Okalani was with me, her breathing harsh. Not from the effort, from tears.
“Were you the bait? To get me close enough to murder?” I kept my voice level even though I wanted to shout at her. I had a feeling I knew exactly what had just happened. It was that little turn that gave it away. If she hadn’t done that I would never have noticed the man-shaped shadow that stretched along the ground beside hers. A shadow that seemed to have no source … and he’d made the same mistake Bruno had. I could smell his cologne, a very unique, European scent that wasn’t often encountered in SoCal. Jan Mortensen. He’d been using magic to hide himself, but forgot those two telling details. Lucky for me. If he’d stuck around a little longer when I’d gone to visit Bruno in his office, I might be dead now.
Okalani sobbed. “I couldn’t let him … they said you were evil and needed to die, but seeing you, I just couldn’t. You’re not evil. You’re not.” Her whole body was shaking with the violence of her emotions.
Who the hell was Jan Mortensen and what did he have against me?
Crap. Okalani might be an idiot for getting involved with him, but she’d saved my life. “Thank you.” I’m not much of a hugger, but it was obvious she needed to be held, so I took her in my arms. It was awkward. I’m not really good at that sort of thing, and she was wearing this huge backpack besides. “Tell me.”
“I … I can’t. They’ll kill me.” It wasn’t just an expression. It was the honest truth. She held out her arm and I saw the mark of a binding oath on her skin, throbbing an ugly red. She’d nearly already said too much. Binding oaths were serious business. I’d watched Creede’s partner decay before my eyes after breaking one.
Suddenly she realized just how serious the situation was. She’d been too shocked before, acting on instinct. Now, looking at the mark, it really hit her. I could see it. She looked around in panic, her dark eyes so wide with fear that the whites showed all around the iris. But it wasn’t just the throbbing red pattern on her arm that was bothering her. She’d finally realized where we were.
“Oh, shit. No, no, no! We have to get out of here!” I had to grab both of her shoulders and give her a light shake before her eyes would focus on me again.
“Okalani, talk to me. Why is it bad we’re here?”
She reached up and ran fingers through her hair, not to smooth it, but as though she wanted to rip it out. “We are so screwed. Princess, I am soooo sorry. I’ve been taking classes since I moved here. This semester was Practical Matter Teleporation. Dr. Greene’s assistant set up a spell so that everything teleported on the university campus for the next twenty-four hours would come here. It’s for homework—she’s going to review the final product after transit, to see if it survived the trip. And she’s sealed the room so nobody can tamper with their results. I have to get us out of here. I told Jan about the assignment. He knows we’re here. He’ll come here looking for us any minute. Oh my God, oh my God. Where can we go? What’m I going to do?”
“Calm down!” I snapped it as an order. Amazingly enough, it worked. She stopped babbling. She was still trembling and terrified, but she seemed capable of listening. “You said the room’s shielded—”
“I can teleport through shields. But where can we go? They’re everywhere.”
She could teleport through shields? Oh, I really wished I hadn’t heard that. It was bad on so many levels. Nobody ethical would’ve taught her that particular trick. It would mean she’d be able to go anywhere at will. Paintings at the Louvre would be easy pickings. High-security prisons wouldn’t hold her.
I forced the thoughts from my mind. I didn’t have time to think about that right now. Soon, very soon, Okalani and I would be having a chat. But not now. “We need a plan. I promised your mom I’d find you and help you, and that’s what I’m going to do. But you need to stay calm and listen.”
“My mom sent you?” There was a hint of anger in her voice, but there was hope, too. The kid I’d known on Serenity wasn’t completely lost.
I spoke to what was left of that kid, hoping there was enough of her still inside the young woman in front of me. “Your mom loves you, Okalani. She misses you. And she’s worried. Terrified you’re in trouble.”
That proud chin rose, so much like her mother’s. “I can take care of myself.”
Yeah, right. She’d been doing a bang-up job of that. But sarcasm, while merited, wouldn’t help. I sank onto the edge of the stage, narrowly avoiding an odd assortment of items on the floor. Apples, oranges, the mounted head of a bull moose, and even an old Henry repeating rifle. I had more to say to Okalani, but first, I needed to let Rizzoli know about Jan before he escaped completely.
Dominic, it’s Celia. Can you hear me? If you can, think the word yes as hard as you can. Scream it in your mind.
Yes. The sound was distant, like a bad connection on a cell phone. But it was him. I’ve always found it fascinating that the words I hear in someone’s mind have the same intonation as if they were actually talking. Dom’s mental voice was pissed. I didn’t have to ask why.
Yeah, yeah. I know. But you can’t have believed I’d stay at Emma’s house like a good girl, could you? Anyway, Jan Mortensen was using the same hiding spell Bruno uses—remember the potted plant when we first met? Mortensen was on the corner of Market and College less than five minutes ago. The kid he was with is a teleporter. She whisked me away before he could do anything unfortunate.
That got his attention. His voice strengthened in my mind. Whisked you where exactly?
I wasn’t positive I should say, but someone had to get us out of here safely. We’re in one of the small auditoriums on the first floor. The one where Dr. Greene is having the assignments sent. Ask someone in the Paranormal Studies class where that is. I paused, listening with my ears rather than my mind. Yes, I’d definitely heard someone messing with one of the auditorium doors. And Dom, you might want to hurry. I think Mortensen may be here.
I heard the sound of a hand pressing hard against the door’s trip bar, but it didn’t open. The door was locked.
Okalani whimpered. “We have to go.” She grabbed at my arm.
She had it halfway right. She needed to go. She might be sixteen, but to me she was still just a kid, and she was a witness. Maybe the only witness who could help us unravel what the hell was going on. But if I left with her, Jan would just leave, disappear before Rizzoli and the others could get him.
I stood up and grabbed hold of her, facing her and taking one of her arms in each hand. Staring into those frightened brown eyes, I willed her to do what I said. “Okalani, I need you to listen to me. You need to go to your mother’s, have her hide you somewhere safe, and then call me. I’ve got connections. People are on the way here now. I’ll work something out. Give me twenty-four hours; I’ll get in touch with you. But you have to go to your mom’s. Now.”
“But my father—”
I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Jan was a teaching assistant. Of course he had a key. Shit, shit, shit.
“Go!” I whispered harshly, giving her a hard shove. I felt the whiff of displaced air as Okalani vanished. She’d been telling the truth about the shields.
I took cover behind the lecturer’s podium. Squatting down, I drew the Glock from its ankle holster as the door opened and the room was filled with blinding light.
Dom. He’s here.
We’re on our way.
Weapon drawn, I peeked around the edge of the podium. It was Jan, and he saw my movement. With a word and a gesture he threw a ball of fire the size of my head straight at me, like a sizzling comet. I dived and rolled out of the way as the podium was engulfed in flames that spread like napalm across the stage.
He didn’t stop firing, either. I kept rolling, right off the edge of the stage, knocking miscellaneous crap to the floor with me. There was so much stuff on the floor by then that I stumbled trying to get my feet under me. Man, what I wouldn’t give for one of those body binding charms.
Another blast hit the stadium seats beside me. I smelled burning paint, cloth, and hair. My hair was singed, but I wasn’t hurt … yet. On the other hand, I hadn’t been able to stop moving long enough to get off a single shot.
“FBI! Freeze!” Dom’s bass bellow came from the doorway. He had his weapon aimed at Mortensen. The mage screamed a single word in a language I didn’t know, and an explosion rocked the room, moving outward from where he’d stood, sending chairs, chunks of concrete, and twisted metal speeding outward in a deadly storm.
I heard Bruno’s voice shout a phrase in a tongue that might be early Latin. I was going to need a Rosetta course for ancient magical languages pretty soon. The fire disappeared but I still took what cover I could on the floor between the nearest two rows of seats and waited a moment that seemed an eternity for the wreckage to land.
When I felt it was safe enough to poke my head up I saw blood and destruction. Dom was alive but he and three other agents were injured. Bruno was curled in a fetal position near the wall, moaning. His counterspell hadn’t been without consequence.
There was no sign of Jan Mortensen.