Nothing would bring back my parents, or Maud, but justice had been served. As the potentate, sworn to uphold Society law, I had to accept that was enough. Even if the little girl in me who ached from missing her mom and adoptive mother, who never met her father, hadn’t been and would never be satisfied.
“Eloise took her mother’s sentencing so well.” I slumped over the bar. “I blamed shock at the time, but it appears she was too busy plotting her revenge to act the part of grieving daughter.”
“I pity her child,” Linus said at last. “The timing of her pregnancy can’t be coincidental.”
With her twin, Heloise, dead, her mother in prison for—among other crimes—the murders of Severine Marchand, our grandmother, and Johan Marchand, Severine’s husband, Eloise had no family left either.
“I had hoped the quiet of the last few years meant she had returned to Raleigh, to the family estate, and moved on with her life.” I traced the veins in the marble countertop. “Married Richelieu, spawned the next generation of Marchands, that kind of thing.”
“According to Leisha,” Corbin said, “that’s precisely what she did.”
Eloise had been engaged to Richelieu when we met. Long engagements among the High Society weren’t unusual given our lifespans. For obvious reasons, I hadn’t received a wedding invite. As time marched on with no retaliation for Rhiannon’s imprisonment, I had relaxed my vigilance on that front.
“Hold on.” Cranking my head toward him, I verified, “According to Leisha?”
I might be done with the Marchands, but that didn’t guarantee they were done with me. I wasn’t a total idiot. I had given Linus permission to monitor the Marchands for signs of trouble, as if I could have stopped him after all the grief they had caused me, but I had no interest in periodic updates on them. I wanted nothing to do with the maternal side of my family tree. Or my paternal branch. I was happy with the family I had grown myself, thank you.
“I’ve had no reports hinting Eloise is pregnant,” he said, “let alone so far along.”
Given how troubled times had been lately, I had to wonder. “Do you think she’s hiding it?”
Lips mashed thin, he allowed, “That’s one possibility.”
The staccato blink of Woolly’s excited lights drew my attention, and I checked the time.
“Adelaide?” I verified with the overhead fixture. “We’re not expecting anyone else, right?”
Woolly moaned an affirmative, and as I couldn’t fault her nerves, I told the old girl to let her in.
The smell of bananas and cinnamon hit my nose, and I salivated, breakfast forgotten.
“I’m early,” Addie announced as she entered the house. “I baked, so I hope that makes up for it.”
The clatter of the cupboards opening and shutting told her where to find us.
“I’m really sorry.” She thrust a plate stacked high with muffins at me. “I got so nervous…”
“You’re fine.” I crammed a muffin into my mouth and sighed happily. “You’ve paid the toll.”
“Hey, baby.” Adelaide rested her hand on my stomach. “I hope you like bananas too.”
LJ, being his mother’s son, kicked an affirmative that I interpreted as encouragement to eat another.
As much as I regretted abandoning the fresh-from-the-oven treats, I asked, “Any luck finding Boaz?”
“He’s in Pennsylvania.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s the official line.”
Cautious optimism stirred within me. “You know different?”
“Do you remember pagers?”
“The black box things people clipped onto their belts during olden times?” I saw a doctor wearing one in Atlanta once and gawked at it. “Someone calls and leaves their number or secret code or something for you to call them back?”
“Um, sure.” Adelaide bit her bottom lip, but her shoulders bounced. “They’re still used in hospitals, so it’s not quite a dead form of communication.”
“What about them?”
“Boaz carries a newer model whenever he travels. That’s how we communicate. I send him short texts, and he calls me back when he’s able.”
“That’s brilliant.”
And far more than he had ever done for me. Maybe those two crazy kids would put the happily in their ever after yet.
“I spent a lot of time in hospitals with Hadley when she was little. The novelty of it stuck with me.” The amusement drained from her expression, as it always did when Hadley was mentioned, but she recovered quickly. “I sent him a text after I got off the phone with you. With any luck, he’ll call soon.”
“Thank you.” I wolfed down another muffin. “Here’s what we know so far.”
As I filled her in, she vacillated between relief Boaz’s sense of humor had remained intact and fear over whose blood had filled the bunker. I was right there with her. I wanted him to be okay, I wanted both of them to be okay, and I hated the not knowing.
“He couldn’t have left a more detailed message,” she surmised. “He wouldn’t risk leading them to him.”
“That’s my take too.” I pretended not to notice as Lethe returned then crammed three muffins into her mouth at once. “Your pager might make all the difference.”
“I have no magic to speak of.” A hesitant smile tipped her lips. “I lean more heavily on technology.”
As far as reminders go, it was a good one. I might be proficient in my brand of necromancy, and I might have Linus on my side, who was a prodigy, but neither of us thought much past cellphones and security cameras. We could do better.
Once we got around to assembling a team in Savannah to mirror the one Linus had established in Atlanta, we would have to ensure we got more than one tech guy on board. The world was advancing faster than magic, which hadn’t changed all that much, and it shouldn’t take a reminder to keep that in mind.
Linus’s phone rang, and he studied the screen. “Atlanta area code. It must be one of the landscapers.”
“Take your call in the office.” I shooed him. “We’ll find a way to keep ourselves occupied.”
The cabinets rattled with Woolly’s excitement, and she blazed her lights before dimming them again.
Our diversion, whatever it was, appeared to have arrived right on time.
Eleven
As much as Linus regretted the necessity of taking this call as a visitor arrived, he had no choice.
“Linus Lawson,” he answered. “How can I help you?”
“This is Clint,” a deep voice replied. “Tisdale told me to call, so the question is— How can I help you?”
“You’re one of the landscapers who works for my mother?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “That’s me.”
“Have you noticed anything peculiar during your visits?”
“Necromancers get up to all kinds of weird shit,” he confessed. “Be more specific.”
A smile creased his cheek. “Have you noticed anyone who didn’t belong on the property?”
“She had standing appointments with Corbin and some sentinel, but I didn’t see anyone else.”
Mild surprise flitted through Linus. “You know Corbin?”
“Tisdale asked me to drop some toys off for Kaleigh once. Lethe was on a job and told me to meet her at Woolworth House. Corbin answered the door, and she handled introductions.”
A plausible excuse, one easily confirmed with Lethe. “Have you noticed any unusual activity?”
“I didn’t see anything suspicious, if that’s what you mean.”
“You have my number. Call if you think of anything else.”
“Will do.”
Clint hung up, and Linus tapped his phone against his palm, seeming to shake a text out of it.
The unfamiliar number wrinkled his brow, but the message was simple enough.
>>No luck. The feed is clean. Sorry I can’t be more help.
With a swipe of his thumb, he added Orin to his contacts.
>I appreciate your efforts.
Not five minutes later, the next landscaper called, and Linus settled into his task.
The interviews went on for two hours, but the others hadn’t met Corbin or Boaz and couldn’t ID them.
Aside from setting eyes on them once or twice, they mostly tracked Corbin and Boaz’s sojourns by nose. A day or a week might have passed since they stepped foot on the property, but the landscapers hadn’t kept any record of their movements after Clint brought it to the Grande Dame’s attention the first time and was warned off noticing them again.
Once that lead dead-ended, he exited the office and followed the voices into the kitchen.
“Hey, man.” Clem spotted him, walked over, and shook his hand. “How are things?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
A frown knit his brow. “That good, huh?”
Jake Clemmons was tall, lanky, and good-natured in a way he hadn’t been as Taslima.
As Taz, she had shot Heloise Marchand to save Grier, and it had cost her everything. Only the glamour that disguised her as Jake Clemmons allowed her the freedom to return to her job as a sentinel.
The other man eyed him up and down. “You cut through a lot of red tape to get me here.”
The cost had been high to yank Clem off his current assignment and have him flown into Savannah.
“We need people we can trust for a mission no one can know about.” Linus crossed to Grier and kissed her forehead. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been on stakeout for three weeks, and we’ve still got nothing to show for it. It stopped being fun ten gallons of coffee and three dozen donuts ago.” He worked his jaw. “We’re getting closer, though.”
Curiosity leaned Grier forward in her chair. “Who are you tracking?”
“The Grande Dame didn’t tell you?” Clem groaned. “Then you didn’t hear this from me.”