As it was clearly the domain of servants, Rowan wanted to perform the second search of the kitchen herself. There were no new revelations. However, when Rowan opened the fridge, she noted similarities to what was stocked at Sergio’s hidey-hole she thought of as his Gloat Palace. They’d searched the upscale ranch house in Spring Valley first thing and had gathered a stunning amount of evidence, including indications that Hugo had most likely been hiding out there before they’d arrested him.

  “That’s not a label found on shelves of most liquor stores,” Genevieve said of the champagne and wine. “Same with the liquor in the butler’s pantry. I’m sure there’s a bar cart in the main sitting room of each of the bedrooms as well. I imagine we’ll find more of the same, connecting to what was stocked at the other house.”

  “I had a very strong feeling the sidepiece wasn’t the one doing all the grocery stocking. Probably Lotte. Bet she knew Hugo was there, too.” Rowan curled her lip.

  David remained at her side as they moved, quadrant by quadrant, through the first floor. Filming when necessary. Taking notes. Handing her things she didn’t even know she needed until they appeared and solved the problem.

  Rowan spoke quietly as they ascended to the second floor where all the living quarters were clustered like little apartments. “I guess living with your family would be okay if you had thirteen thousand square feet and they had their own full apartment to be in rather than the living room at all hours, hogging the TV when all your shows are on.”

  “Do you have shows?” David asked, teasing.

  “I totally do! That tattoo competition show, for one. Then I can root for the contestant who is just badass and talented and sneer at the one guy who refers to himself in the third person while telling everyone how great he is. It’s always the best when whatever bullshit that guy has been doing to others turns around on him so he can act hurt and surprised people would do the same shady shit he has. Honestly, it’s a show with plenty of drama, but has great art. If my father-in-law came in every time I was about to watch the elimination tattoo results to talk to me about laxatives or wanted to change the channel to golf, I’d probably not tell the cops where he was if he ran off either, so long as he didn’t come back.”

  “You are as ever, a very complex person,” David told her. “I will endeavor to never interrupt while you’re watching television.”

  “You’re welcome to watch with me. Bring snacks. Star will share the couch with you if you give her a scratch behind her ears.”

  “I find it’s best to lead with snacks in most every situation.”

  “Right? Why hasn’t everyone figured that out yet? Clive now just hands me food every time he sees me. As a preventative measure.”

  David’s snort of laughter brought a smile to her face.

  Rowan pointed to the left. “We need to cross over to that wing of this floor. That’s where all the household staff live.” They walked over an open, bright landing that then took a slight turn that led to a series of suite-styled bedrooms. Not as opulent and spacious as the family apartments, but quite lovely, nonetheless.

  Rowan looked at her notes. “Let’s start with Lotte’s room. I bet that galls the hell out of her to be here with the staff instead of with her employer. I also bet the rest of the staff hate her guts. You know she’s a cop. Telling on everyone.”

  “I really do wish they understood how much worse it goes for them when they give you reasons to dislike them. Though it’s obviously far more entertaining when they bumble along, and you savage them at every turn.”

  “I know, David. But villains never learn. I guess that’s good for the rest of us always having to deal with them and stop them from villainy and shit. Keeps the lights on and Star in that swanky homemade dog food they spoil her with.”

  Genevieve came in moments after they had. “I’ve gone through the rooms in this wing. All clear of spell traps. But that doesn’t mean other sorts of traps won’t be set. Do be cautious.”

  “I’m glad you said it,” David teased Genevieve.

  “I need you to wait in the hall,” Rowan told them both.

  “I will go speak with Lotte, if you are amenable,” Genevieve said.

  “Excellent idea. I’ll join you in a bit.”

  Once they’d gone, leaving her alone in Lotte’s space, Rowan let herself breathe slowly as she got her head right.

  Rowan wasn’t a witch. She wasn’t a Vampire. Her senses were highly developed just the same. Honed over the years as her connection to Brigid strengthened and she trained as a Hunter.

  Intuition was a melding of the physical parts of being an investigator and the metaphysical parts of being...well, Rowan. It had taken a long time for her to accept the magical aspects of herself, as if they could disappear and leave her lacking so she never wanted to be weak. Or that they somehow made her weak.

  But it was the opposite, she’d realized. Accepting her gifts as that particular combination of all her various strengths made her better at her job in every way. Her connection to Brigid was a positive. It was supposed to be. She was supposed to lean into it and let it make her stronger.

  Learning that—accepting that—had been revolutionary. And a process she was still working through.

  Moving to the center of the sitting room, Rowan let her eyes close and reached out for her other senses. Opened herself up to the Goddess inside her.

  Pleasure surged through her veins as Brigid rose and settled herself within Rowan. Sharing a consciousness in a way that had begun to feel very natural.

  She needed to trust herself more.

  That was a Brigid thought.

  “Okay, okay,” she muttered. Perfect Suit lived in this space. Her energy and magical signature were everywhere.

  Interesting. Rowan opened her eyes and then relaxed her focus, like she was staring at one of those optical illusion posters they sold at the mall. As of just a few days before that, Rowan couldn’t really detect a magical signature more than in a cursory way. She’d been able to notice if magic had been used. Could tell when someone was a witch. But what she was looking at just then were little gossamer threads. So similar to the way she perceived a scent trail.

  Lotte spent time at the little couch and table near the windows. There was one of those individual-cup coffee maker things and all the pods that went inside were neatly lined up in a little tray holding two mugs and various coffee and tea accessories. A mini fridge sat beneath the table and held food and drinks. Nothing incriminating.

  There were bookshelves on one wall but not a lot of Lotte’s energy was there. Rowan followed those little threads into the bedroom and knew immediately that this was where Lotte spent most of her time when she wasn’t working.

  She might be a stuck-up bitch, but Lotte had good taste. The furnishings were elegant and clearly well-made with luxury materials and finishes. There was a vanity nearest French doors leading to a small balcony, and on the other side of the room, set in an alcove, was a beautiful desk. The gleaming cherrywood was smudged at the drawer pulls with those threads.

  “This is a very cool new gift,” she murmured to the Goddess.

  Somewhere in her head, Rowan heard a laugh as warmth flowed through her.

  She knelt and looked under the bed, noting the room had hardwoods but the bed sat on an area rug.

  “David!” she called, straightening.

  He came in quickly. “What do you need?”

  “I want to move the bed and the rug it’s on. There’s something under it.”

  “Let me call Marco. He’s just at the end of the hall. You might reinjure yourself.”

  She considered arguing but Marco appeared in the doorway. “Did you need my assistance?” he asked... David.

  Oh for fuck’s sake.

  Fine. It’d give them a little flirting time and Clive wouldn’t hear she was moving furniture.

  “There’s something under the bed. I need it and the rug moved,” she said.

  * * *

  Genevieve seated herself across from Lotte, taking her time settling, letting the other woman get more and more nervous and uncertain.

  Darius had retreated a few feet away, near the doorway to the grand foyer. Close enough to intervene should she need it. Or should he want to. He did pretty much whatever he wanted anyway. Who or what could stop him?

  “Who is Sergio’s paramour? The one who lives out at the Lakes?” she asked at last.

  Surprise registered on Lotte’s features briefly before she schooled herself. “If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Okay. You’ll be held in Conclave custody until a tribunal decides your fate.”

  “My fate? For what? I have broken no laws! I have rights.” She tried to shoot to her feet, but Genevieve had secured her in place.

  “Lower your voice or I’ll do it for you.” Genevieve raised a lazy hand, the bracelets clacking and jingling with the motion. “You are withholding information regarding a current investigation. You’ve been given multiple opportunities to cooperate and have chosen otherwise. I have no idea why you all act like humans are beneath notice but you try to cling to their laws when you’re in trouble. Human law isn’t applicable here. It never has been. Mainly that’s been about our protection from them. But sometimes, we end up in situations where we’re the threats. And then the Conclave has to step in and handle it before your hubris gets the rest of us unwanted attention. Like contracting wolf shifters to murder a Hunter in the middle of the day. On camera in one of the busiest intersections in the world.”

  Lotte sneered. “And look at her now. A pathetic human upstairs right now pawing through the belongings of her betters. She’s nothing to the Procella organization.”

  Rowan seemed fine with people underestimating her, but Genevieve was not. “She’s free to do her very important and powerful job while you’re held to a chair being interrogated, and your employers are all under arrest. I’m entirely clear about who is who’s better. As will you be when she finds whatever it is you’re hiding.” Genevieve gave Lotte a once-over full of disdain.

  If there was something to find, Rowan would find it. She had a way. And now she had some built-up spite to apply to the problem, which fueled Rowan like nothing else.

  “None of this has anything to do with Mr. Procella’s private life.” Lotte nervously twisted her fingers.

  “Tell me or I’ll make a call and have a transport sent over to take you to be held until trial.”

  Lotte’s spine curved slightly as she finally understood her fate.

  “Mr. Procella was married for nearly a century. He was devastated when his beloved wife died. In the thirty years since she passed, he has had a long-term relationship with two women. He kept them away from this home, which he built for his wife and their children.”

  Genevieve figured that might explain the fact that in all the photographs and video they’d located featuring the Procellas out and about at various society and work-related events there wasn’t a single instance of another woman. She wondered just what the current girlfriend had to say about that.

  “What happened to the first one?”

  “They grew apart.” Lotte’s brief answer was loaded with judgment.

  “Name.” Genevieve looked Lotte over again. “I can use magical means to get the answer. This isn’t even a particularly deep secret, so it’ll be easy enough to take. But it won’t be pleasant.”

  A deep secret was more difficult to uproot. A working to reveal it was most effectively performed with precision of intent. Genevieve didn’t know enough about Hugo and Sergio and whatever they were up to, so it was difficult to even know the questions to ask. But with Lotte and what she needed? Easy. And she wouldn’t even be sad if it hurt given all the pain the Procellas had brought. The sooner they had more information from those around Sergio and Hugo, the sooner Genevieve could uncover answers.

  “Why do you need to know?” Lotte asked.

  “You know why we’re here. You know why Hugo ran off and that he was hiding out at the house in Spring Valley. You know why Sergio and Antonia are in custody and you know why Bess Procella is being detained. You don’t need to know the exact reasons I’m asking. That’s, how do you say? Oh, above your pay level.

  “If they haven’t done anything wrong, I’ll find that. Speaking to people will give me answers. If they have? I’ll find out anyway. It’ll be messier and more painful, and it’ll take a little longer maybe. But make no mistake, I will get answers. You can tell me, or I can make you tell me. This is where we are. Your option is to answer the questions I ask or be arrested.”

  Marco came in holding a tea tray he laid out next to Genevieve’s seat. He poured her a cup of perfectly doctored milky black tea. The way she preferred it. Very sweet.

  She nodded her appreciation, and he retreated after an inclination of his chin, showing her respect.

  “That tea set is priceless,” Lotte said, her tone going up in pitch as Genevieve sipped. “Once owned by a tsar. A gift to Mr. Procella Senior from a business associate. It was in a locked cabinet. That’s not a set we use daily. It’s for kings and notables.”

  “Ms. Aubert is as close as you will ever get to royalty,” Darius said, filling Genevieve’s belly with butterflies.

  “Back to Sergio’s first mistress and her name.” Genevieve turned the delicate cup in the saucer slightly and then set them down. It was a beautiful set and while she had no concerns for what Lotte felt, she wasn’t going to destroy something that couldn’t be replaced.

  Pausing, she bent to pull a pipe from her handbag. The bowl was loaded, and the sticky, sweet scent of marijuana filled the space as she took a hit—bigger than was actually necessary—and blew it out, delighting in the horrified look on Lotte’s face.

  There were times when all the various disciplines and teachers in Genevieve’s life and magical study were voices in her head. All telling her what would be best. What was a problem. They weren’t negative voices. They never said cruel things to or about her. But they could be overwhelming to the point of being debilitating. She’d discovered several centuries before that marijuana seemed to help and left her clearer than alcohol and other types of things she’d used before and after.

  Her connection to the Dust Devils and their Trick had helped immensely with her facets, as Darius called them. They still clamored for attention, but it wasn’t overwhelming as often.

  They really didn’t like Lotte, that much was clear to Genevieve. Which was understandable because she didn’t like Lotte either.

  “Hugo and Sergio will most likely be sentenced at a tribunal. You won’t see them in your lifetime. Antonia? That remains to be seen. Alfonso is running from our inquiries. We’ll find him eventually. And when we do, we’ll also find who’s been giving him inside information to help him. The way Hugo was also fed information.” Genevieve paused to look over at Lotte, delighted as the truth hit her and she realized they knew she’d been helping Procella father and son. Then she decided to toss out, “Oh, I suppose you might be wondering why Hugo hasn’t gotten in contact with you over the last day and a half or so. Well, as it happens, he was captured after he attacked me and the Hunter with negative magic. Again.” She sent a faux smile laced with sympathy. “I see from your expression that you didn’t. Ah. Well, you do now in any case.”

  “You people have done enough and found nothing. This is persecution, plain and simple,” Lotte said, her cheeks going pink. Her panic and fear stunk up the air. Genevieve felt that if one were to involve themselves in conspiracies of the type Lotte had, one might have a stronger disposition.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rowan strolled into the room right as Lotte was speaking. She placed the box she’d carried down from upstairs on the low table between the couches and chairs. David had another box he placed next to that one.

  “I caught the tail end of that conversation as I entered. Found nothing is such an interesting way to put it.” Rowan held up a cell phone, loving the expression on Perfect Suit’s face. “Surprise, it’s nothing! I’m obviously much smarter than you, but kudos to you for not warding the little cache space built into the floor beneath your bed. That’s why no one found it.” Well, that and the way they had only given a cursory glance at the staff quarters but whatever, that was a Conclave problem. Rowan had enough of her own to go borrowing theirs.

  “Because the magic of the wards would have indicated something was there when a scan was done,” Genevieve said. “That is very clever indeed. So how did you find it, Rowan?”

  She wasn’t going to give away this newly risen talent for seeing magical imprints. She could trust Genevieve of course, but there were several witches from the Conclave who’d come at Genevieve’s summons, as well as the guard whose arm she’d broken, tied up and miserable in a chair on the other side of the hallway.

  But it wasn’t the only thing that had led her to that hiding place. The rest had been intuition and detective work. Stuff she did all the time.

  “Criminals are never as clever as they think they are. All the bedrooms in the staff wing are staged in the same basic way. A large area rug the bed sits on while the rest of the room has wood flooring. I had a hunch they didn’t look beneath the rugs because the beds were heavy and probably hard to move.”

  Genevieve’s left eyebrow rose slowly. It had been lazy not to move the beds. They’d made a quick calculation and bet against something being probable. They were dealing with assholes who took out a hit on a cranky Hunter, and some stalking of another witch. Rowan figured the witches Konrad had sent were well trained enough that if the search had been urgent, they’d have been more careful.