Summoned Chaos (24 page)

“Remind me to never work as a private dick.” She stretched, extending her long, graceful arms. I watched, enjoying the stirring of emotions, among other things, that it created. She caught my gaze and her lips curled into a small, sultry grin. “Maybe we should go back to your place. You know, to relax.”

My body tingled with the thought of sweaty fun times, but I shook my head. “I cannot begin to tell you how much I love that idea, but I need to find a way to get into the R&D files. Not only to get that report for Monroe, but also to figure out just what the hell is going on with everything. Someone is pulling the strings of the Mimics, not to mention the squirrel-puma things, and I suspect it has something to do with disrupting the peace accord. Whatever their reason, it’s high time we nail them to the wall.”

My stomach rumbled loud enough that the bodies in the morgue probably heard it.

Quinn smiled. “How about I treat you to lunch as a consolation prize?”

“Now
that
is an offer I can’t refuse.”

A large T-bone and two slices of pie later, I felt like myself once more.

Quinn sipped at her orange juice. “Wow. I forgot how much you can pack away.”

“All I had for breakfast was three cups of coffee.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re going to put yourself into an early grave with a diet like that.”

I shrugged. “Die young, make a pretty corpse.”

She snickered, then leaned forward. “So why do you think someone is messing with the peace accord?”

“A hunch,” I admitted. “The attacks on me and Carla seem to have fanned the flames of those opposed to the Reformation. The thing is, I can’t for the life of me figure out what anyone would gain from it. Let’s say everyone decides to end the Reformation today. What happens?”

Quinn bit the inside of her lip. “In an ideal world, complete separation. We return to the shadows and the Normal world continues on, completely oblivious to our existence.”

“Right, but the reality is that it can’t happen. Look how infatuated the media was with Steve. They fawned over him.”

“And over you,” she said, teasingly.

“You joke, but that’s my point. There’s no way the news would give up on stories like our incident with the pumas. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Tessa and Mike weren’t the only ones obsessed with the Skilled world. Pop culture is fixated on it these days. Movies, literature, television, you name it. What used to be considered mythology is becoming mainstream.”

“Maybe that’s the issue.”

I cocked my head. “How so?”

“Think about it. Our worlds grow closer every day. The Skilled, as evidenced by most of our leadership, are still looking at the past and are terrified of the future. What if they’re the ones trying to separate everyone?”

I thought of Monroe’s comments about the rift forming among the Council. Maybe we were closer to a split than I thought. The budding friction between the Normals and Skilled certainly couldn’t be argued as accidental anymore, not after the Mimic attacks.

I froze as the wheels of thought churned. The Mimics and pumas weren’t the only intentional anomaly recently.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“This whole time, the two blue rifts have been bugging me. Why were they so harmonious when all the others weren’t?” My heart hammered in my chest. “It’s because they weren’t accidents.”

She frowned. “Are you saying someone knows how to open these things? On purpose?”

“In a nutshell, yes. The rifts caused by Quaos were unstable and pulsed with an unnatural vibe. But remember when we inspected the rift in Maryland? It felt perfectly in tune. I think it’s because the tear wasn’t at a natural weak point—at least, not one affected by Hexcalibur. It was in a section of reality that was stable.”

“How is that even possible?” she asked in a voice filled with fear.

“Location. Specifically, the cemeteries.”

How did I not see that connection before? With all the drama in the farmer’s field, I’d completely forgotten about the headstones. And the rift in the meadow was near a gravesite as well. The residual energy from the dead may have created a perfect spot for someone to make an opening.

Quinn paled. “How could the Council not know about this?”

“I have no doubt a handful of them do,” I growled.

“Like who?”

“Devon, but he’s not saying anything. Pell believes a Blood Oath is involved and I’m beginning to agree with him. Plus, Devon has his fingers in almost everything the Council does, so if he’s not intimately involved, he at least has an
idea
of what’s going on.”

I leaned back, breathing quicker as my mind raced to piece the elements together. “Rancin and her folks also must know. It’s the only rational explanation for why she ordered us to keep the rift open. Her folks must have realized the implications of our readings, which is why they wanted to study the rift.” Excitement flooded my veins. “If someone had figured out how to open those things, then you can bet R&D would want to know about it.”

No wonder I’d felt a presence when trying to close the second rift. A spell of that magnitude would undoubtedly leave an imprint of the practitioner.

Dammit, if only I’d had more time, I could have found out who it was.

“Maybe that’s why they’re denying the existence of the second rift,” Quinn said.

I nodded. “Absolutely. If the power-flower and its mother my team fought are any indication, then the ability to perform a spell like that would threaten both the Skilled and Normal worlds.”

The thought of those creatures running amok on our realm was horrific.

“Who else?” Quinn asked.

I shook my head. “It’s anyone’s guess with the rest of the Elders. Bristol and Watkins are on the outskirts of being involved recently, but the rest haven’t even been in the picture. Not that it precludes them from guilt, but I’m trying to narrow down the search. Besides, only a handful at best have the authority to access the R&D system, and those are—”

I froze, my mind wheeling. “That’s it. That’s the back door.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “I don’t—”

I spoke over her, too excited to stop. “I’ve hit nothing but brick walls this whole time because I’ve been targeting the people that seemed guilty. But what if we went the opposite direction? What if we focused on a weak link? Someone with access and power, but doesn’t have their guard up.”

“Who?”

“Elder Watkins. He used to work in R&D before he was elected as an Elder and since their credentials are good for life, he’ll have authorization. All I need to do is find a way in through him.”

“You plan to break into his office?”

I shook my head. “With as tight as security is at HQ, it’ll be impossible to pass gas without someone knowing about it. No, I’m gonna hit his home.”

Quinn frowned. “Come again?

I found the sheets I was looking for and handed them to her. “Check out the browser history.”

She flipped through the pages. “Wow. He buys a lot of stuff online.”

“A lot is an understatement. If this is correct, deliveries show up daily. Sometimes more.”

“So?”

“So, unlike most of the Elders, he’ll have a computer in his home. Seamus said if I could find a portal to the R&D site, he could hack it. Twenty bucks says the Elder’s machine is synced to the Council’s secured databases. If I can get Seamus to that machine, I’m golden.”

“And if you’re wrong? If there isn’t a machine or it’s not an access point to R&D?” She sounded concerned which cooled my excitement a little.

“Then I’m no worse off than I am right now. You know,” I added, thinking on the situation, “with the Reformation Ball tomorrow, it might be worth publically shaking the trees a little. Give the guilty parties a good scare, even if I have nothing to go on.”

“Why would you do that?”

The muscles between my shoulder blades tightened. “Because I’m tired of reacting to the situation. I’ve been one step behind this whole time. If I can rattle someone’s cage, maybe they’ll get sloppy and give me the proof I need.”

“That could be dangerous,” she warned.

I nodded. “I know, but doing nothing is worse.”

She was silent. Then she reached for my hand. “I’ll help.”

I was touched by her offer. “Thanks, but I can’t ask that of you. If this goes south, the Council will come after me hard and you don’t want to be in the blast radius of that. You’ve already been in the crosshairs of the Council once. I don’t want to jeopardize your freedom again.”

“That’s
my
choice,” she said firmly. “And I’m offering to help. Only a moron would refuse it.”

I smiled, thankful for her support, but worried about the risk she was taking. Monroe’s loyalty hinged on finding what he wanted and Dad’s influence only stretched so far. If this blew up in our faces, I doubted he could protect me, let alone her.

But Quinn was a fighter. She’d faced the Council’s ire once and survived. More important, I trusted her. With Steve out of commission, Quinn was the only other person I could lean on for this kind of job.

“Okay. You’re in.”

She grinned triumphantly. “Excellent. What do you need me to do?”

“Stake out Watkins’s home. Find out when deliveries show up. Also get an idea of his security. Physical and magical.”

“If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s playing in the shadows.”

“Also, call Seamus and see what he needs for hacking.” I wrote his number down and handed it to her. She tucked the note in her pocket.

“What are you going to do while I’m off playing Secret Agent?”

In response, I dialed Andrew.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

I respected his direct demeanor. “How soon can you set up an interview?”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll call you back.”

We hung up.

Quinn leaned forward. “What was that about?”

I inhaled deeply, calming my insides. “If someone is trying to manipulate forces to disrupt the peace, then it was high time I shined a light on them. And the most effective way is by doing the one thing I’ve been avoiding since the whole PR storm began.”

I gave her a wicked smile. “I’m going to give them one hell of a show.”

Chapter Eighteen

Lights, Camera, Fiction!

They say patience is a virtue. “They” are also idiots. Patience is really,
really
boring.

After Quinn had departed to begin her recon, I’d spent the rest of the evening in Steve’s hospital room, reading the files Seamus had printed for me. Most of them were as dry and useless as I’d feared.

Eventually the nurse kicked me out. I gathered my things and bid goodbye to my unconscious friend.

By the time I got home, I was so emotionally drained from the events of the day that I barely registered the protesters or cameras. I simply hauled myself to bed, then spent a restless night worrying about my performance the next day.

Morning came far too early and with it, the uneasiness of knowing that the day demanded an acting performance worthy of an Academy Award.

I prayed I was up to the task.

The “wake-up” show was one of the cookie-cutter varieties popular among local news stations. But even at such a painful hour, the backstage was a hive of activity. Handlers shuffled guests to and from the stage while tech crews continually checked on equipment. I’d been standing by the curtain for the main stage for almost ten minutes, waiting for my turn.

And wondering just what the hell I was thinking coming on the show.

“Our next guests have been in the news a lot recently,” the plastic anchor said. “Between saving the Ambassador to the Skilled and shaking things up on our local highways, they’ve proven there’s nothing boring about the relationship between the Skilled and Normals. And while many of us see them as the embodiment of cooperation, there are some who question the unity. Here to offer us their opinion on things, are Marcus Shifter and Elsa Klein.”

Applause thundered from the audience. I swallowed and scratched nervously at my scar. Elsa, meanwhile, gave Mick a peck on the cheek, then stepped confidently through the curtains.

Andrew shooed me. “Go on.”

When I hesitated, Mick helped motivate me. “You heard the man. Go!” And shoved me rather forcefully behind his lady.

Bright lights assaulted my eyes. I squinted, but tried to smile like I wasn’t already regretting this moronic PR stunt.

I wiped sweaty palms on my pants. No turning back now.

The anchors—a man and woman who were too perky for their own good—beamed as we shook hands and climbed into the tall chairs.

“Good morning,” the female anchor said with an expression of excitement that was carved into her make-up. “Thanks for coming.”

Elsa crossed her legs, exuding a level of confidence that I wanted to bottle and sell. “Thanks for having us, Candace. I’m a huge fan of your show.”

Candace showed off her pristine veneers. “You’re too kind.”

Mouth dry, I picked up the mug with the station’s logo on it from the table between me and the anchors. I steadied my shaking hands, then took a sip.

“You okay there, Marcus?” the male anchor asked when I coughed.

“It’s 8:00 a.m. Why is there water in these mugs instead of coffee?”

The audience and hosts laughed, but the latter’s was less sincere.

Like during the fight at HQ, Elsa was there to get my back. “Marcus isn’t a morning person, Jack.”

“Neither am I,” the guy replied, chuckling with practiced ease. “It’s why I down so many shots of espresso before the show. And why I use the restroom between every commercial break.”

The audience cheered, missing the condescending tone in Jack’s voice. I fought the urge to thump him on the head with the mug.

Play the role
, I reminded myself.

Candace leaned forward as the room quieted. “So, Elsa and Marcus, what can you tell us about the initial attack at your government building?”

“It was terrifying,” Elsa said, “but the combined forces of the Skilled and their Normal guards proved to be very effective.”

“Hardly,” I muttered.

“Sorry, what was that?” Jack was barely able to hide the tension in his voice. The anchors and Elsa stared at me.

“She’s being modest. This lady was amazing. She blew the brains out of several Mimics, saved my life, sealed HQ’s entrance and then coordinated the response team. The only reason I’m here today is because of her.”

The audience responded appropriately and the anchors relaxed. Elsa turned slightly pink.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, are these sparks we see?” Candace asked, glancing sideways at the camera.

Elsa started to answer, but I beat her to the punch. “Not at all. She’s good people, but she’s got an eye for someone shorter and a whole lot more muscular than me.”

More laughter from the crowd.

Candace must have smelled blood in the water because she just wouldn’t let my love life go. “And is there someone special in your life?”

It took every ounce of willpower not to be a smart-ass. “Absolutely. Sadly, it’s not the Minotaur hunk that the tabloids are making money off of.”

“I think the audience would love to hear who it is.”

Everyone applauded.

“No offense, but that’s between me and her.” Disappointed
awws
from the audience. “Besides,” I added, “she could wipe the floor with me, so I’ll honor her wishes to keep my big mouth shut.”

As the crowd laughed, I struggled to keep from rolling my eyes. The anchors questioned us about our training, our hobbies and a bunch of other crap that I answered as playfully as I could. Elsa fielded questions about her solo appearance on the
Late Nite Show
while I enjoyed a few minutes of respite from the storm. Finally, Candace opened the window I’d been waiting for. “So, Marcus, you mentioned to our producers that you wanted to offer an exclusive piece of information on this show.”

Oh, thank goodness. The muscles around my mouth were beginning to ache from grinning so much. It was about time we bypassed all the pleasantries and got down to business.

But being faced with actually going through with my plan, I hesitated. Sweat trickled down my back.

“Marcus?” Candace asked, giving the camera a quick, but hurried glance.

I swallowed, then reminded myself that this was the entire reason for coming on the show. “Uh, yes. I do indeed. If the crowd is interested, that is?” I added, forcing myself to wink at the audience.

Cheers.

Maybe I
could
play to the cameras after all.

Jack nodded. “I’d say that’s a yes.”

Oh hell
,
here we go.

“Awesome. Which camera do I look at?”

A portly fellow with a headset waved. I turned, ramping the intensity of my movie-star smile as high as it would go.

“As many of you know, there’s a huge Reformation Ball this evening to celebrate the peace between the Skilled and Normals. What many might
not
know is that the Skilled recently met with the leaders of many different religions in an effort to rebuild the bridges burned so long ago. As a show of good faith, the Council invited them to attend and, I believe, many accepted. This is a momentous occasion, one that will certainly go into the history books.

“But that’s not the only reason why the ball will be memorable. I’ve been planning a little drama this evening as well. Obviously I won’t spill the beans here because it would ruin the surprise, but suffice to say, both the Skilled and Normal worlds would appreciate what I will give you all. Therefore, I would like to personally invite the various news agencies and media outlets to attend as my date. I’d invite the audience here as well, but there’s only so much space.”

The audience cheered, applauding. I waved, then turned back to the anchors who were practically glowing.

“Mystery and the promise of excitement?” Candace asked, beaming at the camera. “How could we possibly say no? And what an excellent place to end this part of the show. Thank you, Marcus and Elsa, for joining us this morning.” She addressed the cameras with, “Up next, we have local celebrity, Chef Marlowe, who will teach Jack and me how to make homemade gluten-free donuts.”

The audience applauded as the morning show music filled the studio.

“And we’re at break,” the stage manager said. “Four minutes, everyone.”

Jack shook my hand. “Great to have you on the show.” He sounded about as sincere as the fake-and-bake tan he was sporting.

“Yup,” I replied, but he was already chatting with Candace about the next segment. The stagehands helped us remove our mics, then escorted us through the curtains and down to the green room.

Mick wrapped Elsa in a massive bear hug while Andrew walked over to me.

“
That
was nicely done,” he said in an approving tone. “It’s almost like you’ve started listening to me.”

I wiped my palm before shaking his hand. “Sorry it’s taken this long.”

He smiled sympathetically. “Some people have a harder time adjusting to fame than others.”

“Some people are just thickheaded idiots.”

Andrew chuckled. “Well, thickheaded or not, that announcement you made was masterful. You’re going to have every media outlet scrambling to attend the ball this evening.”

I nodded grimly. “Good, that’s exactly what I need. What I don’t need is you there.”

Andrew’s smile faded slightly. “What’s up?”

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Something big. Too many people have gotten hurt already because of me. I’d prefer if you were outside the blast radius.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I am your PR guy. I
have
to be there. Besides, Carlos and I already RSVP’d to the Council’s formal invitation.”

“I’m being serious.”

He patted me on the arm. “So am I. This is my life, Marcus. And as much as you’ve been a pain of a client, you’re a good person. Plus, I’m getting paid, so whether you like it or not, I’m going to me there.”

I started to argue with him, but my phone buzzed. It was a text from Quinn which simply read All set.

“Think about skipping,” I said, hurrying toward the door.

“Not going to happen. And where are you going?”

“To do something mildly illegal before the ball,” I called, then ran out of the studio at a full sprint.