“I’ll tell all later,” I murmured again. “What’s happening now might have some bearing on what happened before my divorce.”
“Fine,” EJ said. He didn’t meanfine. He meant he’d have words for me later, but I could live with that. With a flick of his fingers, he sent theilluminationworkings down the hallway.
“No signs of disarray,” Walter said.
I looked back at his face. The brand was still leaking low-level magical energies, like nothing I had seen before. But now wasn’t the time to talk about his brand. I wasn’t sure there would ever be a right time for those words, for dredging up that past.
I entered the primary bedroom. The dim light of magic gleamed from multiple sources. Passive magic, defensive magic. Half a dozen glamour trinkets in the primary bath. Little workings, for the people who could afford them, to be more comfortable than with tech alone.
In the other rooms we found more: a very small, localizedhedge, one made by the Nashville coven.Warmingworkings on a bed and on the tiled hall bathroom floor.
There was a single powerfulhedgein a room that was clearly for children. Here were two more bells that carriedattackworkings designed to temporarily incapacitate a vampire, made by the Connecticut coven.
“Interesting,” Walter said. “Why haveattackworkings in the children’s bedroom?”
As we worked I kept a close eye on them. EJ moved like a warrior, like Koun, who had trained me in swordplay and battle magic. Twice, Walter rubbed the brand on his cheek. Walter never touched the brand. Never. Yeah, something was going on with that brand. And the man who gave it to him was in town and sporting around with Asshat. Too much coincidence going back too many years. Asshat was not bright enough to pull off a decades-long (centuries-long?) operation, so one of the other vamps in town was pulling strings.
Our client was dead. Londyn dead. A Rus in town, sleeping with my ex-husband. Edmund in town. Walter potentially under ageas. A vampire was in PsyLED custody, cops taking her to the queen…where Edmund was. Was the trapped vampire a trap herself?
I tapped my comms. “Alex. Keep Edmund away from the prisoners heading your way.”
“Uhhh. Yeah. Copy that,” he said, his last words clipped, understanding my warning.
It took us half an hour to clear the upstairs. When the second story of the house was safe, I said, “Upstairs clear,” to Alex, as I led the way back downstairs.
“Good,” he said. “Confirmed a safe room, between the stove and fireplace.”
To EJ, I said, “Tell Villetti we need to get the kids free before anyone human comes inside, in case there’s a spell on that room like thehedgeon the bedroom.”
Villetti’s voice came to me on speaker. “The kids’ parents are here. They say there is no hidden room and they are having a…what do you call it? A conniption? Make it fast.”
I stopped myself before I said,Yeah? Well, they better hope so, or it means someone kidnapped the kids.I kept that one in, and said instead, “We’re doing what we do best. Leave us alone.” I ended the connection. “Anyone got any ideas?”
EJ was smiling slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing,” EJ said. “The bell in the family room might have been broken on purpose to set off a protection in the safe room. It looked like an air-witch amulet. It might be tied to the electrical box and the faint ting of magic I heard through the lights. I’m going to recheck the junction box and then see to the bell.”
While baby brother went through the dark to study the electric and the bell, Walter left the house, presumably to talk to Villetti, though I peeked out the window blinds to be sure. It wasn’t that I distrusted Walter. Never. But his brand had started glowing for no reason I understood, and I would never trust the man who had enslaved him, had branded him. Nevertrust anyone who would buy and sell humans. Who would use others to get what they wanted: not in politics, not in religion, not in power, and in my own past, especially not in love.
I went over the walls again, this time with my null cloak and staff laid out on the dining room table out of the way. The scent of my brother’s gym clothes and Villetti wafted with every move. I wrapped my power around me and watched for faint glows of magic. There was nothing on the dining room wall or fireplace. Nothing near the stove. If there was a magic working inside the walls, or even null wallboard, it was the good stuff. I couldn’t detect it.
“We can use the lights,” EJ said from the darkness. “I deactivated the working on the electrical box.” He flipped on the kitchen light and the one in the family room.
I trailed him to the living room. EJ dropped to his knees and put one ear almost on the broken bell, listening. Then he called in the big guns—Dad, also an air witch. We were getting deeper and deeper. One part of me was grateful for the help. The other part went still and cold, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The conversation between Dad and EJ was all about vibrations and the energy captured inmusicalworkings, the math involved with bell tones. Things over my head. Several minutes later, EJ said, “Okay. Got it, Dad. Hang on. Angie, what colors do you see in the broken crystal?”
“Blues heading toward green in the bell. The clapper is more yellow-green.”
From a pocket he pulled one flute, hesitated, and put it back. He pulled a different flute, this one made of wood.
Alex broke into the conversation. “Angie, it looks as if the access to the safe room opens on the passway between the kitchen and dining room, in the space between the chimneyand fireplace. There is a two-foot-wide section of wainscoting in the pass-through.”
I returned to the pass-through. “I see it,” I said, running my fingers over the area again, searching for a crack, a lever, anything.
“Dad thinks it will open to a single note,” EJ said, “probably a C, possibly high-pitched, though he suggests we start with middle C. Let’s try it.”
