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Lucas and Taylor had called me the day after the hostage attack, letting me know they had taken point on the post-investigation. I had appreciated their initiative, but was also happy that it was a case the three of us could work together primarily alone.
Both of my boys were already there, Lucas seated behind his desk and Taylor standing next to him, poking him in the arm about who knows what.
“What does he want from you now?” I grinned at Lucas.
His unamused look said enough. “Who knows?”
“You never listen to me.” Taylor mock-pouted, a few dark curls escaping the tie at the nape of his neck and framing his angular face.
Lucas looked up at him, little amusement in his cerulean eyes. “Of course I do, just not about inconsequential things when we’re supposed to be working.”
“You two are ridiculous some days,” I laughed, dropping into the other vacant seat, picking up one of the case files that sat on top of it. “Catch me up.”
They told me everything they’d collected, from the scene to witness testimonies to Beckett’s autopsies. It was all as I had expected based on my own experience at the crime scene. Everything pointed to three idiotic druggies overdosing on blackthorn and letting the bloodlust rampage get the best of them. It would be an open and shut case, one we had unfortunately seen before.
However, the one thing holding all of us back from closing it was that mysterious phrase all of the suspects had been chanting:Chu Fui na Déithe.
“Have we been able to locate a linguist who can translate what they were yelling?” I asked, reading through the witness statements, all confirming it seemed to be their driving reason to commit this act.
“Not at the Seathra University.” Taylor flipped through a few pages in front of him. “We thought about sending out falcon messages to other territories universities. Emric is helping us compile a list of academics who may be able to help.”
“Perfect.” I nodded. It was a shame that we had to use Falcon Mail, but since only military and government personnel had access to Comm units, we had to rely on our trained falcons to get these messages across the Isle. Hopefully, they would respond as quickly as possible. “Once he—”
The office door slammed open, cutting me off, all of us spinning to see who’d interrupted. A giggle attempted to escape my lips at the sight of Emric, doubled over trying to pull full breaths through his lips.
“Morning, Emric.” I walked over to him.
After a few more huffing breaths, he straightened, his tawny cheeks mottled with red splotches, glasses slightly fogged. “High Faction…” He wheezed a few more times. “Spotted.”
My blood ran cold, the air around me thickening. “Where?”
“Just outside of Eroste, heading straight for the Compound.”
“Futeacha,” I cursed, my fingers curling against my legs. “Why didn’t they inform us?”
I walked out of Lucas’s office, heading for mine to put on the last of my black armor, wanting to be fully presentable before they arrived. All three men followed behind me.
“Not sure,” Emric straightened his own armor, dusting it off as if it wasn’t already presentable. “Nolan is cleaning up the conference room in case they want to meet there and look at the Elliot case. Beckett and the rest of the Hierarchy are making sure anyone on Compound is at the ready before they meet us here. They’re expected to arrive within a half an hour.”
My fingers trembled as I attempted to latch one of my arm bracers. “Was…was he with them?”
I didn’t have to say his name, they all knew who I was talking about. I looked up to Emric, my insides clenching at his somber nod.
My father was coming to visit.
***
None of us moved, standing at the ready in the conference room with the three High Faction members. They had walked into the Hierarchy office area as if it was a completely typical day, but we all felt the tension that coated every area they touched. They ordered a meeting with the Keturi, locking the rest of our team outside of the conference room as the four of us stood in a line on the opposite side of the room.
“So, you have nothing new,” Violet said, her tightly-pulled bun making her stern face even more intimidating.
The High Faction had sent three representatives, one from each species branch. Violet was representing the humans, her well-pressed burgundy silk top and tailored black pants complimenting her dark skin and russet eyes. Standing next to her was Terrence, the alabaster Shrivika dressed in a simple pair of black dress pants and a silver-gray button up shirt. Unlike Violet, who could be intimidating with just a sharp look, Terrence’s round face and stocky build tended to give the opposite effect. He had an approachable air about him, even when he was meant to be serious or upset.
And to represent the Varg Anwyns, Anton. My father.
He exuded power, demanding attention from everyone wherever he went with his tall, slender form complimented by his navy-blue vest, black button up shirt, and matching pants. His dirty blond hair was well-groomed and slicked back from his face, his chiseled features hardened by the frown set on his full lips. He paced slowly in front of our investigation board, his pale silver eyes scanning over every detail. If a stranger walked into this room, they wouldn’t have guessed that this man stood in front of his daughter with the chill wafting from every little movement he made.
“This is a case spanning over ten years.” Beckett was the first to speak up, his smoky voice pulling the attention of all three High Faction members. “We’re still catching up, learning about his habits, his past cases, attempting to build a—”
