Magic Rising (24 page)

Amazingly, Niam didn’t come forward, didn’t even yell a single threat. He simply stood there, staring from his shadowy hood with his hands in front of him. Deirdre wouldn’t waste time wondering why. She backed the car out of the driveway. Gladys didn’t pull the rifle barrel inside until they were out of sight of her house.

“Who was that guy? He scared me, Deirdre. He scared me bad.”

“Gladys, he’s the equivalent of the devil himself.”

They went around the corner then turned onto the gravel road. There Deirdre nearly slammed on the brakes in disbelief. Standing where the roads joined was Niam, hands folded in front, as if he’d been there all day. Gladys shrieked and Deirdre hit the accelerator. Again, she never saw Niam move, other than to turn his head as they passed.

“Is that the same guy?”

“Couldn’t be.” But it was. “Must’ve been one of his guys dressed up like him to freak us out.” That’s what Deirdre said out loud, but deep inside she was already screaming.
Magic isn’t real. Only an illusion. He can’t do that. Magic isn’t real
. Her burning stomach reminded her that in some instances, magic was very real. Acceptance wasn’t required.

“Sure did look like the same guy.”

In the back, Lora kept her head down, as instructed. Even with their odd conversation, she didn’t venture a look through the window and Deirdre was happy for that. She’d heard of spells that could pull someone out of their bedroom but that was only a rumor. None of that Stone House shit was true, only fairytales to frighten children into obedience.

Deirdre drove faster and was relieved when she saw the sign for the interstate. She turned onto paved road again. This felt better. At least she could outrun them on surface roads.

She pulled up to a stoplight, one of two before the onramp. She desperately wanted to see traffic whizzing by at seventy. That interstate was her salvation.

“Dragonfly!”

There, standing on the sidewalk near the nose of her car was a man dressed in solid black but it couldn’t be Niam. The figure raised his gloved hand to his lips, and although she still couldn’t see his face, she knew he’d blown her a kiss. Then the wind shifted and the flap to his hood moved exposing a patch of white skin, scarred with red, before he reached up to pull the hood back into place.

“It’s only a trick.” Logically it had to be a trick. If a man could move like that, then he wouldn’t need to scurry away from the police on motorcycles. She wouldn’t fall for his games. She wasn’t a child any longer.

Deirdre raised her middle finger and shot him a bird, then pulled through the red light, causing several cars to beep at her. At the next light, she stopped, unable to see anything at the last intersection.

Again, a lookalike stood on the walk, staring at her car. This time Niam was braver, removing his hood and letting her see into his dark uncaring eyes. Ten feet separated them and there was nothing she could do. A car sat in front of her and soon one pulled in behind. She was trapped and staring at the devil.

There was nothing to do, but face him. She rolled down her window, smiling even if her insides were knotted, dreading every second trapped at this stupid red light. It already seemed to have taken forever and still it wouldn’t change.

“I don’t believe in magic anymore, Niam. Save your tricks. You might sell them at children’s birthday parties.”

He stepped forward, holding one of her knives. He kissed it, then tossed it into the car, carefully, not to injure but as some form of message delivery. The metal landed in her lap. Deirdre looked at Niam, then at the blade, the metal she’d carried. He didn’t appear to want a fight and turned, staying where he had been on the sidewalk.

Deirdre reached down, touching the throwing knife and hell raced up her arm. That was the only way to describe the pain, burning hell. She closed her eyes, and there was no blackness, only Stone House in her vision. Strange engravings covered the walls and floors and all around her she heard Niam laughing.

“I’ll get you Deirdre,” said Niam’s voice. “I’ll have you.”

A car beeped behind her and she opened her eyes to a green light. The road in front was clear as well as the sidewalk where Niam had stood. Deirdre went through the intersection, glancing into the rearview mirror. What she saw in her backseat made her gasp. The image was Niam, petting Lora’s hair!

She blinked hard, trying to clear her sight. The second time, Niam was gone. Only Lora sat there, staring back at Deirdre mildly. Deirdre knocked the throwing knife onto the floor and kicked it under her seat. She may not believe in magic but Niam had pulled some fancy trick, something she didn’t want to see again.

“Gladys, keep sharp and tell me if you see him again.”

“If I have to. I was hoping I could finish this trip with my eyes closed.”

Chapter Fifteen

The printer spit out another page, adding to the pile. Tech had hacked in to the Federal Bureau of Investigation pulling up the file for Aidena Flye, and getting more than he’d bargained for.

The Feds were bound to know about the security breach. Somewhere a computer tracked him, trying to find where their precious information was being sent. Routers connected, lines traced, and, if he’d worked it right, it would be lost somewhere in Canada.

While the massive file finished transferring, he had another computer, hooked to more traditional means, researching Stone House. Ten years ago the trail on them stopped, he’d found where it picked up again.

The name had changed but the owners were the same. They’d been involved with another school somewhere up in New York. That one was shut down by the state when they failed to meet academic requirements. A special school had been recently opened up near the northern section of a beach town, not far from Lawrenceton. It was a privately owned mansion with international ties and backers all sending money to the name of Haas.

It was a sweet set up for them. Tech happened upon state records showing the new school being used as a type of halfway house for juveniles released from detention centers but not ready to be mixed with the general population.

The school also took in foster kids, more than twenty as far as he could tell. There were adults associated with the place, but he hadn’t had the chance to check into each name that popped up. The few he had dared to search showed as unknowns, meaning homeless, or basic rejects who had never been productive citizens.

“Knock, knock.” Sabrine had already entered the room. Her bright smile lit everything. “I was told that you would be asleep.”

“Deirdre employs me, not owns me.” He sounded snippy, but he felt snippy. Being treated like an idiot who didn’t know his head from a hole in the ground upset him and Deirdre knew it.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“I’m sorry. This mess is bugging me. I think Deirdre is in real trouble this time. Everybody she asks me to check on ends up connecting with some cult functioning as a school. She’s not telling me anything, although everything I come up with connects with her in some way. We should’ve never taken that Tamara Haas case.”

Sabrine sat in the empty chair next to him, her hair damp, her clothes not as put together as usual. She’d come over in a hurry, but now sat silent. Very little kept Sabrine silent around him.

He waited, letting her decide what she wanted to say while he scoured the internet finally finding a reference to another Haas building better known as The School of the Gifted. TSG created an odd logo where a naked woman held a sword in the background. Not exactly the type of school mascot he’d expected. What did they do at football games, breastfeed or stab people?

Next to him the printer stopped running, so he killed the hack job on the FBI mainframe and ran his current finds into the printer. The FBI records, he gathered up and placed in a folder. He didn’t read them, didn’t want to. For once he’d respect someone’s privacy, even if he was pissed at her. After everything Deirdre had done for him, it was a small payback. He was certain that bits of her past were missing, traces of her family. It lurked in the emptiness in her eyes when anyone spoke of their homes or family ties. He doubted Deirdre had anyone, not even a pleasant memory. He hoped she would come forward and tell Sabrine and him everything, but either way, it would be her choice and not left to nosing.

“How much longer are you going to be?” Sabrine looked at him and he knew trouble dwelled in those soft brown eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“Someone is after Deirdre and therefore after us. She’s made some calls and found us other lodging. You have forty-five minutes to gather your things and move to a new location.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” He slammed the folder on the table. “All my stuff is here. Do you know how much time I’ll lose just reorganizing? I can’t go.”

Sabrine shook her head no. “I think Deirdre is in some serious trouble.” She paused, and the worry in her face made him stop. “I’ve never seen her afraid. Never once heard fear in her voice. She’s afraid, Tech. My gut says if something is bad enough to scare Deirdre, we should be petrified.”

Tech looked at the screen, at the string of names associated with TGS and hit print. He didn’t want to leave his work station, but Deirdre knew best. There had also been a strange tension building in Deirdre, a stress he’d never picked up on during other jobs.

“Okay. I’ll try to hurry. Start loading those files in boxes.”

He motioned toward a stack at the table. Sabrine took a box and put his papers inside, the file on Deirdre stayed on top. He wanted to hand that to her personally. Not even Sabrine should look at that.

“Sabrine, are you really upset about this? I mean, do you think someone will come after us?”

“I’ve never known Deirdre to be wrong. She thinks we could be targets.”

“Since I’m the guy, do I have to protect you or will you turn bad ass and save us both?”

Sabrine laughed and walked away. Tech, however, noticed that she never answered his question. She loved to toy with him and this had to be another instance. In all honesty, he couldn’t beat Sabrine and she knew it.

“Tech.” Sabrine came running back in. “Was this here before I arrived?”

He looked at a note, written on common notebook paper. “Bring me the girl” was all it said but it was enough to make Tech drop it to the floor. He didn’t like the feel of the paper, bad vibes or something.

“Where did you find this?”

“It was taped to the inside of the street door. Someone came inside your basement but stopped before your office.”

“Did you see anyone?”

Sabrine shook her head no. There wasn’t time for her to do much of a search. Tech stood and walked to the office door, cracking it open enough to see the box of papers next to the outer door that Sabrine had been carrying. It looked like she hadn’t even stepped outside. He didn’t blame her. For the same reasons she was afraid because of Deirdre’s reaction, he feared hers. Sabrine was military, almost as cold under stress as Deirdre. At the moment, she looked scared to death.

“What’s got you rattled?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Her eyes looked glassy and Tech thought he’d lose all control if he saw her cry.

“Please Sabrine. I’ve never doubted you before, I won’t start now.”

“The note appeared in thin air. I touched the doorknob, had your box in my other hand, and out of nothing this note appears. It was stuck to the door and I don’t know how it got there or what held it.” Not a tear escaped, but she turned away. “What are we dealing with Tech?”

“I don’t know, baby. I just don’t know.”

Chapter Sixteen

The posh area of town lay ahead, with its manicured lawns, high gates, and cars that cost more than the average persons’ home. Deirdre sped through while Gladys stared at her new surroundings. It wasn’t admiration covering Gladys’s face, but pure contempt. Her prejudices must’ve gone deeper than skin color, with social status included in her list of things not to trust.

Deirdre didn’t blame her for that suspicion. She’d witnessed some screwed up situations in the most lavish of estates. All that kept their names out of the papers, and sometimes out of jail, was their money and clout. The rich made messes, and that’s when low lives weren’t preying on them for their money. Things grew complicated when two powerful people had issues with each other. Deirdre never liked those situations.

The late afternoon sun lowered in the sky. They had made two stops before coming here. The first was to switch cars. She let her sports car sit in the garage across from her office while she took a rental, a big roomy sedan that couldn’t be linked to her. It was rented under the name Gretchen Merriweather, one of the three sets of fake identifications she owned. Next she’d taken Gladys and Lora out for a late lunch. Everyone seemed a little better with a full stomach.

Deirdre turned into a private road and stopped in front of a large iron gate with a keypad at the driver’s side. She punched in the security code, listened for the beep, then watched the giant bars separate and the gate swing open. Gladys kept watching behind them, as Deirdre continued up the drive. She fidgeted nervously, glancing in all directions.

Gladys really had no reason to trust Deirdre. For all she knew, Deirdre could be delivering Lora to the Colinsters and Tamara Haas personally. If it weren’t for those men trying to snatch Lora, she doubted Gladys would’ve left with her at all.