“She’s petite and blond, right?” I asked.
“Yes,” Rinker said.
“That’s probably her then.” Even worse for local law enforcement—a missing heiress.
“When two of my men went to the Aurillacs’ yacht to inform her parents, Magus Silvanus was already there and had broken the news.”
Mychael didn’t swear, but his eyes sure did.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Carnades Silvanus,” Mychael told me. “The senior mage on the Seat of Twelve.”
“How does he know the girl?”
“He’s her faculty advisor,” Rinker told me. “As soon as her dorm housemother discovered she was missing, she notified the magus and then the watch. The magus went directly to the girl’s parents.”
And stepped hard on some city watch toes when he did. Bet that hadn’t earned him any popularity points with Rinker’s people.
“What’s in it for him?” I asked. “Besides a brown nose?”
“A black eye for local law enforcement,” Mychael said. “Guardians included.”
I carefully wrapped the hairbrush. “Banan Ryce took Megan Jacobs. Since Ailia Aurillac is with her, I think it’s safe to say that Banan or his Nightshades are responsible for her as well. Where was Ailia taken from?”
“Her dorm room.”
So much for campus security.
“By any chance does she have a large mirror?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine a wealthy heiress who wouldn’t.
“She does,” Rinker said.
The girl I saw with Megan wasn’t dead, but she wasn’t moving, either. “Were there signs of violence found in the room?”
“None. But we did find a rag soaked with wiccbane.”
“Good,” I said.
That earned me an odd look from both men.
“I’d rather get wiccbane than clubbed over the head,” I told them. “Linking with her might make me woozy, but that’ll be it.”
“But you’ve already seen Miss Aurillac,” Mychael said.
“I saw her, but I didn’t see how she got there. Megan Jacobs is conscious and scared to death. The only thing I’m getting from her is light-headed. Ailia Aurillac is asleep or unconscious. That means a link with her just might let me see the last people she saw before the wiccbane got to her.”
Rinker’s dark eyes shone. “You can do that?”
I met his gaze. “I can do that.” Then I leaned forward with a conspirator’s smile. “And I’m betting you have something of hers in that bag.”
“I do. I was one of the first watchers on the scene. I found a gold locket on the floor of her room. The chain was broken.”
“Any blood on it?”
“A little.”
Bad for Ailia, good for me. That should make my link all the more powerful. I held out my hand. Rinker dropped the pouch into it.
I opened the bag and dumped its contents onto the couch beside me. I picked it up by the chain, careful to avoid for now the specks of blood on one section. I’d found through unpleasant experience that a chain conducted images a lot less than a pendant. I didn’t know why; it just did. I looked at Ailia’s pendant—gold, high quality, beautiful workmanship. The pendant was large enough to contain engraving inside or even a tiny painting. My money was on the latter. The Aurillacs could certainly afford a miniature portrait, or perhaps it was a gift from the girl’s fiancé.
“Is she engaged?” I asked Sedge.
“Not that I am aware of.”
Probably a gift from her parents then.
I hesitated a moment longer, then dropped the locket and chain into my hand and closed my fist around both.
I had been grabbed from behind before. I knew what to do. I had a couple of responses that had served me very well. Ailia had never been attacked. Panic was the only response she knew. I didn’t enjoy feeling it along with her. Panic, terror, frantic struggling against at least three attackers in the near darkness. She didn’t stand a chance and they knew it. They were laughing. She managed one muffled scream before they’d made sure she couldn’t. Two wore masks; one didn’t. I knew the one not wearing a mask. Ailia didn’t, but she saw him. That wasn’t good. Generally kidnappers who let you see them might be planning on collecting a ransom, but they weren’t planning on letting you go once they did.
The unmasked kidnapper was Banan Ryce. That made it even worse.
The last thing both Ailia and I saw was Ryce’s green eyes.
The next thing that blurred into focus was Mychael’s concerned blue eyes, which was a vast improvement.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I nodded, then shook my head to clear it. “Do you know if Banan still has those two mirror mages working for him?” I asked Mychael.
"He does. ”
“Looks like they’re earning their keep.”
Banan’s two mirror mages were identical twins, bound to each other by more than appearance. To take something or someone through a mirror took a pair of mages working in perfect unison—one at a receiving mirror, one at the origin mirror. Anything less and a mirror was just a mirror. Banan’s twins were good, the best I’d ever seen. One of the twins had probably been hiding in that courtyard this morning, keeping the getaway mirror warm and running for his boss. A lot of stolen goods—or two kidnapped girls—could be passed through two magically connected mirrors.
“Are Megan Jacobs’s parents wealthy?” I asked.
“They’re well off,” Rinker told me. “But not anywhere near the Aurillacs.”
“Banan Ryce could still be after a ransom,” I said. “But I doubt it. Even the Aurillacs would be small change for him. And Banan Ryce doesn’t take a job unless he’s paid a lot of gold up front with more on the way.” I paused uneasily. “He’s got some—shall we say—expensive tastes.”
Neither man asked me to elaborate and I was grateful. I still felt queasy enough from the link.
“I don’t care how good they are—Nightshades can’t completely go to ground,” Rinker said. “They have to eat, and eating means supplies. I know of a few houses where they’ve holed up in the past. I’ll have my men stake those out. Miss Benares, is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Hurry.”
“That’s a given.”
I indicated the brush and locket. “May I keep these for now? I’d like to use them again. Maybe next time I can catch Banan’s mage employer off guard and get some specifics for you.”
“Of course.” Rinker retrieved his cloak and headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch. Let me know if you find out anything else.”
I nodded and rubbed my temples. I had a hell of a headache coming on. No surprise there. I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Headache?” Mychael asked.
I didn’t open my eyes. “Not yet, but I’ve got a doozy on the way.”
Mychael had walked Sedge to the door, but didn’t close it after him. “Vegard?” he called.
I opened my eyes.
“Sir?”
“Could you have the kitchen send up something for Raine?”
“Yes, sir.” Vegard glanced in and gave me an encouraging smile. I returned the favor as best I could. “You okay, ma’am?”
“I’ll get there. I’m not hungry,” I told both of them.
“You need to eat,” Mychael said.
“Is that your healer’s voice I hear?”
“It’s one of them.” He turned to Vegard. “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just food and make it fast.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mychael closed the door.
I leaned back on the couch, and let the quiet grow for a few moments. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d taken a pair of Nightshades?”
“We have yet to gain any useful information from them.”
“Useful information? Or any information you’re willing to share with me?”
Mychael didn’t answer. Sometimes silence said more than a whole mouthful of words.
I took a breath and let it out slowly. “That’s what I thought.”
Mychael’s eyes softened a little. “Raine, I’m telling you the truth. We haven’t learned anything from them. But if we do—”
“You still couldn’t tell me.”
He hesitated. “I’m under direct orders not to.” From his tone, he liked saying it as much as I liked hearing it.
I just looked at him. “Justinius. The old man doesn’t trust me as far as his bony arms could throw me.”
“He didn’t get to where he is, and stay there for as long as he has, by taking unnecessary risks,” Mychael told me.
“So telling me what’s going on would be both unnecessary and a risk.”
“In Justinius’s opinion, yes.”
“What about yours?”
“If I learn anything that tells me you’re in more danger than you already are, then I will share that information with you. I feel responsible for getting you into all of this, and I will protect you.”
“I know, because it’s your job.”
His eyes were on mine, steadfast and resolute. “It’s more than my job,” he said softly. “I think you know that.”
I did.
Mychael sat down next to me, and raised his palms toward me.
“I can help with that headache. May I?”
I hesitated only a second before nodding. I didn’t know what he was going to do, but I had a feeling I’d like it and my budding headache wouldn’t.
He placed his thumbs against my temples, his strong hands wrapping around my head, his fingertips a warm pressure against the base of my skull. His thumbs started doing wonderful, circular things to my temples and his fingertips were doing likewise to the back of my neck. Oh my. I dimly heard myself make a little sound of contentment. No headache could survive that tactile onslaught.
