After Luke departed, I headed into the house. It was crowded, people and employees bustling in and out. A ballroom that opened up on a garden patio contained tables and a couple of buffet lines. A jazz quartet played in the courtyard.
I peeked inside, then moved on, checking every door I could. No signs of the cats or Lydia. Would Flannery be so bold as to bring her here during his party? Stupid question. Of course he would. The man was so full of himself he probably couldn’t imagine failing.
“Pride goeth before the fall,” I murmured, determined that Flannery would fall. Hopefully I’d be the one shoving him off the not proverbial cliff.
Since he was just the kind of narcissistic asshole who would kidnap or blackmail his ex-wife into returning home, what would he do with her? I realized it depended on whether or not one of his goons had forced her, or if Flannery had managed to coerce her into returning.
If I had to guess, and I did, I’d guess the latter. The asshat was the type to enjoy forcing people to do what he wanted. He wanted to pull the strings and watch them dance, enjoying the fact that they chose to put themselves in his power. I snorted. Chose. Some choice. Hey Lydia, I’ll slowly cut apart your cats until they die and make you watch, or you can come back and live in luxury and be my obedient political wife.
I’d bet a blowjob that the conversation had gone pretty much just like that. Which meant that Lydia would have entered the house of her own free will, and wouldn’t need to be locked up or guarded.
Realization struck me. She’d be in the owner’s suite. Flannery meant for her to go back to being his wife, and that would include sex. He’d also want to make sure she was constantly reminded of what would happen if she failed to perform. He’d like watching her squirm, watching her fear and submission. Fucker.
His predictability was good for me, however, since that meant he’d have to have the cats nearby. Lydia wouldn’t leave without them, and I wasn’t about to leave them in Flannery’s hands.
A memory of Ajax and the horrific shape he was in when I rescued him flashed through my mind and it occurred to me to wonder what had convinced Lydia to come back now. A chill ran through me. What had Flannery done?
I should have gone looking for Lorraine and Jen, or at least texted them, but the memory of Ajax spurred me to action. It didn’t make sense. Whatever Flannery had done to the cats was over and done and I could do nothing, but I was running on instinct and emotion.
The house was huge, but the owner’s suite wouldn’t be on the first floor, and probably not the second. Those would likely be reserved for guests. The best views were on the third floor, which was probably the family floor. The fourth was probably storage spaces, offices, art studios, or something along those lines. Private places for the family where guests weren’t allowed.
Security guarded the two elevators at either end of the house. I expected there was another freight elevator somewhere, but it was likely guarded, too. I went in search of a back stairs, keeping an eye out for Jen and Lorraine. Because I’d cast the glamour on them, I wouldn’t have trouble seeing them.
A pair of women stopped to admire me. Both were likely in their thirties or early forties and had dressed with effortless elegance. I’d named my business—Effortless Estates—after just that kind of fashionable perfection that seemed perfectly natural.
“You look stunning in that dress,” the first one gushed. She was thicker around the middle with large breasts. She wore a layered, blue-gray chiffon dress that set off her pale skin and strawberry blonde hair. It was perfectly cut and complimented her figure.
“I’d love to get the name of the designer,” the other said. She was tall, with wide shoulders and a straight waist. She wore a slip dress made of layered silk that flattered her figure. A bootie-pump hybrid in calfskin and dyed the same pinkish-gray as her dress completed her look. Her hair was brown with expensive honey highlights.
Both women looked flawless and expensive. Just the kind of clients Rhi and Lorel needed.
“Thank you,” I said. “Her name is Rhiannon Larson. She’s very exclusive, but if you have a card, I can pass it along for you.”
They dug out their cards and passed them to me. “I’ve got a function soon and I’d love to wear something by her,” slip dress said.
“I’d love to get a holiday dress or two from her,” chiffon dress added.
“I’ll pass along your information as soon as I can. Could you direct me toward a bathroom?”
Soon I found myself just inside a bathroom sitting area where women gazed at themselves in mirrors and reapplied their makeup, or simply sat in the comfortable sitting area to cool down after the outside heat. I stood for a moment, ignoring the curious looks I got and then stepped back outside. Instead of turning back toward the party, I went the other way, hoping it would lead me to the service areas.
I finally found a laundry room with two sets of industrial washers and dryers. Folding tables ran down one wall, along with stacks of baskets and rolling carts. Shelves loaded with cleaning supplies covered another wall.
The freight elevator had to be near in order to transport the laundry up and down, and the stairs would likely be close to it. When I found the freight elevator, I was pleasantly surprised to discover it wasn’t guarded at all. I pressed the button and it opened instantly. I stepped inside and hit the button for the third floor. Just as the doors started to slide shut, Jen and Lorraine came flying inside.
Adrenaline spiked along with fear. “What’s the matter? Who’s after you?”
“Nobody,” Jen said. “We saw you and didn’t want to yell and draw attention to you, so we ran down the stairs and jumped aboard.”
“Where are you going? You’re supposed to be distracting Flannery,” Lorraine said.
“I realized Lydia has to be here in the house,” I said, and quickly explained my logic.
Lorraine and Jen exchanged horrified looks as the elevator stopped at the third floor. The doors slid open. We looked out and found ourselves standing in a small vestibule. A door on the other side led into a large janitorial closet. A single hallway led out.
“Let us go ahead,” Jen told me. “We’re not noticeable. You are.”
I’d considered casting a glamour on myself, but didn’t figure I needed to. If anybody saw me, I’d just hit them with magic and knock them cold.
Lorraine motioned me closer as she and Jen glanced down the cross hallway.
“Where should we look, first?” she asked.
“We should split up,” I said.
Jen gave me a sharp look. “What aren’t you telling us?”
I shook my head. “I just have this feeling.” That’s when I remembered Flannery’s phone call after he’d left Luke and I. “Flannery came in the house,” I said. “He got a call and came straight here.”
“Which means he's probably with Lydia,” Jen said.
“I really don’t like the sound of that,” Lorraine said.
“Me, either. He’s got to be angry that she made him look bad by leaving and then wouldn’t come crawling back. He’s going to want revenge or to teach her a lesson, or both. I’m betting he’ll start on the cats and then graduate to her.”
“We’d better find her fast, then,” Jen said. “He could kill her and nobody would know she was even here. We don’t even know for sure.”
“She’s here,” I said confidently.
“I believe you, but would the cops? Let’s go find her.”
Jen and Lorraine went left, splitting up where the hallway joined another. I went right. The upstairs was as much of a maze as downstairs, but with more rooms. I didn’t bother looking inside any of the doors I passed. The owner’s suite would have an imposing entrance. None of these rooms fit. If I were building the house, I’d put the owner’s suite on the north or south end. Both would have a three quarter view of the surrounding terrain, and you’d be able to watch both the sunrise and sunset if you wanted.
I didn’t hear any screaming or crying, which I took as a positive, and then remembered he could easily have sound-proofed his room. Many people did so for good reasons, though I had no doubt Flannery’s were putrid. If he’d soundproofed.
Pulling off my shoes to move more quickly, I trotted through the winding corridors, making as much of a beeline for where I imagined Flannery must be holding Lydia as I could. I didn’t see the maid and crashed into her, sending her tray of empty dishes flying.
“Oh!” I staggered and caught myself against the wall, turning around to face her. “Are you all right?”
She’d fallen against the opposite wall. She straightened, turning an accusing look on me. “What are you doing here? This area is private.” She smoothed her hands over her uniform, wrinkling her nose as her fingers smeared something that looked like jelly.
“Have you seen Carson Flannery? Or Lydia Flannery? Where is their suite?”
She goggled at me. “Why would Mrs. Flannery be here? She up and deserted poor Mr. Flannery. She broke his heart.”
“She may have snuck in,” I said. “Someone said they saw her coming up this way.”
The maid’s eyes rounded. “She wouldn’t.”
“I’d hate for her to ruin Carson’s party,” I said with a concerned look. “Or worse.” I let her imagine what worse could be. It would probably be better than anything I could come up with.
When she still wavered, I went in for the kill. “You don’t think she’d hurt him, do you?”
That did it. She gasped and spun in the opposite direction. I followed as she flung open a room, ran through it and a bathroom and then out into another hallway. She jogged right and then left, and suddenly the owner’s suite was right in front of us.
It wasn’t as imposing as I’d have thought. In keeping with the French chateau look, the small vestibule outside contained a Louis XVI couch and two chairs painted white and upholstered in blue, two marble round marble topped tables with glass vases full of fresh white gladiolas.
The white doors leading into the sweet were paneled and at least ten feet tall.
“Should I get security?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. Let me just check to see if anything’s amiss. We wouldn’t want to embarrass Carson if nothing was wrong, or if the woman someone saw wasn’t Mrs. Flannery.”
She nodded and chewed her lower lip.
I went to check the door. I tapped on the door. “Carson? It’s me, Rebecca. Are you inside?”
If his room was soundproofed, he wouldn’t hear. I noticed a discrete button set in the wainscoting just to the left of the door. The maid clearly wasn’t aware of it. I shifted to block her view of it and now I knocked hard, raising my voice.
“Carson? Are you there? Are you okay?”
Once again he didn’t answer and I pretended to look chagrined. I needed to get in and I needed her to stay out of the way.
“I’m really sorry about this,” I said, and hit her with a spell Damon had been teaching me. It was meant to be defensive—a way to knock out an attacker and give you time to get away. Considering the fact that the attackers he feared were all witches and would be shielded against a knock-out spell, it was a pretty pointless lesson. I hadn’t argued, though, since it could be useful and it made him feel better. I’d even been able to get a handle on it pretty quickly, largely because it didn’t require complicated spell work that I still didn’t understand.
The maid crumpled to the rug-covered slate and I winced. The rug was made of piled wool, but she was still going to wake up with a headache and bruises.
Cue Jen’s and Lorraine’s arrival.
“What’s going on?” Jen asked as Lorraine bent to check the maid’s pulse.
“I knocked her out. With magic,” I added when Lorraine started looking for a lump. “She should be fine.”
“She’s got a good pulse and is breathing steady.” Lorraine pushed to her feet.
“Should we move her?” Jen asked, frowning at the girl’s prone body.
“We need to make sure Lydia’s okay, first.” Even as I said it, I went to the door and tried the knobs. Locked. Not a problem. With a jolt of magic, I softened the locking mechanism and pushed on the door. A little resistance and they parted, swinging silently open.
I went inside first, gaze sweeping the darkened interior. The drapes were shut and the lights off. It was difficult to make out more than the hunched shadows of furniture and decorations.
I heard the rumble of Flannery’s voice and a shriek followed by his laughter. I followed the sounds, careful not to make any noise of my own. Jen and Lorraine followed close on my heels.
We left the first room and passed through two others until we arrived at a massive bathroom like none I’d ever seen.
“Holy shit,” Lorraine whispered.
“Buy this house, Beck. We need it,” Jen added in quiet awe.
The bathroom—the name did not give it justice—was a large round room with a ceiling that went all the way up to the roof, where a skylight allowed in a fall of light. Along one wall was a massive counter with two waterfall sinks, the cabinets all made of polished teak. Dominating the space was a glassed in garden where a stone tub big enough for five people had been sunk in the floor. Rainfall showers interspersed the plants, along with benches and chairs. The floor was a mix of smooth stone and moss. A tree stretched its limbs up toward the skylight.
As pretty as it all was, we swiftly realized Flannery had turned it into a garden of horrors.
Lydia stood beside the tub wearing only her bra and panties. Flannery had tied her hands and thrown the rope over a tree limb and pulled it taut, so that her arms were extended above her head. He’d also tied ropes to her ankles and secured the ropes to a couple of stone seats. She was crying and begging him to let her go.
“You know better than that, Lydia,” he told her as he walked behind her. He’d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and held what looked like a riding crop. “You’ve been very naughty and you’ll need to apologize to me for all the trouble you’ve caused, and then you’ll need to be an exemplary wife. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You didn’t have to come. I gave you a choice, and you wanted to come back home.
“Now this first is going to be rough, I won’t lie. Nobody knows you’re here, and nobody is going to see you, so I can leave marks, and I plan to. I need to make sure that you understand what happens when you defy me. You’ve embarrassed me, and that’s just unacceptable. You need to show me you understand, and the only way to do that is to beg me to punish you for your transgressions. I’ve been too patient, too giving, and you took advantage by running away.
I looked at Jen. “Call Mikey. If he doesn’t take you seriously, call Ballard and Jeffers.” The latter two had investigated my mother’s murder. Hopefully Mikey chose to take Jen seriously, as he was already outside somewhere and could be upstairs in the bathroom within minutes.
She withdrew and I dug in my pocket for my phone and handed it to Lorraine. “Lydia is going to need evidence. Get it for her. Record what you can.”
I went back to watching. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell Mikey would get here before Flannery got serious about beating Lydia, and I wasn’t going to watch her suffer just so they could see his violence for themselves. The video would have to be enough. I gritted my teeth. I’d have to let him hit her once or twice so that he couldn’t say he was just playacting or whatever excuse he’d come up with. He already had the cops and his political cronies on his side. Any chance to let him off the hook and they’d take it.
Not on my watch.
I called up my magic, holding it ready and willing Lydia to hold on and be strong.
“I haven’t heard you apologize, yet, Lydia.”
She mumbled something through her tears. He hit her so fast I didn’t realize he had until he’d struck three or four times. He slashed the whip across her stomach and breasts. She screamed and twisted and begged him to stop and broke into a repeated chant of ‘sorry.’ He grabbed her hair and pulled her head up and back, staring down into her face.
“Speak up, wife. The longer it takes for you to learn your lessons, the more it’s going to hurt. I don’t want to punish you, but how else will you learn? I hope you appreciate how hard this is for me. I wish you’d treated me better, so I wouldn’t have to do this. It is what it is, though, so we’ll just have to grin and bear it.”
He bent and kissed her, forcing her mouth open, letting go of her hair and grasping her jaw, digging his fingers into her flesh to hold her still. He finished by biting her lower lip and pulling it with his teeth. She moaned and he let go. Blood dribbled down her chin, mixing with snot and tears.
“Isn’t that enough?” Lorraine whispered. “I can’t take much more of this.”
What did law enforcement need to see, so they couldn’t ignore the situation this time? What would it take for them to put Flannery behind bars? I didn’t know. What I did know was that the news stations would eat this up. Flannery’s political career was over. That was nice, but I wanted more. I wanted her safe. A video might not even be enough, and that left the guarantee up to me and my magic. I knew just the incentive he needed to stay away.
I cleared my throat and walked into the glassed-in garden. “Hello again, Carson,” I said as if he wasn’t standing there holding a whip beside the mostly naked woman he’d been beating.
He went feral as weasels do when they are trapped. “What are you doing here?” he snarled. “How did you get in? I locked the doors.”
I shrugged. “I unlocked them.”
“How? Nobody has a key but me.”
“Is that really what you want to talk about? I don’t. I want to know why you’ve imprisoned your wife and are beating her.” I kept my voice conversational. I wanted to give Jen time to summon Mikey and his cop buddies. Their arrival would feed the scandal of the video when we leaked it. I wanted his political aspirations dead and rotting.
“This is none of your business. It’s between me and my wife, and she’s here of her own free will. Ask her,” he said defiantly.
“Is that true, Lydia? Do you want to be tied up and whipped?”
She went still and then gave a slow nod.
“See?” he demanded triumphantly.
“I do see,” I said. “You stole her cats and threatened to kill or mutilate them. To keep them safe, she’s agreed to let you abuse her however you want.”
I half expected him to argue, but he didn’t see Lorraine recording him. Even if he had, I don’t know that he’d have been able to keep his mouth shut. Some people have no sense of self preservation. Not that I was complaining.
“Personally I could care less about a cat, but Lydia here—” He rubbed the tip of the whip over her collar bone, between her breasts, and then snapped it against her belly. “—Lydia’s got a soft spot for those damned things, and they don’t even belong to her. I bought them for her for her birthday.”
“If you gave them as a gift, legally they’re hers, are they not?” I pointed out.
“Not at all. She belongs to me, and that means everything she calls hers belongs to me, too. I own her clothes, her shoes, her make-up, her jewelry, and the damned cats. I own these tits, this sweet ass, and that tight cunt of hers.” As he spoke, he groped each body part in turn. “She has no right to refuse anything I want. If she does, I’m within my rights as a husband and a man to take what belongs to me. I’m not only within my rights, it’s my duty to put her on the right path.”
“So you’ll rape her.”
“It’s not rape if she’s my wife. She should want to please me. It’s her failure as a woman if she doesn’t.”
“Do you really believe this shit you're spewing?”
He took a step closer, his gaze running over me like I was meat on the hoof. “It’s how things work. I could teach you a thing or two about pleasing your man.”
“No thanks. There’s not enough acid in the world to clean your foul touch off me.”
Just at that moment, Jen returned. “They’ll be here in a minute,” she told me, then shifted her attention to Flannery. “Do you suppose he has a tiny dick and he’s doing all this to compensate?”
“Most likely,” I replied. “Lorraine, what do you think?”
She stepped out of the shadows, still holding my phone up and recording. “Seems reasonable,” she said. “His pants certainly have plenty of room in the crotch, like he doesn’t have much to fill them”
Flannery scowled. “Who are you talking to?” His gaze ran over Jen and Lorraine and slid past like he didn’t see them.
Right. The glamour. Wasn’t a lot of use for it anymore. I decided to dissolve it. I brushed a finger over Lorraine’s shoulder and then across Jen’s wrist, pulling the magic back inside me.
“Where did she come from?” Flannery demanded, now that he was able to focus on Lorraine. “And her. Who are they? What are they doing here? Why are they dressed like cat burglars?”
I’ll admit I laughed at that one. “They dressed for success,” I said.
“What the fuck does that mean? And who’s coming?” He scowled at Lorraine, who was still recording. “Put that damned phone down. I’ll sue your asses from here to China and back for breach of privacy, trespassing, and everything else I can think of. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be broke in a gutter and wishing you’d never met me.”
“We already wish we’d never met you,” Jen said. “In answer to your question, the police are on their way.”
He smiled with a certainty that made me want to punch it right off his face. “Good. Saves me the trouble.”
“Mr. Flannery? Is everything all right? What—?” The maid had regained consciousness and now stood just inside the bathroom. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open as she took in the scene. “What’s going on?” She whispered finally.
“Your boss is a psychopath,” Jen told her. “And a wife-beater, not to mention an asshole. He’s going to be going to jail, so you may want to look for another job.”
“Police are on their way,” I told her. Mikey was probably waiting for backup. “Why don’t you go escort them up?”
She nodded and slowly backed out of the doorway.
I waited until she was gone before addressing Flannery. “There are just one or two things we’ve got to take care of before the police arrive. You see, I don’t entirely trust the cops to do the right thing. Sometimes the law ties their hands; sometimes they can’t find the evidence they need; sometimes they just fuck up. So I’m going to punish you, just like you were going to punish Lydia. You don’t have to agree to it, either. Just know that you’ve been found guilty and given a life sentence.”
“Sure, do your worst,” he said with a smirk.
Even Lorraine putting away my phone didn’t shake his cockiness. So what if we didn’t want the next bit recorded? In his shoes, I probably would have felt the same. What could I possibly do to him? Put sugar in his gas tank? Pour motor oil on his lawn? Toilet paper his house?
I’d originally planned a hellish inconvenience for him. I was going to curse him so that any clothes or shoes he put on would instantly shrink a size. He’d perpetually have to deal with too small clothes. That was before, when I thought he was just a nuisance. That wasn’t going to cut it now. He needed to learn a lesson and I was going to teach it to him.
I collected my thoughts, focused, and released my magic.