The posh office was interesting. Clean surfaces, no drawers. No computer. Just stylish furniture with no data. The Silver Council did not trust her.
Consuela sat back in the seat, folding her hands over her crossed legs, waiting patiently for Robert and Preston to come back to the room they left her in. She was in an identical white suit to earlier, her hair twisted into a French twist.
Perhaps she’d been out of the Silver Council’s eye too long. She’d recklessly fed off the blood that splashed onto her feet and ankles, absorbing it directly into her skin. And her show of power, pulling the spirits into the bodies, was really a ploy for attention. It had been a long time since she wasn’t the trusted Deathcaller.
The fact they so easily trusted Erik to get the information irked her. Every Council member she’d ever dealt with ignored her the best they could. And granted, neither Preston, nor Robert had, but they weren’t comfortable with her. So she made sure they paid attention.
Every rumor about Erik Mortale suggested he was talented, but he refused to delve into his true talents. Did he even realize what potential lay in the cloud of power he held within his shields? He could awaken a whole county worth of corpses to do his bidding if he chose, without much more than a little blood to aid his endeavors. He could wield an army of vampires loyal to him, if he were so inclined. Seemed his ability was endless. And he denied it.
Her power only compared to his through her lineage. A few Crimson Witches remained. The stories had died down since one very famous one had been tried and punished centuries before.
Though true Deathcallers were just as rare. Erik had so much natural ability. She wanted a friend who shared some of her abilities. Their magic was dying. Fewer and fewer true Deathcallers were born.
She was tempted to move to Edenton. New Orleans had become mundane since Katrina. Most of the truly interesting creatures and beings had fled with the floods.
Maybe she could learn something from Erik and encourage him to explore his potential. Not all of what they could do was bad. In fact, it could be very helpful, as he proved in that poor family’s home.
Robert McCallister finally reentered the room and took a seat at his desk. He could easily be a model in any fashion magazine with his tailored suits, styled hair, and classic good looks. And yet, she sensed wisdom in his stance.
Preston Emrys, on the other hand, was far more interesting. He noticed things Robert didn’t appear to. Or perhaps he wasn’t as stoic about keeping thoughts hidden.
Not to mention, Preston seemed to have no care in the world. Prancing around in jeans and a Nights Embrace T-shirt. His hair was styled messy. His tattoos were certainly interesting, based off myths surrounding his surname.
Robert offered a smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We needed to send word that Tarek Lessair should be detained the moment he’s found. It appears he’s disappeared. His cohorts are both in cells.”
“That’s good to hear. Have they made a confession?”
“Not yet. They will. We wanted to get your official statement, if you would be so kind.”
“Of course.”
“And this afternoon, the justice tribunal would like to interview you about your findings.”
She smiled. “Of course.” Consuela finally had an audience, but she needed to play her cards right to ensure her voice was actually heard. Which meant sticking to the case and proving that mages set up a necromancer within their ranks for their own purposes. “Please, ask your questions.”
* * * *
Preston paced his office. Robert had led Consuela to the hearing chambers. Thank fuck for that. He couldn’t stand her any longer.
Robert entered the room and met his gaze. “What is it?”
“That Consuela chick.” Preston shook his head. “Erik always had a bit of creep factor going on, but Consuela is off the charts. Not to mention she openly fed off blood in the Robear house.”
“Crimson Witch? I thought they were a myth.”
He sighed. “Remember Desire? Few months back. The singer of Red Queen. Apparently she attacked one of the Irish werewolves and her mate killed her.”
“Oh, that’s right. Kevin handled that case.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ve heard of Elizabeth of Bathory.”
Robert’s brow arched. “The stories don’t tell of her magic. Only that she bathed in blood. Consuela oozes death magic. Not blood.”
Preston shrugged. “Another hybrid? Desire didn’t have death magic. No, hers seemed to be all blood.”
“At least Consuela is eager to help. Even if her presence feels like spiders climbing over my skin.”
“So, you agree, she’s unnerving.”
“Of course. I can’t help wondering what Monique knows of her.”
Preston sighed. “I doubt as much as we do. She was genuinely shocked by Consuela’s antics. I know she has at least one other contact who could have helped, but Nigel Shade has never been a friend of the Silver Council. Not to mention he was with Monique for about six months and didn’t want to let her go when she left.”
“Monique and Nigel?”
Preston chuckled. “Thirty years ago. Ended amicably, though he made it clear he wanted her back.”
“Hmm. After all this time, do you think Monique and Erik can work?”
“You and Liz worked out. Why not them?”
“Took a third party.”
“Funny thing about that, Tremaine was always a part of your relationship. Sure, it started out in a different sense, but he was the missing piece all along.”
“Maybe.”
“Their missing piece was her lack of faith in his choices. Hope it’s not too late to mend what she broke.”
“Hopefully. But he put in for a transfer, Preston. I received the request yesterday morning.”
“Yeah, but Monique asked me just the other day how to get through to Erik. He’d been distancing himself. She’s ready to fight for him.”
“I wish them the best, but that’s not our concern.”
“So what do we do about Consuela?” Preston asked, pulling them back on track.
“Send her back to New Orleans once she’s done with the interview. Maybe allowing her to talk to the elitists will solve the problem of her trying to be accepted by the Council.”
“Doubtful.” Preston rubbed at his temples. “Do Kathryn and Dennis Robear have any connection to the magical community?”
“No. They lead a Bible study group, volunteered regularly at their church and community center. They’re the sort who wouldn’t believe in magic until they were being killed by it.”
Preston snorted. “Right. And why did Consuela have to reanimate their corpses?”
“I don’t know, but I’m glad Erik ended it. That was brutal.” Robert smoothed his hands down his lapels. “For now, we’re going to have to make it look like they took an unexpected cruise somewhere. Something. I’m sending a crew to clean the house tonight, under the cover of darkness.”
“Wise. Though, I do hate having to cover up murders like this.”
“Unfortunately, we have to.” Robert stood and walked to the window. “I find it interesting that three failed enforcers are the ones who framed Erik. Someone put them up to it. Did you sense anyone out of the ordinary there?”
“Just the three mages. There were no other signs of magic.”
“Hopefully this is over quickly, and we can send Consuela back to New Orleans.”
“Let’s hope.”
* * * *
Tarek stood outside the home where he orchestrated Erik’s downfall. Only, it didn’t seem Erik Mortale would take the fall.
He hadn’t found Erik at his home. No one in Edenton had told him a damned thing about where they could find him, as if word was already on the street that something was going down.
Neither Donelle, nor Chadwick returned his calls or messages. Everything would have been fine if Robert and Erik hadn’t interfered. They’d been so busy with Other crimes across the nation that they hadn’t spent any time going through the Seattle cases.
Of course, Erik had always been their pet. He should have considered the fact they would step in and take over the case. It was time to disappear until the one who hired him could make a new plan.
Maybe the woman behind the scenes could offer guidance.
She answered on the first ring. “I’m reading the report. You didn’t do your homework. I told you to hire someone with the proper skills to create a ritual. You didn’t even hide your face.”
Tarek sighed. “Yes, well, you also gave me a deadline of today, and I couldn’t find someone willing to help destroy a program they consider to be the best thing to ever happen to the Silver Council.”
“Then you should have been honest and admitted you needed more time. Right now, you’re under investigation. How do you plan to deal with the mess?”
“I can clean it up.”
“Too late for that. Donelle and Chadwick are in custody. Robert and Preston took Erik Mortale and Consuela Bordeaux to the home and recorded the evidence. The justice tribunal already watched the event unfold. Both the DSF and enforcers are searching for you.”
“They brought Erik in when he was the primary suspect?”
“Of course they did. Nothing about the scene looked like a ritual. It’s why they brought Erik and another person who could verify all that was said.”
“Then the building needs to burn.” Tarek hung up, sliding the phone in his pocket as he walked back to the house. He slipped under the eave and hopped the fence to go to the back of the building. Pressing his hands against the wall, he summoned fire that climbed the walls, spreading fast and burning hot enough to level the building to ash, while leaving everything else intact.
Once the fire engulfed the home, he translocated to his car several blocks away.
The woman sighed. “You’ve written your own death sentence. I can’t have anyone learning about the connection between us.” A hand clamped over his shoulder. Fire ignited in his fingers and toes, being sucked through him and out the point where her hand clamped onto his skin. Then there was nothing.