Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian 6)

“You’re one of the best Farouche has, right?”

“Had,” he clarified. “But yeah, I was one of his best.”

“I think your former boss is trying to load his staff with people who are really good at what they do. Tell me,” I said, tilting my head, “is there anything special about the cook?”

“Hennie?” A fond smile touched Bryce’s mouth. “She’s a great cook. Nothing exceptional though.” He paused and considered. “Except maybe her red velvet cake,” he added with a chuckle. Then his brows drew together in thought. “She’s always on top of people’s allergies and preferences. Like, she never forgets and serves Jerry peas, or lets different foods touch on Carter’s plate. She cares, for sure.” He looked up, shrugged. “But it’s not a super power or anything. I will say she does make the best soup for a cold or flu though. Really does the trick.”

“Bryce, let go of the notion that sensitive people need to be X-Men mutants.”

He smiled wryly. “Gotcha. I guess that’s the picture I had in my head.”

“What about Sonny? What’s special about him?”

Bryce exhaled. “That one I know. He has this way of calming people. Mild-mannered, unassuming, often overlooked or underestimated. He was the Hispanic one you saw on the road with Farouche.”

“He didn’t look so mild-mannered with a gun pointed at me,” I said. “But I also know he’s under Farouche’s influence.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I find it pretty interesting that your former boss is hiring freaks like you.”

“Interesting for sure,” he said. “You know the accountant on the list? You could ask him to do any sort of calculation, and he’d have the answer before you could type it into the calculator. He got sick of us testing him.”

I pursed my lips, nodded. “Take a single aspect and super-charge it. Gives your former boss a lot of power. And not only does he hire people with talents, he somehow finds them in the first place.”

Bryce rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin, frowning in thought. “Y’know, I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Such as?”

“Now you’ve got me thinking about it,” he said, “and, well . . .” He grimaced. “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“Try me.”

He remained silent for several seconds, very obviously gathering his thoughts. “The people who are ‘talented’ get better at whatever they’re talented at after working for Mr. Farouche for a while,” he finally said. “Like Paul. He was a damn good hacker before we snatched him, but after a month he was, well, you’ve seen him in action. It’s like he leveled up. And I’ve seen the same sort of thing in several others, though I didn’t really connect it all until now.” He gave a self-conscious shrug. “Myself included. My instincts have always been good, but they got a lot better after I was recruited.”

I let out a low whistle. “Not only does Farouche have a way to find talented people, but he amplifies their talent.”

“Kara! Bryce!” Paul shouted from inside. “Come quick!”

Bryce and I hurried in and down the hall to my so-called office where Paul sat in front of his new laptop.

“What is it, Paul?” I asked.

“Is this him? Is this Idris?” he asked, practically bursting with excitement as he spun the chair to face us.

I hurried forward to peer at the grainy image on the screen. “Shit! Yes! Where is he? When was that?”

“Private jet at a small airport not far from Amarillo,” Paul informed me proudly. “Morning of the day before yesterday. He came off the plane with—” He clicked, changed to an image of a sturdy red-haired woman.

“I’ve seen her before,” I said, but the memory of where and when eluded me like a handful of smoke.

“Gina Hallsworth of Katashi’s organization,” Paul supplied after a few clicks in another window. “I ran searches for known associates of Katashi and have reference pics for most of those now.”

That was all I needed to trigger the recall. “She’s a summoner,” I announced. I’d seen her a few times when I spent my miserable time at Katashi’s.

Paul clicked again. “Bryce, this is who was at his elbow.”

Bryce’s arm brushed mine as he moved in closer. “Shit. Nigel Fox.”

“One of Farouche’s people?” I asked.

He grimaced. “A top man. Worked out of Austin. If he’s babysitting Idris, Farouche is serious.”