Darius told them, “He’s a Genetic witch. Old enough to know better. As magically imbued beings, we carry responsibility along with our gifts. To misuse them as he has is a violation of the oldest laws binding everyone in this room and more. We do not, as a general rule, interfere. We do not take sides in petty squabbles between supernatural beings. But we can—and we will—when the situation calls for it. This one does, and not only because Hugo attacked one of our own multiple times. The public nature of that ambush is a threat to our world and the fragile anonymity we currently have with humanity.”

  “The time is coming when we will no longer have that protection. One of our number will finally be incontrovertibly exposed to humans.” Rowan took the mug David handed her way, the fragrant steam lifting from the tea within. “Thank you.” She sipped. “It’s getting to be such a regular occurrence Hunter Corp. is working on the creation of a unit whose only job is cleaning up these potential disasters. There are three people on erasing all the footage of the ambush as it is. Planting the right kind of story—that it was organized crime, and I was attacked because I’d been investigating them. Still exciting, but not as dangerous as the public discovering it was witches who hired werewolves to murder a Hunter. Toss in any tidbits about Vampires working with sorcerers to kidnap and drain humans and witches of their life force and magic and it’s a recipe for pitchforks and torches.”

  “The Nation is similarly discussing such needs,” Clive admitted.

  “It has always been a matter of time. And that time—the time before humans know about a shadow world that exists right alongside theirs—is coming to a close.” It wasn’t that Rowan had a prophecy dream. But a feeling so strong it was something she knew was coming within her lifetime.

  Darius stilled for a moment and then he nodded slightly, which only cemented that feeling.

  “The Conclave takes your recommendations very seriously,” Konrad said.

  Rowan nodded. “Good. Here’s what we’re going to do to help Hugo move along. We need to shatter his illusions in the most uncomfortable way possible. He’s not afraid of pain because he has no context for that. But the loss of luxury and all the perks the growing power of his family has given him? He’s a big, soft, spoiled, evil baby. He’s been so sheltered he doesn’t understand the true depth of trouble he’s in because he’s never had to be responsible.”

  David took notes on his phone, so Rowan was sure everything she said would be heard and put into action in some way.

  “Feed him. Make sure he’s got access to water, and his basic needs met. There’s a sink in his cell. He can use that. Use those tiny little cups they give kids at nursery schools for teeth brushing.”

  Genevieve snickered.

  “Three square a day, as they say. But not the good stuff the chef makes for the employees. I want Hugo to get meals like sandwiches on the cheapest white bread you can find. Day-old bread for bonus points. He doesn’t get anything pillowy soft. No mayonnaise or mustard. Bologna. Deviled ham. The cheap stuff that smells like dog food. Egg salad. But like vending machine egg salad. Those disgusting sausages in a can I give Star as a treat.” Why the dog loved the smelly things Rowan couldn’t say. But the little cans showed up and Rowan took the hint when Star dropped one on her toes. “Powdered scrambled eggs and cold, dry toast. Watery coffee in a plastic cup.”

  “Sweet goddess that cell will stink to high heaven,” Konrad said, admiration in his tone.

  “Even his hair will smell. Take his street clothes. Give him a prisoner jumpsuit and those shitty flip-flops. Those full-body wipes, no showers. David, have our friend at the county get their hands on a jail blanket and mattress.” The more uncomfortable Hugo was, the quicker he’d get the picture and they could move forward.

  “That will surely break him,” Konrad said, approving. “He most certainly knows things. Some of the things he doesn’t even realize he knows. Others? Well, he thinks he can hold back. What’s a little pain if he can run back to his grandfather and claim he held out against it?”

  “Yes. He craves Sergio’s approval and protection. But. Not more than he values his own skin. We just need to knock him down a thousand pegs so he’s cold, hungry, alone, and brutally aware of just how much trouble he is in. Then, he’ll throw them all under the proverbial bus to save his skin.”

  * * *

  Genevieve’s skin still crawled every time she thought too long about Hugo Procella and the way he’d obsessed on her. Stalked her. Tried to use magic to turn her into a shell of herself, one under his control.

  It helped to remind herself she was stronger than anything Hugo could have tossed at her. It helped that the Devils she’d been a relative stranger to just months earlier had opened their magic to her use. Had given her a family. A place to belong.

  That sort of defensive magic rendered her fairly invulnerable to the malicious intentions of those like Hugo. She was safe. Protected. But it got under her skin. And brought up memories of a time several centuries before when something similar had been done to her. She survived. She rose and overcame and would again. It’d take some time to cast away entirely the fear and embarrassment. But she had no doubt she would.

  Without a word, Darius reached out to brush his fingertips against her neck, just below her ear and the voices of centuries’ worth of magical teaching that had risen within her head quieted.

  He’d created a spell for her. A way to soothe and calm those voices on her own by activating it herself whenever she needed to. But she didn’t have to, because he’d shown up out of thin air—literally—to do it for her. To take care of her.

  She didn’t need it. But she wanted it. From him. Which created a difference she was defenseless against. Choosing to trust him with the softest parts of herself was terrifying and thrilling. Despite the depth of emotion around it, she was certain her vulnerability, the sides of herself so few ever glimpsed, would always be safe in Darius’s hands.

  That certainty helped center her once more. “What of the other Procellas?”

  Sergio, the patriarch of the family and Hugo’s co-conspirator in the attempt on Rowan’s life, was in Conclave custody for refusing to give up the location of his grandson or son. By that point they’d uncovered more crimes he’d taken part in.

  “Sergio stays in custody. He’s a flight risk and the crimes he’s accused of are far too serious to let him free. Grandpappy is at the head of this...whatever the fuck conspiracy is going on. Sister and mom haven’t done anything wrong now that we know where Hugo is, but we know they’re up to something. The father is on the run still. Why run if you’re not hiding something?” Rowan blew out a breath.

  “I agree,” Konrad said. “Sergio is already here to be interviewed and he’ll stay after. Since we’ve already nullified the cells here and neutered both witches, it’s safe. As for Antonia, she’s not as innocent as she attempts to make us believe. However, mercenary as this may be, if we let her go, she’s a shiny target for our unknown others. We watch her, we wait for them to attack or attempt a meet of some type, and we take them all.”

  Genevieve rather enjoyed her father when he was tracking his quarry. He’d been absent from her life for most of her youth. And then she’d been sent off to be trained. Many things had happened, most of them had made her more powerful. Some in ways she’d prefer to never repeat.

  Still, watching him while he did his job as leader of the Conclave had always been a master class of sorts. He was clever, patient, and viciously single-minded in pursuit of his goal.

  “Let’s circle back to the sister in a moment. What’s the status with the mother and father?” Rowan asked Konrad.

  “Alfonso is still missing, though we’ve had a few sightings. Bess is on a plane, on her way back to the United States. She’s to be transported to the Conclave building and held securely there until we’ve done more investigating. I assume you’ve reviewed the interview?”

  “Maybe she was on medication or used a calming spell, but she didn’t seem even slightly anxious about the fate of her spouse or children. Didn’t much try to hide her dislike of Sergio. But I’ve met Sergio, so I understand.” Rowan shuddered. “I’d prefer to have seen her reactions in person, but the video underlines to me that the whole family is involved in something far more than just trying to kill a Hunter because Hugo thought I stood between him and Genevieve. You don’t go to the extremes they did for that. The rest aren’t going down for Hugo’s deviant bullshit. Not once they feel it’s him or them. They’re protecting someone far more dangerous than that fucking creep.”

  “The Conclave agrees with all that.”

  * * *

  Relieved she wasn’t going to have to fight the Conclave, Rowan finished her tea, only to have a fresh cup poured for her immediately. She nodded her thanks to David and said, “Now let’s return to Antonia. I too think using her as bait could be useful. But before she’s released, I want to perform another search of the Procella mansion. I know your people already went through and it was a very thorough search,” she hastened to add. She didn’t lie. Precisely. What had been searched had been searched as well as she would have. It just wasn’t as comprehensive a search as Rowan felt was necessary, and that was the issue.

  “I have no objection to Hunter Corp. performing a follow-up search. But I can assure you, my team was quite conscientious.” Konrad spread his hands as if to underline it like a game show host. “Do you have something specific you’re looking for?” Clearly he was feeling territorial.

  “Staff have been allowed to return, and while I know you’ve spelled the place so no one can take anything out—so nifty, by the way—I do wonder what might have been brought back. Or what might have been missed because the servants’ quarters were not examined.”

  “They’re in a separate wing from the Procellas. We did perform a cursory search.”

  “I’m not criticizing your methods.” Well, she was, actually. Just not as rudely as she might have in another situation. But he, like many other very powerful people, missed things that were right in front of them. Privilege sometimes made you blind.

  “What would you have done, then?” Konrad asked. Not a demand. A genuine question.

  “Some of my best intelligence comes from household staff because their employers act like they don’t exist. They say and do so much in the presence of the people who work for them, it’s a blind spot I’m always happy to exploit. Every room in that wing needs to be searched as carefully as the areas the family lives in. Secrets don’t confine themselves to the family wing.”

  Konrad paused and thought that over before he nodded. “I take your point. My own intelligence network is routinely fed by servants of all types.”

  That was as close as she was going to get to Konrad admitting she was right, and it was more than enough. Rowan just wanted to see the place herself.

  “Antonia is the type to imagine she’s the one holding everything together. Her brother is an idiot led by his dick and an inflated sense of importance. Grandpa is an entitled asshole. She’s on cleanup duty all the time.” Rowan bet Antonia had her own spy network to keep an eye on her relatives.

  Her leg twinged a little and it made her feel even meaner.

  “We can bespell all her visitors to be sure they can’t speak of certain topics. Not quite a geas, but something similar. I think it’s wise to keep her visitor list very short,” Konrad said.

  “To one. Just Felix. With Alfonso still in the wind, who would she speak to anyway? And speaking of Alfonso.” Hugo and Antonia’s father claimed to be estranged from Hugo. He was supposedly in Long Beach at the headquarters of their entertainment business, but no one was answering the phone, and the offices had been dark and locked when Hunters and witches alike had shown up looking for him.

  “It will have gotten to Alfonso by this point that we’ve taken Hugo into our custody.” Konrad looked at the monitor in the room with Sergio and Felix.

  “We’ll find him eventually and ask.” Rowan turned her attention to Genevieve. “Shall we finish up with Sergio? Let him know he’s staying here for the foreseeable future?”

  “Won’t it be fun to watch him react to that?” Genevieve stood.

  Chapter Four

  Sergio Procella had been brought in, looking far less confident than he had the night before. Felix had finished up with Hugo and arrived right after Rowan and Genevieve had gone in.

  “Here’s how this will go. You,” she pointed at Felix, “know the score. Don’t make me have to repeat myself about your place in this process. Because I won’t. Instead, I’ll have you removed. Are we clear?”

  Felix clearly didn’t like what she was saying, but he nodded his agreement.

  “And you,” she pointed at Sergio, knowing how rude he’d find it, “will answer my questions truthfully. If you plan to keep wasting time by not answering questions, this will end, and you’ll still be in jail. Nothing you do outside telling me what I ask you to will free you from this predicament. We can have a conversation, or you can fuck off back to your cell.”

  The patriarch of the Procella family wasn’t as smart as his attorney. “You can’t keep me here.”

  Rowan leaned over and slapped his face three times in quick succession, leaving a red mark and a crack in his composure. A crack she’d wedge open until he split and spilled all his secrets.

  “If that were true, you’d be at your club complaining about the temperature of your lunch or whatever rich people get up to all day. If that were true, you’d have scurried out the door after I slapped your face just now. Or attempted in any way to defend yourself. So. Let’s focus on what’s true, shall we? A week ago, Sergio, you got in contact with the Weres who do your dirty work. You very cheekily put a hit on my life,” Rowan said.

  Sergio’s mouth dropped open and Rowan wished she’d have slapped him two more times for being such a dick. How could he be surprised she’d have figured it out?

  “There’s more,” she said.

  “Lies!” Sergio yelled. “You’re making this up to frame me and my family.”

  Genevieve took up next. “And then, Hugo called them back and pushed up the deadline. Moreover, he told them to make it hurt, even if it had to be public. Which of course it was, as you along with a few million others watched numerous video clips filmed as the attack happened in real time.”

  Rowan indicated the room they were in. “So here we all sit. The problem is, Sergio, you have more money and influence than sense. Never a winning proposition in the long run. Money isn’t that hard to come by, especially if you don’t care about legality. Power though? You earn it and if you fuck it up, getting it back is a whole different story.” She would spend a few hours every fucking day until the sun burnt out to keep him from ever achieving real power again.

  “You have no proof of any of this,” Sergio said less confidently. “You don’t look that bad off to me.”

  While she didn’t break eye contact with Sergio, Rowan recounted, “Well, here’s the thing. I do have proof. Because you have more entitlement than sense, you paid your werewolf hitmen with fake money. I’ve seen your fucking mansion. Half a million dollars wouldn’t have broken your backs. And for what? You didn’t think they’d notice after the spell wore off and they had a bunch of paper instead of US legal tender? Greedy and shortsighted. Especially when you were already being looked at by the Conclave and Hunter Corp.”

  She shrugged and then shared a look with Genevieve like, can you believe the nerve of this guy?

  “So now you’ve gone and pissed off the shifters who do your dirty work and have so much evidence against you. If you’d paid them fairly, their masters back in Seattle wouldn’t come after you. They’d go about their business because there’s inherent risk being a hit man. Like being caught up and taken into custody. And then questioned. We found the ones who’d escaped and took those Weres too. None of them wanted to roll on you until they realized you’d double-crossed them. Now? Multiple parties have identified you and Hugo as the people they received orders from. I have the paper that was spelled to look like money and the duffel bags it was delivered in. Hugo’s magical signature is all over the paper, but the duffel bags, well, I’m told they have your magic on them. Your life is so complicated right now.” Rowan sent him a sunny smile.

  “That certainly does seem like a lot of proof,” Genevieve agreed. “I’m the one who was able to verify your magic on the duffel bags. I found several of that same brand and type in your home office along with some very illegal spells.”

  “This interview is over,” Sergio said, voice shaky as he shot to his feet.

  Rowan stood, slamming Sergio back into the chair. “I didn’t give you permission to move, old man. David, please bring me the restraints,” she said, knowing her valet was listening in the other room, awaiting any orders.

  “Don’t touch me!” Sergio shouted.

  Felix bent to speak to him in soothing tone, so Rowan leaned over, flicked the tip of Sergio’s nose, and said, “Boop. You’re not done, Sergio.”

  “You can’t do this. This is medieval,” Sergio gasped out.

  Rowan and Genevieve both laughed at that.

  Rowan said, “That medieval stuff is unwieldy. Have you ever seen an iron maiden? They’re huge and heavy. Where would I even keep one?”

  Genevieve nodded. “Fortunately, we have lightweight materials now that are stronger or just as strong as iron. Implements that are mobile. Techniques that target the softest inner bits like memories and emotions. They take up less cleanup after use, and are far more brutal.” She discussed it like she was talking about what sort of rosebush she was considering planting. So breezy and mundane it was rendered terrifying.