Spellbound

by Kelley Armstrong

  "There aren't any. The Dahls had certain conditions for taking Larsen. They wanted to give him the most normal life possible, while having a normal life themselves."

  We stepped into the house. It was pleasantly cool and eerily silent. Just inside the door was a mat with two sets of rubber boots, one tiny pair in a firefighter design and a larger pair of purples ones dotted with daisies. Beside them were two dog bowls with TRIX AND TREAT hand painted on them in childish strokes.

  "You said the guard took the dogs out at midnight. Does the tape show him returning?"

  "No, but the routine was to exit the front door and enter the rear. The video isn't as clear around back--better lighting would shine right into the kids' bedrooms. The entry alarm triggered, though, which suggested he came back in."

  "No, it just means someone opened the door, going in or out. Let's see the backyard."

  The yard backed onto an estate owned by a Nast VP. One of Thomas's nephews, I think, which would make him my second cousin or something. Knocking on the door and introducing myself would be kind of fun. First, though, I'd need to get past the patrolling armed guards, and they didn't look very friendly.

  The point was that the Dahl house was well protected on all sides. If something had happened to the guards and dogs, it happened in the middle of that night-darkened yard. And stayed there.

  "Blood," Cassandra said as we walked through the Dahl yard. "I smell blood."

  "Well, that's your specialty, so put your nose to the ground and sniff it out."

  She ignored me. In the middle of the yard, she closed her eyes and slowly turned. When she had the direction, she walked to a massive oak tree and bent under its spreading branches.

  "There's blood here," she said. "Soaked into the ground."

  She pointed to a small patch in the shade. Even up close, the damp grass only looked dew-covered, a spot that hadn't been in the sun yet. But when I touched it, my fingers came away red.

  "Why would there be fresh blood?" I said.

  Cassandra looked up. I followed her gaze. There, stretched across two thick branches, was a man's body. Another man was draped over a higher limb. Higher still a dark form stuffed in a fork looked like a dog with another one above it.

  "Shit," I said.

  Davis seconded my curse, then said, "Why the hell would they stuff them in a tree?"

  "Because they couldn't get them over the fence without being seen."

  "How did the killer get over it?"

  "The house is guarded against teleporting half-demons, right?"

  "Of course."

  "And the yard?"

  "No. It's too big an area and too complicated to maintain. When the children are out, there's always a guard right there so . . ." He trailed off. "That keeps someone from teleporting in and hurting the children during the day, but not coming in and killing the guards at night. Doesn't explain how the family got out, though."

  "Unless they didn't get out," Cassandra murmured.

  We looked at the house. Davis jogged toward it. We followed.

  The house was a single floor. Maybe two thousand square feet. Not big enough to hide a family . . . or the bodies of a family. Especially not when we had the blueprints, which showed every room.

  Cassandra didn't pick up the smell of blood, which was a relief. She kept returning to the master bedroom, though.

  Finally, she said, "Someone's here."

  When Davis frowned, I explained that vampires have a sixth sense for detecting the living. The problem with ignoring certain races is that you don't understand their powers.

  Cassandra crouched and pointed at the floor. "Under there."

  Davis shook his head. "There's no basement. Not even a storage space."

  "Well, either you have a compartment under this floor, containing a living person, or the property is infested by giant moles."

  "Let's start moving furniture," I said.

  We found the trap door under the area rug. It was locked, from the inside. As I examined it, Davis studied the blueprints as though, if he looked hard enough, a subterranean room would suddenly appear.

  "This isn't supposed to be here," he said finally.

  "I think that's the point." I leaned back. "You're an Igneus, right? Can a little fire help here or do we need a crowbar?"

  He concentrated on the hinges. Not being an Exustio, like Adam, he couldn't disintegrate them, but with a combination of heat and brute strength, he finally wrenched the door from its hinges.

  When I made a move to go down, Cassandra waved me back.

  "I'm the shield, as I recall," she said. "I'll go first."

  "What's Mr. Dahl's power?" I asked Davis.

  "He's a Tempestras."

  In other words, a storm half-demon. Not terribly lethal in a tight place. I eased back and let Cassandra descend.

  As she disappeared into the darkness, there were no shouts or screams or gunshots. Just the sound of someone scrabbling away from her.

  When I started down, Cassandra lifted a hand to stop me and whispered, "It's a child."

  After a moment we heard her say, "You must be Gabrielle." The Dahls' daughter. I was surprised Cass remembered the name. "I'm Cassandra. We've been looking for you."

  A sniffle. Cassandra kept talking to the little girl, her faint French lilt coming stronger, making her voice soothing, musical.

  "She's good with kids." Davis sounded shocked.

  "It's the only way she can get them to open their windows and invite her in."

  His look said he didn't find that funny. At least he didn't take me seriously. I've met supernaturals who would.

  Cassandra has a patience with children she can't find for adults. I think she enjoys their lack of pretense. They amuse her. Well, we all amuse her, but children particularly so. They like her back. Particularly if she uses her vampire charm.

  Contrary to myth, a vampire can't make you do anything against your will, but if you're already inclined in that direction, their voice and gaze can prod you along. This scared little girl wanted to be rescued, so it was easy for Cassandra to persuade her that we were rescuers.

  After a few minutes, she led Gabrielle out. I motioned Davis back--a hulking bodyguard is not the first thing a terrified kid needs to see as she comes out of her hiding place.

  According to the file, Gabrielle was five. She was chubby, with curly blond hair and dark blue eyes and wore a nightgown covered in frolicking puppies. Or that's what it looked like--the gown was dusted with dirt, the front streaked from her tears.

  "Hey there," I said, crouching down to her size. "How about we get you some breakfast. I bet you're hungry."

  She nodded.

  "Cassandra's going to take you in the bathroom to clean up," I said. "I'll get your breakfast."

  Davis motioned that he was calling it in. I gestured that Sean shouldn't hurry--we needed to get as much from the girl as we could before an invading security team frightened her into silence.

  I found cereal in the cupboard and pulled out a box of Lucky Charms that was tucked at the back, behind the healthier stuff. I poured a bowl and a glass of orange juice before Cassandra got Gabrielle to the table.

  "Can you tell us what happened?" I asked after she'd eaten a few mouthfuls.

  "A man came," she said. "From Mr. Nast."

  "Mr. Nast?"

  She nodded. "The young one. The old one came once, to see Larsen, but the young one comes a lot. He's nice. Mommy and Daddy like him, so they weren't mad even if it was past our bedtime."

  "She means Sean," Davis said as he walked into the kitchen, phone still in hand. "He's the executive in charge of their case. He comes by once a month. But he didn't send anyone last night."

  "Easy enough for someone to say Sean had sent him," I said.

  Gabrielle, who'd been following the conversation, shook her head. "Uh-uh. He has to know the secret word."

  I looked at Davis.

  "It's a code," he said after a moment. "The Dahls trust Sean. Only S
ean. Anyone bringing a message from him has to use the right code. You're asking the wrong questions."

  He crouched beside Gabrielle. "Tell me about that room you were in. It's for Larsen, isn't it? In case someone comes to get him."

  When she looked confused, Cassandra murmured, "Her parents wouldn't tell her that. It would frighten her." She looked at the girl. "Is it for storms? Earthquakes?"

  Gabrielle nodded.

  "And your parents told you to go in it last night? Only you?"

  "It's supposed to be for me and Larsen, but Mr. Nast's men said they needed to take Larsen into the city. Mommy told them I was sleeping at my friend's house. Then she put me in the room and said when they were gone, I was supposed to come out and call the special number."

  "What special number, hon?" I asked.

  She took a dirty piece of paper from her pocket. In big, thick letters, it spelled out a phone number.

  "I was supposed to call when it was quiet," she said. "But I couldn't really tell if it was quiet, so I waited, and then I heard people in the house, so I waited some more and then I dropped the flashlight and it broke, and I couldn't see, and the door wouldn't open and--" She took a deep hiccupping breath as tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away. "Mommy said if anything went wrong, not to worry because you'd come."

  "We'd come?"

  She nodded. "She said when she didn't call today, someone would come. That's you."

  Cassandra looked at Davis. "What exactly is the child-rearing agreement with the Nasts?"

  "That the Dahls get Larsen until he's eighteen," Davis said. "After that, they can continue to act as his family and guardians."

  "But the Cabal can't"--she glanced at the girl--"recruit him until he's eighteen."

  Davis nodded.

  So the Dahls built the hole for the children, in case the Nasts ever tried to take Larsen early. They were to hide in there and phone for help, probably extended family. If the Dahls didn't make their daily check-in call, that person would come looking for the children. Except when someone from the Cabal did come, saying they were from Sean, it caught the Dahls off guard. They couldn't hide Larsen in time. Just Gabrielle.

  "I'm supposed to tell you what happened," Gabrielle said. "Then you can help Mommy and Daddy and Larsen."

  "That's what we're going to do," Cassandra said.

  twenty-seven

  We had Gabrielle tell us exactly what happened last night. Someone had come to the door. A man. He said Tom and

  Gale--the guards, whom Gabrielle knew as the driver and gardener--were outside with the dogs, making sure no one saw them leaving. He said they had reason to believe another "cattle" was coming for Larsen, so they needed to get him into L.A.

  How did they get in and out without setting off the alarms? Clearly someone had tampered with the equipment, meaning it was an inside job.

  Sean, though? Definitely not. But it had to be someone close to him, close enough to get the code word and convince the Dahls that Sean had sent the message that another Cabal was after Larsen.

  When Davis called it in, he'd said he was taking Gabrielle to Sean. Since Sean was the executive in charge of the Dahls, the Cabal couldn't argue with that. Nor could they argue with getting the little girl out of the house before the crime scene team arrived to retrieve the dead guards and dogs from the tree out back.

  Sean and Lucas were still in their meeting when we left the Dahl house. As I was hanging up after leaving a message, I saw that I had a few text messages on my new phone. The last was from Adam. Two words. Call me.

  I stared at the message. I started dialing his number. I got halfway through, stopped, stared at it some more . . .

  "Adam called, I presume?" Cassandra said from the seat beside me. Gabrielle was up front with Davis.

  "Texted." I began typing a response instead. Stopped. Erased it.

  "Do you want my advice?"

  I nodded.

  I called Adam.

  "Just got your message," I said. "In a hurry for an update, huh? Is Paige pestering you? Or are you just bored?"

  "Not really. I--"

  "You're bored. Hey, you had your chance. Now you're stuck in that chair until I get back."

  Before he could answer, I told him what we'd found so far. When he tried to change the subject, I wouldn't let him. I wasn't ready to talk about what I said before I left and I certainly wasn't going to discuss it over the phone. I kept chattering about the case until he surrendered, and helped me work through the possibilities.

  When the topic threatened to reach an end, I said, "Whoops, gotta run. Cass and I need to figure out what to do with Gabrielle until Sean can take her."

  "Hold on. Before you go--"

  "I really have to--"

  "I'm not going to talk about anything you don't want me talking about, Savannah."

  "There's nothing--"

  "I get the hint, okay? All personal stuff is on hold until you get back. But I wanted you to know that Hope is meeting with Kimerion today."

  "So she agreed to that?"

  "Luckily I'd asked her before the Jaz incident. Now Karl wants to get it over with so Hope can rest. He's going to be there and Benicio's going to be there, along with Benicio's top demon negotiator. Do you want us to wait until you're back so you can sit in?"

  "I'm good. I'll call tonight. And I'll try to remember the time difference."

  "Forget the time. Call whenever you can." A pause. "I know this has been hard on you. When you came back, I didn't mean to make it worse by . . ."

  "You were angry."

  "No, not angry. Just . . ."

  Hurt. I took you for granted and I manipulated you, and that's not how a friend should act. I hurt you and I'm so sorry. I squeezed my eyes shut. "I should go."

  "Right. Okay. So later?"

  "Later."

  I hung up. Then I took a deep breath, staring down at my phone.

  "You did fine," Cassandra murmured.

  I looked over at her and nodded.

  I phoned Rhys and told him what was going on. As Larsen's grandfather, he had a right to know. He agreed with my plan to give Gabrielle to Sean, and trust him not to turn her over to the Cabal. Rhys would fly in to confront the Nasts about Larsen.

  When I got off that call, my phone rang again. Sean had gotten my message and stepped out of the meeting. I told him everything. If it had been someone else, I'd have waited to see his reaction when he was accused. I trusted Sean too much for that.

  He didn't claim Gabrielle must be mistaken. He presumed she was telling the truth.

  "Is it possible the Cabal did take him?" I said. "Using the same rationale Thomas is using to blame Benicio? Use the alleged threat to break their agreement with the parents?"

  "If only Larsen had been kidnapped, I could see it. They wouldn't take the Dahls, though. And they wouldn't leave Gabrielle behind either. Saying she's at a friend's house is a flimsy excuse. They'd have picked the girl up. Otherwise, she'd come home to an empty house and raise the alarm."

  "So whoever did this has high enough access to get that code, but isn't experienced enough to carry out the plan properly. Any ideas?"

  "Two second cousins. Barely out of college. I've had a feeling their dad has been giving them access to secured files, hoping they can use it to get ahead. He's the guy who lives behind the Dahls. Granddad's nephew. VP of finance."

  "Sounds promising. Do you want me to investigate?"

  "If it's family, you'll only hit brick walls. Work on Cassandra's lead for now and leave this to me."

  Now we had to wait for Sean to finish his meeting. So we took Gabrielle to a store where kids can build their own stuffed animal. I thought of it because I remembered taking Elena's twins to a mall a few months ago. I'd seen the kids streaming into one of these toy-building places, so I'd thought they might like that. Logan took one look inside and disappeared into the hobby shop beside it, where he'd picked out a mechanical model of the solar system. It was recommended for kids twice
Logan's age, but that didn't matter--he'd do it easily.

  Kate had hung out in front of the toy-building shop for a while, and I'd actually thought she might be interested, until Elena came by and explained she was just studying the other kids, trying to figure out the allure of putting baseball hats on stuffed bears. Finally she'd given up and gone elsewhere to pick out her gifts--a children's encyclopedia of mythology and some sheet music for her new keyboard. The lesson I learned from this? If it's something most kids love, don't bother taking the twins. If they aren't interested, it's a sure bet other kids will be.

  Gabrielle loved the place, and it kept her distracted until Sean was there. Earlier, we'd had to explain to Gabrielle why we were handing her over to the guy she thought took her mom, dad, and little brother. Cassandra's charm came in handy then. Gabrielle obviously liked Sean so it was easy to convince her he wasn't involved. But we still weren't sure how she'd react when he showed up. We needn't have worried. By the time Sean arrived with Lucas, she was ready to go with him.

  Before we separated again, I talked to Lucas and Sean. They were going to jointly investigate security staff who might have been able to pull this off.

  "I'm going to be busy for a few hours," Lucas said. "Paige is anxiously awaiting an update. Could I impose on you to provide that, Savannah?"

  Now this was bullshit. First, Paige never "anxiously awaited" updates. Second, Lucas always found time to call or text her, no matter how busy he was.

  "Sure," I said. "So how much should I tell her? She'll be at headquarters, with the Cabal listening in."

  As Lucas launched into a detailed explanation of exactly what I should say, Sean wandered back to the others.

  "Is that what you wanted?" I said when Sean was out of earshot.

  "Precisely. Thank you."

  He checked over his shoulder, then pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and slipped it to me. I put it in my pocket.

  "Sean submitted all the criteria for the security checks to the system, and it provided printouts for each staff member that fit. He removed that one."

  "What? No, he--"

  "He didn't try to hide it. He simply said there was no reason to investigate that person. He hadn't been employed by the cousins in question for months."

  "So how does that remove him from the pool?"

  "It doesn't. The problem, I suspect, is the guard's current assignment. Frankie Salas is the personal bodyguard to another young Nast executive."