“I’d imagine ‘kidnapping’ and ‘disappearing’ might be two good ones to start with.”
“Except Monica likely knew her calls were being monitored. Besides, you’ve a talent for sussing out minor details few others see.”
She snorted. “Compliments don’t cut it in this type of situation.”
“What about a bribe? Perhaps a hearty lunch of ribs along with a shake?”
She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing slightly. “A caramel thickshake?”
“If that is your wish.”
“And fries?”
“Fully loaded with cheese, bacon, and sour cream.”
“Then we have a deal.”
I laughed, clicked my coffee cup against hers, then drained it and dumped the cup into the sink. “I’d better get ready. Tane does not appreciate tardiness.”
“Tane doesn’t appreciate anything except his own good self,” Ginny muttered. “I’m surprised he’s even aware his daughter has gone missing.”
“That’s a little harsh—he did request the Society’s help in protecting her.”
“And my response to that is, why? He’s a high-profile witch with half the council in his pocket, so why wouldn’t he request help from the High Council’s own investigators? Hell, given he can afford the very best, why not hire private security? I tell you, there’s something fishy about this whole situation.”
“On that, we agree, but it’s not like he’s going to answer any of my questions.”
“He doesn’t have to. You just have to ask them and read the response in his output.”
“How his energy responds to a particular question is not always a guarantee that what comes out of his mouth is either a truth or lie, especially when we’re talking about a royal witch who probably lies with the same ease that he breathes.” My voice was wry. “Besides, I need to be touching the man to have any hope of gleaning truth nuggets from lies, and it’s doubtful he’ll allow me within striking distance, especially if he is hiding shit. Given his connection to Sophie, he’s probably aware of my talent.”
“I doubt Sophie would share any sort of personal information about those who work for her, but that aside, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve grabbed someone on the pretense of falling.”
I snorted. “AndIdoubt a man who has spent decades dealing with the machinations of both the federal governmentandthe High Witch Council will fall for a trick likethat.”
Amusement lurked around her lips. “No matter what else Tane might be, he’s still a man, and you’re an attractive woman who loves showing off her tits and toned stomach. There’s no shame in using both to your advantage.”
“When said man has the connections to get me fired? No, thanks.”
She sighed dramatically. “Then I guess we’ll just have to check his statement the old-fashioned way.”
“I’m going there to give him an update, not interrogate.”
“So you say, but we both know you will nugget nevertheless.”
I grinned and didn’t deny it. “Rest up while you can. We can decide what we want to do next once I’ve talked to Tane.”
She nodded. “Can you flick the kettle back on? It’s going to be a three-cup morning, I think.”
I did so, then walked back into my bedroom. After checking the weather app on my phone, I decided on jeans and a sleeveless black top. One of the many good things about being a Lantern operative was the lack of uniform requirements. As long as what you were wearing wasn’t indecent and was appropriate for the environment you were heading into, you could wear what you wanted. I tugged on a pair of runners and grabbed my handbag—which was larger than the one I’d used last night, simply because it needed to hold all the other bits and pieces Samuel insisted I carry—and slung it over my shoulder. Then I headed into the ensuite, grabbed the shard from the safe, and wove more power through the spell to ensure it would last another twenty-four hours. It was tempting to bring it with me so I could drive straight to the office direct from Tane’s rather than come back here, but instinct was twitching.
It never did pay to ignore said twitching. I’d learned that the hard way.
I locked the shard away again, then grabbed a jacket and headed to the car. After googling the Saratoga Woolstore and discovering in the process Teneriffe was one of Brisbane’s most expensive areas to live, I hit Google Maps up for directions and drove over. Though it was little more than three kilometers from where we were staying, the morning traffic made it a tediously slow journey. I found street parking not far down from the south-side entrance, then climbed out and walked back. The lovely old redbrick building dominated the area, overlooking the more modern residences that lined the Brisbane River side of the street. Thankfully, the gracious old trees lining the street went some way to softening the harshness that came with what looked like white concrete boxes to me.
As I approached the rather formal-looking portico entrance, a man exited the building. As the door closed behind him, our gazes met and, just for a moment, time, breathing, and maybe even my heart seemed to stop.
I froze, as did he. Neither of us said anything. We just... drank each other in. It was a weird, wonderful, and perhaps even frightening sensation, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.
