Spellcasters (63 page)

It took me about thirty minutes to determine the encryption program Weber had used on his files. Once I knew what he’d used, I downloaded a cracking program and translated them into text. For the hour I waded through the boring detritus of an average life: e-mail jokes, online dating postings, bill payment confirmations, Christmas card address labels, and a hundred other mundane bits of data raised to the value of top-secret information by a paranoid mind and a shareware encryption program.

At ten-fifty, my watch alarm went off. Time to check in with Elena. I phoned her, talked to Savannah, then returned to my work. The rest of the files on the disk appeared to be work-related. Like most professionals, Weber’s day didn’t end when the clock struck five, and for contract employees, the drive to translate that contract into a full-time job often means bringing work home to impress the company with your throughput. He had plenty of data files on his computer, and a folder filled with programs in SAS, COBOL, and RPG. The mind-numbing side of programming: data manipulation and extraction.

I looked at the lists of data files. There were over a hundred on the disk and I really didn’t want to skim through each one. Yet I couldn’t just put them aside based on assumptions about the content. So I whipped up a simple program to open each file and write a random sampling of the data into a single new file. Then I scanned the new file. Most of it looked like financial data, not surprising given that Weber worked in the accounting division of a Silicon Valley company. Then, a third of the way down the file, I found this:

Now, Silicon Valley companies may employ some pretty young people, and some pretty strange people, but I don’t think teenage supernaturals made up a significant proportion of their staff. I found two other similar lists farther down. Three files with information on the teenage children of supernaturals. Three Cabals had been the victims of a killer targeting their youth. Definitely not a coincidence.

My sampling program had pulled off only the first eighty characters in each record, but the information in those records extended well over that. As with most data files, though, all you saw were strings of numbers and Y/N indicators, meaningless without a context. To read and understand these files, you needed a program that extracted the data using a record key.

Ten minutes later, I’d found the program that read the Cabal files. I ran it, then opened the file it created.

At my elbow was a piece of paper with three names on it—the names of the teens killed from the other Cabals, the only information we had about them. I’d already memorized that list, but still looked over now, needing to be sure I wasn’t imagining things. I read the names.

Colby Washington.

Sarah Dermack.

Michael Shane.

I grabbed my cell phone and called Lucas.

“H
oly shit,” Adam said after I’d explained what I’d found. “Well, the Cabals can fire up their electric chair. Case closed.”

“An economically efficient solution,” Lucas said. “But I believe, in a case with such a potentially life-altering—or life-ending—conclusion, it’s not unfair for the accused to expect a few luxuries, such as a trial.”

“The guy made lists of teenage Cabal kids, and half the kids on those lists are now dead. Screw due process. Hell, I’ll fry him myself, save the Cabals the cost of electricity.”

“While we appreciate your enthusiasm, I believe we’ll begin by talking to Weber—”

“Interrogate him? Hey, I picked up some good torture tips from Clay. I could—”

“We’ll begin by
talking
to him,” Lucas said. “Without the added incentive of physical, mental, or parapsychological duress. We’ll mention the files—”

“And say what? Do you have a reasonable explanation as to why we found lists of dead kids on your computer? Lists created
before
they died? Oh, yeah, I’m sure there’s a logical—”

I clapped a hand over Adam’s mouth. “So, we’ll talk to Weber. Tonight?”

Lucas checked his watch. “It’s past midnight. I don’t want to frighten him—”

Adam yanked my hand down. “Frighten him? The guy’s a serial killer! I say we scare the living shit out of him, and—”

I cast a binding spell. Adam froze in mid-sentence.

“We’ll confront him in the morning,” Lucas said. “To be certain, however, that nothing happens in the meantime, I’d suggest we return to his house, confirm that he’s still there, and keep watch until morning.”

I agreed, then broke the binding spell, and closed my laptop. As Adam recovered, he glared at me. I cut him off before he could complain.

“Are you coming with us? Or will our lack of murderous activity be too great for you to handle?”

“I’m coming. But if you use another binding spell on me—”

“Don’t give me any reason to and I won’t.”

“Remember who you’re talking to, Sabrina. One touch of my fingers and I could stop you from ever using a binding spell on anyone ever again.”

I snorted and opened my mouth to reply, but Lucas cut me off.

“One other small matter, before we leave,” Lucas said. “My father has left over a half-dozen messages on my phone, looking for updates. Should I provide one?”

“Do you think it’s safe?” I asked.

Lucas hesitated, then nodded. “My father may be overprotective, but he does trust my judgment and my ability to defend myself. If I tell him we wish to speak to Weber before taking him into custody, he’ll accept that. I’ll ask him to assemble an apprehension team.”

“What?” Adam said. “We don’t even get to take the guy down?”

“The Cabal team is trained to handle that, and I’ll let them do their job.”

Adam sighed. “Well, I guess a stakeout is still pretty cool.”

“Jesus,” Adam said, slumping into the driver’s seat. “How long have we been sitting here? Why isn’t it light out yet?”

“Because it’s only five
A.M
.” I said.

“No way. Your watch must have stopped.”

“Didn’t Lucas suggest you bring a magazine? He said it’d be boring.”

“He said tedious.”

“Which means boring.”

“Then he should have said boring.” Adam shot a mock glare at Lucas, who sat beside him, watching Weber’s house through binoculars.

“Boring means something which is dull,” Lucas said. “Tedious implies both long and very dull, which, I believe you’ll agree, this is.”

“Yeah? Well, remind me to pack my pocket dictionary next time you two drag me along on one of these ‘tedious’ adventures.”

“Drag?” Lucas said, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t recall any arm-twisting involved.”

“Hey, brain-flash,” Adam said. “Why don’t I slip out for a closer look? Make sure he’s still there.”

“He is,” Lucas said. “Paige cast perimeter spells at both doors.”

“Yeah, well, no offense to Paige, but—”

“Don’t say it,” I said.

Adam opened the driver’s door. “I’ll go check.”

“No,” Lucas and I said in unison. When Adam hesitated, door still open, I added, “Close the door or we’ll put my spell-casting ability to the test.”

He grumbled, but closed it. Another two hours passed. Two hours during which I had cause at least every ten minutes to wish we’d left Adam behind. Finally, at seven-thirty, a light went on in Weber’s bedroom. Adam lunged for the door handle. Lucas put out a hand to stop him.

“We’re not jumping him the moment he gets out of bed,” I said. “There’s no rush.”

Adam groaned and sank into his seat.

We’d prepared our plan of action before leaving the Vasics. I’d remembered what the gang punks in the alley had said on seeing us, which also reminded me of my own impression the first time Lucas showed up on my doorstep, clean-cut and funereally earnest in his department-store suit. With the right choice of clothes and a couple of books from Robert’s library, we were set.

Lucas and I gave Adam time to sneak around and cover the rear door, then we climbed the front steps. Lucas rang Weber’s doorbell. Two minutes later, a thin, dark-haired man answered. Weber matched his Cortez Cabal employee photograph, right down to the black shirt.

“Good morning,” Lucas said. “Do you know where you’ll be spending eternity?”

Weber’s gaze dropped to our Bibles. He mumbled something and tried to shut the door. Lucas grabbed the edge and held it fast.

“Please,” I said. “We have an important message for you. A message of hope.”

Now, we really didn’t expect Weber to let us in. My religio-babble was only intended to give Lucas time to ready his knock-back spell, which would send Weber reeling away from the door so we could get inside. But as the words left my mouth, Weber’s eyes widened.

“You’re the ones,” he said. “The ones Esus said would come.”

I blinked, but Lucas nodded and murmured an affirmation. Weber ushered us inside, then cast a nervous glance out the front door before closing it.

“Go on in,” he said, wiping his palms against his pants. “Sit down. Oh, wait, let me clear that chair. I’m sorry the place is such a mess. I’ve been—”

“Busy,” Lucas finished.

Weber nodded, head bouncing like a bobble dog’s. “Busy, yes. Very busy. When Esus told me … well, I wanted to run, but he said I shouldn’t, that it would only make things worse.”

“He’s right,” Lucas said.

“He’s always right.” Weber cast a nervous glance around. “He said it’s not safe here. He said you’d take me someplace safe.”

My gaze shot to Lucas, trying to gauge his reaction, but he gave none.

“That’s right,” Lucas said. “Just let me call our driver.”

Lucas reached into his breast pocket for his cell phone, to call the extraction team. Obviously Weber wouldn’t be comfortable talking here, so there was no use trying. Time to skip to the next phase and take him in for questioning.

Lucas only had time to press the first button when a sharp crack rang out, followed by a tremendous crash. A metal canister hit the floor between us. Lucas lunged, grabbing me by the shoulders and throwing us both to the ground. The canister began to smoke.

“Cover your—” Lucas began, but the sound of breaking wood drowned him out.