So I gave in. I let Serena cut my hair and didn’t even complain when she stuck a cap over my head and started pulling strands through it for highlighting. It was something I’d never done before, though Serena made it easy to just sit back and let her do her thing.
The gurgling in my stomach was a reminder of my recent habit of either picking at or forgetting to eat my lunch. I didn’t even remember. The idea of what Ian would say if he saw me did make it easier to listen to Serena.
By the time she was finished, I hardly recognized myself. She had given me a layered bob that hung to my chin. The cut suited the shape of my face. The highlights were the color of caramel and maple syrup, a combination that suited my skin tone very well. It made me feel pretty and I liked the feeling very much.
Impulsively, I leaned in and hugged Serena. “Thank you. I like it,” I said, trying to smile at her without weeping again.
She tipped her head to the side, giving me one of those big sister looks. “Oh, sweetie. I always knew your eyes were pretty but this cut shows that off even more,” she said, standing back to admire her work.
I rolled my eyes. “They’re brown, Serena. Boring,” I said, thinking of the bold Caribbean blue of Ian’s eyes.
Serena shook her head. “See, my dad is a woodworker. There’s this color with no actual name. It’s the color of polished wood when sunlight hits it in the morning. The golden brown of your eyes IS that color. It’s beautiful, Madison.”
I glanced into the mirror, not sure what to think. How I looked didn’t matter. I knew that. Right then, I felt good about myself.
And determination wrapped its arms around me. Whatever I had to do, I would find Ian, Erkens, and Spencer. I wouldn’t allow myself to fail.
I rolled my eyes as Pip Squeak woke up from his nap and started yapping, diving into the piles of fallen hair.
Serena leaned down to pick the dog up and brush away our hair. She chuckled, waving one of his paws at me. “Don’t you be grumpy with my little prince. He just wants to make sure his momma still loves him. And Momma does. Yes, she does,” she cooed at him.
And a genuine laugh escaped me as I began to sweep up the hair. It had been so long since I’d laughed, it sounded a little pathetic. It didn’t matter, though. I would force myself to be okay.
I had to be okay. There was no one else to find them. And oh, I would. Nothing and no one would stop me.
FIVE
Walking into the FBI office the following morning made me realize just how out of it I’d been. With my mind clearer, it was easy to see how bad things had been. It wasn’t like high school at all. It was more like a fish bowl.
I was the little fish swimming in circles with everyone staring through the glass at me. They didn’t trust me and I had done nothing to allay their suspicions of me. I’d been closed off and cold to all of them.
It was time for me to change that as well. I had a new look. I would allow it to change the way they saw me. I would be useful to them. I would be friendly. If they still distrusted me after that, there was nothing I could do about it.
I nodded in greeting as I stepped into the room we’d been working from. There were four of us heading up the task force on the PSA. That morning, we were three and musketeers we were not.
We worked relatively well together, the only wrench in the works being me. I was determined to change that, so went to the trouble of picking up coffee on my way in.
I set the carrier down on one of the tables and walked over to set one of the cups down on the desk of the only other team member who was present.
Vox was a slob with a photographic memory. He could remember word for word every conversation he’d ever heard. His shirts were always wrinkled and were rarely tucked in or clean. He was a few years shy of thirty and had a perpetual grin on his face.
His eyes widened as I set his coffee down, lifting it in thanks as he sat back in his chair. “You look different,” he said by way of greeting, his grin holding steady on his face.
I set my bag down and gave him a slow nod. “I feel a little different today too,” I told him, picking up my own coffee. I cradled the cup, sipping at it as I gazed at the dry-erase board where we had laid out our case. We had random bits of information, though nothing concrete. There was nothing we could take to a judge to get a warrant. We had tried. Several times. We needed more evidence.
I folded my arms and read through everything, my mind trying to fit Patrick into the picture. Something told me he did fit into our investigation. I didn’t know what it was, though.
The simple fact that even my facial recognition search had hit a wall told me he played a role. What was his role, though?
Erkens had always told me I needed to stop relying so heavily on my hacking skills. He’d warned me that there could be someone out there with even more skill than me who might be able to outthink me. I might have found my match in Patrick Beech.
I turned back to look at Vox, my arms still folded. “I think I met a guy last night who has a connection to the PSA. I’m having a hard time finding any information on him,” I confessed, irritated to have to say those words aloud.
Vox laughed loudly. “First she gets her hair cut. Then she asks for help? What next? Are you going to tell us you’re actually a Marcian?” he joked, his eyes dancing with his own personal amusement.
I raised my brows at him. “You’ve got that backwards. Girls are from Venus. Boys are the ones who are from Mars. Maybe we should just get our alien butts back to work.”
He threw back his head and howled. “I like you when you stop being antisocial!” he said, still laughing to himself as he turned to his computer. “Who’s your guy?” he asked like there had been no interlude at all.
“His name is Patrick Beech. I already checked the database here, though,” I said, walking over to stand next to him.
He checked the name anyway, his eyes narrowed as he hit the same redirect virus I had found. “Weird,” he said, scanning the humanitarian aid site with interest.
And he was right. Whoever had worked the virus had done an amazing job. Even the FBI was vulnerable . . . and it hit me like a ton of bricks. The only way a virus could have gotten into one of the most secure databases in the world was for someone like me to have done it or for someone in the office to have put it there. Could Beech be an FBI agent?
I rushed to my bag and took out my laptop, my hands jittery as I began the search. I was in the employee files in about two-and-a-half seconds. There were hundreds of agents and other staff, each of them listed by category. There was only one category that didn’t show up. Covert ops.
I delved further into the system, finally able to get into the list of undercover agents. I scanned the list but didn’t find Patrick Beech anywhere.
Something told me to keep looking. I decided to check other agencies as well. It would take me far longer than I was used to. I had a feeling it would give me the right information. It just made sense.
If that guy was some kind of secret agent, why had he come to me? Why had he asked specifically for me? Why had he told me his father was the angel of death?
I sat back, staring at the screen of my laptop. Could it have been a clue? Was he telling me someone was dead?
A cold chill worked its way over me. No. No. No. The guys couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
I felt the color drain from my face. Please, no.
“Madison?” Simms asked as he walked into the room, almost running to my side.
I must have looked as lightheaded as I felt. “He said his father was the angel of death. It was a lie. He said he couldn’t say who’d taken his father. What if it’s the PSA? What if he was there to tell us one of the guys was dead? Simms, we have to get in there. Maybe we can just go into the Chinese restaurant and tell them we know the portal is there. Maybe it would startle them into giving something away. We have to try something. They might be dead. Just sitting around isn’t helping anyone.” I was rambling, my words
coming out in quick, panicked gasps.
“They’re alive,” a voice said from behind me.
I turned and almost fell out of my chair. Gabe Sheenan stood there, his face so much like Spencer’s, I almost thought he was Spencer for a moment. It was the eyes that gave him away.
Spencer’s eyes were chartreuse, where Gabe’s were a purplish blue. The color of their eyes was an indication of their power. I didn’t know what the colors themselves meant, though. What I did know was that Gabe was a friend. If he was there to help find the guys, we might indeed have a snowball’s chance.
I swallowed back the lump in my throat and motioned him in. “Did he tell you where they are?” I asked, aware that people in their family had a telepathic link to each other.
He walked over and leaned a hip against the table. “I can’t talk to him. I know he’s alive but that’s it. So far as I can tell, he’s been nixed and he’s probably unconscious to keep him from exiling them all.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I think my father has something to do with this.”
I narrowed my eyes, waiting for him to explain.
Gabe blew out a long breath. “I nixed my father’s power. He’s now human because of me. I . . . went to tell him about what happened to my mom and found that he’d sold his house and left. He’s got a lot of money, a lot of anger, and a lot of knowledge about how to hurt people.”
“I don’t understand, Gabe.”
He looked me in the eye. “I know my father. I spent my life under his thumb and he has dealt with the PSA before. He wants my head on a platter. He also bought a plane ticket to Pittsburgh and there’s been nothing from him in the last few months.”
Okay. Again it was circumstantial although it made sense. If Gabe’s father had gone to the PSA and told them he needed to find a way to nix magic, it would explain a lot. Quinn had been acting kind of weird the last time I’d seen her. Maybe she’d been the one who’d invented the tech. Maybe it was why she had told us not to tell her anything about us.
I tipped my head back and groaned. “I didn’t think it was possible to be angrier than I was before. Turns out, there’s whole other levels of anger I haven’t even delved into yet,” I said tiredly, all the hope I’d allowed myself to feel a little while before just gone.
“Suck it up, Anonymous. Anger is what’s going to power us through this.”
I slanted a look at Gabe and rolled my eyes. “You and your nicknames are a little irritating,” I informed, wishing with everything inside me that I had chosen to go with Ian on the stakeout where he’d been taken. If I had gone with him . . . I would have been taken too. Then there would be no way to get them out.
Gabe was right, though. Anger did indeed fuel me. I would use it to bring those psychopaths down.
SIX
After I had filled Gabe in on everything that had happened, puzzle pieces started clicking into place. Patrick Beech was the key. I knew it. I needed to find out who he was and why he had really come to me.
I tuned the guys out as Simms and Vox told Gabe about all our recent failures. What I did was focus my attention on the redirect virus. Was there a reason why searching for Patrick Beech’s name would take me to a humanitarian aid site?
I looked up the company, finding that they shipped food and medical supplies to any area at all. They were similar to the Red Cross but were funded by private donors and some grants.
If Patrick was some kind of secret agent, that kind of business would get him into some pretty dangerous areas. It would be a genius way to play an undercover role. What agency did he work for, though?
I sat back in my chair, tipping my head to the side. The organization was called the Angels of Mercy and they had an office right there in Pittsburgh. Maybe they would be able to tell me who Patrick Beech truly was.
I stood up and stepped over to where the guys stood. “Gabe, how would you feel about helping me figure out who a guy is?” I asked, aware that Simms, and Vox were busy doing their own things.
Gabe nodded. “Fine by me,” he said, turning to walk out of the room with me.
“Where are you headed?” Vox asked, his grin present and accounted for.
I didn’t even glance back at him. “I’ll tell you later,” I said, lifting my hand in a negligent wave.
It wasn’t like I didn’t trust the guys. Until I figured out how the virus had gotten into the FBI system, I was not willing to share any info at all. Gabe wasn’t part of the FBI. He was part of Realm Enforcement. He seemed like a far better option right then.
We walked through the crowded office building in companionable silence, my mind working on ways to find out what I needed to know. It was good to have a plan. It always helped me.
When I was able to focus away from a problem, answers tended to come to me far more easily. The ache in my chest that had been with me since I’d realized Ian had been taken eased the tiniest bit when there was something else to think about. It was still there. It was far more bearable than it usually was.
Gabe opened his mouth to speak when we climbed into my car. I held up a finger to tell him to wait. I took my phone from my bag and scanned the car with the satellite.
It took all of five seconds to spot the electronic device hidden in my dashboard. I was bugged. How long had it been there? Who was listening to me? Why?
I turned on the car, glancing over at Gabe as I turned the music up. The people of the Axis Mundi were guardians of the portals, which meant they had the ability to speak every language to be able to communicate with whoever passed through. I knew from Gabe’s girlfriend that he spoke at least five languages. I had to hope he would understand me.
I had taken sign language as my foreign language in high school. I never used it, yet the signs were easy enough to remember. Quiet. Wait, I signed, turning my phone to show him what I had found.
Gabe looked at the phone, then turned his eyes to the dashboard, a small smile coming to his lips. A purple glow radiated from his eyes for only a few seconds before he made another motion to my phone.
I scanned the car again, able to see that he had killed the bug. Holy error code. He had the ability to nix technology? It was both impressive and a little frightening.
I cleared my throat, turning to back out of my space. “You’re handy to have around,” I quipped, my mind working its way through where my car had been since the last time I had checked it for bugs.
I hadn’t gone anywhere at all other than the FBI office, Erkens’ office, Ian’s place, and home. Home seemed like the most likely place for someone to have used. An icy chill moved its way over me.
Home was supposed to be a safe place. The fact it apparently wasn’t bothered me very much. I had to do something to protect us.
Gabe sighed deeply. “Okay, now that we have some privacy, why don’t you tell me what’s going on,” he demanded, motioning to the dashboard. “The bug ran on magic. That was the only way I was able to nix it. I’ve never seen a piece of technology that wasn’t fried by magic.”
I blew out a long breath. “My sister is an inventor. Likely, she’s the one who invented the tech that’s able to withstand magic. She told me last month that she was freaked out by what they were asking her to do but she couldn’t say what it was. I think she probably invented whatever nixed Spencer’s power too. There’s no way she’d do that willingly, though.”
He considered what I’d said before he furrowed his brows. “Did you talk to the Shaman I suggested?”
I rolled my eyes. “I tried. His secretary says he’s out of the country and apparently not taking calls. He didn’t have an itinerary and there’s no record of him doing anything or buying anything with a credit card in the last few months. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the earth too.”
“I might be able to help you there,” he said, taking out his phone.
I waited as he did whatever he was doing, my mind still sorting through all the questions I wanted to ask. I was positive that Patrick Beech had come to me becau
se of the PSA. I was also positive that there was something he wanted me to find out.
It would be easy enough to just show his picture around and see if anyone knew him. It might be a long shot. It was worth trying, though.
My heart twinged. What if I was wasting my time? Shouldn’t I be spending all my time on trying to find Ian? He was the love of my life and I was looking for someone else?
And the coldness washed over me again. No matter how different I had felt earlier, I was still lost without him.
I had known it would be hard on his mom. The way she was taking it worried me far more than I’d expected. She was barely functional. She didn’t really get out of bed and when she did, she was on some kind of medication.
She believed he was dead. It was the only explanation that made sense. I wanted to hate her for believing it. I had my own doubts, though.
But Ian was a medium. He had been given the ability by Tria to help bring the PSA down. If they found out, would they hurt him? Would he have been forced to sign one of those contracts too?
My heart was jackhammering in my chest as I pulled into the parking lot of The Angels of Mercy building. It was a warehouse type facility with offices in the front and a loading dock in the back. It was a place that looked completely innocuous, something that would make a good place for some kind of covert op.
Gabe looked up from his phone with a grin. “Sam’s going to contact the shaman. She’ll ask him to come here so you don’t need to get clearance for using a portal to wherever he is.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat and nodded. I probably should have thanked him. My mind was too focused on the idea that the PSA might have taken Ian out.
Gabe had said they were alive. What if he was wrong? What if . . . no. I couldn’t let my mind go there. I had to focus on one thing at a time.
I got out of my car and walked at a brisk pace toward the building. The warm, summer air should have been a comfort. It wasn’t. Not in the least.
All I felt was the cold that had settled over me. All I heard was a ringing in my ears. I had to find Ian before I lost my mind.
The Fire of Hestia Page 3
