Spellbound (Otherworld 12)

"That's for you and Cassandra," Sean said, pointing at an older model BMW. "Discreet enough in L.A. Lucas and I have a meeting with Granddad so I thought you two would want to head off on your own."

"Just point us in the right direction," I said. "I take it we'll be dodging Nast security?"

He shook his head. "There is no official investigation to dodge. Launching one would suggest our grandfather has some doubts regarding who took the boy. He needs to hold off until Lucas denies Benicio's involvement. Then he'll launch one to prove it. Until then, he has simply secured the crime-scene."

"Don't you love politics?" I said.

"Quite," Cassandra said. "I enjoy watching mortals chase their petty distractions, desperately and foolishly bent on convincing themselves that their actions will have meaning after their flesh has dried to dust."

"I wasn't asking you." I turned to Sean. "So if they've secured the scene, can't I get in?"

"You can. I've made arrangements. You'll also find a folder in the car with all the details so far. Call me if you have any questions." He turned to Troy. "Are you staying with Lucas or guarding Savannah?"

"My orders say Lucas," Troy replied. "And in this case, my orders are right. While Savannah could use the shadow, mine is too large for an unobtrusive investigation. Ms. DuCharme will be playing the role of bodyguard today. Vamps may not have superpowers, but they make good shields and excellent cannon fodder."

"Thank you," Cassandra said.

Troy grinned. "Anytime, ma'am."

I drove while Cassandra read the file. That plan lasted as far as the gate before I pulled over, handed her the keys, and grabbed the pages.

"I need the six o'clock news version," I said as we switched seats. "Not the CNN commentary."

"How dull."

"Yep."

I read aloud as she drove.

Each Cabal has a resident clairvoyant. It's a rare but invaluable power. Clairvoyants can't actually see the future, but they have the power of remote viewing. They can see the world through the eyes of their target. The best can also read a target's emotions and combine that with the remote viewing to predict actions.

The catch? By the time a clairvoyant is that good, he or she is well on the road to madness. The human brain isn't equipped to deal with that level of stimulation. Your average clairvoyant family produces only just one member with powers every few generations, which explains why Cabals employ only one of each. Add in the fact that working for a Cabal substantially increases the use of one's powers, speeding them faster toward madness, and you can see why getting even one isn't easy. Cabals either have to kidnap them or establish a relationship with a clairvoyant family.

The boy--Larsen--had been placed with the great-niece of the Nasts' clairvoyant. She was married to a Nast half-demon employee, and they had a child of their own, a few years older than Larsen. It was as close to a safe and normal family as they could provide for the kid. I suspected Sean was the one behind the arrangement.

So Larsen lived his semi-normal life with his semi-normal family in a cute little bungalow. A fortified bungalow. With trained security officers for neighbors on either side, and a bulletproof minivan to drive him to mom-and-tot classes at the gym.

So what had happened? No one knew. The gu

ards had changed shifts at seven. The day team went to their "homes" on either side, and had a normal night, reporting no disturbances. The night shift was supposed to call in to headquarters at midnight. At one, when it was clear no update was coming, the security command center called. They paged. They texted. Then they woke up the guards living on either side and sent them to the house. It was empty. No sign of a struggle. No sign of a security breach. No sign of the night guards, the family, or the two specially trained dogs. No sign of Larsen.

I pulled up to the gated drive. It didn't look like a security gate, just part of a tall, ornamental fence. A small sign politely warned there were dogs loose on the premises, so visitors would need to buzz to be admitted.

I buzzed and gave my name. The gates opened, then closed behind our car as a man walked out from a guard post disguised as a garden shed.

I recognized him as Davis, one of Sean's personal guards. Like Troy, Davis is loyal to his boss, not the Cabal, meaning he could be trusted.

"Hey, Davis," I said as I got out of the car.

"Hello, Miss Nast." He knew my last name was Levine, but to him this was a mark of respect for my brother, an acknowledgment of our shared parentage.

He greeted Cassandra, warily, and as he led us toward the house, he stayed on my other side, as far away from her as he could get. She ignored it. She always does.

"First question," I said as we walked. "Video footage?"

"Nothing."

"So someone turned off the feed."