The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Read online

  anyone would share information with

  me.

  I was angry at Okalani, angry at

  myself. But mostly, I was afraid. These

  people were playing for keeps. If they

  found her before I did … “Don’t think

  about it, Graves. Just find her.”

  I dialed the number Laka had left for

  me. She picked up on the first ring; her

  hello was breathless with hope and the

  raw edge of tears.

  “It’s Celia.”

  “Have you heard from her?”

  “No. But I have an idea of where to

  look. I need you to call the university.

  Tell them you’re her mother. Find out

  what she listed as her home address, or

  if she listed her father’s numbers in case

  of emergency. Then call me back at this

  number. Can you do that?”

  “She’s a student at the university?”

  “Yes. Paranormal studies.”

  “Oh, I … I didn’t know.” She sounded

  hurt and confused. I could understand,

  even sympathize, but we didn’t have

  time.

  “Can you call?”

  “I’ll do it now.”

  “Good. Call me back with the

  information at this number.”

  I hung up and made a quick call to

  Dom’s direct line at FBI headquarters. It

  went to voice mail. I left a vague

  message for him to call me, that it was

  important, but didn’t give any details.

  After all, there was a chance I would

  find Okalani before he called and save

  myself a lot of trouble.

  I debated calling Queen Lopaka and

  decided that talking in person would

  work better. So I distracted myself with

  packing my things while I was waiting

  for Laka’s call, taking special care with

  the previous night’s outfit.

  As a courtesy, I stuck my nose out the

  door. I was pleased to see who was

  standing there.

  “Hey there … partner. We need to

  leave in ten.”

  Baker let out a little laugh. “Good. I’ll

  make sure the car is ready.” If I’d spent

  as much time in airports as she had

  lately, I’d have looked a wreck. But

  Baker’s hair and makeup were perfect,

  her charcoal gray suit was crisply

  pressed and beautifully tailored. There

  was no hint of all the weaponry I knew

  she was wearing. She looked as fresh as

  a very professional daisy. “By the way,”

  she assured me, “the estate is clear. You

  can go home if you want. Our people are

  on the way to check out your office

  now.”

  “Cool. You can stay in the guest room.

  Hope you packed a bag, Agent Baker.”

  She smiled; apparently she’d expected

  the offer. Likely if I hadn’t made it, she

  would have found a reason to suggest it.

  “I did.” She stepped into the suite,

  closed the door, and watched me gather

  the last of my things. “And please,

  Princess, if we are to be partners, you

  should call me Helen.”

  “Then I’m Celia, not Princess. Tell

  you what, Helen. Let’s go shopping in a

  great place I know. We’ll get lots of

  shiny things that go bang.” She laughed

  and held the door for me. I liked that she

  looked both ways, hand on her weapon,

  when she did so. Yes, I wanted to go

  home, but more than that I wanted to get

  to my office and stock up on weaponry.

  I’d picked up quite a few things at the

  Levys’. I mean, seriously, how could I

  not? But given what was going on, I

  wanted gear I was familiar with. It was

  a real pity about the Colt, but the police

  wouldn’t be giving it back until they

  were damned good and ready. The

  derringer was with Adriana and

  probably needed to stay there. Until I got

  a chance to take it to the range and fire

  it, the Glock Bruno had given me was

  new and unfamiliar enough that I didn’t

  quite trust it. Yeah, I know Bruno takes

  care of his weapons. That wasn’t the

  point.

  I didn’t see myself having time to go

  to the range in the next couple of days. I

  had to find Okalani and get back to

  guarding Adriana.

  I had drawn even with Baker when the

  phone rang. I sighed and Baker did as

  well. Then I answered. As I was

  calming Laka and getting information out

  of her, trying to convince her there was

  no need for her to come to the mainland,

  Baker … Helen was on her radio,

  making sure our car was being checked

  again for any possible threats and

  making changes to our travel plans that

  ensured that if Laka was phoning duress,

  nobody would be able to intercept us.

  Wow. Even more paranoid than me. I

  really did like her.

  But I doubted that Laka’s breakdown

  could be faked. Waiting was eating her

  alive. She was terrified for her child and

  wanted, needed, to be doing something.

  Unfortunately,

  there

  really

  wasn’t

  anything she could do. I told her the best

  thing she could do was stay right where

  she was, even though it’s not what she

  wanted to do. She wanted to be out,

  pounding the pavement, knocking on

  doors, calling random houses to see if

  anyone had seen her daughter. I

  understood. I’d been there.

  Checking out of the hotel didn’t take

  long. A heavily armored luxury sedan

  waited at the curb with William Griffiths

  at the wheel. Baker got in front. I had the

  backseat to myself. I debated where to

  go first as Griffiths waited patiently for

  instruction. Finding Okalani and bringing

  her in for questioning was a priority. I

  was going to do my best to find her, but

  the fact is, the authorities all had better

  resources and more people to throw at

  that problem. She might hate me for it

  after, but we could both live with that.

  The question was, who to approach

  first? “Take me to the hospital, please. I

  need to speak to my aunt.”

  “What about the office?” Helen

  looked at me quizzically. No doubt she’d

  heard stories about my safe. She would

  be disappointed in the new one. My old

  safe was much cooler.

  I tipped my head. “Can’t take

  weapons in there anyway. Why load up

  my pockets, just to unload them?”

  “Point.” To her credit, she didn’t say

  anything else.

  “Right.” Griffiths punched the address

  into the GPS system and pulled smoothly

  away from the curb.

  A comfortable silence fell, broken

  only by the impatient tapping of my

  fingers against the leather armrest.

  “Screw it,” I muttered after a few


  minutes’ thought. Maybe Okalani’s

  father was a villain. But he was her dad.

  She loved him. Maybe he loved her, too.

  This might be a bad idea, but I didn’t

  have any really good ones. Pulling the

  note from my jacket pocket, I dialed the

  daytime emergency contact number Laka

  had given me. I nearly dropped the

  phone when a pleasant, recorded voice

  answered:

  “This is the Santa Maria de Luna

  Police Department. If this is an

  emergency, please hang up and dial

  nine-one-one. If it is a nonemergency,

  please enter the extension number now.

  To reach our company directory, press

  seven.”

  Oh, shit.

  Okalani Clark, Ricky and Okalani’s

  daughter, was Okalani CLARKE. With

  an E. Laka’s former husband was my hit-

  and-run driver and would-be killer, J.

  Clarke. Ricky was a nickname. Maybe

  his middle name was Richard. Not that it

  mattered.

  I sat there, cursing myself inwardly

  for being so incredibly dense. How had I

  missed something so obvious?

  The pleasant recording responded to

  my nonresponse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t

  recognize your entry. If this is an

  emergency, please hang up and dial

  nine-one-one. If it is a nonemergency,

  please enter the extension number now.

  To reach our company directory…”

  I pressed a series of numbers from

  memory. I needed to talk to Alex.

  She picked up on the first ring.

  “Detective Alexander.”

  “Alex, it’s me.”

  She gave a huge sigh. “Now what?”

  “Gee, glad to know you’re happy to

  hear from me.”

  “Celia, I like you. I really do. But

  every time you call, there’s trouble, and

  not just little trouble, either. Your

  trouble usually comes with a body count.

  So don’t be surprised if I’m not thrilled

  to hear from you.”

  “Well,

  crap.”

  There

  was

  an

  uncomfortable pause.

  She was the one to break it. “Well?

  What is it?”

  “I have a problem.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “Of course

  you do. Tell me.”

  I started with the hit-and-run attempt

  and kept right on going until I reached

  the present, with Okalani missing and

  Jan Mortensen wanting her dead. “I

  could be wrong. Hell, I hope I’m wrong.

  I like the kid. And I don’t ever like to

  think about there being crooked cops in

  the department.”

  “Nobody does,” Alex agreed. Her

  voice was serious. “Rick’s not with the

  department anymore. He was asked to

  resign a couple of weeks ago.”

  That shocked me. The PD doesn’t fire

  someone lightly. There are long,

  complicated

  processes

  involving

  internal affairs and board hearings. “He

  was asked to resign?”

  For a long moment we sat in silence.

  I’d just come to the conclusion that she

  wasn’t going to answer me when she

  sighed and started talking. “Several very

  valuable things went missing from

  evidence. Everybody from the Chief on

  down had to take a polygraph. Anyone

  who

  refused

  would

  be

  put

  on

  suspension, pending investigation.”

  “I take it the investigation went badly

  for him?”

  “There wasn’t enough proof to satisfy

  the DA. But, yeah. He did it. We don’t

  know exactly how he did it. But we

  know it was him.”

  I had a pretty good idea how he’d

  done it. I didn’t like getting Okalani in

  trouble with the cops, but this would

  give Alex a great excuse to bring the kid

  in for questioning if she found her. It

  might even save the girl’s life. She’d be

  safer, harder to get to, in police custody.

  Assuming of course she’d stay there.

  “Did you know Clarke has a kid?”

  “Had. He had a son. Kid got drained

  by vamps after a football game a couple

  of years ago.”

  “Has,” I corrected her in turn. “A

  daughter, who was raised by her siren

  mom on Serenity. She’s the teleporter

  who helped us when we put Dahlmar

  back on his throne. She moved to the

  mainland to live with her father. She’s

  admitted to me that she can take things

  through magical barriers. You might

  want to bring her in and talk to her about

  it, and while you’re at it, you might ask

  her

  about

  her

  father’s

  anti-siren

  sentiments and their connection to Jan

  Mortensen.”

  Alex’s breath whooshed out in a low

  hiss. “Why are you bringing this to me?

  You know the feds are going to want to

  talk to her.”

  “So are King Dahlmar and Queen

  Lopaka’s people. I thought I had her

  stashed safely away, but she bolted. I

  think she’s trying to save her father.

  That’s the first place Mortensen and the

  others will look for her. She’s in

  trouble, a lot of trouble. You may be her

  best shot.”

  Alex paused. “So, find Ricky and we

  find the girl?”

  “I think so.”

  The thumping I heard might be Alex’s

  fingers drumming on the desk. “I

  shouldn’t be telling you this, but I heard

  he’s gotten himself a job working

  security for one of the big movie studios

  outside of L.A. But we’ll check it out.

  No civilians on this one.”

  “Thanks, Alex.”

  “Whatever.” She hung up on me

  without saying good-bye. That hurt, but

  not enough to matter. Not today.

  18

  I we nt to see my aunt to ask her to be

  merciful. After all, the queen knew

  Okalani. The kid had been helpful during

  the whole situation with King Dahlmar a

  couple of years ago. Hiwahiwa, the

  queen’s personal assistant, was close to

  Laka and Okalani as well. I hoped that

  Queen Lopaka would take all of that into

  consideration and be lenient. My

  mistake.

  “High treason is a capital offense.”

  I was in my aunt’s hospital room,

  sitting in the chair beside her bed. It was

  a small room filled with lots of

  equipment and I was feeling a little

  claustrophobic,

  especially

  since

  equipment was hardly the only thing in

  the room. Flowers covered nearly every

  flat surface, towering arrangements from

  heads of state around the world. A

  saltwater aquarium bu
rbled beside me,

  colorful fish swimming in lazy circles.

  The sound and sight were soothing. I

  needed to be soothed. Her Royal

  Majesty was not feeling the love right

  now. There was no mercy in her for a

  subject who’d conspired with terrorists.

  Normally I would’ve agreed, which

  made me less than effective at arguing on

  Okalani’s behalf. But I was doing my

  best, playing up the young woman’s past

  service. “She saved your life, if you

  remember, and kept Dahlmar on his

  throne. Adriana wouldn’t have met him

  if not for Okalani. She ferried mages

  back and forth when the rift was

  chewing up the world. All while

  knowing she could die at any time.

  Really, she’s done a lot of good for the

  sirens.”

  The queen sat rigidly straight—she

  would’ve been upright even if the bed

  hadn’t been adjusted to the sitting

  position. She was wearing a lovely

  peignoir the shade of pink you find

  inside the bend of a conch shell. Her

  color was good. Apparently her

  recovery was progressing rapidly now

  that the doctors had consulted with

  physicians from Serenity who were,

  naturally, more familiar with siren

  biology. “You act as though Okalani is

  still a child. Perhaps in your world she

  is. But in our world, she is not. I, myself,

  had been on my throne for three years by

  the time I was her age.”

  “But you are … extraordinary. Most

  people are not.”

  “I admire your compassion.” Her tone

  of voice contradicted her words. She

  heard that thought, or else she read my

  body language, because she said, more

  gently, “Truly. I do.”

  One of these days I was going to have

  to learn to shield.

  Yes, you will. In truth, you have

  much to learn. I understand your

  feelings. I even admire them. But I am

  queen. I have been so for hundreds of

  years. My first duty is to my people.

  Okalani betrayed us. That betrayal cost

  lives—siren lives and human lives. She

  worked willingly with people whose

  goal is to exterminate us like vermin.

  Even sincere contrition is simply not

  enough. She must pay for her crimes,

  and the law established by my people is

  clear. The punishment is death. But if

  she cooperates, shares everything she

  knows, I will allow her an … honorable

  death.

  What the heck was that? I don’t

  understand.

  Her actions have dishonored her

  entire family. Her mother, any siblings,

  the family for three generations in