Chapter Twenty-One
Rowan headed toward the pile of trash at the side of the house. People threw out all sorts of incriminating stuff, so she’d give it a quick riffle to see what was there.
But when she was just a few feet away, she saw movement. Fucking raccoons.
Clive growled low in his throat, which meant he saw it too.
“Better not give me rabies,” she muttered and then froze as a sound came from that pile, and it wasn’t a raccoon or a rat. A whimper of pain.
“Shit. Someone is down!” Rowan called out as she hustled over to what wasn’t garbage at all.
It was a woman. A woman who’d been severely beaten.
Rowan wasn’t even sure where to touch that wouldn’t cause more hurt, her heart squeezing with pity as she went to her knees next to the woman. “I’m here,” Rowan murmured. “I’m going to help you. Please don’t be afraid.” She opened herself to Brigid, who rose instantly, healing and soothing magic flowing from Rowan into the injured woman.
Genevieve approached at a run and slid to a stop, kneeling. “Ah, there you are,” she said quietly. “Rowan, this is Dorothy Decker. One of the witches who went missing.”
David arrived with a first aid kit. “Shall I call for an ambulance?” he asked.
“Let me see to her immediate injuries,” Genevieve said, distracted as she ran her palms over Dorothy’s body. No. Not on the body, just above it. Rowan now saw the flickers of magic that rolled in waves from her friend. That magic surrounded Dorothy like a blanket and then it drew taut with a snap. As Rowan watched, something dark and heavy lifted from her.
Dorothy moaned and gasped, her back bowing, and then she went lax again, her eyes drifting closed.
“I’ve put her under. Hopefully that will help the pain.”
“She’s been fed upon repeatedly,” Clive said, kneeling at Rowan’s side. He brushed Dorothy’s hair away from her throat, exposing bites that hadn’t healed.
Cold fury slammed into her. This wasn’t simply a blood exchange. This had been torture. She’d been left with open wounds that had continued to bleed intermittently because Vampires had anti-clotting agents they released as they fed. It eased the blood flow, making the feed quicker as well. Normally, the Vampire would then lick over the bite as their saliva contained healing components to close the tears in the skin.
“They did this on purpose. To prolong her suffering.” Which meant a particular kind of Vampire. One who liked to feed on fear as well as blood. Or they tried to use pain to get her to do something she didn’t want to. As a witch, she’d have some basic protections against glamor, but powerful Vampires manipulated and glamored their food in different ways all the time.
“It appears so.” Clive’s voice was tightly controlled but Rowan heard the echo of her anger in him. “I can have a team take her to one of our medical facilities. She will get treatment. No further harm will come to her.”
While she appreciated the offer—and believed her husband cared for this injured human—that was the last thing Dorothy needed. Vampires had been the ones who’d done this to her to start with.
Rowan said to him, “I am grateful for the offer of assistance. Given the wounds and how she most likely received them, I’m going to caution her away from Vampires. At least until we get her stabilized and she’s conscious enough to make her own choices. In her place, I imagine just seeing a Vampire would be a blow after whatever she’s endured.”
He nodded. “Understood. The Nation stands by to assist however it can. You know the Scion is very much opposed to such behavior and is doing all he can to deal with it.”
That for all the years before he’d come along such a thing hadn’t been true was something she knew Clive was committed to handling. Was handling. But it was what Vampires did. And had done for generations. It took time and energy to undo that.
He bent close to Dorothy and breathed in deep. Running all those scents and patterns any Vampires would have left behind through his big Scion brain.
Genevieve tipped her chin in appreciation of his offer. Relieved Rowan had said no so she didn’t have to. “I’ve just asked Konrad to send a medical team. They should arrive shortly. She is stable. Once she’s settled and conscious again, we’ll be able to speak to her.”
“Okay. Good.”
David settled a blanket he’d retrieved from one of the vehicles over Dorothy. “I’ll stay here with her. Go see if the others are inside.”
“Good idea,” Rowan said as she stood.
Pru had joined David. Keeping a watch over Dorothy. “Go. Nothing will happen to her.”
Genevieve looked back toward the young woman who’d been so misused. Her guts twisted a moment and then she shoved it deep. Far away. She needed to work. She’d feel sorrow and rage afterward.
The back door had been broken open and it was clear someone had been there.
“David said the cameras he put up all went out at the same time as your spell was triggered,” Rowan said.
The interior had been tossed. Furniture had been tipped over or shoved sideways.
“They were looking for her,” Rowan murmured as she moved through the house. “See? Big stuff has been moved but to check behind or beneath. The drawers haven’t been turned out, but the cabinets have been opened.”
“She came here but was it before or after they had?” Genevieve asked.
“When we first arrived, I thought she was a bag of trash that had been left. If Dorothy was smart enough to get away from wherever she was, if she was smart enough to get here, she was smart enough to hide because she saw her captors, or knew they’d come soon. It’s only been two hours since the spell alerted you,” Rowan said.
“Do you think they’re watching?”
Rowan turned in a circle, taking in all the details. “I don’t know. I would be. They were smart enough to disable the cameras inside.”
“Not smart enough to avoid setting off a trap spell,” Genevieve said. “Not smart enough to look around the yard. They turned over a desk, but they didn’t look in the side yard where she was?”
“A few scenarios occur to me. They were obviously in a hurry. Which means she got loose. They had her and she escaped. But she’s in a state. Looks like she’s been fed on for a while. Some of the bites I saw looked a week old. She couldn’t have run very far without collapsing. Someone might have helped her and then run themselves to take their attention off her. When we can talk with her, she’ll be able to give us some answers.”
Genevieve said, “One hopes.”
“This is important. Integral to what is going on. That’s why I dreamed it and that’s why we’re here. Without food or water, she’d have perished within twenty-four hours. I was meant to be right here right now. Which means she’s got something to relate to me. I’ll know it when I hear it.”
Genevieve nodded again. She agreed with those points. Prophetic dreams and fugue states like Rowan had been experiencing were extraordinary. And rare. These gifts were powerful tools.
“Medicals are here,” David said from the doorway.
“I want to go with her. See that she gets seen to and settled,” Genevieve told Rowan. “Come along. She’ll be in the same building we’re holding Alfonso and Bess Procella. I imagine you might want to chat with them.”
In the car, Clive put an arm around her and pulled her to his side. Her nerves were jangled, he knew.
And then very quietly he said, “She’s been fed on by three Vampires. She’s an adept.”
Adepts were humans or witches with a certain type of genetic makeup that rendered their blood perfect for Vampires. They had only identified the protein compound in the blood of certain humans and witches that made them adepts two years before that.
Even before they had a name for the protein, they had a name for those who were the most sought-after blood donors. They were the ones who were kept long term. The most spoiled and protected.
From what they understood, it was a protein compound that reacted to the physiology of Vampires in a way that unlocked nearly every last bit of nutrients and power from their blood.
“Theo always claimed adept blood tasted better. But I’ve heard others deny that.”
“Some Vampires, like some humans, have no discernment.” To Clive, the difference was marked. Rowan’s blood was like the finest champagne. Light and full of energy. Like a secret on his tongue. Her taste at once unforgettable and yet it wisped away after a breath.
“You’re an adept,” he said, his lips against her ear as he drew her into his lungs a moment. “You taste better than anything I’ve ever experienced.”
She let a little shiver roll through her. Then she remembered herself and her surroundings and turned to send him a look. Which only made him madder for her.
He kissed her then. Just a brush of his mouth against hers. Reassurance for them both, he realized. “I’ve found adept blood does have a unique taste though it’s difficult to explain it. There’s a quality to it you notice when you’re drinking from someone who isn’t.”
Alice said, “It’s the difference between low-sodium tomato juice and the regular V8. There’s a fullness, perhaps that protein, that spices it up somehow.”
Rowan nodded. “Okay. I get that. Was she taken because she was an adept? Or was she kept because she was one? Is there a list you have? Within the Nation I mean?”
Clive shook his head as he considered how much to tell her. “Of all humans and witches who are adepts? That’s a great deal of information of a sort that makes it difficult to collect.”
Rowan rolled her eyes at him. “So yes.” She held up a hand to forestall his argument. “But not a dedicated one. Not yet. It’s like you met me yesterday if you thought I’d miss that evasion.”
Naturally. But it kept her on her toes instead of thinking about that sad woman they’d found nearly drained of her life.
“Not a specific database. However, those who are in service who are known to be adepts have it noted in their files,” Alice said.
Better Alice to reveal such things than Clive. It made things easier when he was asked if he’d told Rowan something.
“I wonder if the other two roommates are adepts?” Rowan asked. “Are they in your system? Perhaps a family member is in service or has been at some point?”
“We wouldn’t have had cause to have run their names through our system. Until now.” Alice held up her phone. “Let me get that started,” she said after Clive nodded his head once to give permission.
David leaned in to give Alice the names and other details as Clive sighed.
“You had your own messes to clean up,” Rowan murmured to him.
It had been a Conclave issue and after the Blood Front nonsense, as she’d said, he had his focus on other things than missing witches and humans.
“I made a mistake in thinking that the end of one particular chapter was the end of this very long tale.”
Vampires had a focus on the long game. The big picture that took time and slow, patient energy to create.
“We don’t even know there’s a connection.”
“Rowan.” Clive kissed her knuckles and then kept her hand in his. “We found an adept who’d been misused. A witch who’d gone missing.”
“Well, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t see any connection either, and not because I’m stupid. It’s because those witches had gone missing to fuel spells for an exiled Fae and stolen death magic wielded by a bananapants ancient Vampire. Both are true dead. And in the interim, there’s been a hundred different things going on what with ambush murder attempts and mage firebombs. The witches have a problem and that’s where we’ve been looking.”
“Well, there’s certainly a link now,” David said. “Dorothy and her roommate Jaylin are both witches. And now we’ve found one who’s obviously been at the mercy of Vampires who appear to have none. Now that we know, we’re looking.”
They passed through an industrial area and on the edge of that, as it began to turn into residential here and there, the SUV Genevieve was in pulled into an alley behind a squat four-story stucco building that looked to have been constructed in the early seventies.
The loading dock door slid up and they helped bring Dorothy inside. Then one of them pointed to the next entrance where a gate slid open to a small parking lot.
“They’re taking her to the clinic here. They’ll notify me when she’s stabilized. I’ve filled them in on how we found her and what we suspect happened to her.” Genevieve swept through a door Darius held open. In the background somewhere Rowan heard the roar of motorcycles and knew the Devils were out there on patrol.
They went through a security checkpoint where everyone received specialized badges indicating their access level.
If anyone had anything to say about a group that included a Hunter, some Vampires including a Scion, and two Dust Devils, having Genevieve and Konrad opening the way for them seemed to address their concerns.
Rowan liked that because even though it would be fun for the moment to get into it with someone, they had bigger problems to focus on.
“They’ll bring Bess in first,” Genevieve said as she led them all into a conference room with a few computer stations set up and a worktable in the center. “It’s going to take a few minutes so if you want to work in here while we wait you can.”
Rowan sat. “David, find out what we can about Rose Sansbury. And check on those other numbers we highlighted that might be his whatever we call it. Girlfriend. Mistress. I want some names so I can work them into this discussion I’m about to have with Bess.”
Rowan flipped through the various packets and files she had before she brought out a stack of photos. “These are stills captured from the video we gathered while at the Sansbury and Clare homes. There’s a connection between them and the Procellas. Joseph, Fiona, and Gerard all three admitted that they did business. The Procellas haven’t said anything about them. Nor do they know their home was blown up by their business associates. That will be a fun reveal. I want to drop things on them both until I make someone bleed answers.”
“Ever a poet.”
Rowan snorted at Clive’s whispered comment.
Rowan spread out five at a time as Genevieve identified the witches in them and David took notes.
“Here are the ones we took from the Procella mansion on the first search.”
Lots of Sergio with Hugo and a petite brunette Rowan recognized from the video of the interview they’d done with Bess Procella.
“Ah, here’s one at some swankfest.” Rowan pulled one out of a bunch of witches in formalwear, champagne flutes in hand, jewels dripping off the women. “Fiona and Gerard are in this.”
“The couple to Hugo’s left are the Salazars. Camila and Jorge. That’s Rose Sansbury in between Joseph and Sergio.” Genevieve pointed to a pretty blonde whose smile didn’t reach her eyes.
They looked through more photos and then Rowan pulled out a few envelopes that had been tucked in the bottom of a box of files. It was one thing to put a photo on a wall. Or in an album. Photos that had been tucked away—kept but not acknowledged with a frame—could be very good bits of information.
Turns out, the smile didn’t reach Bess Procella’s eyes either, Rowan realized as they sat across from her. Rowan didn’t bother with one, fake or otherwise.
“Why am I here? I have been taken from my cruise and brought back here like a criminal. Held against my will. This is outrageous.”
Rowan sighed heavily. “You’re all so fucking tedious. You know why you’re here. You know your son was a stalker. You know your father-in-law and son hired a hit squad and you know your family is deeply involved in things so illegal the Conclave is paying attention.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
Rowan had been up against people like Bess scores of times. They always thought they were better than everyone else and that was their weakness.
“Whatever it might be, Bess,” Genevieve said, so cold and remote it sliced through the air, “it was enough to respond to with a mage firebomb that destroyed your home and killed six of your employees. A mage firebomb with a trigger spell so complicated it took three Genetic witches on-site to ignite.”
Bess had emotion in her eyes then. Rage and then terror.
Rowan watched her fight herself. Neither emotion was going to do her a favor, so Rowan let Bess be her own worst enemy.
Genevieve said, “I looked Fiona Clare in the eyes when we talked about the bomb and how you didn’t die. I watched her guilt and then I saw her put it away. But that doesn’t matter because I have her magical signature. And Gerald’s. And, in a twist, Rose Sansbury. I was thinking it was Joseph. I was married to Tristan so I’m familiar with the way the Sansbury magic looks. But I was assuming. It was Rose there with at least one of the Salazars and the others to create the spell that blew your home to bits.”
“What are you saying?” Bess, wide-eyed, stared as if she willed them to deny it.
“I’m saying your business partners, the Clares, Salazars, and Sansburys, got fed up with the Procella family after a series of disastrous and reckless actions including a murder attempt in full camera view in front of two dozen tourists. Sergio and Hugo have gotten high on all that entitlement and privilege, and they’ve gotten you all tarred with that brush.”
Rowan loved the way the truth seemed to wash over her and stripped away her defiance.
A text showed up on Rowan’s phone. From Genevieve. It said, “ I just realized the splinter of magic from Dorothy’s house belongs to Rose S. ”
Well, now. Two weeks before when they’d come looking for Dorothy and her roommates, they’d found a suspiciously clean-of-magic space, except for one tiny fleck that had been missed.
And it was another connection to the Sansburys.
Bess said, her voice starting to fray with emotion, “My home has been destroyed? How have I not heard?”
Rowan slid several photographs of the burned-out shell of the Procella mansion across the table. “I guess you should be glad you were all in custody at the time or you’d be dead too. But they know you’re alive now, so I’m going to guess they’re working on that. Whatever are you up to, Bess?”
“Just cargo. That’s it.”
“What sort of cargo has the people moving it using hidden rooms and under bed rigs? Oh, I should mention I found the ones at your house before it was blown up. So much data on those phones and cards. Fortunately the bombers don’t know about the ranch home where Sergio kept all his incriminating evidence, or that love nest he has out in the Lakes that he keeps for...what’s her name again?”
Rowan pretended to look for it just to draw it out longer and mess with Bess’s head. “Teresa Davis. We’re looking for her now, but it appears she left her three-million-dollar town house, and hasn’t been back for several days. No sign of the Mercedes Sergio gave her.” They’d only just learned that right before they started the interview and it hit Bess hard.
“This can’t be happening,” Bess murmured with more emotion than she’d shown up to that point. “Teresa. Are you saying she’s involved?”
“What’s her story anyway?” Rowan asked instead.
“She used to work for Fiona. She was with Hugo first. Then when Sergio’s first mistress, Greta, was put out to pasture with a big fat payoff and a warning to never come back, Teresa found her way into his bed within weeks. She’s been with him for the past several years. He’s been talking about marrying her, but he’s never even had her at the mansion, so I’m not convinced. Alfonso and Hugo are opposed for obvious reasons.”
“Which are?”
“She’s a...secretary! What does she know about anything but fucking the men in the family?”
“Including Alfonso?”
Darius asked that, surprising Rowan enough she had to steel herself to keep still and not gape at him.
“No! Not for lack of trying.”
“She’s the one who brought you all together for this...business venture that’s just cargo?”
“We’d done some business together over the years. When we ran ships across the Atlantic to bring people here from European ports and into the modern age. But.”
Bess seemed to realize she’d been sharing and shut her mouth.
“So in between trying to nail Alfonso and then dumping Hugo, her second choice, for Sergio, who wants to marry her, making her your...mother-in-law, Teresa is just in your words, a secretary . So you’re all responsible for whatever you’re up to.”
Bess sat forward, spurred on by the specter of having to bear responsibility for something she’d done wrong. “No! She and Fiona started a side business with Rose and that’s when she convinced Hugo and Sergio to buy in.”
“Buy in to what?” Genevieve asked.
She started to speak but then couldn’t. Over and over again. She tried to write but the page remained blank.
Finally Rowan said, “Are you under a geas?” A geas was a spell that prevented someone from discussing something out loud. It could be a person or a topic. Or an event. They were old magic. Very strong and only broken by the death of whoever laid it, or upon their release of the magic. Theo had been bound by one for centuries. Rowan had killed the Vampire witch who’d put it on him, freeing him.
Clearly pissed off, Bess nodded.
Alfonso was similarly bound. Which left them with an understanding there was some shady business going on but not exactly what.
“We need to find Rose Sansbury.”
“As it is already midnight, I’m going to suggest we stay here overnight. The house is only about twenty minutes by car and Clive can reach it in about half that time should he fly instead,” Alice said quietly as they went back to the conference room they’d been in previously.