Chapter Seventeen
Gerard Clare’s Mediterranean-styled villa sat in the Hollywood Hills. Unsurprisingly, his home was also in a gated enclave. The gates proved to be no more problem than the ones at Joseph’s place.
At the second set of very high, wrought iron gates with spikes at the top, Rowan muttered, “Even I don’t have this much security.” Maybe they needed it for the same reasons she did. She should try to be nicer.
Ha.
When they pulled up, unlike over at the Sansbury place, lights blazed from inside the home.
The door opened before they’d reached the third step, revealing what Rowan silently considered a stereotypical butler in a stereotypical butler’s suit. Though this one didn’t look more than thirty.
“Please tell whoever is at home that Genevieve Aubert is here.”
Genevieve had been snickering at something or other in the car just five minutes prior, but this version was cool, beautiful, and very much in charge.
The butler started at the name before he bowed low and stepped back from the doorway. “Please, be welcome,” he said with a sweep of an arm.
Now that was how a household should welcome a VIP guest.
Darius went first. Rowan could pretend to be offended, but mainly she was just fine. One, he could protect Genevieve better that way. Two, he was far more powerful than Rowan. And three, she was absolutely all right with letting him take any sort of hit that might come. It’d bounce off that giant chest anyway.
Heh. Very giant. Like a big, broody, sexy tree.
She got that thought right out of her head before Clive picked up on it and decided to be possessive.
“I’m Giles. Please make use of the sitting room while I seek out Mr. Clare. Would you care for some tea or coffee? A cocktail?”
If he was startled by the appearance of four supernatural strangers on the doorstep at ten p.m. he didn’t show it. It was certainly a far more understandable reaction to Genevieve’s presence than it had been over at chez Sansbury.
Genevieve asked for tea and Giles was off to butler it up, leaving them alone.
“Surveillance has been fed to Vanessa and Pru at the LA chapterhouse, but disabled internally,” David said quietly as he walked past. Pru ran the Southern California Hunters and should they need assistance, there was a team nearby ready.
Konrad hadn’t liked the idea of Hunter Corp. having such inside views of Conclave business, but to his credit, he’d sucked it up. Rowan was absolutely going to use everything she discovered to keep the magical community from violating the Treaty, yes. But they needed her help, and she was going to do it anyway, so working together had been the best option.
Rowan already felt guilty that she’d left so much of this witch stuff alone while she dealt with the Vampires. They’d gotten a toe hold in her city, and she’d barely noticed because she’d been drowning in murderous bloodsuckers.
She nodded that she’d heard and stood to wander the room. Unlike the Sansbury place, this home was clearly lived in. There were books on the shelves. Though most were of the coffee table variety there were also some biographies and the odd bit of fiction here and there.
Lots of photos. Mainly of the same couple either alone or together with this or that celebrity or important person.
“This is an unexpected surprise.”
Rowan turned to watch a man—the same from the photos in the room—enter and head straight for Genevieve.
“We are honored to have you here,” he told Genevieve with a bow.
David had shifted so he was slightly behind Rowan, to her left. Out of the way should she need to draw a weapon or fight in close quarters.
Darius narrowed his eyes as he took in the bow over Genevieve’s hand. She’d held it out to shake but Clare had taken it, turned it and kissed her knuckles instead.
Genevieve did not cede ground though. She held in place as she took her hand back.
“We have some questions for you, Gerard,” Genevieve told him.
He looked around Genevieve to Rowan and David. “I’m Gerard Clare. You’re Rowan Summerwaite, correct?”
Rowan nodded but did not put a hand out to shake. “This is David. He manages Hunter Corp. United States.” He didn’t need to know David’s last name.
“Welcome.”
He turned to Darius.
“This is Darius,” Genevieve said.
“Astonishing. I’ve never seen one of you up close before. Aren’t you out of your territory? I suppose you just do whatever you please.”
Rowan barely muffled her gasp. They were welcomed and Darius was...whatever Gerard was doing.
Darius stared at the witch, unspeaking. Genevieve’s tone had gone from cool to icy when she said, “As I said, my associates and I have questions for you. That doesn’t include passive-aggressive commentary to a guest.”
He blushed slightly. “Apologies. I was fascinated and forgot my manners. My office is just through here.”
Giles showed up nearly immediately with a tea tray, remaining until he’d poured out with a request that they let him know should there be anything they needed.
“Least he knows how to act,” Rowan said with a tip of her chin toward Giles before she took the chair next to Genevieve.
Clare looked like he was going to say something so Rowan waited. She fucking hoped he did because after his behavior, he needed to learn a few things.
He must have understood her eagerness because he dropped his gaze and she sat back, settling her right hand on the top of her cane just in case she needed it to knock the shit out of him.
“What do you need to speak to me about?” he asked Genevieve.
“The Procellas. And your connection to them.”
Gerard’s swallow was audible and Brigid’s attention, the hunter’s heart within Rowan, perked. Focused on the man across from her. Prey.
“We run in the same circles socially,” he said. Outwardly he was calm, but Rowan caught the racing pulsebeat at his neck. “And we do business from time to time.”
Pretty much the same line Joseph Sansbury had given them. Rowan made a mental note to avoid any circles that included scumbags like the Procellas and these guys and then wanted to laugh when she realized they were the majority of the dinguses she had to deal with regularly.
“What type of business?” Genevieve, too, was outwardly calm. However, she leaned forward slightly because she was on the scent.
“Freight. They have cruise and ship connections. My company moves freight overland via rail. There are situations when we need the space in the cargo holds of ships. Sergio or Alfonso are the brokers between us.” Gerard’s lips compressed at that last. Ha! He hadn’t meant to say it in that way. Us?
Genevieve asked, “What is your opinion of them?”
“I deal with them mainly,” a new voice said.
They turned toward the woman who’d just entered the room. She looked to be in her early forties, but Rowan knew from the background she’d been given that Fiona Clare was over two hundred years old.
She extended a hand to stay their movement. On the third finger of that hand, she sported a ring with three large diamonds that caught the light and sent it dancing. “Please. No need to stand. I’m Fiona Clare. I run the business with Gerard.”
Her husband brought a chair to sit next to his and then sat once his wife had.
“I should apologize for eavesdropping,” Fiona said without actually doing so. “Important Conclave guests at a late hour? My curiosity got the better of me.” She shrugged.
Fiona had shoulder-length, brownish-red hair. Her makeup was flawless. Highlighting her large green eyes and the curve of her bottom lip. In her ears—just one piercing in each—she wore diamond studs. Rowan wasn’t a jewelry expert, but her husband gave her a lot of it. She figured the earrings were two carats each. Clothes were the affluent version of at-home wear. Charcoal gray trousers with a house-shoe-type loafer deal, and a green cashmere sweater.
Genevieve looked over to Rowan briefly and then she said to the newcomer, “What is your opinion of the Procellas?”
Where Gerard had blanched slightly, Fiona just got...harder. Her mouth flattened and she smoothed her palms over her thighs as she fought for control.
Fiona didn’t like the Procellas at all. Whether it was one or the whole family, Rowan wasn’t sure.
It was her thirst for attention or maybe her need to control Gerard that brought her into the office. Whatever the cause, it was quite clear who was truly in charge. And they knew that now. Honestly, villains could be so egotistical. It’s what got them in trouble time and again. Rowan was grateful they were consistent at least.
“Business wise, or personal?” Fiona asked.
“As you pointed out, you run the business. Let’s hear that. To start,” Genevieve added.
While Fiona attempted to talk shit about the Procellas cloaked in business speak, Rowan paid attention to Gerard. He’d calmed at the appearance of his wife, but he was nervous still.
Fiona shrugged. “We are aware of the charges pending against Hugo. We are also aware there have been other women he’s stalked. No big surprise. It’s why I preferred to deal with Antonia as much as possible. But Sergio played favorites.”
“And Hugo was his favorite,” Rowan said, letting Fiona set up the story she was trying to sell them. Rowan bet Fiona was aces at manipulating people to get what she wanted.
Rowan wasn’t most people though. The woman across from them didn’t like any of the Procellas any more than her husband had. Gerard? He’d gotten angry and then shoved it away when they’d brought up the Procellas. Fiona loathed them in a way that told Rowan the connection between the two families and their businesses were far closer than they wanted to portray. Which meant they were most assuredly more important.
Fiona swallowed hard, like she was parting with the words but only after a struggle with herself. She poured on the regret as she latched herself to Rowan’s gaze. “Yes. Sergio would do or say anything to cast doubt on why his grandson was in trouble. He’d attempt any wild story to excuse it.”
Damn. Fiona really should have been an actor instead of a CEO.
Whatever the case, Rowan’s curiosity was well and truly piqued about just what sort of wild story she or Gerard thought the Procellas had told about...them.
“Mainly Sergio is an entitled old gasbag with a shitty, indulged predator as a grandson,” Rowan said. “His stories are pretty boring. But some of them are...interesting. Without context, they could be pretty explosive.”
That bloviating assface hadn’t said shit about the Clares. But his phone records did. And there was certainly no harm in letting Fiona believe he’d been telling on them.
“I suppose that’s a moot point now anyway,” Fiona said.
“What is?” Genevieve asked.
Fiona said, “The news about the explosion at the Procella home has been fairly nonstop all day. Obviously I hesitate to say anything else negative about Sergio given his tragic death. Hugo was suspiciously out of the way of violence I hear.”
“Do you think Hugo had something to do with that explosion?” Genevieve asked, sounding so very surprised by such an accusation.
Fiona wasn’t the only actress in the room.
“I couldn’t possibly say. It would be a terrible thing to associate someone with. Though you’ve met Hugo, so.” Fiona shrugged. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that he’s left in charge after the entirety of his family perished.”
Shew! Fiona was really working this angle. Did Hugo give someone she knew, or even herself, the stalker treatment?
Rowan wasn’t going to say anything. This was Genevieve’s situation to handle. Eventually it would get out, but that control of information had already netted them some good information.
“Bess Procella is alive.” Genevieve let that hang for a bit.
“Oh! Yes, the cruise,” Gerard said.
Interesting that they knew about the round-the-world trip Hugo’s mom had been on.
Fiona gave a shake of the head. “No one would put her in charge of anything.” She looked to Rowan. “She’s not the brightest. I suppose her people will step up and be there for her during this time.”
Rowan had found Bess self-centered and not very maternal, but she hadn’t come across as silly or stupid. On the contrary, she had a calculated manner a great deal like Fiona’s. Moreover, the deeper they’d dug into Procella business matters, the bigger Bess’s role had become. If these people did the sort of routine deals with the Procellas they claimed to, it seemed rather impossible for them not to know she was the exact opposite of not that bright .
“She’s on her way back to the United States now.”
Bess was already there, but Genevieve had her reasons.
Fiona said, “I’m pleased she’s alive and well. Though certainly it can’t be good news to return home to. I suppose there is no home now.”
Rowan watched a very small smile form and then ghost away from Gerard’s mouth.
“Have you also hired the Shank family to do work for your company?” Genevieve asked.
“We’ve certainly employed shifters to do some side work for us. Many witches do, of course. They’re frightfully efficient when it comes to getting local humans to get out of the way of progress.” Gerard spread his hands out a moment in a what else can you do gesture.
“And what about say, more hands-on behavior?” Genevieve followed up.
Gerard sat up straighter, attempting to affect offense. “Now see here, we do not pay to have others harmed. There are times when shifters go too far. But that’s their nature, you see. One must take a stern hand to be sure one is clear.”
Rowan couldn’t stop the guffaw. “The Shank crew tried to kill me in broad daylight in front of cameras and witnesses. Is that the kind of too far you mean?”
Fiona’s eyes widened this time as Gerard paled. “We’d heard you were attacked. As you are looking fairly whole, I assumed the news had been exaggerated. Are you saying one of the Procellas hired the Shank family to harm you? In public? Whatever for? What could they possibly gain from that?” Thing was, Fiona sounded emotionally invested. Frustrated. Truly wondering why. Interesting.
And for fuck’s sake. Pretending they hadn’t watched the footage of the ambush on her was such a stupid lie to tell. That attack had been everywhere online and on news outlets across the country. And it had involved members of the supernatural community, which would have created an intense curiosity in their circles. They’d all want to see. Hell, Rowan had watched the video multiple times too, wanting to be sure there was no evidence she was anything but a very resourceful and lucky woman who defended herself until help came.
She played along though, describing her wounds, and then tapped her cane on the floor three times. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d started that, but doing things in threes had become second nature.
“If the extent of your injuries is to be believed, how is it you’re standing?” Gerard nearly scoffed.
Genevieve interrupted, “You dare accuse a guest I’ve brought with me of deception? Are you addled? She is standing because she’s a Vessel to a goddess and mated to a Scion. Do you realize the sheer level of power she possesses to be as recovered as she is right now? If not, you are every inch the fool she’s got to believe you are.”
Aw. Rowan didn’t say anything or even make any outward indication of her feelings, but it was rather nice to be defended that way.
But Genevieve wasn’t done. “Did you know Sergio and Hugo had contracted with the Shanks to do this deed? Do not lie to me.”
Fiona gave a frustrated growl. “Why on Earth would we have known? We’ve done business with the Procellas, as we’ve said, but that doesn’t mean they’d take us into their confidence for whatever it was they were thinking to do. I suppose in some way it’s a shame they’re all dead—except Bess and Hugo—given what they’ve done.”
“Hey, before Genevieve says anything else, let me ask you something. Earlier when you were talking about your dealings with the Procellas to use their cargo space, you said they were the connection between us . If the Procellas were a middleman, so to speak, who’s the other party?”
Sweat broke out on Fiona’s forehead. Huh.
“I misspoke. I meant when they might be contracted on a ship versus it being their ship.”
Rowan cocked her head. “Did you though? Because what it sounded like was Sergio or Alfonso or whatever hooked you up with another party to move some cargo.”
Like perhaps the Procellas were a needed ingredient so they had to deal with them to get connected with some other party. Which would explain why anyone would tolerate them longer than five minutes.
But now they scrambled to protect this other party, which told Rowan that was who she needed to identify.
Neither answered. They most likely knew if they lied it would make things worse so they avoided speaking at all. Rowan had been in their place a time or two, but never because she was a murderous asshole.
“Oh, and one last thing,” Genevieve said. “The Procellas—all of them—are alive. They were not in the mansion when the mage firebomb hit it.”
“Mage fire?” Fiona said. She was going for shocked to hear it, but missed that by a mile.
“Can’t hire out to wolf shifters for that. No, this was an all-witch-type situation. Interesting, right?” Rowan said with a fake smile.
“I’m certain that can’t be. Perhaps it was one of those sorcerers. You said some might have escaped,” Gerard said of the conspiracy between those in the magical community and some shithead Vampires. Many had suffered. Many still did. Rowan thought back to two weeks before and the little house in Long Beach they’d looked at where three young people, two of them witches, had lived before they’d disappeared.
“Borrowed or stolen magic can’t make mage fire. A Genetic witch makes mage fire. You know that as well as I do,” Genevieve said.
“How do you know? There are human accelerants that can do that type of damage.”
How was it they believed Genevieve wouldn’t have gone to get magical signatures from the scene? Signatures that led them right here to these witches.
Genevieve chuckled and the menace in the sound sent goose bumps racing over Rowan’s arms. “First be glad the human authorities are as clueless as you assume I am. I was at the scene. So was Rowan. I guess we forgot to mention that part. It’s a good thing we all possess a great deal of protective magics of our own. I cannot imagine how the Dust Devils would have responded should I have died. Why, whoever was behind it may as well have walked into a volcano because they’d have been hunted down and executed.”
“We will still do that,” Darius said in a rumble. Within that rumble were sharp edges and heavy stones. “Our priestess was in that home. And more than one other who was under our protection.”
“So you see,” Genevieve said, “it’s important we get answers so we can meet this threat. Because that’s assuredly what this is.” As she spoke, the energy in the air seemed to build. “Once again it is our own who are responsible for this sort of deranged violence. We, who pledge to always be shelter to one another against the outside world, are proving to be our own worst enemy. We are Conclave. We have existed for thousands of years, and we will continue to do so. We will find out what is happening, and it will be dealt with. Should you decide to remember anything useful regarding your business with the Procellas, contact my office immediately.”
They got up as one and headed out to the front entry.
“I know you are withholding information,” Genevieve said. “You are playing a very dangerous game. One I’ve played for centuries longer than you have. Come to your senses before it’s too late. Don’t leave the city.”
They left while the Clares still made excuses.
“I managed to get into their home Wi-Fi network and Vanessa piggybacked into their system. She’s making a clone as we speak,” David said. “I’ll get everything shared with the Conclave as well once we begin to get data.”