twenty-four
Jeremy had gone for coffee with Jaime. When I called, he said they’d come right back. Jeremy wasn’t a doctor, but he was the Pack’s medic, and he’d seen Elena through her pregnancy. Karl trusted him.
Karl also trusted Elena, and that was why he wanted her there. For Hope. Elena wasn’t my first choice for a shoulder to cry on, but she was Karl’s, and that was what mattered.
I found Elena helping Clay read research files. When I said Karl wanted her for Hope, Elena didn’t question, just asked where to find them. “She saw Jaz, I take it,” she said.
I nodded. “She tried to kill him.”
“Tried?” Clay said. “So she didn’t succeed? Damn.”
“They would be better off with Jaz dead,” Elena said. “But I wouldn’t want to see Hope do it. That’s not something she needs to deal with right now.”
“Seeing Jasper Haig isn’t something she needs to deal with right now,” Clay said.
Elena nodded and said she’d be back. Then she left and I was alone with Clay.
“Doing research for Adam?” I said, pointing at the stack of files.
“Yep.”
That wasn’t as odd a task for Clay as it sounded. He had a Ph.D. in anthropology, and did more than his share of research for papers.
“Can I help?” I asked.
As his mouth opened, I lifted my hand. “Yes, before you ask, my literacy skills have not vanished with my spells. I’m still capable of reading.”
“Then read.” He dumped a pile of folders in front of me. “We’re looking for any reference to those people you met. Giles, Althea, Severin, Sierra . . . We’re also pulling info on Balaam. Most of that has been compiled before, but Adam thinks there might be more here. Unsupported claims of him making contact.”
I pulled out a chair and opened the first folder. “I told Adam I’d be happy to help with this, too, but he’s not going to ask, is he?”
“Nope.”
I read through one file without having a clue what it was about, my eyes just scanning the words, any connection to my brain failing.
“I know he’s not happy with the way I acted—”
“To put it mildly.”
I twisted to face him. “It’s more than that, isn’t it? You know what’s bothering him.”
“Everyone knows what’s bothering him.”
“And you’re the only person who’ll tell me.”
He shrugged and made a couple of notes, then said, as he wrote, “Remember back when Paige and Lucas went away on their honeymoon? You were fifteen and Adam had to babysit you?”
“If you’re talking about the party, that was not my fault. I invited a few people and—”
“Things got out of hand. More people showed up. Adam had to kick them out and clean up before Paige found out. He didn’t take you out riding and hiking for a while after that, did he?”
“So that’s what this is about? He’s tired of cleaning up after me?”
“You think he was mad because he had to clean up? You really didn’t get it, did you? Not then and not now.”
I glared at him. “Yes, I’m not as smart as you, okay?”
“No, you’re just a helluva lot less considerate than I am.”
“Excuse me? Considerate? This from the guy who probably walked in here today without acknowledging a single employee, snapped at them if they dared say hello, told them off if they asked whether he’d like a coffee—”
“Apples and oranges.”
“Like hell. You’re rude and dismissive—”
“To people I don’t know and don’t care about. You’d never catch me treating Jeremy or Elena the way you treat Adam. Back then, Adam said that you couldn’t have a party, and explained why. Now, he says you need to come to Miami, and explains why. Both times he was right. Both times you went ahead and did your own thing. Both times you dragged him into it with you. At fifteen, that’s just teenage arrogance and rebellion. At twenty-one, it’s a complete and utter lack of respect for someone you’re supposed to care about.”
“I do care about—”
“You’re in love with him.”
“No, of course not. He’s a friend and—”
“You’re in love with him. Always have been and everyone knows it. Everyone except Adam. You’re as bad as Jaime was with Jeremy. Sure, you don’t make an idiot of yourself over him, but it’s just as obvious. You never would have caught Jaime treating Jeremy like that, though. You know why? Because she’s an adult.”
“And I’m not.”
“Most times, yeah, you act like an adult. But what everyone else calls recklessness, I call a lack of basic respect for others. That’s immature, and that’s why you’re never going to have a shot at anything with Adam. The age difference makes it tough enough for him to see you that way. The maturity difference means he can’t.”
I nodded and picked up another file.
“Not going to run away?” he said.
I shook my head.
“Good.”
I let him make a few more notes, then said, “So, having diagnosed my romantic issue, are you going to suggest how I can fix it?”
Clay looked at me. “You’re asking for relationship advice from the guy who panicked and bit his fiancée when things went wrong?”
“Good point.”
“If you want that kind of thing, call Nick. His advice is shit, but he really likes to give it.”
I laughed and shook my head. I opened a file, then glanced at him again.
“You may have screwed up more than any guy on the planet, but you got Elena back. How do I convince Adam I’ve changed?”
“You can’t convince him of anything. You need to do it. Change. Grow up.”
“Right. So . . . any advice on a slightly . . . smaller scale?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.”
Grow up. Yes, there was a plan I could execute before dinner. What Clay meant, though, was that I needed to mature before Adam could see me as a potential girlfriend. While I’d like to see that as proof that Clay thought I had an actual chance of reaching that goal, I knew better.
Right now, I just needed to get back to where Adam and I were before. Friendship. That didn’t seem to require a maturity time-warp. Just a little bump in that direction. Maybe a big bump.
Step one should be the apology. Only I thought back to the party incident . . . and all the other times I’d taken Adam for granted or manipulated our relationship to my advantage. Then I’d apologize, and he’d say that was fine, no big deal . . . and it would be a long time before we really got back on track. To him, the apology was obligatory, as was his acceptance. Adam’s anger burned out fast, but left embers that smoldered for weeks.
I started by writing my apology in a letter. I told myself that was the best way of making sure I covered everything, but halfway through, I realized I was writing it to avoid saying it. Not very mature. I needed to do this in person.
The problem was getting a chance to do that.
I didn’t see Adam for the rest of the day. Elena and I were making plans for dinner when Benicio came by and took me aside.
“What’s up?” I said.
“I’m having trouble with the Nasts.”
“Surprise, surprise. Let me guess. You tried to warn Thomas Nast that these people are after Adele’s baby and he said, ‘What baby?’ Right before hanging up on you.”
“Precisely. Your grandfather can be very difficult.”
“You think? Try being the witch granddaughter he wants nothing to do with. Are you asking me to speak to Sean?”
“If you could. I don’t need confirmation of the child’s existence . . .”
“Though you’d like it, if possible.”
“Yes. More importantly, though, I want to be sure they are taking the threat seriously, because the more of these ‘signs’ this Giles collects, the more followers he’ll sway.”
“Sean’s in Hong Kong. Meaning I’d have to deal with Bryce. That’s as impossible as dealing with Thomas. I’ll call Sean. I doubt he can do much from across the world, but I can at least let him know.”
“Thank you.”
I left a message on Sean’s voice mail. After dinner, I continued sifting through files, after making sure everyone knew I was available for whatever other tasks they had in mind. No one took me up on the offer.
Soon it was time to go to bed. Paige and Lucas had a condo in Miami—a recent concession they’d accepted from Benicio, so they wouldn’t need to stay in hotels every time they had business in town.
For the first time in my life, it seemed strange going home with them. It wasn’t that I felt unwanted, just that it suddenly seemed odd, at my age, to be scooped up and taken “home” by my “parents” for the night. I suppose it had been odd for a while. I just hadn’t noticed.
I drank Paige’s sleeping tea while we talked about the case. This was the part I’d miss if I moved out, the late nights staying up, sometimes watching movies or playing games, but mostly just talking. After ten years of this, my own apartment would seem very quiet. I guess that’s part of growing up.
When I woke, I had a message from Sean. Please call ASAP. The call history showed he’d phoned a few times overnight. I called from bed.
“Hey, how’s Hong Kong?” I said when he answered.
“It was fine when I left it. I’ve been recalled to L.A. Seems we’ve had an asset disappear.”
I sat up, pillows tumbling to the floor. “Adele’s baby?”
“Yes.” He paused. “I know you asked about him once—”
“And you couldn’t talk about it. I understand. So the Nasts did have him. Or had him. He’s been taken, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“How’d they manage that? Your secured floor has got to be at least as good as the Cortezes’.”
“Larsen is two years old, Savannah. We may commit some serious ethical oversights, but we don’t confine toddlers to maximum security. He was being raised by the family of our clairvoyant. Under heavy security, of course, but it’s hardly solitary confinement.”
“What happened?”
“At this point, we only know that he’s gone. His security detail didn’t do their regular nightly check-in, and when we sent a car to the house, no one was there.”
“The group grabbed him.”
“That would be the obvious answer. However, Granddad and Uncle Josef are convinced it was Benicio. They think he’s blown this threat out of proportion with the express intent of kidnapping Larsen.”
“Warn Thomas that Larsen is in danger, then take him and blame a scapegoat. Which works really well when I’m the only person saying this group wanted the kid.”
“Right.”
“And you think?”
“I trust you. I don’t trust Benicio. So either this group has targeted Larsen and taken him, or they’ve targeted Benicio, and when you told Benicio, he used the excuse to take him.”
If there’s one thing Lucas taught me about his father, it’s that you never, ever say, “Benicio wouldn’t do that,” because as soon as you do, he’ll prove you wrong, and you’ll be left looking like a fool.
Sean continued, “So we’ve got a kidnapping and a potentially ugly diplomatic situation. Which means we need Lucas here. Whether his dad took Larsen or not, this is going to cause exactly the kind of chaos a rebel group will take full advantage of.”
“Once they hear Benicio is a suspect, they’ll use it. I’ll tell Lucas.”
“Can you come, too? You know this threat better than anyone, it seems.”
“Right. And the Nast Cabal will be so happy to listen to me.”
“Just come, Savannah. Please.”
“All right.”
A pause, then, “Are you okay? I know it’s early and I probably woke you, but you seem . . . not yourself.”
“I lost my spells.” The words came out before I could stop them.
“You lost your . . . ?”
“Magic. Spellcasting mojo. It’s gone. Something’s happened and—” I sucked in air. “Not important at the moment.”
“It is to you. I’m sorry.”
As he said that, I realized he was the first one who had. Everyone else rushed in with promises that we’d get it fixed or that it didn’t matter, which was nice, but I needed to hear this.
“Even more reason for you to come then,” Sean said. “We’ll solve a mystery and squelch a Cabal war and a rebellion. Hopefully by dinner.”
I smiled. “It’s a plan.”
