With a grin, she kissed my chest, then moved lower. An order was an order, so I answered.
“Lucas? It’s Karl. We have a problem.”
Paige heard and stopped, scant inches from her destination. She glanced up at me, a question in her eyes that I really didn’t want to answer. I considered accidentally hitting the disconnect button. She read my mind and gave a soft laugh, kissed my stomach, then rolled from bed with a mouthed “later.”
I cursed Karl Marsten, sat up and gave him my almost complete attention.
I WAS STILL on the phone when a cup of steaming coffee appeared by my hand, slid discreetly across the desk. I’d moved into the tiny office adjoining our bedroom and was jotting down notes as Karl talked. I motioned for Paige to stay, but she gestured something I couldn’t decipher, and slipped from the room.
“Jasper Davidyan?” I said. “That’s D-a-v-i-d-y-a-n?”
“Yes, but Hope suspects the surname is phony, and I’d agree. It comes from the license in his wallet, which is definitely a forgery.”
“You said he goes by Jaz. Is that one z? Two? Or an s?”
A snort, clearly contemptuous of the moniker in general and not about to speculate on the specifics.
I continued. “So Hope found no sign of chaos at the apartment, and you discovered no extraneous trails or blood-”
“No, I said I told her that.”
“Ah.” I sipped my coffee and waited. It took a few moments, but he finally went on.
“There was blood under an armchair that, judging by the marks in the carpet, had been moved to cover it. And there was a bloody rag in the bushes below the balcony.”
“But you kept this from Hope?”
His tone frosted. “It was spatter under the chair. Just enough to make a mess and there wasn’t much more on the rag, meaning no one’s dead or seriously injured. If Hope knew, she’d worry and she’s already worrying enough.”
I took the rest of the details, then signed off.
I was jotting down a list of steps to pursue when Paige appeared, this time bearing toasted and buttered English muffins for two, and a coffee for herself. I took the plate and mug and filled her in.
“I don’t think your father’s involved,” she said finally.
That was, as she knew, my first question and the one I least trusted myself to answer.
“I’m not discounting the possibility-” she said.
“Always wise,” I murmured.
“-but, unless I’m missing an angle, I can’t see the advantage for him. He hired Hope to infiltrate the gang. Granted, he’s also hoping to woo her to the dark side, but he’s a practical man, and he’ll want value from the job, so there’s no sense sending her in if he plans to squash any whiff of rebellion three days after she starts.”
“Agreed.”
“Has she spoken to your dad since?”
“She was supposed to check in this morning, but Karl turned off her alarm and made the call himself. Probably wise. He’s better equipped to gauge my father’s reaction.”
She nodded. “When it comes to bullshit detecting, Karl’s a natural.”
“He told my father that Hope had been on a job with the gang the night before and was still sleeping and, according to Karl, my father gave no indication that this was a surprise or that he was expecting anything else. He told Karl she could call later if she wished, or wait until tomorrow’s check-in.”
“Any chance these guys took off?”
I tore a piece of my muffin. “Hope says they were happy with the gang, even after being beaten and robbed. And Karl concurs. They weren’t going anywhere from what he could see.”
“So what are their theories?”
“Hope suspects rogue elements in the Cabal.”
“Like what happened to her.”
“Precisely. Karl is looking at an inside job, specifically the gang leader. He wants me to investigate him.”
“The leader has a beef with the Cortezes so he takes out his own guys and blames the Cabal? Devious. Not surprised Karl came up with that one. What does Hope think?”
“He hasn’t mentioned it to her. He’s also not telling her about the blood, which, admittedly, I don’t understand. Hope’s hardly the sort to fly into histrionics at the supposition that these young men met with violence.”
“She’s involved with one of them.”
I frowned.
“Hope’s involved with one of the guys. Probably this Jaz.” She set down her coffee cup. “Karl doesn’t want to tell her about the blood, meaning she’s more attached to them-or one of them-than a casual acquaintance would imply. Karl doesn’t know them, but he’s certain they didn’t up and leave town. And, from the way Karl spoke of them, he has some issues with this Jaz. Why would Karl have a problem with a young man whose disappearance has Hope so worried? One word. Sex.” She picked up her coffee and sipped, considering. “Or, at least, sexual jealousy. There was a relationship or the threat of one.”
“I missed that completely.”
“I could be wrong. But if I’m not, then we have to consider another suspect.”
“Karl.”
LUCAS: 4
PAIGE SETTLED AT HER COMPUTER, preparing to run investigative searches on the gang members. As moral as Paige is, she’s also an experienced hacker from her college days, and sees no reason not to use those skills in pursuit of a just cause.
The concept of breaching ethical boundaries to reach a morally acceptable goal is something Paige struggles with more than I do, though it’s always an issue in our line of work. But if the breach leaves no obvious victims, and only puts Paige herself at risk, then she doesn’t hesitate to do it.
It was now seven-or ten in the East-making it a reasonable hour to begin placing calls. I was reaching for the phone when a call came in for Paige from Gillian MacArthur, one of the students in her “Sabrina School.” Paige mentors a small group of young witches, long distance, those without ties to others. Life can be difficult for witches. Their primary institution, the Coven, is more interested in hiding a witch’s powers than in strengthening them.
The witch-sorcerer divide doesn’t help matters, not when the Cabals are run by sorcerers. Witches and sorcerers are historical enemies, a ridiculous prejudice that carries over to this day. According to the witches, they took the less powerful sorcerers under their wings, taught them stronger magic and were rewarded by being thrown to the Inquisition-getting them out of the way so the male spellcasters could rule the supernatural world unopposed. More specifically, it is the original Cabal-the Cortezes-whom they blame as the instigators. Our sorcerer version tells us that witches did indeed help us better hone our innate abilities, but when we became too powerful, they turned us over to the Inquisitors, and we retaliated by doing the same to them. I suspect the truth lies somewhere in the middle.