Chapter Twenty-Five
Rowan knew without a doubt this place had been used multiple times over at least a few years. There was a great deal of energy fairly throbbing from the walls. Plenty of powerful Vampires had been there.
There was a main room the team skirted, as they’d discovered it had cameras installed. Furnished comfortably. All the windows to the outside had light tight coverings. Big kitchen. Swanky formal dining room but also a smaller space in the eat-in kitchen.
Rowan wanted to talk to the Vampire before he lost consciousness when the sun rose, so they headed to that room while Genevieve and Konrad were handling the witches on the floor just below.
She breached the door quietly—but not quietly enough a Vampire wouldn’t hear. The Vamp took the bait, rushing at her, and Rowan hopped to the side to avoid his attack. Easily and with a great deal of force, she brought her cane up, striking him as hard as she could in the throat, resulting in a pretty gross thwack of crushed muscles and tendons.
Brown eyes widened and then watered as he gagged, bending, bracing his hands on his thighs. Rowan used that momentum, kicking out the side of his right knee. He screamed, high-pitched and full of pain, as he crumpled to the floor with a thud.
“Do not,” Rowan warned as he presented her with a mouth full of sharp teeth and his hands bent into claws. “My name is Rowan Summerwaite and you’re under arrest. I have a warrant issued from Hunter Corp. and the Vampire Nation. I have the freedom to serve it as an order for execution. If you fuck around, I will cleave you in half.”
At her back, Marco chuckled. She hadn’t realized he’d come in. Instead of being pissed she’d missed it, she chose to be grateful for the backup.
“What are you arresting me for? You can’t just come in here like this. You broke my knee!”
“My goddess, I wish you fucking scumbags would come up with some new material. If I had a dollar for every time someone I was serving a warrant on told me I couldn’t just do this or that thing I totally can, and absolutely will do, I’d be able to retire and not have to deal with the dregs of society like you and your criminal buddies.” She flipped him off. “Your knee will heal, just like your windpipe did. I’m arresting you for multiple violations of the Treaty. Kidnapping, assault, attempted murder, and you’d best hope I don’t find out any of the people you took died, because I’ll hang that around your neck too. You’ve done all these things so recklessly you’ve threatened to expose our existence to humans. Oh! The Vampire Nation has a bunch of its own charges too. That’s if you’re alive after I’m done with you. David, light this fucking room so I can get a photo of our prisoner.”
Marco hit the lights and David nodded his thanks before taking pictures and sending them to all interested parties.
“What’s your name?” Rowan asked.
He sneered—because of course he did—so she grabbed the arm restraints from the backpack she’d brought along, jammed a booted foot into the small of his back, and cuffed him. He tried to fight but she was by far the stronger. Plus, his knee popped out of the socket twice, and she got pissed and gave him her cane to the back of his head. Soon enough he sagged, defeated.
The cuffs were something Hunter Corp. Research and Development rolled out recently. When fully cinched and secured, movement was painful. Escape—in Vampires like this one with middling power levels—was next to impossible with a Hunter within arm’s reach.
“There’s a wallet on the top of that dresser.” Rowan tipped her chin and David grabbed it, tossing it her way. Inside was five hundred dollars in cash, parking garage stubs—handy to track movement—a punch card for a coffee chain and a burrito stand, as well as a California driver’s license.
When some states began to have evening hours at their licensing bureaus, Vampires could manage to be law-abiding citizens and get their licenses. The Nation encouraged such things. It kept that mask on between the supernatural world and the human one. For whatever reason, it was harder to believe someone was a Vampire if they had an official state identity card.
“Brandon Forman.” She called the name out to David, who nodded and tapped his screen at a high rate of speed.
“Alice is sending light tight transfer,” David said, anticipating her next sentence.
“Whether it’s a body or a still-living Vampire will be up to Brandon.”
The Vampire’s eyes wheeled with panic. “We didn’t have anything to do with those two running off. The witches are the ones in charge. It’s their fuckup. I’m just a go-between.”
“You’re not a born Vampire. Given the hair I’d say you were Made in the early 1980s. Certainly you’re old enough to understand what is going on here. There is no putting the blame on the witches. They’re dealing with their own troubles just now. This is what you have done, Brandon.” She shrugged.
She sent him a glare that promised blood if he said a thing.
Satisfied with his compliance when he shut his mouth, Rowan continued. “Here’s where we are. Like I said, I have the paperwork—and certainly the will—to kill you true and be fucking done with you. Goddess knows the world will be safer without you prowling around hurting people. However, I prefer not to have to ruin these pants because I like them a lot and frankly, I’m tired. Killing Vampires takes a lot of energy and there’ll be more paperwork I have to fill out. So. Here’s what you’re going to do to save your life. Answer my questions. Honestly. Starting with the big one. Where did Mardoc go after he left with the human woman?”
Less than an hour later, they’d handed Brandon off to Alice’s Vampires when they showed up in a windowless serial killer van to take him away. Alice also informed Rowan she’d sent all the information Brandon had given about Mardoc’s possible movements with Kerry to Andros.
Then they’d headed over to the Conclave headquarters in Pasadena to have a little chat with Teresa and the other witch who’d been at the place in San Pedro with Brandon.
Genevieve paused at the first set of double doors. “This is a null facility. I do not think it will impact your connection to your goddess, but I always find it uncomfortable, so I wanted to warn you up front.”
Warmth bloomed through Rowan’s veins. Brigid didn’t seem worried.
“Explain. Please,” Rowan added. She wasn’t opposed to any of this, she just wanted to know exactly what was happening. “It comes back when we leave, though, yes?”
“All prisoners are stripped of their magic before they’re sent here. We are under no such liability. However, beyond this set of doors, no one’s magic works. A null cage has been created. The simplest way to explain is a bubble exists between the walls of this building and the outside. No magic can pass through. For witches who are interviewing or otherwise not under arrest, their magic returns once they leave.”
It made sense in that way that really didn’t make sense if you examined it too closely. Which, Rowan felt, most magic seemed to be.
“What about the geas? Can we bring the witches who have one here so they can be free of it?”
“A geas is far more complicated than nullifying a spell or magical talent. It’s old magic. Oath magic. One of the few things we can’t simply wipe away. If we can’t get whoever set the geas on the other witches to undo it themselves, it can be unraveled, but it takes a lot of time and multiple practitioners. We’re already starting. But it’ll be at least six months, perhaps eight or ten, until we can erase it from just one of them. Then it starts over for the next. Messy, time-consuming business.”
Genevieve sounded tired and totally pissed off. Rowan could identify.
“So we need to break whoever created them on first. Save a bunch of work on your part and hopefully find our victims quicker.”
There was a joint Vampire/Hunter team assembling in Nigeria to move on Mardoc’s compound in neighboring Chad. Brandon confessed that all the adepts Mardoc had acquired were sent there. Since Mardoc was at the Keep, Rowan had to hope someone was taking care of Kerry’s needs. If there were other survivors there, help would be given to them as well.
She’d hear back within the next hours, so she tried to put it out of her mind.
“Let’s question Teresa first.”
Genevieve had never met Teresa Davis, but she was relatively unchanged from all the photographs they’d seen of her over the years. Shoulder-length coppery hair. Fair complexion. Green eyes that landed immediately on Rowan and narrowed.
Genevieve wanted to laugh at that. If Teresa only knew what she was about to go through with Rowan, she’d change all the calculations she was furiously crafting in her head. But, as Rowan herself liked to say, sometimes they needed to touch the stove to know it was hot.
“I demand to speak with an attorney,” Teresa said.
Rowan looked over to Genevieve, shaking her head. “I thought you all would be smarter, as a whole, than Vampires. How wrong I was. Present company excluded, of course.”
“Hello? I asked a question.” Teresa snapped her fingers.
In a blur of movement, Rowan slammed her fist into Teresa’s face. “Don’t be rude. You didn’t ask a question. You made a demand no one is going to comply with. If you don’t want another shot to the teeth, you’ll stop this nonsense immediately.”
Teresa’s eyes widened and her skin paled with shock.
“There we are,” Genevieve said smoothly. “You understand your place in this little play. No attorney. You played human games, but you’re a Genetic witch. The Conclave is in charge. You and your friends have engaged in a conspiracy to stalk, kidnap, and traffic in adepts. Selling them for a minimum of a hundred thousand dollars a head. In addition to forced imprisonment, assault, attempted murder, and murder. We have evidence from multiple sources. There are a dozen of you in cells with the Conclave, as well as Vampires who are in the dungeons below the Keep where the First resides. Hunter Corp. has shifters, witches, and Vampires in its custody. Imagine, if you will, how many of them are angry and scared and oh so eager to be the first to take the offer to answer our questions truthfully. And then imagine not being one of those who are helpful. It’s entirely up to you which one you are.”
Rowan snorted. “Terry, everyone in this room knows what you are. Let’s hear it.”
“My name is Teresa,” she said.
Rowan waved it away. “Whatever. Are you going to chat, get a chance to brag as well as make sure we understand just who did what? Or, are you going to try to be snooty about your name to a person who does not give one tiny fuck in a high wind about your opinion of whatever you’re called?”
“When did you start this business?” Genevieve asked.
Fiona Clare hadn’t been prepared for Rowan—actually Darius, but on her request—kicking her fucking door in at nine twenty-two in the morning so it was icing on the cake as she came rushing down a beautiful curved staircase, rage on her features.
“Get out of my house!”
“Hi, Fiona! We’re here to arrest you and your husband.” Rowan waved her cane and opted to strike a rather beautiful vase sitting on an antique table. The sound of the porcelain shattering shut Fee right up.
“You really should speak to a therapist about the pleasure you take in breaking things,” Genevieve teased.
“I don’t need my destructive tendencies fixed. They’re a prerequisite tool for my job.”
In the background, Fiona had made it to the entry and gotten over her shock enough to start screeching again.
“Shut your mouth,” Genevieve snapped and the magic in the command formed as Fiona’s lips met. “Don’t bother trying to undo the spell. It’s beyond your skill level and your magic has been nullified.”
“You can try to punch me if you like,” Rowan suggested.
Genevieve fought a smile. “Let’s stop goading our prisoner.”
Gerard burst out of a side door with Konrad at his back. Rowan waved at him.
Two other witches from Konrad’s team stepped into the entry.
“David, please go with a few of Konrad’s people. Search every last inch of this place,” Rowan said.
Marco turned up. “I’ll accompany them all. Help disable any traps.”
Since it had been Marco’s magic that had protected David at the Procella mansion, Rowan was absolutely all right with that.
“What is happening?” Gerard demanded.
“Teresa says hello,” Rowan said. “She’s a survivor, that one.” Once she’d realized they meant it, and she could take a deal and roll or she’d be the one the rest testified over, she’d started talking.
Naturally, she shifted the blame, made herself a bit player, and they’d let her believe they didn’t know any different.
Teresa also divulged everyone but the Clares had a geas on them as it concerned their little enterprise. And that it was Fiona who’d done the spell. Which meant she’d have to be the one to lift it.
First, it meant Rowan was free to get info from Hugo and Sergio as it pertained to the attempts on her life because that wasn’t part of the geas. They were going down. But she wanted them to confess their bullshit with this little adept ring of theirs too. Or at the very least, be free to deny it even as they were convicted.
“My cousin Teresa?” Fiona asked, yanking her attention back.
“Why’d you unseal her lips?” Rowan rolled her eyes at Genevieve.
“I asked a question.” Fiona tried to be imperious, but Rowan lived with a Vampire, so it was a pathetic attempt by comparison.
“You’re under arrest by order of the Conclave,” Konrad said.
“For what?”
Rowan rattled off the charges and added, “All that, plus using coercive magic in the commission of those crimes. There are some other charges that will follow. You moved Vampires, witches, and humans across state and international lines. You used your magic to blow up a house in a neighborhood full of humans during broad daylight. You used your familial connections to break into Conclave records to locate many of the adepts you were selling to the Vampires. It’s all very serious.” Rowan used her uninjured leg to kick a shard of expensive vase in Fiona’s direction. “Those are violations of the Treaty.”
“What Rowan means for you to understand is those same charges are leveled by the Conclave as well. Your property is forfeit. Your businesses are forfeit. Everything you own, everything the Clares own as a familial line is now ours. I personally identified your magical signatures at multiple crime scenes. Not only the mage firebomb, but both locations you held adepts before they were bonded into Vampiric households. That has been verified by four other Senators.”
Once they’d located the places, Konrad had brought multiple Senators into the process and, in doing so, created an airtight case.
“Don’t start with your outrage,” Rowan warned, pointing her cane at the couple. “You knew this was coming.”
They didn’t listen, naturally. Fiona yapped about having no real proof, so Rowan walked over and punched her right in the kidney. Softer target than the face shot she’d landed on Terry. She didn’t need to break a finger.
“Second Clare I’ve punched since sunrise.” She looked over to Gerard. “Want to make that three?” He stared at her, shocked. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away. “We know everything from multiple other sources. Whoever talks first gets the best deals. I’ll see you later today.”
Konrad did something to shut them up as both Clares were loaded into a transport.
They searched the house but a few hours in, still hadn’t found much. She stood, hands on her hips, in the formal living room on the first floor.
“It could be they’re too smart to have any real evidence against themselves here,” Konrad murmured. “We’ll keep looking. They’re not perfect and I’m very patient.”
“I’m not patient at all. I need to walk a little. I’m missing something. There are answers here. I know it. This whole time it was that I was missing key parts of the picture. That’s all this is. I just have to look at things from an angle I hadn’t considered yet. I just don’t know what that is yet.”
“I agree and I will do the same in the opposite direction,” Genevieve said.
“And then you will go home and sleep for several hours,” David said quietly. “You’ve been awake for over a day.”
She wanted to snarl at him. But he was right. She needed to rest and if Clive found out she hadn’t, he’d never let it go, and he’d be right, so she’d have to apologize, and he’d be smug.
So Rowan nodded at him and wandered from the room, letting herself zone out and follow whatever pattern her subconscious chose.
Another hour passed as she considered color patterns, types of doors and drawer pulls. Whether light landed on something or was in shadow.
Nothing.
“This is some bullshit,” she muttered, turning to leave the guest room she’d been standing in. Then as she reached out to run a palm down the switch plate and turn the lights off, the corner of a painting caught her eye.
Rowan looked behind it. Nothing. Sighing, she rehung it and took in the subject. A playground spinny toy thing. She got out her phone and after a few attempts, she learned it was called a merry-go-round. She turned back to it. It wasn’t a joyful thing. The colors rendered the tableau bleak. No kids were on it or near it. The whole blacktop was empty of people.
Like in her dream. Empty places.
She called out Genevieve’s name.