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Storm’s spends an hour helping his team trawl through CCTV footage taken from the streets outside Caprio’s apartment, trying to trace his movements. They find that Caprio had packed a bag late the night before and gotten into his car and drove off. The car drove out of the city, where the CCTV trail went dry.
“The sneaky git!” says Remi. “He purposefully nudged us towards Everett’s dodgy alibi, knowing full well Everett made the better suspect. But it was him all along!”
“My calls about tracing his alibi yesterday must have spooked him,” says Monroe dejectedly.
“It’s not your fault,” says Remi. “You were following procedure.”
“I’ll call Mystics to get them to put a rush on this,” says Storm. “Leo, you head out to find Everett. See if he’s hiding Caprio at his hotel. Remi, Monroe, pay a visit to Caprio’s closest friends. See if you can smoke him out. Monroe, pick up a spare stunbommer on your way out.”
Storm’s call to the Director of the Department of Mystics is not pleasant. He is several pay grades above him and lets him know it. He gives Storm an earful about exactly how many other murder cases his department is covering, and huffs about how badly the flu has hit his team and complains that people have been inconsiderate enough to want to take leave during the summer season.
Storm is tempted to tell him he is surprised anyone from Mystics would ever catch anything so common as a cold, but he holds his tongue. When Storm refuses to back down, the director grouchily passes the call on to his second in command, for which Storm is grateful.
The Deputy Director is a brisk woman who, after warning Storm that she will not risk rushing complex magic forensics processes, tells him she will see what she can do.
Several hours later, the call pays off. Storm has joined Leo in making door step visits to one of Caprio’s close friend, when someone from Mystics calls him back.
“Hey,” the guy says in a laid back voice, not bothering to introduce himself in the usual manner of those from Mystics. “Boss-lady said you wanted to hurry this one along. You got lucky, man. We found a minute trace of blood on the small envelope, probably from a papercut. And you know we’re not too keen on blood magic without the proper approvals and escalations, but given the priority of your case, boss-lady okay-ed a locator spell. Not enough blood present to get a precise location, but we had a special consultant in today who was able to get you something better than nothing. I’ll send you what we’ve got.”
Leaving the ‘And you’ll be grateful for it’ part unsaid, the guy hangs up. A moment later a message pings on Storm’s phone. It is an image of a map of central London, marking out a diameter of just over a mile.
Leo leans over to take a look. He whistles. “How the hell are we supposed to find Caprio in all that? Hold on, let me cross reference which of his friends living in that area we haven't visited yet.” Leo checks his phone.
“No need,” says Storm, something on the map catching his eye. It makes him curse. Caprio’s location only adds to the evidence of his guilt.
Storm zooms in on the map for Leo’s benefit and points to the center of the circle. “The Otherworld Embassy is here. The Ambassador’s annual ball is taking place there tonight. They’ll be opening a portal to Otherworld.”
“Shit,” says Leo. “Caprio has strong ties to Otherworld on his father’s side.”
Storm nods grimly. “No doubt daddy pulled some strings for the best hideout in London. Caprio’s going to run. He’s holed up at the embassy and we can’t touch him.”
Chapter 19
DIANA
The Otherworld Embassy in London is a monolith of a building set on the northern bank of the River Thames. Its main entrance sits at the top of a sweeping cascade of steps, flanked by two massive pillars. Streets around the building have been cordoned off by police for the night in preparation for the arrival of dignitaries and celebrities. Only two entrances have been left open; the red carpeted one at the front, and a far less glamorous one at the back for staff. No way would I have gotten in without being staff.
I have spent the morning and most of the afternoon in the building’s bowels, slaving away with preparations for first the Ambassador’s banquet, being held for two hundred select special guests and then later a ball for five hundred guests, with canapes and treats being served throughout the evening.
After meeting with Smithers, the little voice had relinquished control without a fight, seeming content to let me take over to do the menial labor. I can feel her pleasantly snoozing at the back of my mind, with an ear alert to any moments she might want to interfere in my life. I know her moods as well as I know my own now. I half wish the little voice was still in charge, because I am fairly certain the little voice would have found an effortless way to get out of the hard work.
No doubt she’d be chatting to the chefs and have offered her services as a taster by now. I am hungry. Breakfast at Storm’s and the overpriced thin sandwich that I grabbed at a nearby store for an early lunch already feel like yesterday’s memory. I’d topped up my phone credit too, with the last ten pounds in my worldly possession.
Want me to go to the kitchens to snitch you something tasty? the little voice offers sleepily.
No thanks, I say.
She shrugs. Your loss.
Five o’ clock arrives and I hurry to change into a fresh uniform. I have been assigned to table service. I have been so swept off my feet that I haven’t even had a chance to take a look at the seating charts. I rush to take a quick peek before the banquet starts and, seeing the guest list, my heart sinks. Princess Caroline and Xander Daxx have pride of place at the ambassador’s table.
The last time I had worked for the Princess Caroline she’d been furious to find me alone with her fiancé Xander. Later she had cornered me and threatened to have me entertain her guests naked. The thought that I am going to be waiting tables under her eye today irks me. I had planned to rise in the world, not go down in it. God, I feel pathetic.
The only saving grace is that I will not be serving at the head table. I glance at the rota and to my shock see the arrangements are not what I expected. Rosalie must have changed them! Somehow she has wrangled herself a spot at the head table, and now it is me that is going to have to cover it!
I rush to find Ben to beg him to take my spot, but he gives a nervous glance at Smithers and shakes his head. And so when it comes time to serving the food, I take a deep breath and march in, fully preparing myself for a small nightmare.
Xander Daxx is the guest I have been allocated to look after. When I arrive with his first course, a ramekin of Otherworld legumes and Earthly salmon, Princess Caroline does a double-take, which swiftly changes to a sneer, especially when Xander greets me with pleasant surprise. She is sitting on the ambassador’s right hand side, and Beatrice Grictor is at the ambassador’s left.
