Chapter 18
The luncheon on Mark’s yacht was a study in controlled tension.
The guests were different from yesterday’s group.
There were two Italian counts, a German industrialist, a Swiss banker, and a French couple who owned a media empire.
All polished, all wealthy, and all watching Sam and Claudia with an intensity that set his teeth on edge.
Unlike yesterday’s relatively relaxed atmosphere, today’s gathering felt a lot more intense. Questions were sharper, glances more assessing. Sam kept Claudia close, making it clear they were together in every sense of the word.
“So, Monsieur Kinkaid,” said the French media magnate, Laurent Beaumont, over the second course. “We were all surprised to see you at the ball last night. You’ve been quite the hermit for years.”
“I know people think I’m eccentric,” Sam said mildly. “But I do try to attend events that matter.”
“And this one matters?” Beaumont’s wife, Céleste, smiled with sharp interest. “Or is it perhaps the company that drew you out?”
Her gaze flickered to Claudia, making the implication clear.
“Both,” Sam said, not bothering to deflect. “The Celestine Gala is an excellent networking opportunity, and having Claudia with me makes it considerably more enjoyable.”
Claudia handled the attention with grace, though Sam could feel the tension in her body when she was close to him. She answered questions when asked, deflected others with skill, and maintained the perfect balance of friendly and reserved.
Although everyone’s manners were impeccable, the undercurrent of hostility, or perhaps suspicion, from several of the guests was unmistakable.
Sam couldn’t tell if it was directed at him for breaking his reclusive pattern, at Claudia for being an unknown quantity, or at both of them for reasons he couldn’t yet identify.
Mark, positioned at the head of the table, seemed to notice it too. He skillfully redirected conversation when things grew too pointed, and Sullivan worked her Hollywood charm to lighten the mood. But even their efforts couldn’t fully dispel the strange atmosphere.
“I heard Abdul Kettering was at the ball last night,” said the German industrialist, Klaus Rothenberg. His pale eyes were cold and calculating. “Did you have a chance to speak with him?”
“No,” Sam said. “I think he left early.”
“Pity. I understand you two have overlapping business interests in certain markets.” Rothenberg’s tone suggested he knew more than he was saying.
“The world of international business is surprisingly small,” Sam replied neutrally. “Overlap is inevitable.”
“Indeed.” Rothenberg took a sip of wine, his gaze never leaving Sam’s face. “Though some overlaps are more problematic than others.”
The implicit warning hung in the air. Sam felt Claudia’s hand find his under the table in a silent show of support.
“I’ve always found that legitimate business has room for multiple players,” Sam said. “It’s only those engaged in less savory enterprises who need to worry about competition.”
Rothenberg’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Shelly spoke up from down the table, asking Céleste Beaumont about a recent art acquisition. The moment passed, but the tension remained.
When the luncheon finally ended and they said their goodbyes, Sam was more than ready to return to the hotel. He kept Claudia close as they climbed into the car, and once the door closed behind them, she let out a long breath.
“That was intense,” she said.
“More so than yesterday,” Sam agreed. “Did you sense anything? Magically?”
“No. I don’t think any of them were mages. But several of them felt sort of wrong somehow. Not evil, exactly, but not entirely good either.” She leaned against him. “Like they’re involved in things they probably shouldn’t be.”
“They probably are. At this level of wealth and power, very few people keep their hands completely clean.” Sam wrapped an arm around her. “You did beautifully, by the way. Even when they were being subtle assholes.”
Claudia laughed softly. “Is that what that was? I thought maybe I was being paranoid.”
“You weren’t. Rothenberg, in particular, was fishing for information.” Sam’s expression darkened. “I need to have Gavin look into him. That comment about Kettering wasn’t just casual conversation.”
Back at the suite, they had a few hours before they needed to leave for the evening’s dinner and ball. Sam loosened his tie and immediately pulled out his phone to call Gavin while Claudia headed to her room to rest before the evening’s preparations began.
“Alpha,” Gavin answered on the second ring. “How was the luncheon?”
“Tense. I need you to look into Klaus Rothenberg a bit further. He made some pointed comments about Kettering that suggest he knows more than he should.”
“On it. I’ll have something for you within the hour.” Sam heard the clicking of keys in the background. “I’ve got updates on Kettering’s companions from last night. Do you want it now or later?”
“Now.” Sam moved to the windows, looking out at Monaco’s harbor while he listened.
“The woman’s name Marta Chambeaux. French-Algerian, forty-two years old.
She’s definitely Venifucus. We’ve got her tied to at least three incidents in North Africa over the past five years.
She’s been linked to several murders that looked natural but showed traces of blood magic.
” Gavin’s voice was grim. “She’s relatively new to the order, though.
Only been confirmed Venifucus for about seven years. ”
“And the man?” Sam asked, though he suspected the answer would be worse.
“That’s where it gets interesting. If our facial recognition is correct—and I’ve run it through three separate systems to be sure—his current name is Adolf Schwarz. German, listed as a business consultant. He’s been on Kettering’s official payroll for the past year.”
Sam waited. There was more coming. He could hear it in Gavin’s tone.
“But here’s the thing, Alpha. We’ve got accounts, and even a photo or two, of a man matching his exact description going back a few hundred years.
Same face, same build, barely any aging.
Different names, different cover identities, but always the same pattern.
He appears in the background of major conflicts, always connected to weapons dealing and dark magic, then disappears for a few decades before resurfacing. ”
Sam’s blood ran cold. “How far back?”
“Definitively? 1803. There’s a painting in a private collection in Vienna, showing a group of men at what was apparently a secret meeting.
One of them looks just like him. Before that, it gets harder to verify, but we have descriptions from historical records that are a close match.
” Gavin paused. “Sam, if this is the same person, we’re dealing with someone who’s been practicing dark magic for centuries.
The amount of power he must have accumulated… ”
“Could be problematic,” Sam finished. “Have you shared this with Nick?”
“Just sent it to him five minutes ago. He’s reviewing it now.
” More typing. “There’s one more thing. According to our sources, Schwarz, or whatever his real name is, has a reputation in the magical underworld.
They call him Der Nehmer. The Taker. Apparently, he doesn’t just practice dark magic.
He consumes other mages to increase his power. ”
Sam’s lion snarled at the implication. “Consumes?”
“Literally. There are accounts of him draining mages of their power and life force, adding it to his own. It’s supposedly how he’s lived so long and grown so strong.” Gavin’s voice dropped. “Alpha, if he targets Claudia—”
“He won’t get near her.” Sam’s words came out as a growl. “What else do we know about him? Weaknesses? Patterns?”
“Still digging, but from what I can piece together, he’s arrogant.
He likes to make examples of people, likes to demonstrate his superiority.
He’s also paranoid. He never stays in one identity too long, keeps multiple escape routes, and surrounds himself with expendable pawns.
” Gavin hesitated. “Kettering might think he hired magical muscle, but I’d bet that Schwarz is using Kettering for his own ends.
The arms dealer is probably a convenient front. ”
“Agreed. Anything else?”
“The preliminary report on Rothenberg should be ready in about a half hour. I’ll call you back as soon as I have something.
In the meantime, watch your back tonight.
If Schwarz is as old and powerful as we think, he won’t need the chaos of a public venue to make his move. He could strike anywhere, anytime.”
After ending the call, Sam immediately dialed Nick.
“You got Gavin’s report?” Sam asked without preamble.
“Just finished reading it. Adolf Schwarz, Der Nehmer, centuries-old dark mage who eats other magic users for breakfast. Literally.” Nick’s voice was tight.
“This changes things, Sam. This isn’t just about stopping an arms dealer and his pet mages anymore.
We’re dealing with someone who’s survived multiple attempts to kill him over hundreds of years. ”
“I know.” Sam paced the living room. “The question is, what’s his endgame? Why attach himself to Kettering now? What’s he after?”
“Power, probably. It’s always about power with these ancient bastards.” Nick was quiet for a moment. “Mark wants to know if you want us to extract you and Claudia tonight. Get you out before Schwarz makes his move. We can get you to the yacht, and from there to wherever you want to go.”
“Thanks, but no. If we run now, he’ll just come after us later, on his own terms. At least here, we have allies and a controlled environment.”