Ruby fever epb, p.11
Ruby Fever EPB, page 11
“Yes, Acting Warden.”
The last person climbed into the Warden vehicle and banged on the side. The carrier rolled out. Linus’ people had a base outside of Houston. Its location was well hidden and the base itself enjoyed the full benefit of the best defensive weaponry Duncan Arms could provide. If Arkan went after them, he would regret it.
He wouldn’t go after them. Why would he when what he wanted was inside the Compound.
Bern loaded the computer tower into the Humvee and got behind the wheel. The Humvee rolled up to me, windows down. “Do you need us to come with you?” Runa asked.
“No. I need you to go home and get our phones back online. Alessandro and Leon are out there, and they are deaf and mute.” And Bern was the only one who could fix it.
“I’ll take care of it,” Bern promised.
The Humvee took off.
I ran up to Rhino and jumped into the driver’s seat. Cornelius was already in the passenger seat, holding a tactical shotgun. Gus panted in the back. I reversed, peeled out of the driveway, and stopped just outside the gate.
Seconds ticked off. One, two . . . Ten . . .
The gate clanged shut. Turrets spiraled out of the ground, sparking with residual magic. A low buzz rolled through the street. The system was hot. From now on Linus’ mansion would be off-limits.
Cornelius’ silver BMW waited parked ten yards ahead. He must’ve moved it.
“Do you want me to drop you off at your car?” I asked.
“No. We’d like to ride home with you. Safety in numbers. I’ll pick up my car later.”
Gus made a small woof in agreement.
I could use all of the backup I could get. “Thank you.”
I drove down the street, rolling over the speed bumps, pulled a U-turn and sped toward the Buffalo Speedway.
The Buffalo Speedway was crowded. The traffic was steady but moving at a decent speed.
“I paired the phone to the car. Your mother’s phone was already in contacts under Mom,” Cornelius reported.
“Call Mom.”
The car’s audio system obediently dialed. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Your call has been forwarded . . .”
“Mom, I’m coming to get you. Call me.”
A sign flashed.
CAUTION
CONSTRUCTION AHEAD
The car in front of me put on its brakes. The caravan of vehicles compacted, slowing down.
“Call Mom.”
Ring. Ring. Ring.
LEFT LANE
CLOSED
500 FEET
“Your call has been forwarded . . .”
“Your mother is very capable,” Cornelius said.
“Yes.”
My mother was also a high-value target. If Arkan’s crew got to her, I would give them anything they wanted to get her back.
“Could you please look up the number for Margolis Autopsy Lab at the Woman’s Hospital and try that?”
“Of course.” Cornelius fiddled with the phone. “Here it is.”
He put the phone on speaker. Ring . . . Ring . . . “You have reached the Margolis . . .”
I waited until the tone. “This message is for Penelope Baylor. Please call me immediately.” I left my new phone number and Cornelius hung up.
The traffic funneled into a single lane. We crawled past the left lane blocked off with cones and white pickup trucks.
“Of course there is construction,” I said. My voice was so calm, it was almost robotic.
“Different cities are famous for different things,” Cornelius said. “San Antonio is known for the River Walk and the Alamo. Austin is famous or infamous for 6th Street with its bars and shootings. We have construction and floods.”
The lane narrowed, hemmed in by concrete barriers on the right. I steered Rhino with laser precision, caught between the nonexistent shoulder and the row of traffic cones.
“Catalina,” Cornelius said quietly. “Your hands have gone white.”
“Thank you.” I eased my grip on the wheel.
“You are exceptionally calm,” he observed.
“Alessandro got into a car with a man who is supposedly working for Lenora Jordan but could’ve been an illusion mage, because the Harris DA evidently has an emergency with strikingly convenient timing. Leon was supposed to shadow the FBI, but I didn’t see any sign of him at the Cabera mansion. My mother is outside of the Compound, and none of them are answering their phones. The Compound is under attack. I can’t afford anything but calm right now.”
“They separated us and are hitting us one by one?” Cornelius guessed.
“That’s how I would do it.”
“I’ll try Alessandro and Leon again.” He tapped the phone.
We passed Richmond Avenue.
“No response,” Cornelius reported.
If I thought about it for too long, I’d panic.
The phone lit up. An incoming call. “Accept!”
“Catalina?” Mom asked.
Finally. “Where are you?”
“I am in an office in Dr. Amandi’s lab.” Her voice was eerily calm. My mother had gone into that serene place she always visited just before she lined up a shot through her scope.
“Where are your guards?”
“Tyler called from the airport. His car didn’t show up.”
Tyler was Pete’s son.
“I sent the guys to pick him up. That was an hour ago. They’re not answering their phones and I can’t reach the house. My phone isn’t working. I am using their landline. There is an armored vehicle in the parking lot. They’ve been sitting there for ten minutes, and nobody has gotten out.”
They’d found her.
“It’s Xavier.” Xavier wouldn’t have passed up a chance to catch my mother. He would come in person and probably not alone. “Arkan is attacking us. Our phones are compromised.”
“Ah. That explains things.”
My voice was flat and calm. “Xavier will wait for you to come out, but he’s impatient. He will come into the lab to get you.”
“Staying put isn’t an option.”
“No.”
I crunched through our options. The Woman’s Hospital had a large campus, sprawling between Greenbriar and Fannin Street and cut off by Old Spanish Trail in the north. I was still at least fifteen minutes away. Even if she hid in the building, they would find her. And if I pulled into that parking lot, Xavier would hurl the nearest lamppost through my windshield. I had to get Mom and get out alive.
What was around the Woman’s Hospital? On the east side of Fannin, it was all medical buildings. On the west side, across Greenbriar, there was . . . Yes. That would work.
“Mom, can you cross to a different building without exiting into the parking lot?”
“Hold on.” I heard a door open. My mother said something. A male voice answered.
She came back on the line. “Yes.”
“I need you to get away from that building and cross Greenbriar to the Office of Records. Big building shaped like a quill. Go in there and tell them that I’m coming to set up an appointment and that you are waiting for me. Don’t leave the building no matter what happens. They won’t help you if you step one foot outside, but they will defend the building and they won’t allow anyone to take you out of there.”
The Office of Records kept the database of the Houses and magic users. It was a neutral institution, incorruptible and independent of all other powers in Texas, magic and civilian. It was stewarded by the Keeper of Records, whom I’d met only once and had hoped to never meet again. Nobody in their right mind would attack the Office of Records. Xavier wasn’t in his right mind, and if we were very lucky, he’d try.
Mom spoke to someone. “Okay. On my way.”
The call ended.
She would have to walk south through the medical complex and then cross Greenbriar out of the view of the parking lot, and then cross another large parking lot in front of the Office of Records. Her top speed was about five miles per hour. I wanted to step on the gas and knock the cars in front of me out of the way, so I could drive faster. Instead, I carefully steered Rhino out of the construction zone and veered through traffic, fighting for every second.
The short tower of black glass thrust from the middle of a giant lot, its lines elegant and flowing, a perfect imitation of a feathered quill. The dark building of the Arena of Trials loomed ominously behind it.
I hadn’t spoken to Mom since I’d called her. Her cell phone was about as useful as a brick. I had no idea if she’d made it.
Please be there.
“Do we go in together or do you want to take the car?” I asked Cornelius.
“Together,” he said. “We’re more vulnerable on our own.”
“Agreed.”
I had given him an out, and he’d refused to take it. I’d expected as much.
I pulled into the center row, as close as I could get to the entrance, but all of the front parking spots were taken, and we had a lot of distance to cover on foot. Driving up to the doors was out of the question. The Office of Records maintained a clear kill zone around their tower and driving into it immediately made you a target.
Cornelius handed me a DA Rattler, a compact submachine gun, one of Linus’ special editions. He picked up a tactical shotgun, and we exited the vehicle.
Fifty yards to the building. The space between my shoulder blades vibrated with tension. I strained so hard to listen for a marlin spike whistling through the air, I almost heard it in my head.
The doors slid open in front of us. Cornelius, Gus, and I entered the cavernous lobby, and I quietly exhaled. It looked just as I remembered: black granite walls, grey granite floor with a shimmering gold inlay of a magic circle in the center, and a black granite desk to the right with a lone guard behind it. But no Mom.
Ice rolled down my spine.
The guard, a middle-aged blond woman, saw us, rose, and bowed her head. “Greetings, Prime Baylor and Significant Harrison. Please deposit your weapons on the counter. Your party is waiting in the Keeper’s office, fifth floor.”
She’d made it. Phew.
Why hadn’t she stayed in the lobby?
Cornelius and I put our firearms on the counter. Cornelius nodded at Gus. “Wait.”
The Doberman lay down on the floor and watched us board the elevator.
The lights above the door flickered, counting off the floors. My heart was beating too hard.
The doors slid open, and we walked into a long hallway with rows of doors branching off to both sides. At the very end, the heavy black double doors stood wide open. I made a beeline for that doorway as fast as I could without breaking into a run.
We walked into a massive round room lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves that were crammed to capacity. A round counter guarded the entrance. A small lamp glowed on it with a warm yellow light. Behind the counter several comfortable leather couches occupied the center of the room, illuminated by a chandelier. The Keeper of Records sat on the couch to the left. Across from him, sipping tea from a small blue cup, sat my mother.
A crushing weight dropped off my shoulders and hit the floor. If it had mass, it would have broken through the wood and kept falling until it landed in the lobby.
The Keeper of Records turned to me. He was of average height, slim, and old. Time had wrinkled his brown skin, carving a road map of years around his eyes and mouth, and turned his hair white. He wore a brown three-piece suit with a copper-and-black bow tie. His expression was always welcoming, but his eyes, guarded by large glasses, stopped you in your tracks. So dark, they appeared black, they sparkled like two pieces of polished black jade.
“Prime Baylor,” the Keeper said, “it’s been so long. What a pleasure to see you again.”
Mom looked at me. Her eyes were wide.
“Good afternoon, Keeper. Thank you for keeping my mother company. We are so sorry to trouble you.”
The Keeper smiled. His teeth were white and sharp. “It’s not a bother. We’re always happy to visit with House Baylor, aren’t we, Michael?”
Michael emerged from the shadows. He didn’t stride out, he congealed, like some mythical wraith coalescing from darkness. It was probably my imagination, and he must have walked out of some niche between the bookshelves, but one moment it was just the four of us, and then suddenly there were five.
Michael nodded. In his mid-twenties, he wore a black suit with a white shirt that set off his bronze skin. His hair was black and cut short with just enough length on top to keep it from being a buzz cut. Black and grey tribal tattoos swirled over the exposed skin of his hands and neck. His face was handsome, with what people called “good bones,” and his eyes were an odd color, almost yellow when the light caught his irises like the old scotch Linus liked to drink.
The Keeper turned to Cornelius. “It is wonderful to see you again, Significant Harrison.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Cornelius said. “It’s been a long time since my trials.”
“Fifteen years, three months, and fourteen days. Should you wish to revisit your certification, our doors are always open.”
Cornelius drew back slightly. “That won’t be necessary.”
“As you prefer.”
Nobody “revisited” certification unless they thought they would test higher and up their rank. I would have to tell Nevada. Like me, she’d been convinced for years that Cornelius deliberately held back at his trials.
The Keeper steepled his fingers on his bended knee. “Now, what can the Office of Records do for House Baylor?”
Going to the Keeper of Records for information hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been to grab Mom from the lobby and get the hell out of here, hoping to make it home before we got attacked. But now we were here, and he’d served Mom tea. He’d made an event out of it, and I couldn’t just say, “Thanks, got to run.”
Perhaps this was an opportunity. The Keeper was the expert on magic bloodlines. I could get a lot of my questions answered. But what would it cost me?
The Office of Records was one of two magic-related institutions that did not fall under my jurisdiction, the Assembly Tribunal being the other. I couldn’t compel the Keeper to comply. Anything he told me was strictly voluntary and the more I asked, the higher the cost would be.
Years ago, Nevada had promised the Keeper that she would fulfill an unspecified favor in return for sparing our evil grandmother Victoria. Since I had started my apprenticeship with Evil Grandmother, she’d mentioned this favor at least ten times. Not many things kept Victoria Tremaine up at night, but this one sure did. She stressed again and again that the Office of Records balanced the favor owed by the favor given and sparing her had been a significant favor.
In any case, this was a conversation best had in private.
“I wish to discuss a confidential matter. Is there a place my mother and Significant Harrison could wait?”
“Of course. Michael, please show our guests to the Blue Room.”
Michael glided across the floor without making a sound. That man made my hair stand on end.
Mom and Cornelius followed him out.
The Keeper regarded me with a smile. “Tea, Acting Warden?”
And he knew. How? The National Assembly must have notified him out of courtesy. I wondered who else had gotten that memo.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Honey, milk, lemon?” the Keeper offered.
“I’ll take it plain.”
The Keeper nodded.
Michael reappeared with a platter supporting a single extra cup. He set the cup in front of me, poured black tea from a teapot, left the platter on the table, and took three steps back.
I sipped my tea. It was lovely and smelled of vanilla. “Delicious.”
“I’m glad it suits your tastes.”
This conversation would have to be structured very carefully. I couldn’t obligate the Office of the Warden to something it couldn’t honor. If the Keeper asked for something in return for the information, I had to be sure we could deliver it. Making an enemy of the Office of Records was not an option.
“I have two requests, one for public information and one requiring discretion. The Office of the Warden would be grateful for any assistance.”
The Keeper’s eyes shone for a moment, as if lit from within. “The Office of Records always welcomes an opportunity to collect a favor from the Office of the Warden, doesn’t it, Michael?”
Michael looked directly at me. Like being sighted through the scope of a rifle.
“Please, make your inquiries,” the Keeper invited.
“Has Kaylee Cabera ever undertaken the trials?”
“No.”
“Has she undertaken any preliminary tests?”
“Yes.”
Now we were in a grey area. The trials took place before witnesses. Their results were public. The nature of one’s magic could be sealed, but not the rank. The results of preliminary tests remained private. They were unofficial practice runs that were published only if the family wanted them to be known.
If I asked about her specific rank, the Keeper could tell me, but the cost of that information would be high. I needed to mitigate our obligation.
“Based on those preliminary tests, does the Office of Records expect Kaylee Cabera to be certified as a Prime?”
The Keeper looked wolfish. “It would take a miracle or a crime against humanity.”
Administering the Osiris serum without authorization constituted a crime against humanity. He just confirmed my suspicions. Kaylee was born with minor power and her mother had gone to Arkan to make her daughter a Prime. That’s why she was untrained. That’s why her magic was odd.
I took out my phone, pulled up a picture of Pete’s ruined face, and placed the phone on the table. “Does the Office of Records know what type of mage could cause this kind of damage?”
The Keeper glanced at the phone. “I always liked Peter. What a shame. This was done by a mentamalleus.”
“A mind hammer?”
The Keeper nodded. “They’re more commonly known as false halcyons, which is not strictly accurate. The false halcyons are not a twisted branch growing from the halcyon tree; rather they are two separate trunks growing from the same root.”
