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“That’s her current address, along with her vital statistics,” he informed us with a tilt of his head toward the printer. “Born in Egypt in 1934. Married in 1952 to a man named Sapar, who died October 31, 1956 in the Suez Crisis. She and her two children, twins born in 1955, emigrated to the U.S. in 1958. Has four grandchildren and two great grandchildren now as well.” He changed screens again. “And here are some more recent pics.” He leaned back to allow us to see better.
Several photos showed the same woman, looking quite hale in her sixties and perhaps seventies, but I didn’t recognize anyone else in any of the pics.
I plucked the sheet from the printer, skimmed the info and the address. “Austin! Hot fucking damn.”
Bryce gave me a questioning look.
“The phone call I got from Idris was made northwest of Austin on a phone stolen there,” I explained. “Plus, Mzatal detected the aftereffects of an event from a few days ago that disrupted the flows in a wide area around Austin. He felt Idris’s signature, but couldn’t pinpoint the source. I don’t think any of it’s a coincidence, and now we have an address.”
Bryce peered at the photos on the screen. “She’s not exactly a spring chicken now. You suspect she’s directly connected?”
I gave a humorless laugh. “I’ve learned that age is simply a matter of who you know. Katashi is over a hundred years old, and that bastard is going strong.” I tapped the paper. “She’s worn the ring, and she’s in Austin. That’s enough to keep her on my list of potential baddies until I find out otherwise.”
“Guilty until proven innocent,” Bryce said.
“When I’m dealing with the Mraztur and summoners, hell yeah.”
Bryce let out a snort of agreement. His gaze returned to Paul’s screen, then he frowned and jabbed a finger at one of the pics. “Paul, that one. I need to see that one bigger.” Paul tapped a key and the thumbnail enlarged to show Rasha much older, with an utterly gorgeous young woman at her side. Perfectly styled long black hair, medium dark complexion, full lips with a deep rose color, and a voluptuous body.
“I know that girl,” Bryce murmured. “I’ve seen her before.”
“That’s her granddaughter, Jade,” Paul said. The printer hummed again.
“Where have you seen her, Bryce?” I asked.
“At the compound. The Farouche Plantation.” He tapped his chin. “I know I’ve seen her there.”
My eyes narrowed. “The granddaughter of a known summoner is associated with your ex-boss? Is she a summoner too? What was she doing there?”
A grimace flickered across his face. “No idea. I saw her in his wing of the house a few times this past year. She came and went with . . .” He trailed off, blinked. “Mystery Man Twenty-two. The guy who was last off the plane with Idris in Amarillo. Fucking hell, she came with Mystery Man Twenty-two!”
Paul made a frustrated noise. “Why did I give B.M. my secrets?” He spun the chair to face us. “I can’t pull archive surveillance vid to show you, ’cause Big Mack followed my instructions and installed the firewall of doom on his servers plus took surveillance vids offline. I couldn’t even leave a back door for myself because, well—”
“That’s acting against his interests which triggers the fear,” I said with a nod of understanding.
“Exactly.” Paul scowled. “Trust me, I tried. Once.”
I heard footsteps on the back porch. Bryce drew a sharp breath. “Damn,” he murmured. “You can really feel when Mzatal gets close, can’t you? Wasn’t as noticeable in the demon realm, but here, wow.”
“I’ve grown used to it,” I confessed, though now that I focused on it I knew exactly what Bryce meant. Like an invisible pressure wave that grew more and more tangible as the demonic lord approached.
Mzatal stepped through the doorway. Instantly the feel of the office shifted from roomy to cramped broom closet. Yep, he certainly does have the whammy, I thought wryly.
He went still for the span of a heartbeat—reading and assessing the current status and the discovery of the ring’s bearer—before leveling his full attention onto me.
“You believe Rasha consorts with Farouche,” he stated.
“It’s very possible,” I said. “Her granddaughter certainly does. However, the ring wasn’t on a woman’s hand, so I want to find out who has it now and who Bryce saw with Jade.”
“It is possible she passed the ring to her offspring, or a student,” Mzatal pointed out.
“True. Either way, it’s worth checking.” I lifted the paper. “We have an address for her. In Austin.”
“Excellent,” he said brusquely. “We will proceed there, and I will assess her.” He announced it as though it was no more of a challenge than walking to the neighbor’s house.
“I need to talk to you before we make any plans,” I told him, taking his hand. After a quick excuse us to Bryce and Paul, I led Mzatal to the front porch and closed the door.
“You do realize that most of the means of travel in this world involve getting into a metal container of some sort for several hours?” I asked him. “Rasha lives in Austin. That’s either an eight to nine hour drive, or a flight involving airports and security and lots of interaction with people. Which, pretty much means we have to drive. In a car.”
