The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Read online

give the orders. More to the point, his

  talent—and greatest gift—was intuition.

  He knew where to be, when to be there,

  and who he needed with him.

  If I went against that, I’d be doing to

  him exactly what Creede had done to

  me, and I’d be risking lives doing it.

  It was a bitter realization. It hurt, and I

  hated it. But it was the truth. So, rather

  than pull up to the parking lot and flash

  my FBI consultant’s badge at the security

  guard standing there, I drove past and

  parked in the first shady, curbside spot I

  found. It was a no-parking zone, but I

  didn’t plan to stay long.

  I had just started trying to figure out

  exactly what I was going to do next

  when Okalani stepped off the curb less

  than thirty feet ahead of me.

  The last time I’d seen her, she’d been

  a pretty girl of fifteen or so with exotic

  features, dark brown skin, and hair that

  would’ve been kinky-curly if it hadn’t

  been kept cropped close to her skull.

  She’d looked and acted like a kid. Now,

  even though not that much time had

  passed, she looked older, harder. The

  baby fat had left her cheeks and there

  were harsh lines at the corners of her

  mouth.

  Holy crap.

  I threw open the car door and started

  climbing out, calling her name.

  She turned, and when she saw me, I

  had microseconds to recognize the

  expressions that flickered across her

  face. Recognition, guilt, and terror. She

  turned, as if to someone standing beside

  her, though there was no one there. As

  she did, I saw something flicker at the

  edge of my consciousness. It was

  something familiar, yet foreign. I started

  toward whatever I saw … and smelled

  something I’d smelled before.

  Okalani’s eyes went wide with

  horror. “No!” she screamed, and leapt

  toward me, blocking me from reaching

  past her.

  Our fingers touched, the briefest of

  contacts, and I felt the world lurch

  sideways.

  When everything was still again I

  found myself in a darkened room lit only

  by the little red dots from plugged-in

  surge protectors and a crack of light

  around each of four doors. Not much

  light to see by, but I don’t need much.

  Besides, I knew where we were. I’d

  been in this room dozens of times while

  attending the college. We were in one of

  the auditorium classrooms.

  Okalani was with me, her breathing

  harsh. Not from the effort, from tears.

  “Were you the bait? To get me close

  enough to murder?” I kept my voice

  level even though I wanted to shout at

  her. I had a feeling I knew exactly what

  had just happened. It was that little turn

  that gave it away. If she hadn’t done that

  I would never have noticed the man-

  shaped shadow that stretched along the

  ground beside hers. A shadow that

  seemed to have no source … and he’d

  made the same mistake Bruno had. I

  could smell his cologne, a very unique,

  European scent that wasn’t often

  encountered in SoCal. Jan Mortensen.

  He’d been using magic to hide himself,

  but forgot those two telling details.

  Lucky for me. If he’d stuck around a

  little longer when I’d gone to visit Bruno

  in his office, I might be dead now.

  Okalani sobbed. “I couldn’t let him …

  they said you were evil and needed to

  die, but seeing you, I just couldn’t.

  You’re not evil. You’re not.” Her whole

  body was shaking with the violence of

  her emotions.

  Who the hell was Jan Mortensen and

  what did he have against me?

  Crap. Okalani might be an idiot for

  getting involved with him, but she’d

  saved my life. “Thank you.” I’m not

  much of a hugger, but it was obvious she

  needed to be held, so I took her in my

  arms. It was awkward. I’m not really

  good at that sort of thing, and she was

  wearing this huge backpack besides.

  “Tell me.”

  “I … I can’t. They’ll kill me.” It

  wasn’t just an expression. It was the

  honest truth. She held out her arm and I

  saw the mark of a binding oath on her

  skin, throbbing an ugly red. She’d nearly

  already said too much. Binding oaths

  were serious business. I’d watched

  Creede’s partner decay before my eyes

  after breaking one.

  Suddenly she realized just how

  serious the situation was. She’d been too

  shocked before, acting on instinct. Now,

  looking at the mark, it really hit her. I

  could see it. She looked around in panic,

  her dark eyes so wide with fear that the

  whites showed all around the iris. But it

  wasn’t just the throbbing red pattern on

  her arm that was bothering her. She’d

  finally realized where we were.

  “Oh, shit. No, no, no! We have to get

  out of here!” I had to grab both of her

  shoulders and give her a light shake

  before her eyes would focus on me

  again.

  “Okalani, talk to me. Why is it bad

  we’re here?”

  She reached up and ran fingers

  through her hair, not to smooth it, but as

  though she wanted to rip it out. “We are

  so screwed. Princess, I am soooo sorry.

  I’ve been taking classes since I moved

  here. This semester was Practical Matter

  Teleporation. Dr. Greene’s assistant set

  up a spell so that everything teleported

  on the university campus for the next

  twenty-four hours would come here. It’s

  for homework—she’s going to review

  the final product after transit, to see if it

  survived the trip. And she’s sealed the

  room so nobody can tamper with their

  results. I have to get us out of here. I told

  Jan about the assignment. He knows

  we’re here. He’ll come here looking for

  us any minute. Oh my God, oh my God.

  Where can we go? What’m I going to

  do?”

  “Calm down!” I snapped it as an

  order. Amazingly enough, it worked. She

  stopped

  babbling.

  She

  was

  still

  trembling and terrified, but she seemed

  capable of listening. “You said the

  room’s shielded—”

  “I can teleport through shields. But

  where can we go? They’re everywhere.”

  She could teleport through shields?

  Oh, I really wished I hadn’t heard that. It

  was bad on so many levels. Nobody

  ethical

  would’ve

  taught

  her

  that

  particular trick. It would mean she’d be
r />   able to go anywhere at will. Paintings at

  the Louvre would be easy pickings.

  High-security prisons wouldn’t hold her.

  I forced the thoughts from my mind. I

  didn’t have time to think about that right

  now. Soon, very soon, Okalani and I

  would be having a chat. But not now.

  “We need a plan. I promised your mom

  I’d find you and help you, and that’s

  what I’m going to do. But you need to

  stay calm and listen.”

  “My mom sent you?” There was a hint

  of anger in her voice, but there was

  hope, too. The kid I’d known on Serenity

  wasn’t completely lost.

  I spoke to what was left of that kid,

  hoping there was enough of her still

  inside the young woman in front of me.

  “Your mom loves you, Okalani. She

  misses

  you. And

  she’s

  worried.

  Terrified you’re in trouble.”

  That proud chin rose, so much like her

  mother’s. “I can take care of myself.”

  Yeah, right. She’d been doing a bang-

  up job of that. But sarcasm, while

  merited, wouldn’t help. I sank onto the

  edge of the stage, narrowly avoiding an

  odd assortment of items on the floor.

  Apples, oranges, the mounted head of a

  bull moose, and even an old Henry

  repeating rifle. I had more to say to

  Okalani, but first, I needed to let Rizzoli

  know about Jan before he escaped

  completely.

  Dominic, it’s Celia. Can you hear

  me? If you can, think the word yes as

  hard as you can. Scream it in your

  mind.

  Yes. The sound was distant, like a bad

  connection on a cell phone. But it was

  him. I’ve always found it fascinating that

  the words I hear in someone’s mind have

  the same intonation as if they were

  actually talking. Dom’s mental voice

  was pissed. I didn’t have to ask why.

  Yeah, yeah. I know. But you can’t

  have believed I’d stay at Emma’s house

  like a good girl, could you? Anyway,

  Jan Mortensen was using the same

  hiding spell Bruno uses—remember the

  potted plant when we first met?

  Mortensen was on the corner of Market

  and College less than five minutes ago.

  The kid he was with is a teleporter. She

  whisked me away before he could do

  anything unfortunate.

  That got his attention. His voice

  strengthened in my mind. Whisked you

  where exactly?

  I wasn’t positive I should say, but

  someone had to get us out of here safely.

  We’re in one of the small auditoriums

  on the first floor. The one where Dr.

  Greene is having the assignments sent.

  Ask someone in the Paranormal Studies

  class where that is. I paused, listening

  with my ears rather than my mind. Yes,

  I’d definitely heard someone messing

  with one of the auditorium doors. And

  Dom, you might want to hurry. I think

  Mortensen may be here.

  I heard the sound of a hand pressing

  hard against the door’s trip bar, but it

  didn’t open. The door was locked.

  Okalani whimpered. “We have to go.”

  She grabbed at my arm.

  She had it halfway right. She needed

  to go. She might be sixteen, but to me she

  was still just a kid, and she was a

  witness. Maybe the only witness who

  could help us unravel what the hell was

  going on. But if I left with her, Jan

  would just leave, disappear before

  Rizzoli and the others could get him.

  I stood up and grabbed hold of her,

  facing her and taking one of her arms in

  each hand. Staring into those frightened

  brown eyes, I willed her to do what I

  said. “Okalani, I need you to listen to

  me. You need to go to your mother’s,

  have her hide you somewhere safe, and

  then call me. I’ve got connections.

  People are on the way here now. I’ll

  work something out. Give me twenty-

  four hours; I’ll get in touch with you. But

  you have to go to your mom’s. Now.”

  “But my father—”

  I heard the sound of a key turning in

  the lock. Jan was a teaching assistant. Of

  course he had a key. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Go!” I whispered harshly, giving her

  a hard shove. I felt the whiff of

  displaced air as Okalani vanished.

  She’d been telling the truth about the

  shields.

  I took cover behind the lecturer’s

  podium. Squatting down, I drew the

  Glock from its ankle holster as the door

  opened and the room was filled with

  blinding light.

  Dom. He’s here.

  We’re on our way.

  Weapon drawn, I peeked around the

  edge of the podium. It was Jan, and he

  saw my movement. With a word and a

  gesture he threw a ball of fire the size of

  my head straight at me, like a sizzling

  comet. I dived and rolled out of the way

  as the podium was engulfed in flames

  that spread like napalm across the stage.

  He didn’t stop firing, either. I kept

  rolling, right off the edge of the stage,

  knocking miscellaneous crap to the floor

  with me. There was so much stuff on the

  floor by then that I stumbled trying to get

  my feet under me. Man, what I wouldn’t

  give for one of those body binding

  charms.

  Another blast hit the stadium seats

  beside me. I smelled burning paint,

  cloth, and hair. My hair was singed, but I

  wasn’t hurt … yet. On the other hand, I

  hadn’t been able to stop moving long

  enough to get off a single shot.

  “FBI! Freeze!” Dom’s bass bellow

  came from the doorway. He had his

  weapon aimed at Mortensen. The mage

  screamed a single word in a language I

  didn’t know, and an explosion rocked

  the room, moving outward from where

  he’d stood, sending chairs, chunks of

  concrete, and twisted metal speeding

  outward in a deadly storm.

  I heard Bruno’s voice shout a phrase

  in a tongue that might be early Latin. I

  was going to need a Rosetta course for

  ancient magical languages pretty soon.

  The fire disappeared but I still took what

  cover I could on the floor between the

  nearest two rows of seats and waited a

  moment that seemed an eternity for the

  wreckage to land.

  When I felt it was safe enough to poke

  my head up I saw blood and destruction.

  Dom was alive but he and three other

  agents were injured. Bruno was curled

  in a fetal position near the wall,

  moaning. His counterspell hadn’t been

  without consequence.

  There was no sign of Jan Mortensen.

  15

  If I hadn’t been friends wi
th Rizzoli it

  would’ve been worse. If Dom Rizzoli

  was more of an ass and less of a

  professional, it would’ve taken longer.

  After all, there were injured agents, an

  injured civilian (Bruno had a cracked

  rib and needed some stitches where he’d

  been hit by a piece of flying debris), a

  missing witness, and an escaped villain

  —to say nothing of considerable

  property damage. Not a banner day for

  the feds or the agent in charge.

  But it wasn’t my fault, except for the

  small matter of showing up at the

  college. I specifically hadn’t followed

  Rizzoli. I wasn’t lying about that and he

  said he understood. So my questioning

  was friendly and relatively short,

  particularly when compared to what had

  happened at the police station the

  previous day. I was even able to clean

  up a little after the session so I didn’t

  look quite so much like the sole survivor

  in a disaster movie.

  I sat in the lobby of the federal

  building, waiting for my ride and

  thinking.

  The lobby of the federal building is

  beautiful. The floors are marble, the

  atrium area stretches up three stories. A

  mural stretches along two walls,

  depicting scenes from the beginning of

  the Bureau to the present. The entrance

  doors and reception desk take up the

  third wall. The fourth is unpolished

  black stone and nearly covered with

  two-inch brass plates with the name,

  rank, and date of death of agents who

  have died in the line of duty. It’s a grim

  reminder of the price paid to keep the

  public safe.

  No new plates would be put on the

  wall because of this morning’s fiasco. I

  was glad. We’d been lucky. I was lucky

  they’d arrived in time. The feds were

  fortunate in that Bruno had managed a

  partial shield when the blast hit.

  That had been one hell of a spell. It

  wasn’t the work of a student. Not even a

  graduate student. It was the kind of spell

  used by trained combat mages in military

  operations. You do something like that

  without a team behind you, you’re going

  to be wiped out for a week or more.

  Good news for the feds and all of the

  others out hunting Jan. They’d still have

  to contend with any traps he’d set for

  them. But he wouldn’t be doing any new

  magic for a few days at least.

  “Wow, that’s grim.” Dawna came up

  beside me. She stared up at row after

  row of little brass plates.

  “It’s supposed to be.” I turned to her.

  “Thanks for coming to get me.”