by Keri Arthur
“Given the number of times you’ve both been attacked and left without your main weapons, as well as the quality of the information you’ve been retrieving, we’d find them.”
Which was nice to know. “I think we’re all right for now.”
“Keep in contact.”
She hung up, and I handed the phone back to the security guard. “They check out,” he said.
Gale nodded, dismissed his two people, then said, “Follow me, please.”
We headed up to the eighth floor and walked along the wide corridor until we reached a door situated near the building’s corners. The views, I thought, would be outstanding.
He knocked on the door and said, “Ms. Hocking? Security here. We need to talk to you.”
There was no answer. After a second try, he swiped his card through the reader to the right of the door and opened it. “I’ll remain here,” he said, and stepped to one side.
The longish corridor that confronted us led to what I presumed was the living area. The hallway itself was rather bland—cool gray walls, white ceiling, and little in the way of embellishment. Maybe that was the whole point, because the view from the windows in the living area was certainly spectacular if the bit I could see was anything to go by.
“You take the door on the right. I’ll take the one on the left,” Jackson said.
I nodded and headed down the hall. The plush gray carpet swallowed any sound our footsteps made, and the place was eerily quiet. There was little in the way of scents in the air, which suggested Amanda didn’t spend a whole lot of time here.
I carefully opened the door. Like the corridor, the room—a bedroom—was a soft gray with white accents. The wall to my right was lined with built-in wardrobes, and there was an en suite to my left. A bed and a couple of bedside tables were the only furniture in the room.
Amanda lay fully clothed on the bed.
Not in it. On it.
And if she was breathing, I wasn’t seeing it.
Jackson, in here, I said telepathically, to avoid alerting Gale I’d found her.
I walked over and felt for a pulse. It was so slow, it could have been a vampire’s. I lifted an eyelid. Her pupils reacted to the light, but she didn’t stir.
She dead? Jackson came into the room and stopped beside me.
No. Unconscious.
It’s more likely she’s been placed into a hibernated state until Rinaldo has another mission for her.
He could have at least allowed her to undress and be comfortable.
I don’t think the comfort of others is all that high on Rinaldo’s list of priorities. Jackson’s tone was wry. We should probably use the time to search her apartment. I doubt she’ll cooperate when she wakes.
She can’t, not if Rinaldo has control of her mind. I hesitated, my gaze sweeping her length. Though there’d been no movement, no sign that she was, in any way, stirring, a sense of foreboding was beginning to pulse through me.
“I think we’d better—”
I didn’t get to finish the sentence, but that sense of foreboding sharpened abruptly. I spun around to see Gale standing at the door, his weapon out and aimed at the two of us.
He was going to shoot.
Amanda was awake, all right, and controlling him.
I swore, knocked Jackson out of the way, then flung a line of fire toward the gun and ripped it from the guard’s grip. It discharged as I did so, the bullet digging into the wall above the bed rather than into either of us. Quicker than a rattlesnake, Amanda was up and running. She didn’t get far—Jackson flung out one leg, caught hers, and brought her to a crashing halt face-first onto the carpet.
The security guard immediately threw himself at Jackson. As the two men fought—with Jackson trying to stop the guard rather than hurt him—I flung myself at Amanda, landing on her back just as she was trying to scramble upright. She went down with a grunt and swore violently at me. I grabbed a fistful of hair, yanked her head back, then wrapped a ribbon of flame around her throat, blistering her skin rather than totally severing her neck, as part of me longed to. And it wasn’t even the vicious part of me.
“Release him now,” I growled, “or I will burn off your face.”
She hissed, and then said, “Was the death of Shona and the two werewolves assigned to protect her demonstration not enough for you, Ms. Pearson?”
I blinked. Though the voice was Amanda’s, the pronunciation definitely wasn’t.
“I’m going to fucking kill you for doing that, Rinaldo.”
“You were warned, were you not? You failed to live up to our agreement—”
“It was hardly a fucking agreement,” I bit back. “And it doesn’t change the fact you are a dead man walking.”
“Technically, all vampires are.” His amusement ran through Amanda’s tone. “And it doesn’t change the fact you were warned to contact me nightly and you did not. Those deaths are on your conscience, not mine.”
He was right; they were. But better three lives than the hundreds—thousands—that might die if Rinaldo ever got his hands on all the virus information. I didn’t know why he wanted it, and I didn’t care; I just knew I would do whatever it took to stop him from getting it.
Even if more people had to die.
“We’ve had nothing to damn well report at the time,” I said. “So it was pretty useless ringing.”
“That is hardly true, given your recent excursion into Brooklyn.”
“Which netted you the laptops—and if you didn’t get them, I don’t know who did, because I didn’t fucking tell anyone else about them.”
The sound of fighting ended abruptly. Jackson came up behind me, shaking his right hand. That bastard has a jaw of steel.
Keep an eye on him, just in case knocking him out isn’t enough.
Rinaldo was, after all, a strong enough telepath to control someone right down to their body functions and breathing . . . The thought stalled.
Was he strong enough to do that from a distance? Or was he, perhaps, somewhere close?
Good thought. Keep him talking while I check the rest of the apartment.
Jackson snagged the keycard from the guard, spun some fire around him to keep him secure, then stepped over the two of us and went looking.
“There was very little on the laptops, as I’m sure you’re well aware,” Rinaldo said.
“That’s not my fucking fault.”
“No, because we both know PIT was responsible for that little inconvenience.”
Meaning he did have someone inside PIT. How else could he have known PIT cleaned them out of anything useful before we got them back? “I did warn you that we wouldn’t get out of Brooklyn with anything of value. But whatever they erased could probably be retrieved with a clever enough tech guy.”
“That is the only reason I am not currently following through with my threat to flood the streets with the infected.”
Which was an odd statement if he did truly have someone in PIT. Or did his source simply not know about the state of the cloaks, and that they were all dead or dying? Rinaldo actually couldn’t follow through with his threat—and not just because the majority of the cloaks were dead and he didn’t appear to have the scientists.
“And how do you intend to do that, given Frederick is dead?” It was a guess on my part, but a safe enough one. As Adam had noted, it was unlikely Rinaldo would risk his thrall giving us too much information, no matter how useful Frederick might have been over the years. “He was your access point in controlling the cloaks, wasn’t he?”
“It would appear you gained entirely too much information from that man. I should have killed him the minute I noticed his absence.”
Meaning he was dead, and that the rats would be feasting off his flesh if PIT hadn’t gotten around to retrieving him—and I really hoped that was the case. And that desire d
id come from the vicious part of me.
“If you keep killing off your lieutenants willy-nilly, it will eventually put a crimp in your style.”
“Not when there are so many more able-bodied witches in this world—some of whom, apparently, have the means and the power to create a spell capable of restricting the magic of others.” He paused. “That is something Frederick wasn’t capable of.”
“Actually, he was, because his last spell did succeed in fully curtailing my fire.”
No one else in the apartment, Jackson said. I’ll go check the remaining apartments on this floor.
Watch your back.
You watch yours.
“And yet,” Rinaldo said, “here you are, still annoyingly alive.”
“Which is just as well, considering I can hardly get the information you want if I’m dead.”
“True. I have, however, reconsidered my position. It seems Frederick was correct in his summation of you.”
And with that, Amanda went limp in my grip. I spun around and withdrew the ropes of fire containing the guard—and none too soon.
He made an odd shuddering sound and then somewhat groggily looked around. “What the fuck just happened?”
“You tried to shoot us.”
His gaze jumped to mine. “No—”
“Yes.” I pressed two fingers against Amanda’s neck. No pulse—which wasn’t really surprising. We’d already gained information from his thrall; he wouldn’t take a similar risk with Amanda, even if her mind and body were his to control. “The woman you know as Felicity Hocking we know as Amanda Wilson. She’s not only a wanted killer but also an extremely strong telepath. She took your mind over.”
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Well, fuck.”
“Yeah.” I rose but didn’t give him back his weapon, just in case. “I’m afraid I’ll have to call this mess in. PIT will need to talk to you.”
He nodded, his gaze on Amanda’s body. “She dead?”
“Yes.”
“Did you do it?”
“No.” And I wasn’t about to go into a detailed explanation of what had happened. Instead, I got my old phone out of my bag, brought up Rinaldo’s picture, and showed it to him. “Do you recognize this man?”
He frowned and took the phone for a closer look. “He doesn’t live here, but his face is familiar, so it could be I’ve seen him around.”
Which didn’t really help much. I shoved that phone into my pocket, then got out Janice’s and used it to call the inspector.
“We can trace your location via this phone,” she said by way of hello. “Using different phones to contact me really doesn’t make all that much difference.”
“Maybe it just makes me feel safer,” I bit back. “Amanda’s dead, Inspector, at Rinaldo’s hands. It seems he’s now intent on killing rather than using me.”
“Suggesting he doesn’t fully understand what you are.”
“Or that he simply doesn’t care.” I glanced at Gale. “We have a security guard on location who thinks he’s seen Rinaldo in the building. Might be worth getting someone here to interview him more fully.”
“I’ll send one of our telepaths. In the meantime, get his people to secure the apartment.”
“Will do, Inspector.” But not before we did a more thorough check. I put the phone away, then returned my gaze to Gale and said, “You up to guarding this place until PIT can get more people here?”
He nodded and climbed to his feet. “We’ll lock the floor down for everyone except residents.”
“Thanks.”
He went out as Jackson came back in. “Anything?”
Jackson shook his head. “There’re seven other apartments on this floor, but he wasn’t in any of them.”
“I showed Gale his picture—he’s seen him, even if he can’t place him.”
“Then that’s something PIT can check. You called them?”
I nodded. “They’re sending people over.”
“Which means we need to run a check of this place ASAP, then get the hell out. I do not want to take part in another Q and A session.”
We began a thorough search but didn’t turn up anything—not even anything that suggested Amanda spent a whole lot of time here. Beyond clothes, there was little in the way of food or even the usual bits and pieces that came with living in one place for any length of time.
“Well, I guess it was a somewhat forlorn hope,” Jackson said.
I dumped the gun on Amanda’s bed, then headed for the front door. “True, but it’s nevertheless frustrating that we keep hitting walls.”
Gale looked around as we approached; there was a decent-sized bruise forming on the right side of his jaw. “Finished?”
“Yes.” Jackson gave him back the keycard. “Keep this place locked until PIT gets here. And sorry about the bruise.”
“What about my gun? Will that be needed as evidence, because I’ll have to report it if so.”
“That’s not my call. The weapon is inside, however.”
He nodded and we retreated. The two security officers who’d been downstairs were now stationed near the elevators; neither of them said anything as we called the elevator and walked inside.
“So, back to the office?” I said as the doors closed.
“I guess so. It’s not like we have many other options right now.”
No, we didn’t—not unless we wanted to conduct the proverbial needle-in-a-haystack search, and wander around Melbourne looking for the locker that matched the second of Wilson’s keys.
Once we were back in the office, I’d made us both a drink, then bumped the contact list from Janice’s phone across to his. “I’ll take A to M, and you can take the rest.”
“Righto.”
He sat down, booted up his computer, and began checking the numbers online. I did the same thing. Janice, unfortunately, had a lot of people in her contacts list.
“This,” I said, after twenty minutes, “is as tedious as I thought it would be. I need another tea.”
“Is that a hint for me to get off my rump and get you one?”
I smiled. “Yes. How far along are you?”
“Just hit X.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Someone has a surname starting with X?”
“Xavier, though I have no idea whether it’s a first or last name. The number doesn’t seem to be listed on Google.”
“Must be a private number.” I scrolled to the next screen—the H section.
“Probably. I’ll call it and see what happens.” He pushed up. “You want a donut with that cuppa?”
“There’s none left—I demolished them last night when I was making the risotto.”
“Gluttony at its finest.”
“Totally. I do believe there’re chocolate chip—” I paused and sat upright as a name practically jumped out at me. “What the hell is Janice doing with James Hamberly’s number in her phone?”
Jackson frowned. “Who?”
“James Hamberly—he was Denny Rosen Junior’s sometime lover and one of the victims of the Aswang.”
“Ah, him.” Jackson propped his butt on my desk rather than heading down to the coffee machine. “I was under the distinct impression Senior hated Hamberly, so why would Janice have his number on her phone?”
“Maybe she called Hamberly for him. Rosen must have talked to him at some point—why else would Junior say that Hamberly couldn’t be bribed?”
“And yet, despite that, Senior considered him a leech,” Jackson said. “That strikes me as a little odd now that I think about it.”
“Doesn’t it just.” I pressed the number and listened as the call went through.
“Holdright Industries,” a male voice said. “How may I help you?”
I was so totally caught off guard that I didn’t immediately answer.
“Hello?” the voice said again.
“Ah, sorry. I’d like to speak to James Hamberly, please.”
“Oh, James is no longer with us. I can, however, put you through to his replacement, Mark Terral.”
“No, it’s a personal matter. Thanks.”
“As Alice was wont to say, curiouser and curiouser,” Jackson said. “And that’s undoubtedly the reason why Holdright Industries rings a memory bell—if Hamberly worked there, he probably had their name tags or other paraphernalia at his house.”
“He might also,” I said slowly, “have a range of industrial shelving or racking, both at his office and at home.”
“Indeed. And given that name tag you found, our first port of call would have to be his office.” Jackson walked across to his desk and snagged his jacket off the back of the chair. “You got the key?”
“There’s no indication Wilson had anything to do with Hamberly.” Even so, I grabbed my bag to check.
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t some sort of link. We might not have uncovered it yet, that’s all.”
“Possible.” Though I personally doubted it. I found the second locker key sitting in a side pocket. “Still there. I’m glad Frederick was so intent on torturing me for information that he failed to check what I might be carrying.”
Jackson motioned me toward the door. “Wonder if PIT has rescued him yet.”
“They’d only be collecting his body if they do. Rinaldo did kill him.”
“I’m betting no one will be sad about that.”
“I’m betting you’re wrong. I think Sam and PIT had plans for our dark sorcerer.”
“I know Sam did, but it didn’t actually involve anything official.”
I glanced at him. “And what, exactly, are you implying by that?”
Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You know exactly what I’m implying. But if you want it spelled out . . . he was extremely angry when he discovered what had happened to you.”
“Yeah, he was so damn angry, he allowed you to come running ahead of the three of them.”
“He couldn’t have stopped me.” Jackson started the SUV and set the satnav for our destination. “And I did get a head start on them while they were dealing with Frederick.”
