Rizzoli showed up some time later with Gail Jones in tow. I was interested to see her move around the room, sensing the energies. I think she realized something bigger than just a demented witch doctor had been here, but she didn’t mention it to Rizzoli.
Interesting.
But the best part is she knew what to do to remove the memory spell once she talked to John on the phone. There was clear fangirling on her part while talking to John.
She was also looking forward to meeting Bruno. Her bright, clear eyes when she said “Mage DeLuca” practically screamed hero worship. I haven’t felt that way about anyone in a long time. Not since El Jefe.
I really wanted to remember the moment I was able to … well, remember, but the whole spell was a blur. Maybe it was painful. I was certainly stiff and sore when I came to. Normally I don’t pass out during spells, but this time I did. Probably best not to know what happened. All I know is when Dom and Gail arrived, it was pitch-black, the darkest part of the night. When I came to, it was afternoon. Never a good sign.
Rizzoli looked at me oddly for a long time when I was drinking down a chocolate nutrition shake, so definitely best not to know.
Still, it’s amazing what some sleep and the lifting of a memory corruption curse can do for a gal. I felt good, better than I’d felt in weeks. I felt even better when I figured out a way for someone to bring me my best weapons and some fresh clothes.
There’s only one person on earth other than me who has access to my safe—the designer, Justin. I’d thought I’d have to pay an outrageous fee to have him meet Rizzoli, Bruno, and John at the office for me. I was willing to, but he refused to take any money. He told John to tell me, “Anything you’re into that is this hairy, you need your stuff,” and, “I prefer live and paying customers.”
The boys all came into Dr. Jean-Baptiste’s exam room together. Bruno was carrying the duffel I keep in my safe. I was so happy to see it, and him, that it took me a second to realize who else had tagged along.
“Kevin?” He gave me a nervous half smile, no doubt worrying I was still angry with him. Yeah, I was, and I wasn’t sure why he thought I’d trust him. “You can’t imagine I’ll work with you. Can you?”
He remained very still but met my eyes without flinching. “Emma sent me. She called and told me where to be. Apparently, you’re going to need me tonight.”
Crap. Emma’s not a terribly powerful clairvoyant, but when she gets a vision, it’s good as gold. She’s come through in the clutch before, so she was probably right. And while I was still hurt and angry with Kevin, he was one of the best of the best black ops guys, even with PTSD.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Rizzoli asked him.
He let out a snort. “No. But I don’t think I have a choice. If anything happened to Celia when I could have done … whatever it is I do to save her, I wouldn’t last a week. Even her enemies would come after me. Let’s not talk about what her friends would do. They’d make me beg to die, just to end the pain.”
Hard to argue with that logic. Looking at Bruno and John, I had the feeling he was right.
“Celia?” Rizzoli inquired.
I could only shrug. “It’s your party. You’ve got the badges. You could make any of them sit this out and I couldn’t do a thing about it.”
“Glad to see somebody realizes that.” He glared at the other men, but not like he meant it.
“You need us. Glinda’s going to be using magic that’s the equal of mine, plus whoever else she’s robbed. Every mage you have is on duty at the hospitals on zombie watch,” Creede said calmly. “But you’re in charge. I get that.” It drew my attention to him. He looked better than he had. Not good, but better. His physical injuries were less obvious, and he held himself with more of his usual confidence, and I could sense magic in him. That surprised me.
He heard my thoughts, and answered them, even though he still had eyes locked with Rizzoli. DeLuca helped me. We worked closely on the rift. He knows my signature. So he gave me a … transfusion. If he hadn’t, my magic would be gone for good. I’m not myself, and there are some control issues. But, I’ll eventually heal up.
That was … awesome. There are plenty of people who wouldn’t have been willing to share their powers like that, even if they could. But that was Bruno. He has his faults, but he’s one hell of a guy.
Yeah, he is.
“Glad you realize that.” Rizzoli gestured for us to gather around. He spread the blueprints he’d been carrying out on the examining table. Plopping a box of latex gloves on one end to hold it flat, he pointed out specific features of the building where they thought she was.
“We traced the number Jean-Baptiste called to a prepaid cell phone that is currently at this address. It’s on the border of the warehouse and red-light districts.”
I didn’t smack myself on the head, but I wanted to. I remembered now. I’d seen that staircase the night I was bitten and half-turned. I’d been guarding a demon spawn posing as a prince who’d taken us on a tour of the seediest, bottom-of-the-barrel strip clubs in the area. This one had been in a converted warehouse. The main bar and club were in an open area spanning all three floors, with the storerooms and dressing rooms on the north wall of the first floor. The “lap dance” rooms had been on the second floor. There were catwalks leading to the lighting fixtures attached to the ceiling beams. Clubs like that come and go pretty quickly. I wasn’t surprised she’d been able to buy the place. Probably for a song.
“Celia?” Bruno’s voice brought me back to the present with a start.
“Sorry. Just remembering. I just realized I’ve been here.”
Male brows raised all around.
Jeez. “Get your minds out of the gutter. It was on a job. The night I was attacked. But she may have done some remodeling since then.”
Kevin got closer. “You’re right. That’s the alley where I found you. I know a back way to get there … where they won’t see us coming. I never made it inside, but I can get the second group there without a soul seeing.”
Rizzoli nodded. “I’ll take any advantage we can get. And here’s another advantage.” He opened his hand to reveal tiny dots about the size of BBs. “We’ll be using technology and magic to get intel on the layout. All we know so far is the place has some major shielding.”
Magic and technology that can get through shielding. I immediately thought of a gadget John had invented that could turn the tide in our favor.
But he was already shaking his head sadly. “Can’t. The fly is gone. They stole it along with my car. All that was left of the Ferrari by the time the cops closed in on the chop shop was the section of the frame with the tracer on it.”
Aw man. That car had been his baby. I remember flying down the interstate with him, wind in my hair at speeds that were well past illegal … except during a magical crisis, which made even cops change lanes to give way. And the fly, a prototype of a magical device he’d invented himself. Both gone.
It reminded me I wasn’t the only one who’d been having a crappy time of it lately.
I touched his forearm to find it tense. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Yeah.” Man, he really was choked up by the way the sound crawled out of his throat.
“Ahem.” Rizzoli looked from John to me. “Focus, people. Celia, since you’ve actually been here, and fairly recently, walk us through the layout.”
It didn’t take long. Other than the rooms on the one wall, the place was mostly a big open box. Which would make it seriously hard to do anything sneaky. Glinda was definitely going to have the advantage when it came to terrain.
I suggested I go in alone, as though I’d been enthralled by Dr. Jean-Baptiste. I could play dumb pretty well. People sort of expect it from a natural blonde, so I practice. It’s good to keep people off-balance by living down to their expectations. The others could follow while I kept her distracted and we could overwhelm her with sheer numbers.
Not unexpectedly, Bruno, John, and Kevin didn’t like that idea. Not at all. They explained in the finest detail and strongest wording why it was unworkable, illogical, and … well, that pretty well said it all.
Only Rizzoli nodded. “There are six entrances on the ground floor, one fire escape attached to the office areas on the second floor, and skylights on the roof. It could work. Yeah, she’s got shielding and there are lookouts and guards, but really—our best option is to go through with Celia’s plan.” The boys turned as one and looked horrified, which was flattering. “At least partially,” Rizzoli amended. “I think I can go one better, though, so I’ve brought in a very special agent from Dallas.”
On cue the woman who had been waiting in the hallway walked in. Tall, slender, she was like a carving of a goddess done in ebony. She could’ve walked any fashion runway and made a fortune, and I wondered why she’d chosen a career with the Feds.
The boys’ reaction was less favorable. Bruno was fine. But Creede took a step back, his eyes narrowing, and Kevin gave a barely audible growl.
“Can it, Fido,” she warned impatiently. “I’m on your side.”
“What’s up?” Bruno asked. He didn’t seem to know what was bothering them any more than I did, but he was alert, and I could feel him gathering his power.
Rizzoli sighed. “Special Agent Matumbo’s mother was human, a witch. Her father was a demon.”
She was a spawn, with magic? Oh, crap. There were spawn working for the Feds? That was disturbing on so many levels.
“She is a trusted field agent”—he glared at each of us in turn—“and has the ability to shape-shift convincingly and produce powerful shields. Her magic is primarily defensive. She will be going in with Celia in the guise of Jean-Baptiste. You”—he pointed to Bruno—“and I are going to be his hired thugs. That will get us in the front door so we can find and disable the source of the shield.”