Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [79]
For the first time in my life, it seemed strange going home with them. It wasn’t that I felt unwanted, just that it suddenly seemed odd, at my age, to be scooped up and taken “home” by my “parents” for the night. I suppose it had been odd for a while. I just hadn’t noticed.
I drank Paige’s sleeping tea while we talked about the case. This was the part I’d miss if I moved out, the late nights staying up, sometimes watching movies or playing games, but mostly just talking. After ten years of this, my own apartment would seem very quiet. I guess that’s part of growing up.
When I woke, I had a message from Sean. Please call ASAP. The call history showed he’d phoned a few times overnight. I called from bed.
“Hey, how’s Hong Kong?” I said when he answered.
“It was fine when I left it. I’ve been recalled to L.A. Seems we’ve had an asset disappear.”
I sat up, pillows tumbling to the floor. “Adele’s baby?”
“Yes.” He paused. “I know you asked about him once—”
“And you couldn’t talk about it. I understand. So the Nasts did have him. Or had him. He’s been taken, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“How’d they manage that? Your secured floor has got to be at least as good as the Cortezes’.”
“Larsen is two years old, Savannah. We may commit some serious ethical oversights, but we don’t confine toddlers to maximum security. He was being raised by the family of our clairvoyant. Under heavy security, of course, but it’s hardly solitary confinement.”
“What happened?”
“At this point, we only know that he’s gone. His security detail didn’t do their regular nightly check-in, and when we sent a car to the house, no one was there.”
“The group grabbed him.”
“That would be the obvious answer. However, Granddad and Uncle Josef are convinced it was Benicio. They think he’s blown this threat out of proportion with the express intent of kidnapping Larsen.”
“Warn Thomas that Larsen is in danger, then take him and blame a scapegoat. Which works really well when I’m the only person saying this group wanted the kid.”
“Right.”
“And you think?”
“I trust you. I don’t trust Benicio. So either this group has targeted Larsen and taken him, or they’ve targeted Benicio, and when you told Benicio, he used the excuse to take him.”
If there’s one thing Lucas taught me about his father, it’s that you never, ever say, “Benicio wouldn’t do that,” because as soon as you do, he’ll prove you wrong, and you’ll be left looking like a fool.
Sean continued, “So we’ve got a kidnapping and a potentially ugly diplomatic situation. Which means we need Lucas here. Whether his dad took Larsen or not, this is going to cause exactly the kind of chaos a rebel group will take full advantage of.”
“Once they hear Benicio is a suspect, they’ll use it. I’ll tell Lucas.”
“Can you come, too? You know this threat better than anyone, it seems.”
“Right. And the Nast Cabal will be so happy to listen to me.”
“Just come, Savannah. Please.”
“All right.”
A pause, then, “Are you okay? I know it’s early and I probably woke you, but you seem . . . not yourself.”
“I lost my spells.” The words came out before I could stop them.
“You lost your . . . ?”
“Magic. Spellcasting mojo. It’s gone. Something’s happened and—” I sucked in air. “Not important at the moment.”
“It is to you. I’m sorry.”
As he said that, I realized he was the first one who had. Everyone else rushed in with promises that we’d get it fixed or that it didn’t matter, which was nice, but I needed to hear this.
“Even more reason for you to come then,” Sean said. “We’ll solve a mystery and squelch a Cabal war and a rebellion. Hopefully by dinner.”
I smiled. “It’s a plan.”
twenty-five
In light of Sean’s call, our day started early, with a breakfast meeting at headquarters. Caterers served crepes and fruit plates and fresh-squeezed orange juice. When you’re Benicio Cortez, you can call up the best eatery in town and say, “I’d like breakfast for twelve and I’d like