“What explanations do you have for these… fires happening in your presence?” My eyes glazed over as the stinging sensation made my teeth ache. Someone was really giving this scan their all. “I have a dozen accusations of excessive force and one of kidnapping. I could have your PI license revoked.”
“That you could, if the accusations were true. Tell me, Detective, have you personally interviewed the complainants in those cases? Or are you just riffling through files and coming down here to sit on my car and threaten me? As far as the kidnapping, I transported a fugitive across state lines. At the request of your Lieutenant Monroe, and only to return him to your custody. He’s been whining about being kidnapped ever since.” Abruptly, the scan stopped, but not before the sweat beading on my forehead dripped down the sides of my face.
Bennett slid off my car, and I reminded myself to get it washed. “I’m interviewing every single person you’ve ever crossed paths with. I know you’re an Unregged. The next time, I’ll bring handcuffs.”
I offered a cool nod. “Then I suppose I’ll be seeing you around, Marty.”
Only the slight widening of his eyes showed his surprise. I stepped around him and opened my door as he ordered, “Don’t leave town.”
This time, I did salute as I started the car, wishing I could just run him over and leave his body in the alley. Maybe the boys out front would clean him up too. I kind of doubted it, given the fact Knight was still shouting.
Pausing at the end of the alley, I risked the barest glance, and sure enough, Knight was in bedazzled guy’s face, angrier than I’d ever seen him. I would have stayed and watched the show, but I’d already dodged too many bullets today, and it wasn’t even lunchtime. I headed home, just like Knight had commanded.
Home was the attic in a sprawling ex-Greek frat house where the floors groaned whenever you walked across them, and the kitchen was a germaphobe’s worst nightmare. Twelve people lived in this house, and while I attempted to learn the names of the ever-rotating guest list, I failed miserably. What can I say? People were not my thing.
My door was guarded by an industrial-strength deadbolt and magical wards. Inside, I had a bed, an enormous dresser that was here when I arrived, and two worn leather chairs.
Telling myself for the millionth time this was all I needed, I sank into the nearest chair and pulled off my boots. Unbound, my magic unfurled, instantly filling me with power, but it didn’t soothe my skin, which still felt sunburned from the scan. Bennett hadn’t been the one scanning me, but whoever was, they’d been nearby. The fact I wasn’t in handcuffs meant the scan had come up negative, but only because I’d been prepared.
With a bit of luck, Bennett would go back, confirm everything I told him was true, and forget about me. That was a pipedream, since I’d seen the dogged look in his eyes. He was committed to bringing me down—read: collect big reward—and I’d have a hard time shaking him.
Bennett was a complication I didn’t need and couldn’t afford. Magic was part of me, it wasn’t like I could get rid of it. Magic gave me an edge in the PI business, it made picking locks and eavesdropping on phone conversations easier, as well as defending myself from dangerous criminals. Actually, the PI job was mostly skill-based, and my magic only came into play occasionally. But in a roundabout way, it put food on my table. Well, not my table, since I didn’t technically have one, but it filled my belly just the same.
Magic was why I answered Knight’s calls on the first ring and never, ever crossed him.
As far as the whole registration situation, the last thing I’d wanted as a ten-year-old run-away was involving myself in the governmental registration process, which certainly would have placed me in protective foster care, also known as prison for kids.
After spending my formative years hiding my magic from the powers that be, I’d become a pro at magical concealment, a skill that came in handy today with Bennett. You could be scanned anywhere, anytime, since a cheap scanner only ran a thousand bucks and could detect magic in under a second. Unregistered Elementals had their very own governmental oversight department and were featured on posters like America’s Most Wanted. Except the rewards were higher if you nabbed one of us.
Which meant there was a burgeoning market for turning in Unregs.
After today’s close call, I had to figure out how to get Bennett off my ass. If I didn’t, I’d end up in Devilton, and he’d collect a huge reward.
That alone pissed me off. If anyone was going to make money off my magic, it would be me.
I headed for my bathroom, a converted closet with a ceiling so low I was forced to shower hunched-over. A far cry from Lincoln’s marble and glass temple to personal cleanliness. But it was all mine, and I fell into bed exhausted and soaking wet.
I woke to six missed calls and the sun setting beyond my dirty windows. Somehow, I’d slept the day away, but at least the scan’s residual pain was gone, and I felt almost human. Scrolling through, I found one message from Lincoln and two from Knight.
Knight: I have a job for you.
Knight: (three seconds later) If you don’t call me back, I’ll come looking.
“Shit.” Hastily I redialed, noting the last message was two hours old. I went straight to voicemail. “Knight, I’m sorry. I was tied up with a case and just got free. Sorry.” I winced. Two sorry’s in a row sounded desperate. He’d know I was lying for sure.
Pulling up Lincoln’s calls, he’d only left the one message. Miranda darling, I need to speak to you before the end of day. Please come by at your convenience. Now that’s what a healthy working relationship looked like. Since it was technically not actually the end of the day, I dressed and hopped in the car, heading for Lincoln’s.
His mansion always looked especially imposing at night, lit from beneath with floodlights, which heightened the detailing of the intricate gothic architecture and set the entire marble building ablaze.
Magic had paid for this place, he always said. Funny thing was, I never discovered what kind of magic Lincoln possessed. Since he seemed to have a never-ending toolbox of skills, I couldn’t pin his power down. I always speculated it was some sort of higher earth magic, since he excelled at manipulating color and fooling the eye.
I finally found him not in the library or the kitchen, his two favorite haunts, but back down in the tech room, poring over the files. His hair was a disaster of Einstein proportions, and there was cold tea and half a sandwich on a plate. He had changed into a dark blue smoking jacket with ermine trim, making him look like an exhausted wizard.
“Have you even slept? From your bleary eyes, I’ll take that as a no. Lincoln,” I gently scolded, “you can’t stay up all night. It’s too hard on your ancient and frail constitution.”
“Oh, stop with your faint praise. My fortitude is twice yours, on any given day.” He dug his fists into his eyes and yawned. “What part of before the end of day did you not comprehend?”
“You also tacked on at your earliest convenience. If you’re going to give me conflicting instructions, then you’ll have to expect some level of confusion on my part.” I cleared the plate and the cup, noting he’d reformatted the spreadsheet. “Did you figure anything out?”
“Most of it, unfortunately. In some respects, you were right.”
I slapped my hands over my heart. “Me? Right? Dare those words cross your lips?” At his sour look, I stopped my mime act, but only a little. Lincoln never admitted I was right about anything. “I think this is a benchmark moment in our relationship.”
He ignored me and gestured at the holo.
“Think of the process like donating blood. From these individuals, Shelton’s lab took what they needed for transfusions. This column”—he pointed to the one with a long extension of data—“is the amount taken. This one is how long each procedure lasted, and this one…” His voice turned low. “This one designates how long the donors lived after the procedure.”
I scanned the document, seeing none of the items he listed off.
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br /> “By my estimation, only one out of five hundred survives the procedure. The average survival time is twenty minutes, before the victim passes.”
“You mean to tell me Shelton’s killing people for their blood?”
“No, I said it’s like donating blood. But this isn’t a donation, it’s theft.” Lincoln spit the words out as if he couldn’t stand the taste of them. “Everyone on this list is an Elemental. Shelton is stealing their magic, measuring how much they took, and classifying it by strength, type, and volume, killing most of them in the process.”
Something oily writhed in my gut. I knew the Sheltons were shady, but this was monstrous. “No… that can’t be possible, Lincoln.” My voice seemed to come from far away, and the screen got blurry. “How can they… I don’t understand, how could they hide something like this?”
“I’ve gone over it enough to know I’m right, Miranda. I wish I was wrong, I truly do, but I’m afraid, based on the data, I’m correct.”
“Which means the Devilton disappearances aren’t just urban legend.”
“No, they aren’t, they’re real.” We were both quiet for a while, digesting this horrible truth. “Not only that, I think this has been going on for years. If I factor in their numbering system, and extrapolating a timeline, seven or eight years.”
“As long as the complex has existed,” I murmured. “What are they using the magic for?”
Lincoln’s face changed slightly. “I’m not sure, but I have my suspicions. As these reports are eighteen months old, I’m projecting over fifty thousand victims a year. A rough estimation, of course.”
“How can nobody know?” My brain was stumbling through the data, the sheer scope of lives lost. “Devilton’s a government project, funded by public donations from a bunch of rich do-gooders. Now you’re telling me it’s a death camp?”
“It was also constructed on land bequeathed by the Sheltons.” When I went to argue, Lincoln held out a hand to stop my outburst. “I know it’s true. I looked up the particulars. Twenty thousand acres the family owned as a hunting property. The land had been in the family for generations.”
This cannot be happening. It can’t be real.
“The property flowed from the family to a series of trusts, ending up as a private donation to an independent government agency called the National Elemental Housing Board. I’d never heard of it, so I investigated that as well.”
My mind spinning, Lincoln had so many screens up, I didn’t know where to look first. He waved to one of them, topped off by a government seal and a big sun—go Hyperions—the symbol for the Elemental Manipulators community. “From my cursory examination, this page appears to be a legitimate agency. The site index is linked to all other, related agencies; Department of Housing and Urban Development, Department of Labor, et cetera. But when you dive in a bit deeper, things get interesting. All of their accessibility links go to one place, which is not part of the government. It’s an answering service. Which made me curious, naturally.”
“Naturally,” I repeated faintly.
“So, I did a remote-access source search, had to wait hours while my program ran through all the blinds and bounces. They had the site well hidden, but my program is better than most. Guess where all the numbers and emails end up?”
“Not a clue?” Please, please don’t have dug any deeper.
“No, silly. Shelton Industries.”
Worse, this whole thing was getting worse by the minute.
“Are you saying that Shelton Industries has its own governmental agency?” I mentally ran through everything I’d discovered during my own research and drew a blank. “I don’t think that’s possible, even for that family. Could they be a management firm connected to that department?”
“I thought about that. But then I called. The call went straight to an answering service. I told them I was Senator Ross from the Mortgage Oversight Committee, looking into fraudulent interest payments. You’d be surprised at how quickly I was passed up the food chain. Until I found myself talking to Jacqueline St. Stein. Do you know who that is?”
I shook my head numbly.
“That, my dear, is Andrew Shelton’s personal secretary.”
None of this could be real. Seriously, what had I been thinking, taking that disc from Derek, bringing it back here, and opening it up? Why, oh why hadn’t I just left well enough alone? With the blood of a dead Elemental on my hands, and Bennett riding my ass—not literally, thank God—it was hard to see how my situation could get any worse.
Except this was me, Miranda McHale, we were talking about. Who was I kidding? Of course, things could get worse. Bad Luck is my middle name, except it’s two words. Good fortune had never been my forte. I swear, if I ever won the lottery, I’d probably drop dead the next day.
“Do you know what she told me?”
Right, Lincoln was still talking, and I should probably pay attention as my life fell apart. “She told me she’d put me on hold, and Andrew would take my call, personally. I was thinking to myself, ‘What wonderful service!’ before I remembered what I was doing and hung up. That’s when I realized my tea was cold.” Of course, it always came back to the tea. For me, it would have been bourbon, but whatever.
“Shit…” My thoughts tapered off into nothingness. If the Sheltons found out I had their classified information, I was dead.
So, so dead.
“There’s something we must discuss, Miranda. In the past, I’ve hesitated to involve you in my more delicate business dealings, however…” His face turned apologetic. Or constipated, it was always hard to tell with Lincoln.
“Are you insinuating I can’t keep a secret?” I huffed. “I handle confidential information all the time. You know, the delicate stuff private investigators deal with all the time.” How dare he suggest I wasn’t discreet. “That’s… just ridiculous.” I always felt unarmed around Lincoln, with his fancy library and his smoking jackets and his hoity-toity attitude.
“My dear, I’d never slander you in such an ungentlemanly way. What I should have said is the situation is potentially dangerous, and I don’t like putting you in harm’s way.” My heart warmed at the way his white hair caught the light, turning into a halo. “You do enough of that yourself, you certainly don’t need my assistance.”
Like I said, he can really be an asshole.
“Now. The Sheltons will be looking for you. You must leave town immediately.” For once, Lincoln dropped his fancy-pants act. He did so rarely and only under extenuating circumstances. That alone had me holding my breath.
“You must realize there are areas of my life where I don’t involve you. I know some dangerous people. People I never wanted you around, Miranda. But this disc… I don’t need to tell you how much trouble you’re in right now.”
No, he didn’t. But I was pretty sure he was about to anyways.
“How quickly will word get back to them?” Because there was no doubt in my mind this was a when, not if, situation. I knew Lincoln would go to the wall for me, but I wouldn’t have him dying for me.
He glanced at his Piaget. “Once they track down Derek? Quickly enough that we must move fast. I will make the necessary arrangements. My friend Dawson will give you a place to stay for a few weeks while I sort this out. Somewhere the Sheltons will never find you.”
“Where is that, Lincoln?”
“New York, of course. Who would think to look right under their nose?”
My gut clenched hard enough to hurt. “I’m not… you know I can’t go back there.”
“I know you have… bad memories from there.” He hedged, placing a hand on my arm, giving me a fatherly squeeze of encouragement. “You have to trust me, dear, this is the best option. My contact will keep you safe until this entire mess blows over.”
“I can’t go to New York, Lincoln.” It came out more like a plea than a declaration, but whatever. “I won’t go back. I’ll never go back.”
“Andy, darling.” Lincoln only called me Andy darling
when he wanted to get his way, but on this, I was determined not to budge an inch.
“My parents tried to kill me, Lincoln. They tried to have me murdered.”
He was quiet for a while. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
“They found out I was an Elemental, and they hired a hit man to kill me so nobody would ever know the family was tainted with Elemental blood.” I sounded slightly hysterical, but I couldn’t stop myself as I thought about going anywhere near that godforsaken city. This was the part of my secret that Lincoln already knew, but it would do him good to be reminded of why I’d never, ever go back.
“The Sheltons will kill you if they find you,” he countered carefully, measuring my face while he spoke. “I cannot lose you, Miranda.”
“I… even so, I can’t go back.” The mere thought of setting foot in the city had every nerve in my body sparking. As if he realized how close I was to exploding, Lincoln set his hand over mine. I barely even felt it, I was so agitated.
“I can’t change the past. I tried to give you a future. I’m still trying. Which means you’re going to New York. You will find Dawson and follow directions and stay alive while I bury this whole mess. Damn it.”
Lincoln swearing was like snow in August. It just didn’t happen.
“Look, I’ve spent all day and”—he checked the diamond-encrusted watch again—“most of the night working on this. The Sheltons are at the heart of this, and you have evidence linking them to the crime. How long do you think before they catch up with you?” His mouth tightened in frustration as he counted it out. “One week? Two? This situation is bad, Andy. Bad enough I can’t get you out of it.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“No. You never do.” His tone turned bitter, and I instantly regretted what I’d said. Lincoln and I never fought. Not that this was a fight, but still, things felt wrong between us.
“I’ve never been comfortable with your wealth,” I tried explaining. “I never wanted to take advantage of you… or wanted you to think I was.” That was mostly the truth. The other part of it, the part I couldn’t put into words, was I wanted to do things for myself, so I never had to rely on anyone ever again.
Betrayed by Blood: The Shelton Family Legacy : 1 Page 4
