Chapter Eleven
Marcus
By the time Rob and Will return with Jen, we have the thing, whatever it is, in the lead box.
I did more cheerleading than anything else—John was not having me get close to any of the action—but I learned that while I see a crochet hook, John sees a knife, and Nasir sees a vague shadow, which is kind of reassuring.
If Nasir saw something as threatening as John’s knife, I’d worry about why my magical subconscious thought a crochet hook would scare me.
Jen, our witchy accomplice, joins me on the porch to watch the wrap-up.
For some reason, how to lift the box into Nasir’s vehicle takes almost more discussion than getting it into the box in the first place.
Jen is short, with a crooked nose and stick-straight blond hair, and she claims one of the big chairs, a small carry-on overnight case and a laptop bag at her feet.
She’s actually pretty cool, chatting about the Dodgers and their failed World Series run. As a loyal fan of the Seattle Mariners, I was honor bound to cheer for the Blue Jays and was happy to see them win.
A tight team beats cash money all day long.
That must be the guiding principle for Rob and his group of misfits. Rob and Will still look like random California surfer dudes, which doesn’t bother Nasir at all. The group of them come off like brothers, with an obvious foundation of respect and familiarity between them.
“Not yet.” Rob’s sharp words interrupt our baseball chatter. He and Nasir are facing off near the end of the driveway.
“We don’t know how powerful this thing is.” Nasir’s just as firm. “We should move it before it degrades the lead.”
“This won’t take long.” Rob pivots and stalks up the walkway to the front steps. Jen and I both scramble to our feet in response to his mood as much as the short come with me he barks on his way past us.
We do, and soon everyone is seated around the dining room table.
It’s a heavy piece, solid wood polished to a high gloss.
The chairs have turned-spindle backs, the kind that feel like stones against your ribs, and thick padded seats.
Rob, who lost his glamour between the door and the dining room, claims the chair at the head of the table, and John stalks over to the one at the other end.
Sonny, having been roused by the activity, sits as far from the windows as possible, and Nasir sits next to him. I grab a seat next to John, and if it feels safer to be close to him, I don’t want to poke at why. Jen’s next to me, and once we’re all settled, Rob nods at her.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I can have Cherie heat something up.”
Jen shakes her heads no, although I wouldn’t mind something. A hamburger sounds good. Rare enough to moo.
Sonny closes his laptop, attention is on Jen, lip curled like he’s looking at something weird. They both have to half-stand in order to shake hands. Neither smiles and the gesture ends quickly, as if each had learned all they wanted to know about the other and couldn’t wait to be done.
Huh. I can’t remember whether David’s witch friend Albion Bird and Trajan ever acted weird around each other, but the vibe between Sonny and Jen is the opposite of friendly.
Will rolls in last. He’s changed the surfer look for some mod jeans and a tight white tee shirt, and he plonks himself into a chair next to Nasir.
Once Will is seated, Rob puts both palms flat on the table. “Thank you all for being here. Though I’d hoped to keep this location and the identity of our allies secret, it seems our opponent is better prepared than I’d anticipated. The risks we face have increased.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jen asks, her expression flat. “You asked me to set wards and I set wards, and today they alerted us to a threat, just like they were supposed to. Why would you set wards if you didn’t think you could be found?”
“They were supposed to be an extra layer of protection.” Rob frowns at all of us. “As much as I appreciate your work, Jen, I don’t like that an object broke through the wards, and I like even less that you were accosted by strange men in the middle of nowhere.”
“I wasn’t nowhere,” Jen says with a sardonic smile. “Some would say Topanga Canyon is the center of the universe.”
That earns her a general chuckle. “No one would say that,” Will mutters, and Jen snickers in response.
“Look,” Nasir says, knocking on the table as if to bring us all to order. He glances at Rob. “You okay if I talk?”
Rob gives a sharp nod, and Nasir continues.
“The goal is to steal the Belle Etoile diamond before de Lisle can buy it, because anything that fucks with Leander de Lisle is worth doing, right? Distraction or whatever. We’ve been lying low, or as low as possible given you all infiltrated a master vampire’s lair, and now you’re clutching your pearls that he knows where we are. You always knew that was a risk.”
“Damn,” Sonny whispers. I glance around the table, and everyone’s eyes have gone wide, except John. He clasps his hands, his gaze steady, like he knows Rob isn’t going to punch back.
Dad sure as hell would have if some subordinate had called him out like that.
Fuck. Don’t think about Dad right now. Or ever.
John clears his throat, a reassuring presence, and I inhale deeply of his woodsy-wolf scent. “You’re saying that by attending Prince’s party, we let de Lisle know we’re here.”
Something like humor flashes in Nasir’s eyes. “Maybe; maybe not. I mean, far be it from me to second-guess your decision-making”—he nods at Rob, his tone edged with sarcasm—“but I’m reasonably certain de Lisle’s known at least some of us were in town for a while now.”
Rob’s grimace grows fiercer. “How?”
Keep your mouth shut, dude. Don’t get in the middle of things.
Yeah, common sense never stopped me for long.
“For the same reason you know what he’s likely to be up to,” I say.
“You’ve been fighting each other since your weapon of choice was a bow and arrow.
He can guess what you’re likely to do next. ”
The silence that drops over the table is loud enough to make my ears ring, at least until Jen starts laughing. Will joins in, and Sonny gives a strangled sort of snicker. John puts his hand on my shoulder, either claiming me in some way or making sure I can’t run when Rob erupts.
I mind the idea that he might pin me here a lot more than I do the thought of being claimed, which is a little weird.
Shockingly—or not—Rob starts to laugh, too. “You’re not wrong,” he finally chokes out. “Okay, Nasir, explain your claim. There are what? Three and a half million people in LA? How did de Lisle find our needle in that haystack?”
Nasir’s expression goes flatter than normal. “Urban surveillance cameras.”
“What?” John asks the question the loudest, but he’s not the only one. Sonny and Nasir exchange a glance, clearly asking each other who’s going to fall on that sword.
Nasir answers him. “Like most big cities, Los Angeles has a system of cameras on most major roads and other places people gather. They’re mostly used by law enforcement, and it’s possible someone from de Lisle’s team hacked it and has set triggers based on our facial features and body metrics.”
“So any one of us could have been targeted, simply when walking down the street,” Sonny continues. “And where one of us is, the others are sure to appear.”
“All right.” Rob closes his eyes, as if taking in that new information and pondering what to do with it. I gotta give him credit for not dismissing them right off.
I speak up because, while this isn’t my area of expertise, I want to reinforce what they’re saying. “So a traffic camera could have picked you and John up when we drove in yesterday, or any of the rest of you when you were out and about.”
“What about me?” Jen asks. “I’ve only been over here once to set the wards.”
Since neither Nasir nor Sonny seem to want to speak up, I start spitballing. “What if de Lisle guessed that Rob would want wards and set a watch on whoever might be capable of setting them? There can’t be that many of you, even in a town this big, right?”
She taps the table. “Yeah, there’s probably only three or maybe four of us.”
Nasir speaks up. Finally. “So they know we’re here and they’re watching the witches who could set wards, and when you and Rob move at about the same time, they do too.”
John chuckles, an uncharacteristically unhinged sound. “How do people stand being watched all the time? Why would anyone choose to live that way?”
Will flaps a hand at him. “Kind of irrelevant, old man.”
“Hang on.” Me and my big mouth, feeling like I gotta defend him.
“He’s got a point. I think it has to do with the fact that there are over three million people living here.
My cousin David’s vampire boyfriend is a couple hundred years old, and he’ll sometimes bitch about how much more crowded everything is, and how, like, everyone is a stranger now.
If there wasn’t some way of keeping an eye on things .
. .” I trail off in the face of the room’s general silence.
Rob nods in agreement. “Necessary evil. I should have realized this could be a problem. What we need to do now, though, is make sure he can’t get past our wards.
We need one place that’s safe. Jen?” He points at the witch.
“I want your strongest work. Whatever you can do. Turn this whole block into a blind spot.”
She nods, her expression stark. “Gonna cost you.”
“Sure.” He shifts in his seat, leaning toward Nasir. “What have you got that can help?”
Nasir catches his lower lip in his teeth, a flash of white against his dark beard. “The Securitas liaison notified the city, asking them to look for a leak in their system. If they find something, we can help them plug it.”
“Good.” He turns to Sonny next. “You and Marcus need to redouble your efforts at finding a way into de Lisle’s network. See if you can identify how they’re tracking us from inside.”
“We’re on it,” Sonny says, though the way his blue eyes flash adds a note of sarcasm to the sincerity in his words.
“What shall I do?” John asks.
“You and I, my friend, will go back to Prince’s lair and, as the gangsters used to say, case the joint.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, early. We need to assess their daytime security and see what else we can learn. If de Lisle knows we’re here, he’ll want to move quickly to secure the diamond. We cannot let him.”
There’s enough emphasis in his voice that I wonder if there’s something bigger at play than a bit of eighteenth-century jewelry.
“We’re not going to wait for Tucker and the rest?” Will asks.
The light in Rob’s eyes dims for about a heartbeat. “Tucker and Alec will both be here soon.”
“And Fritz?” John asks, his expression gone dark.
Again, a brief look of unhappiness crosses Rob’s face. “Fritz will be here as soon as he is able.”
“That makes no sense.” The words burst from John, loud enough to make everyone jump. “Marian Fitzwilliam is a key member of our group. He should be here, especially under these circumstances.”
And I thought the silence was loud before. Nobody has shit to say to that. They’re all staring at Rob. Well, except for me and Jen. We’re staring at each other like we want to race to see who can make it out of the room first.
“Fritz will be here,” Rob says, an echo of power in his voice. “I swear to you on the Virgin that he will.”
“Fine.” John manages to cram a whole lot of doubt into one word.
The tension rises to the point where my thighs are rigid with the need to get up and run. The spell is broken by Nasir, who apparently isn’t afraid of walking into the line of fire. “So what’s the point of casing the joint?” he asks, sarcasm obvious.
Rob’s glare would fry a lesser man. “To continue what we began last night, so that when we go after the diamond, we’re successful.”
“That’s not all we need to go after,” John says, his voice distant. “Pretty sure Prince’s got some young people in there that may not want to be there.”
“I’m sure he does,” Jen says, her voice hard. “Prince is one of Leander de Lisle’s suppliers.” She reaches up and catches hold of something under her chin, then does what I can only describe as lifting up her face.
She lifts up her face.
Half of it, anyway.
Half is the same blue-eyed, model-thin woman I’ve been daring to make a break for it so I can.
The other half is charred, blackened, parts of it possibly rotting away.
“What the—” I literally gasp. She lowers the mask—it has to be some kind of mask—and she’s back to looking normal. The memory, though, is burned into my retinas.
“What happened?” John asks, way more composed than I am.
“It was de Lisle,” she says tersely. “He likes his women young and fertile, and he doesn’t take no for an answer.” She winces. “God, did I really just spout such a shitty cliché? He works with scum like Prince to recruit young women—sometimes very young—and if you turn him down . . .”
Rob raps the table once, a short, sharp crack. “We didn’t need more incentive to go after de Lisle, and now Prince is also a target. We get the diamond, and then”—he pauses for effect—“we burn his lair to the ground.”
No one has anything to say to that.