One Grave at a Time (10 page)

Thirteen

M
adigan glared at me as I walked into what used to be my uncle’s office. I glared right back, willpower alone keeping my gaze from glowing green and fangs from jutting out of my teeth. Not only had Madigan ignored my previous remarks about the uselessness of an ID check on the roof; he’d also installed a full-body scanner that broadcast such explicit imagery of my body onto a screen, TSA officials everywhere would weep with envy. I’d then had every bit of metal on me confiscated except my wedding ring, and had to argue for ten minutes before the new guards would let me bring in my packet of sage. As it was, they’d taken my box of matches, because of course
those
were potentially deadly weapons.

Idiots. I was a vampire, as they well knew. I could kill someone ten times quicker with my teeth or my hands. It was a good thing Bones hadn’t come with me, or he might’ve slaughtered one of the guards just to prove a point about the whole stupid, insulting process. Finding out that Madigan had also commandeered Don’s office, plus hearing his repeated mental renditions of the same car insurance jingle, had been the cherry on the sundae wreckage of my formerly good mood.

From my uncle’s deep frown as he floated behind Madigan, he was in a foul mood, too.

“
So
sorry there wasn’t a body cavity search,” I said in lieu of a hello. “My ego might never recover.”

Madigan’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “Lax security might have been acceptable during my predecessor’s term, but it’s not under mine.”

“You mean
Tate’s
predecessor’s term,” I corrected at once, not responding to the slap against Don because I was trying to cool my temper instead of inflame it. My uncle already knew the many reasons why Madigan’s new security measures were pointless when it came to vampires. All Madigan was doing with his fancy new scanner was wasting taxpayer money in an attempt to look competent to unknowing government superiors.

My uncle tugged his eyebrow, muttering, “You’re not going to believe this,” even as Madigan smiled.

“Effective immediately, the head of Homeland Security upgraded my position from operations consultant to acting supervisor of this operation.”

Shock froze me in the process of taking a seat. “Bullshit,” I breathed. “They can’t yank Tate’s job out from under him without even giving him a
chance
to succeed at it!”

Oh yes they can,
Madigan thought, interrupting his repeated mental mantra of the damned slogan that had blocked out the rest of his thoughts. He didn’t answer out loud, though, continuing to stare at me with that triumphant little smile.
Fifteen minutes can save you fifteen percent. Fifteen minutes . . .

It was Don who said, in a very heavy voice, “They did exactly that, Cat.”

I felt like I’d been sucker punched by a sledgehammer. It wasn’t shocking that the few, top-ranking government officials who knew about this department could make such a stupid decision; I’d seen government stupidity in action before. But I was stunned that they’d do it in such a short amount of time.
That’s completely unfair!
rang through my mind, and though it might sound childish, it was still true.

“Congratulations,” was what I bit out, acid penetrating each syllable. “Does Tate still work here, or did you fire him in your first official act as boss?”

Some part of me hoped that Madigan had fired every nonhuman on the team. That would make Cooper and the other veteran human team members quit in disgust. Then all of us could all sit back and count down the days until the Powers That Be learned the folly of trying to fight the undead with only regular soldiers. When the human casualties piled up, the same witless politicians that promoted him would throw Madigan out on his well-dressed ass, begging Tate, Juan, Dave, and the others to come back. Hell, they’d beg my mother to come back, and she hadn’t even been out on her first mission yet, but she was still tougher than ninety-nine percent of their best human soldiers.

“Tate’s been demoted to junior officer,” Don replied, beating out Madigan’s intentionally vague response of, “Of course he’s still employed here.”

Junior officer.
My nails dug into my palms until the scent of blood made me stop. Despite my promise to Bones not to let Madigan rile me, it was all I could do not to start screaming at him. After all the times Tate had risked his life for this operation, not to mention all the lives he’d
saved
during his tenure, he did not deserve a demotion just because Madigan was a power-hungry schmuck who had issues with the undead.

“Cat,” Don began.

“Not now,” I said, my attention so focused on the injustice of it all that I answered him out loud.
Oops!
“Uh, not later, but now you want to tell me why I’m here?” I stammered to cover my slip.

Fortunately, Madigan didn’t seem to pick up on it. He clicked a small device, and a flat screen dropped down from a slot in the ceiling.
Really love your little gadgets, don’t you?
I thought sardonically.

The screen flashed a serial number and the word “confidential” before it focused in on an image of Chris, of all people, broadcasting in what looked like night vision. His eyes shone unnaturally bright.

“Who are you talking to?”
he was asking, looking around a basement that I recognized with a sinking feeling. My own voice flowed out in reply.

“One of Waverly’s former residents. Can you do me a favor, Herbert? Fly through the bearded man’s left arm . . .”

I said nothing as the entire exchange played out, complete with several close-ups of my face as I directed an unseen ghost to dive bomb Chris’s body. Son of a bitch! A member of N.I.P.D. must have rigged a camera down there during their setup period, but how had Madigan gotten ahold of the footage? It was barely more than a week old!

Madigan paused the video once we’d walked away from the camera’s view. “Do you know where this was? On the Northeastern Investigative Paranormal Division’s Web site, where anyone with a computer could see a former top secret operative blabbering on about how the supernatural really exists!”

I wanted to thump my head against the desk but didn’t because it would only give Madigan the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d scored a hit—though to do it, he’d revealed an important bit of information. If Madigan had indeed found this only because N.I.P.D. put the clip on their Web site, then he had my picture plugged into a specialized facial recognition database that was normally used for the world’s most wanted terrorists and criminals.
Why was he so fixated on me?

“You see a former operative humoring a gullible investigator in order to get him to agree to take a job for a friend’s paranoid client. I had no idea it was being filmed,” I improvised, praying that my conversation about Kramer had taken place where no cameras were stationed.

“Really?” Madigan’s gaze was blue steel. “So you weren’t, in actuality, communicating with ghosts and directing their actions?”

I forced myself not to glance at Don, who hovered behind Madigan’s chair close enough to be a barber about to give him a haircut. I hadn’t mentioned ghosts in any of my reports while I worked here. Back then, my experience with them had been very limited, so there was no need. If Madigan learned that some ghosts were as intelligent as any other person and could infiltrate places most covert operatives couldn’t, plus could be controlled by certain people . . . I suppressed a shudder imagining how he’d exploit such information.

“To my knowledge, ghosts are incapable of communication. All the ones I’ve seen are just vague impressions of leftover energy, no more sentient or able to interact than a house plant.”

“There goes your Christmas present,” Don murmured with a flash of humor.

“Really?” Madigan slid his glasses down an inch on his nose to give me the full effect of that drill sergeant stare, but I didn’t flinch. Either he was toying with me because he’d seen footage of me talking about Kramer to Chris, or he didn’t know I was lying, and I could hope to brazen this out. If it was the former, I was already so screwed that getting busted lying wouldn’t make much difference.

“I’ve had experts go over this video, and they see faint hazy distortions in the same places where you stated that a ghost had initiated contact with the subject.” Madigan leaned forward. “Explain
that
.”

“They also said the distortions could’ve been faked,” Don supplied rapidly. “Without the original film, it’s impossible to tell.”

I’d have Chris make sure that original film was destroyed
tonight.
I sat down for the first time, flouncing a little as if exasperated.

“Come on, Madigan. If you’re running a paranormal investigation company, are you going to put any footage on your Web site that hasn’t been doctored first? Who’s going to hire ghost hunters who don’t have any images of ghosts on their business page? They might be believers, but they
are
still trying to make a buck.”

His smile was thin. “Plausible. But even if someone added those distortions to the video later, how did you know exactly where the subject felt the ghostly interactions at the time that they happened?”

He had me there. As if to punctuate his checkmate, the word “gotcha” drifted out between Madigan’s endless blockade of mental repetitions.

And just like that, it occurred to me how I could thwart him.
Thank you, Madigan, for being the arrogant prick you are.

“How did I know that?” I pretended to study my fingernails for a moment. “The same way I know that fifteen minutes can save you fifteen percent on car insurance.”

Fourteen

S
ilence met my pronouncement, stretching until the room filled with a tension that was almost palpable. I had to give Madigan credit where credit was due, because whatever he was thinking remained secluded behind a now blaring rendition of the same catchphrase. Don’s brows drew together in confusion.

“What does that have to do with anything?” my uncle wondered.

I spoke the next part for his benefit. “That’s right, I can read minds. Handy little unexpected perk; not many vampires have the ability.”

Don looked stunned. Oh, right, I hadn’t told him of my ability before. It wasn’t like I’d been hiding it from him, it just hadn’t come up. Madigan already suspected Bones was telepathic and had been treating me with the same caution, so volunteering the information was a necessary sacrifice in order to keep him from discovering the real bombshell about ghosts.

Finally, Madigan spoke. “I could charge you with an unauthorized breach of security for attempting to glean classified information from my thoughts.”

I snorted. “I’m not
trying
anything. The ability’s there whether I want it or not. If someone told you unauthorized classified information, would you be guilty of a security breach for not willing yourself to go deaf so you couldn’t hear it?”

Bitch,
he thought, and I was sure it was no accident that this came through loud and clear over the fifteen minutes mantra.

I just shrugged. “Sticks and stones.”

“Is that what this is to you?” he asked sharply. “A game? Is national security just something that
amuses
you now that you’re no longer a member of the human race? Oh, I forgot.” His voice vibrated with barely concealed venom. “You never really were a member of the human race, were you, half-breed?”

I was across the desk in a blink, my face so close to his that our noses would’ve touched if I moved a fraction more. “How much of your own blood have you shed for humanity or national security? Because I’ve lost
gallons
of mine trying to protect lives, or, failing that, making sure that murderers and threats to humanity got what was coming to them.” I sat back in disgust. “I bet the only blood you’ve ever shed was after a paper cut, so don’t lecture me about national security and protecting humanity unless you’ve even once put your life on the line for either of them.”

Two new, bright spots of color on his cheeks highlighted how Madigan had paled when I first lunged at him. His scent radiated the distinct, rotten fruit smell of fear over the stench of way too much cologne, and stray thoughts leaked out between his now-deafening roar of what fifteen minutes could save on insurance.

Dangerous . . . can’t let her see . . . too much at stake . . .

“Get out,” he said curtly.

I strained my mind to hear past the commercial jingle that I now hated with the fire of a thousand suns. What was Madigan hiding? Something I already expected, like plans to boot out all the undead team members? Or something more sinister?

“Get
out,
” he repeated, pressing a button on his phone. “I need security,” he barked. “Now.”

I glanced at the door. Should I risk trying to mesmerize him before they came? Someone with Madigan’s mental shields might require biting before I could crack his mind, and, frankly, I’d never bitten a human. What if I did it wrong and pierced his jugular? That would leave telling splatters of blood on both of us, not to mention he could die of an embolism in seconds if any air bubbles got to his heart. Both would be hard to explain away when security arrived.

“Don’t do anything, Cat,” Don urged, sensing my wavering. “These guards don’t know you. They’re new recruits handpicked by him, and they’re all armed with silver.”

Being staked or shot with silver bullets by Madigan’s pet soldiers was last on my list of concerns, but it was too risky for other reasons to attempt to mesmerize any secrets out of him. I’d have to let Don do the digging for me, and, thankfully, Madigan still had no idea that he was being shadowed by the very man he’d maneuvered himself into position to replace.

I rose with deliberate slowness, almost strolling to the door. “Congrats again on the promotion.”

Footsteps thudded down the hall. Madigan’s new security detail, running to his aid too late to help him if there had been an actual threat from me.

“You are not to return here unless I summon you,” Madigan snapped. “Do you understand? You show up, and I’ll have you arrested on sight.”

With great effort, I restrained myself from replying with the sentences that sprang to my lips. Like,
you and what army?
Or,
I’d like to see you try it.
But Bones’s admonition rang in my mind.
Let him feel like he’s won this round. It’ll only be to our benefit.
I hadn’t managed to stop myself from rising to Madigan’s taunting before, but I could let him believe he had the power to keep me away from here if I wanted to come back, and believing that only made him more vulnerable.

“I hope you spend some time in your new capacity reading up on Don’s reports about me,” was what I said, in such an even tone that Bones would have applauded. “He didn’t trust me either at first, but then he found out that half-vampire didn’t equate to bad guy. Neither does full vampire. We don’t have to be at odds with each other.”

The helmeted, armed entourage arrived, one of the guards roughly taking my arm.

“Move it.”

I let them manhandle me out of the room with Madigan watching. Don floated after me, muttering something too low for me to catch above the staccato of thoughts from the guards and Madigan’s endless barrage of
fifteen minutes . . . fifteen minutes
. The next time I saw that commercial, I’d probably open fire on my TV.

I’d just been hustled into the elevator when a shout pierced the din.

“Catherine!”

I had my hand holding open the elevator doors before the guards even realized I’d moved. “Stand down!” one of them ordered, raising his rifle at me.

“That’s my mother,” I snapped, refraining from breaking the barrel off by sheer force of will.

Her appearance cut off whatever the guard had been about to say. She pushed past them into the elevator none too gently, several strands of dark hair escaping from her ponytail. The sharp blue gaze that still had the power to intimidate me lasered on the group surrounding us.

“Are you going to shoot her, or push the button so we can leave?” she demanded.

I stifled a laugh at the instant consternation her words elicited. The guard who had his weapon pointed at me didn’t know whether to lower it and look like he was following her orders or keep it aimed at me and look like an idiot. He chose the idiot route, and I pushed the button for the top floor, my lips twitching.

“What are you doing, Justina?” Don asked warily.

She glanced first at him, then at me. “I’m quitting,” she stated. “I heard what he said about arresting you if you came back, and no one’s going to forbid my daughter from seeing me if she wants to.”

Her words hit me right in the heart. I knew how much my mother had wanted to make the team despite my strenuous objections. She’d argued that going after murderers was her chance to avenge the lives she’d been unable to save—hers and that of the man she loved. For her to give it all up because Madigan pulled a power play made me want to hug her and punch his lights out at the same time.

Since he was now three floors away, I put my arm around my mother, squeezing gently.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

Pink shone in her gaze before she blinked, glancing away. “Yes, well, I’m sure your husband has missed me terribly,” she replied with heavy irony.

My laughter startled the guards so much that another one of them prodded me with his gun. Again I resisted the urge to snap off the tip and bean him with it. The doors opened on our floor, and I got out, biting my lip as my arm was grasped in a hard grip once more.

“Seriously?” I muttered under my breath. My mother glared at them, green glittering in her gaze, but a low “don’t” from me kept her silent. For once.

“Thanks so much for the assistance, boys,” I drawled once they all but pushed me onto the roof.

The reply I received would’ve resulted in their instant massacre if Bones were here. Once again, I thanked God that he’d stayed back in Ohio. He might be coolly logical under most circumstances, but Bones had an irrational streak when it came to me. I couldn’t point fingers about that because I was the same way with him.

“Anything interesting happen since I last saw you?” I asked, but the question wasn’t directed at my mother. It was to Don, who hovered right behind her.

“Somehow Madigan knows he’s being watched,” my uncle replied, frustration clear in his tone. “Even at home, he doesn’t let his guard down. All the computer files he accesses are the usual classified material, and if he’s on the phone, he talks in code so I can’t figure out what his real meaning is.”

My sigh was swallowed up by the churning of the helicopter’s rotor blades as the engine was started. No time was being wasted in getting me out of here, it seemed. I would’ve liked a chance to talk to Tate and the guys before I left, but that clearly wasn’t happening. I’d have to settle for Don’s relaying a message from me later.

“I don’t like him at
all,
but is it possible that he’s nothing more than what he appears—an arrogant, prejudiced suit who’ll step on anyone to climb up the government ladder?”

That might make Madigan a dick and incompetent for this job, but it didn’t make him the menace Don thought he was.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Don said flatly. “He’s hiding something. I just need more time to find out what it is.”

“The boys are going to be so upset when they find out that Madigan’s not letting you come back,” my mother remarked. “Morale is already low after what happened to Tate.”

I had to shake my head. Hearing my mother talk about team morale was just too weird for my brain to handle.

“You need to come with me,” I said to Don, with an oblique look at the various personnel waiting for me to climb into the chopper. Even if someone heard me above the noise from the craft powering up, they’d think I was talking to my mother.

Don hesitated. “But now is the best time for me to shadow Madigan,” he said, backing away from me. Actually backing away. “You rattled him, Cat. I could be missing out on important information as we speak. Whatever you have to tell me, it can wait!”

Then he vanished, leaving me staring at the spot he’d just vacated with my jaw dropped open. He couldn’t even take a few hours away from shadowing Madigan to be updated on what was going on? What if I’d found a way for him to skip merrily into eternity? Was that no longer a concern of his?

I had to make sure to badger him to tell me what happened in their past for Don to have such a one-track mind when it came to Madigan, but that would have to wait until the next time I saw him.

But thanks to Madigan’s proving that he was every inch the suspicious bastard I’d initially pegged him as, the first thing I’d have to do would be to uproot everyone from my old house in Ohio. I didn’t doubt that in the time it took to fly me here, Madigan already had a surveillance team staked out around the perimeter, ready to record any incriminating action or word. I’d have to call Bones and tell him not to bring the crew back there. So much for all the groceries and amenities we’d just bought.

“Ready, Catherine?” my mother asked, jumping into the chopper.

I shook my head at Don’s behavior as I climbed in after her. Family. If one member wasn’t being a pain in the ass, another one would be guaranteed to fill the slot.