Necromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 6)

The phone rang once before a deep, velvet voice said, “Alice?”

She pinched her eyes shut and pressed her lips together. He sounded just the same. There was a hint of surprise in his tone, but no hostility.

“Hi.” She couldn’t bring herself to call him Dad.

He sounded uncertain. “How are you?”

This wasn’t a patch-up call. There was no need to go through the small talk. “I need your help.”

“I gathered,” he said neutrally.

“A friend is in trouble.”

“Someone I know?”

She hesitated. “I wouldn’t ask, but there’s no one else.”

“Ivan Kray.”

Her dad had always been sharp. She never gave him enough credit for his quick assessment of situations.

“I’m at the New Royal Theater in London,” she said. “I don’t expect you to come, but I know you have connections.”

“I know where you are.”

Was it possible that he’d kept track of her life?

He proved her wrong by saying, “My technology traced the call.”

Of course. “Someone tried to kill Ivan.”

“Don’t say anything more. The line isn’t secure. I’ll be there in nine hours.”

She had mixed feelings about facing him. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“How are you?” he asked again.

She couldn’t handle more for now. “I’ll see you later. Do you need a lift from the airport?”

“No.”

How silly of her. Her dad had a private plane and transport.

“Okay.”

“Goodbye, Alice.”

The line went dead.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs and took a second to gather herself. While Ivan was being questioned, she needed to check on the media.

In the foyer, shocked theatregoers were lined up and taken into the admin office one by one where a police official took their statements. Some girls were crying while others sat on the floor, accepting water and blankets from the theater staff.

Johnny caught up with her as she was about to mount the stairs. “We’ve separated the media from the general public. They’re upstairs in the drama theater.”

“I know. I was just about to check on them.”

“As a safety measure, the police have confiscated all phones for the time being, and they’re still looking for weapons. Every bag and person is being searched. You’ll have to report for questioning, too.”

“Holding onto the phones is a blessing in disguise. It’ll give us time to get a statement to the press before the news hits the gossip columns. That’s why I wanted to find Henry.”

Johnny looked around. “Hurry before they call you in. They’ve got a list of the staff. They’re compiling one of the public as they’re interviewing them.”

She nodded and made her way to the smaller stage where she showed her badge to the police officer who guarded the door. “Alice Jones, publicity officer for the theater. I’d like to check on our guests.”

“No statements, ma’am,” he said.

“I understand.”

Inside, she easily spotted Henry who was a head taller than the rest. Sitting in the back row, he scribbled vigorously in a writing pad.

She took the empty seat next to him and motioned at the book in his hands. “It helps to be old-fashioned.”

He jerked his head up. “Alice! Thank God.” He gave her a quick hug. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“At least you’re penning down the story. The rest are waiting for their tablets and phones to be returned.”

“Ah, that’s what you meant with being old-fashioned.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “What’s going on? How long is the lock-down supposed to last?”

“I don’t know. Until everyone has been searched and interviewed, I guess.”

“Do they have a suspect?”

“No.” That wasn’t a lie. The police didn’t have a suspect. Only she and Ivan had a clue.

“Will you tell me if anything comes up?”

She smiled. “You’ll be the first to know if there are any announcements to be made.”

He took her hand. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“I’m happy you’re fine, too.”

“I’ve never been better. This is big news.”

“News that can kill the show and shut us down.”

He stroked a thumb over her knuckles. Finding the touch unpleasant for an inexplicable reason, she pulled her hand away.

“What do you propose?” he asked.

“Damage control. We run a feature on our new security system, and you get the exclusive as soon as the police find anything.”

“If your security is so good, how come a gun slipped through?”

She glanced around, but no one was paying attention to them in their corner. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“Make Ivan the martyr. People love that. He’ll become more popular than he already is. By blaming his unstable behavior of the other day on the stress from the hate mail he’s received, you’ll even hit two birds with one stone.”

“No one will want to come to his shows if we can’t keep them safe. We have to focus on our capability.”

“Your capability failed, tonight. Putting a spotlight on it will only make it worse. Focus on the shooter. The more dangerous and deranged we make him out to be, the more sensational. It’ll shift the attention from your security issues to something else.”