Chapter 6 #2
Somehow, she understood him. “Kitty is an arcane creature born on Earth, one of a kind. He wants to take her apart. He wants to dissect her and use her body as a model for his next mechanical atrocity. He tried to buy Zeus years ago. We turned him down. He kept upping the price.”
“How much did he offer?”
“Two-hundred and fifty million if Cornelius would keep Zeus calm and alive as long as possible during the vivisection.”
Augustine recoiled.
Her eyes were terrible, frantic and brimming with pain. He hated it. He wanted to take that pain away from her, to reassure her, but he couldn’t. Platitudes would only make things worse.
“Why Zeus? Woodward worked with the Conspiracy. He had access to Harcourt, who had summoned Zeus. Why not just hire a summoner to get another specimen?”
“Because no summoner could keep a living animal calm while it was cut apart. And because Zeus was a bonded animal. No animal mage had been able to bond with a summon. Woodward thought that Zeus was unique. He wanted to study the bond and his body.”
Revulsion cut through him, angry and cold.
“I should have known,” she said, her voice defeated.
“How could you?”
They finally reached the townhouse parking lot. His phone vibrated. He glanced at it. Adrian Woodward owned three houses, one in California, one in Colorado, and this one, in Canyon Lake. He had boarded a private plane to Austin out of Denver International half an hour ago.
Augustine opened the file attachments. He found a series of images of Woodward’s compound, a veritable fortress hiding behind a concrete wall. The house sat atop a hill overlooking a lake, with the nearest neighbor half a mile away.
“There is no time,” she said, her voice hollow.
“There’s no time for backup. He will kill her tonight.
She’s still alive. I can still feel the bond with Celeste, a tiny sliver of it, and she would know if her cub had died.
She would grieve and I would feel it, and if Kitty dies, I will lose them both. ”
The last traces of lust melted. He was back to his normal self, and he coldly calculated their options. None of them were good.
The legal system acknowledged its limitations when it came to Primes.
When Houses came into conflict, they filed for official permission to engage in House warfare.
Woodward hired someone to steal from House Harrison, and House Harrison’s employees died as a result.
They had more than enough for a Verona Exception, and with the right wording, he was certain their application for a feud would get approved, but that would take time. They didn’t have any.
Storming the Woodward compound with MII without the proper permits was out of the question. It would expose his House and his company to sanctions and possible criminal liability. At a very basic level, it was illegal. And again, mobilizing an appropriate force would take time.
Their only option was a surgical strike.
Right now, no money had exchanged hands.
The only proof tying House Harrison and MII was sitting in his files, the contract Diana signed.
He could delete it at any time. Only a handful of people knew where they were, and he trusted all of them.
Even so, only he and Diana had the complete picture.
If they wanted to save the cub, they had to infiltrate the house.
The best-case scenario had them sneaking in, finding the cub, and getting out.
Undetected. The worst ended with all of them dead.
From Denver, Woodward’s flight to Austin would take roughly two hours, plus the drive to his mansion, because the tiny airport in Canyon Lake shut down at night.
That would buy them another hour. Their chances were exponentially better with Woodward absent.
He made a decision. Really, it wasn’t even a choice.
Diana turned to him, her face blank. Her tone was flat and clipped, the formality almost painful.
“Prime Montgomery, House Harrison thanks you for your assistance in this matter. You have more than honored the obligations of our agreement. I wish you success in your future endeavors. Should you ever need our assistance, House Harrison will stand by you.”
He would have laughed, but she would have taken it badly. “Are you firing me?”
“Yes.”
He waited.
She held out for another three seconds, but his silence broke her. “Woodward stole Kitty. I have evidence and the legal basis for a feud petition, but it will take too long. He will kill her tonight.”
It was eerie how her thought patterns ran so parallel to his own.
“I’m going into that compound,” she said. “You cannot come with me. If you do, your House and your firm will be implicated. We must part ways here.”
“You need me,” he said.
“I have seen his toys. They are nearly indestructible.” The desperation in her voice cut at him. “I have to do this, but I probably won’t survive it. I want you to live, Augustine. It’s important to me.”
He wanted to linger on that and figure out exactly what she meant, but now wasn’t the right moment.
“You asked for my help. I will see it through.”
“Your House…”
“My House isn’t here, but I am. In my professional opinion, we have two choices: rescue or revenge. I prefer the rescue. We started this together, we will end this together.”
“Augustine…”
He offered her a smile. “Let me make a quick call, and we’ll be on our way.”
The sky was a dusty purple, and the lake below stole its color, the water a dark mirror cradled by the rocky hills.
The craggy crests and jagged, boulder-strewn cliffs looked nearly prehistoric.
The only signs of civilization were an occasional outline of a roof and electric lights in the distance that left glowing trails on the water.
And the pale monstrosity of a house sitting atop a neighboring hill.
Augustine peered through the scope of a sniper rifle.
Canyon Lake was man-made and federally owned, managed by the U.S.
Army Corps of Engineers. The government had designated parts of the shoreline for public use.
As luck would have it, one of these scenic overlooks gave them the perfect view of the Woodward estate.
It spread slightly below them like an ancient fortress, poised behind an ornamental wall of Austin limestone that was topped with ornate wrought iron.
The pure white house, if one could call a building of that size a house, rose three oversized stories up, beautifully illuminated by strategic, tinted lighting discreetly tucked away behind the landscape.
Augustine passed the rifle to Diana. She looked through the scope and frowned.
From the front, the house looked like any other ostentatious Texas mansion: huge lawn, vast stretches of paver-stone patios and walkways, trees vastly older than the buildings. A two-story arched gatehouse flanked by towers lorded over the main driveway.
The rear of the structure was like no other house—a solid block painted white. No doors, no windows. Just a cube of solid walls, three stories high and three hundred and fifty feet wide.
MII’s intelligence on Woodward had been limited; however, they had a basic diagram of the house. Augustine’s father had bought it from the builder for reasons unknown, and it had sat quietly in their internal files until Lina unearthed it and sent it to him.
Once again, his father’s foresight had saved Augustine from the beyond. Eventually, Augustine would have to unpack the unpleasant cocktail of emotions that the realization brought up, but now wasn’t the time.
Their target was to infiltrate the back of the house, that solid reinforced cube, which the builder had termed the Vault.
The blueprint Lina had sent put the total square footage at a hundred twenty-two thousand, five hundred feet.
It was the size of a Costco warehouse. Not only was the footprint staggering, but the costs of the land and construction had to have been astronomical.
Even thirty years ago, when the compound had been built.
The Vault housed Woodward’s laboratory: a warehouse of material storage, the crafting area where Woodward tinkered with his constructs, and, most importantly, a large indoor atrium labeled the “Menagerie,” where he kept his animals.
Woodward collected rare species, specifically predators. The Menagerie served as a private zoo where they were housed until he decided to take them apart in an effort to understand how they worked. He seemed to be blissfully untroubled by the fact that none of the creatures survived the process.
In Woodward’s view, there were three types of constructs: mechanical, magical, and biological.
Animals and people fit into that last category, and the only difference between them and his creations were the materials from which they were made.
That last bit came from a rare speech he’d given at an animator conference a decade ago.
Animators were an odd lot, but even Woodward’s words managed to disturb them enough to prevent any invitations since.
Augustine scrutinized the house one more time.
No guard house, no patrols, no floodlights. Nothing to indicate that a security force oversaw the mansion. Almost every House employed private protection. Hired guards were so common, their absence was both glaring and alarming.
That meant automated defenses. Woodward was likely to have turrets. Those two towers flanking the arched entrance were there for a reason, but Augustine wasn’t worried about the turrets. They would be the least of their problems.
“Ten o’clock.” Diana passed the rifle back to him.
Augustine looked through the scope, aiming in the direction she’d indicated.
There it was. A group of metal statues, arranged in a circle beneath the shadows of the trees, like some kind of art installation. Their odd contours threw him for a moment, until his brain made the connection.
Woodward’s mansion was guarded by a pack of dinosaur constructs.