What the hell?
Chapter Ten
Angie
Igathered power around me, what little I could reach beneath the null cloak, and moved through the house, watching for the lights and colors of magic. Vigilant. Trying not to think about what I had just seen on Walter. On his cheek. On his brand. His slave brand could have been removed at any time in his long life, and his face would have regrown into perfection, the initials of his owner gone. Why hadn’t he cut away the brand? Wouldn’t anyone remove a slave brand? Worse, why did a faint green wisp of magic glow from the initials? And perhaps worst of all, why had I never, in all the years I had known him, asked these questions? What kind of magic was burned into our bodyguard?
Walter was always distant and had never been my buddy, my pal, but maybe he was under a passive working or ageas, one trapped in his brand. One that made all others accept the brand as normal, natural. He may not even know ageaswas burned into his skin.
He had been hunting for his maker for a century and not found the vampire, yet when Willim was in the country he hadn’t tracked down the bloodsucker and killed him. Was thegeasmeant to protect Willim? Warn Willim when Walter was close?CallWalter?Control Walter?
I hated the last possibilities because they meant I couldn’t protect or trust our bodyguard. Ageasmade the marked person a danger to everyone and themselves.
I moved through each room in the dark, using aseeingworking the low light on the headset and anenhanced light visionworking. It wasn’t as good as turning on the lights, but it was better than nothing. Checking every nook and cranny as I had been taught by Koun, the queen’s personal guard, I worked the house, my mind turning over possibilities in the background.
Lack of trust had been drilled into me during my last year of marriage. Always being on guard. Always worried about betrayal. And this was the result—looking for political and emotional layers piled on top of and beneath other layers within relationships. Trust and hearts were easily shattered and not so easily mended.
As I moved, I spoke into my headgear comms. “Living room, clear. Coat closet, clear. Powder room, clear. Family room, cl—” The family room was empty of people, but something was off. A glow came from an outlet. A night-light. Not activated by magic or motion, but something steady, with a Disney character on it, for children. A stuffed animal sat on a pillow in the middle of the family room floor, a unicorn in shades of purple. It was surrounded by tiny soldiers dressed in shades of black. A kid-sized basketball hoop stood about three feet off the floor.
A small stack of kids’ picture books was beside the fireplace, all of them from the bestselling series about a witch named Beatriz. They had been wildly popular during the war, when witches had the only weapons that might protect people from possession.
A pair of reading glasses rested on a small table besideframed photographs of family groupings. Several generations were included, the family mixed race. Our client appeared in many. The grandmother?
Froufrou pillows and comfy-looking blankets were tossed here and there.
Everything looked normal except one small thing. A crystal bell lay on the floor beside the fireplace, shattered. It had the faintest glow of magic resonating in it. “Living room clear. Ish.”
“What the hell does ‘clear-ish’ mean?” Villetti asked. I ignored him.
I moved through the dining room, which had its own fireplace, through the kitchen, around to the stairs. “Dining room and kitchen clear,” I said softly. When I reached Walter and EJ, I told them about the bell. “We’ll check it when we’re done with the rest of the house. Update?”
“Two internal cams, both off. One safe room indicated in the security wiring,” Walter said. “Best guess is between the kitchen and the dining room.”
I looked back, but there didn’t appear to be space for a room.
“House lights are wired to something,” EJ said. “Got a little ting when I scanned them. No idea what the magic does. Alex and I think we should continue to work in the dark, so I’ll set upilluminationworkings.” EJ tapped three amulets and placed them here and there.
I turned back to the kitchen, saying, “The only possibility is a space behind the oven and the dining room fireplace. If a safe room is there, it can’t be more than three feet wide, maybe eight feet long. Maybe a pantry, once upon a time? Closed in, hidden, spelled to make it hard to find?”
Together EJ and I searched the walls with eyes, fingertips, and our differing magics. “I don’t see any magic,” I said.
“I don’t hear anything,” EJ replied, “and I don’t see any kind of latch or opening. Walter?”
Walter stopped taking pics for Alex and listened. “No sound of crying.”
“Upstairs,” I ordered. “Stay behind me.”
“Who died and made you queen?” EJ asked. A childhood tease. But this time I gave him an answer.
“Her name was Grace,” I murmured, my words soft, as I led them up the stairs. The carpet muffled our footsteps, but the house felt tense, restless, as if it was primed for…something. Empty houses didn’t feel like this. “Grace challenged Asshat for leader of the blood family,” I said. “He killed her. Very slowly. Her death was what he called the death of a thousand cuts. It was a warning to his people. He claimed it was the only way to keepmesafe. But he was lying. He enjoyed it.” At the top of the stairs, I looked up and down the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
“Karson had always called me a queen, like an endearment. That night, because of Grace, I started to become a queen for real, queen of my own destiny. Queen of my own heart.”
“A warrior queen,” Walter said. As if he knew the story.
And of course he knew, I thought. That was part of why he was with us in the first place. “Any music?” I asked EJ.
“No.” EJ was closed down, an expression I had never seen before on his face.
