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“Are there any descriptions? Notes? Anything to clue us in on the identity of the customers?” Kale demanded as he unwrapped a peanut butter cup and shoved it in his mouth.
Izzy shook her head, biting back a wince when the movement sent sharp pain shooting through her throbbing hip. Ignoring it, because it was either that or break down and cry, she focused on the large monitor in front of her. “No, there aren’t any notes. No clue into their species, nothing.”
Kale growled out something unintelligible as he shoved another peanut butter cup in his mouth. He’d been on edge all week, eager to start this job only to discover that it wasn’t going to be that easy. Every attempt they’d made to hunt down Pytes had been met with roadblocks. First, he’d been denied access to the files that the Vatican held on suspected Pytes, because the Council refused to agree on just how much information Kale should have access to.
Then they’d discovered that all those files that the Council were protecting were hand written, kept in an underground tomb where they were protected by a security system. Tattletale could have shut it down, but that wouldn’t have helped since there was no record of the location of the tombs in the files. Until the Council could come to an agreement over the files, they had to use what they had, which wasn’t a hell of a lot.
“Vampires can’t smell Pytes,” Kale suddenly announced, sounding thoughtful.
“True, but they also can’t smell most demons,” she felt the need to point out, wondering where he was going with this.
“We need the delivery personnel to start identifying the species of every customer,” Kale said, dropping the now-empty bag of peanut butter cups on the desk. He grabbed a chair and pulled it up to her workstation and settled in.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, even as she hacked into the Sentinel blood supply system and added a new column in the database and labeled it, “Species.”
“If we can start eliminating vampires off our list, we can narrow it down,” Kale said, opening the mini-fridge that she kept beneath her workstation.
“Vampires can’t distinguish between most demons and Pytes,” she pointed out, again.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kale said, pulling out two bottles of orange juice and handed her one. “If we can manage to shorten the list, we’ll have something that we can work with.”
Izzy pursed her lips up in thought as she looked back at the database. After a moment, she added another category, “Special Notes.”
“What’s that for?” Kale asked, taking her orange juice back so that he could open it for her.
“We might be able to cut the list down further if we get clues that will help us sort through the rest of the list.”
“Good idea,” Kale agreed with an approving nod.
“I’m going to break into the message center and send out a general message requesting the deliverers to identify the species of their customers and take note of anything unusual about the customer,” she explained even as she did it.
“We don’t want them cluing anyone in on our plans,” Kale warned.
She shook her head. “I’m going to make sure that they know that this is observation only, no questions asked.”
“What if they don’t comply?” Kale asked, but she could tell by his tone that he already had an idea or two to make sure that they complied.
“I’m going to give them some bullshit administrative excuse to get the job done. If I offer them information, an incentive or make a big deal out of this in any way, it will tip them off and make them curious.”
“Curious is bad,” Kale agreed with a nod.
“Exactly.”
“Are you going to be able to filter out Pyte abilities?” he asked, getting to his feet.
“I should be able to as long as I get decent information,” she said, wondering if perhaps she should set up a form for the deliverers to check off for each customer, something mixed with Pyte and demon abilities so that the deliverers were kept in the dark about their real intentions.
“Let me know when you have something concrete,” he said, heading to the door.
“Where are you going?” she asked, keeping her attention on her monitor as she readjusted the database.
“To get my team together.”
*-*-*-*-*
Orlando, Florida
“She’s definitely left the state,” Brock, his beta, said in way of greeting as he stepped into the office and shut the door behind him, blocking out the noise from the busy kitchen.
“Where is she?” Aidan asked, not bothering to look away from his computer as he double-checked last night’s figures.
“We’re not sure yet,” Brock admitted on a heavy sigh as he walked around the large mahogany desk that they shared. “Did your balance match mine?” Brock asked, nodding towards the computer screen.
“Yes, but we’ll handle that in a minute,” Aidan said, pushing back from the desk and turning the chair around so that he could face his beta. “Were you able to cut off her support?”
Brock nodded, not looking particularly happy about it. Then again, none of his pack was happy about this, but he didn’t care. He wanted his property back and until he got it, they would continue to do whatever was necessary to ensure that happened.
Of course this time he wasn’t demanding that his pack uproot their lives again and move across country. This time he was done chasing after his property, watching her from afar, especially after he’d so freely been allowed to taste her. This would be the very last time that she would run away from him.
“We’ve hacked into her bank accounts and froze them. We also have someone trying to get information from the nursing company that she works for. We should have something within the week if not sooner,” Brock explained, making Aidan smile for the first time in a week since he’d discovered that the bitch that he’d claimed as his own had taken off sometime during the night.
“Good,” Aidan said, nodding approvingly as he looked back at the computer screen and the small problem that needed his attention. “Are you keeping track of her bank and credit card activity?” he asked as he opened up the file for last week’s sales figures.
“So far she hasn’t tried to use her ATM card or credit cards. According to her bank records, she took out a thousand dollars the morning that she left. So-”
“It’s only a matter of time before she tries to use her bankcard,” Aidan finished for him as he headed towards the thick black door that he’d had specially installed two years ago when he bought the restaurant.
