have the stomach for what you will see should you look?”

  Laurence pushed himself to his feet and paced away.

  Man, it’s that easy, isn’t it? I can just use my gift and find out.

  But what if…

  What if I’m right?

  Fuck, I can’t watch that, can I? I had nightmares after I saw what Wilson did. How can I possibly watch…

  Laurence collapsed onto the sofa and stared into space.

  “Mm,” Frederick said. “Perhaps some stones are best left unturned.”

  Before Laurence could begin to work through any appropriate response, his phone rang, and he stood so he could get it out of his pocket. After checking the caller ID and glancing over to Frederick, he rubbed his cheeks and feigned good cheer. Then he answered and put the call on speaker. “Hey, baby! What’s up? Everything go okay with Kane?”

  “Moderately,” Icky’s voice came from the speaker. “However, he is requesting that I undertake a task to prove my loyalty.”

  “Oh,” Frederick cooed. “A quest! How exciting! What is it, Icky?”

  Laurence nodded and repeated the question for Icky’s benefit. “What does he want?”

  “Ah,” said Icky. “Therein lies the rub, darling. He wishes me to head off and rescue some fellow’s teenage daughter, although from what he explained of the circumstances it appears the person he wishes me to rescue her from is actually her own father.” He paused. “Apparently the young lady is psychic to some degree. Wilson has not expanded upon that particular point. But…” Icky hesitated a moment. “It sounds effectively as though I am being asked to kidnap her.”

  “You can’t,” Laurence breathed.

  Frederick shrugged. “He has to.”

  36

  FREDERICK

  Laurence drummed his fingers on his thigh once Icky had hung up. “He can’t just go steal someone’s kid!”

  Frederick waved a hand. “Really, Laurence, if all Icky must do is encourage a gifted child to run off with him to a land of magical superpowers then where’s the harm?”

  “Well how about Quentin getting arrested and thrown in jail?”

  “Nonsense.” He sniffed as he neatened the folders into little stacks. “I think you underestimate the efficacy of a judicious application of cash, dear boy.”

  Laurence stared at him. “Bribery?”

  “You do use such harsh terminology.” Frederick watched as Laurence stood and came back to the dining room table.

  “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘accurate’.”

  He glanced up from his piles of folders. “Do you have any way to know where he is headed?”

  Laurence shook his head. “No.”

  “Then I suggest we—”

  Laurence’s phone rang, cutting across his words, and Laurence grabbed it and stared at the caller ID. “Goddess, I really gotta fucking change that,” he muttered as he answered it. “Hello?�
�� He listened. “Mom? Is everything okay?”

  Frederick frowned faintly and dipped into Laurence’s thoughts to hear the far end of the call.

  “I’m not sure, dear. There’s a young lady here. She says that she would like to speak to you.” Myriam sounded troubled.

  Laurence pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can it wait?”

  “No, dear. I don’t believe it can.”

  “Shit. Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.” Laurence hung up.

  Frederick raised an eyebrow. “Trouble?”

  “Probably. I’ve gotta go to the shop.” Laurence sighed and began to tap at his phone.

  Frederick stood and tucked his chair neatly against the table. “Very well. As I am no use elsewhere I might as well accompany you.”

  Wilson was in motion, and Frederick was not about to stand by and allow him to slip everyone’s grasp.

  THEY TRAVELLED BY UBER, of all things, which meant entrusting his safety to a man who was in no way a professional driver, so Frederick spent much of the short trip eyeing the road to ensure that nobody smashed into them. He would have preferred to simply run the handful of blocks, but that idea didn’t enter Laurence’s head.

  The Uber dropped them in a service street to the back of Myriam’s shop, and Frederick eyed the alley which led to the back door. It looked like a fantastic spot for an ambush, but thankfully there wasn’t one here. Not unless there was an entire group of people beyond his immediate family whom he couldn’t sense.

  Laurence led him past enormous wheelie bins and to the shop’s back door, but before he could open it, Myriam did so from within.

  “Bambi,” she greeted warmly as she reached for Laurence.

  Laurence returned her hug. “Mom. What’s going on?”

  She ushered them inside and looked to Frederick as Laurence passed her. There was a wash of doubt, but he was ready for it this time, and swept it aside. Whatever her issue with him was, now was not the time for it.

  “Freddy. Good to see you again.”

  “Likewise, Mrs. Riley,” he murmured.

  “Oh, please. Myriam!” She chuckled as he stepped inside.

  The room was filled with strangers, all seated shoulder to shoulder around a large wooden table which was mostly covered in open pizza boxes. Frederick recognized Ethan, of course, but he had to skim thoughts to know the other was Aiden, Ethan’s lover. There was some peculiar noise in the background, too, but Frederick couldn’t quite pin it down.

  The girl who sat between them was vaguely familiar to Laurence, but he seemed to have difficulty remembering who she was, so he offered his hand. “Hey. I’m Laurence.”

  “I know,” she mumbled as she squeezed his hand. “I’m Kim.”

  “Oh!” Laurence smiled. “Right, you’re Kimberly! Wow, you’re a long way south, aren’t you? What’s up?” He slid onto a stool and reached for a slice of the pizza.

  Kimberly was, according to Laurence’s surfacing memories, one of the youngsters in Wilson’s care. Sloane hadn’t identified her in any of their emails, though, which was a concern. It suggested either a gap in their abilities, or simply that Kimberly never left the house.

  Frederick settled slowly into a spot beside Myriam just as the noise transformed itself into a sudden, screeching whistle. He couldn’t help but wince as it stabbed right into his ears like nails on a bloody chalkboard, and he glanced around the room to try and work out what the hell it was.

  Kimberly sighed. “I went to Quentin’s but he wasn’t home, and I don’t know his cell number and I don’t have a cellphone anyway and I thought you might know how to find him.” She fidgeted with the hem of her T-shirt as she spoke.

  Why the hell didn’t anyone else hear this damnable noise?

  “He’s, uh.” Laurence’s voice was momentarily hidden behind the fluctuating screech. “He’s not around at the moment. Can we help? I mean, I figure Mom’s kept everyone after hours for a reason?”

  Myriam smiled briefly. “I did.”

  “Okay, then we can definitely—” Laurence broke off. “Freddy?”

  “Yes?”

  Nobody else heard it. When he skipped across their thoughts, it became clear that this noise wasn’t in the room.

  It was in Aiden’s head.

  Frederick focused on the young man’s thoughts.

  I could really do without the damn tinnitus right now. Thanks, brain. I don’t think I missed anything important. Just look like you know what Laurence said. Oh my God I love context.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No, I…” Frederick shut down his connection to Aiden, and the sound blissfully died out. It left him without the ability to read the boy, but it was a price he was willing to pay for some peace and bloody quiet. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “My apologies. I thought I heard something. Do continue.”

  Laurence eyed him, then nodded to Kimberly. “We can definitely help. What’s the problem?”

  Kimberly reached for the pizza and drew a slice toward herself, but left it on the box lid while she spoke. “I don’t know. I’m scared.” She hesitated and looked toward the ceiling. “Soraya, if you’re watching, please don’t. Not this. I’m going to say things you don’t want him to make you repeat.”

  Laurence chewed on his own slice, and eyed the ceiling before he could stop himself.

  Kimberly wriggled on her seat. “I gave Quentin a note. I don’t… I don’t know why. I thought he might help, but then I worked out he couldn’t tell me whether or not he would because of Soraya.”

  Laurence frowned and set his pizza down. He grabbed a paper napkin from a pile between the boxes and wiped his fingers clean, then he drew his wallet and pulled the note out of it and pushed it toward her. “This one?”

  She eyed it, then her head bobbed. “He told you?”

  “I found it in his wallet at the hospital, but it’s tricky discussing anything when you never know who’s listening in.” Laurence shook his head grimly. “But I guess we’re past that now, huh? What happened?”

  “He makes me do things.” She swallowed. “Like the gun fair. Like stealing stuff. I can get in and out of places and nobody notices me and mostly I just steal stuff for him because we need the money, right?”

  Frederick sifted through her reasoning and found the source of her conviction. Her gift, it seemed, was the ability to move around without being seen. Incredibly useful, but it also meant that she may well have evaded Sloane’s notice and there was nothing they could have done about it.

  Laurence nodded. “Go on.”

  She fidgeted on her seat and ate some more before she spoke again. “This morning he made me put something, not take it. It was a case. A metal one, with a handle. It was like a tiny purse or something. He made me take it onto this huge fancy boat and hide it in one of the rooms, and I thought I’d seen boxes like that before.” She licked her lips. “At the gun fair. And he didn’t tell me not to open it, so I had a quick look inside.”

  “And it was a gun?”

  “Yeah.” She bit her lip and glanced up at Laurence. “A pistol, all in foam and there were some bullets and a silencer in with it.”

  Ethan and Myriam gasped. Aiden blinked and leaned back from the table.

  Frederick frowned. “What was the name of the boat. Do you remember?”

  “Um.” She squinted. “Theo… something. Ass.”

  “Theophrastus?” he suggested.

  “Yes!” Her eyes widened.

  “You’ve heard of it?” Laurence looked his way.

  “I’ve seen the name recently, although I couldn’t put my finger on where, exactly.” Frederick pulled his phone out to Google it. “Do you recall where it was berthed?”

  “Shelter Island.”

  Laurence grimaced and finished his slice of pizza. “It’s a big fancy one then, huh?”

  “Ugh, it’s huge,” she agreed with a nod. “I put it in a bathroom in one of the bedrooms, a VIP suite on the main deck. I hid it under the sink. That’s wher
e he told me to put it.”

  “You mean Kane,” Laurence clarified.

  Kimberly nodded. “I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Her features creased and she blinked. “Especially because of me. You have to help. I don’t know if Quentin had a plan or anything, but I’m tired of being used, you know? At least when I was just taking things it was to help everyone at the house, but this?” She gnawed on her lip. “I don’t see how it can help anyone.”

  “Yeah, me either.” Laurence frowned at her. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? There’s an apartment upstairs, you can watch TV or whatever, and we’ll figure out what to do.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Thanks. I don’t…” She took a breath. “I don’t wanna go back there.”

  “Then we’ll work that out, too.”

  LAURENCE LEFT to lead Kimberly upstairs, and Frederick offered Aiden his hand and a friendly smile.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “We haven’t been introduced, and I didn’t wish to interrupt the young lady. I’m Frederick, but you may call me Freddy if you wish. I’m Quentin’s brother.”

  “Oh!” Aiden’s hand was tiny, and it disappeared into Frederick’s. “Aiden. I’m with Ethan.” He blushed, then laughed. “Or he’s with me.”

  Frederick chuckled and shook his hand gently. While he doubted he could break those spindly little fingers without intent it was better to not overwhelm. “Ethan’s a reasonable catch, I suppose,” he teased. “You could do better.”

  “Hey!” Ethan scrunched up a napkin and threw it at him while Aiden laughed.

  Frederick smiled wryly and let the napkin bounce off his shoulder. “What am I to do, Ethan? Admit that you’re adorable? Goodness, then where would we all be?” He let that one hang there as he returned to his phone with feigned innocence. “Ah, this is interesting.”

  “What is it?” Myriam leaned closer, so he tilted his screen for her to see.