When Vlad ended his text message, Zacharias resumed his line of defense. “It’s true I’m operating numerous drug labs around the city, but it’s standard operating procedure to have many going on at the same time. If the police shut down one or two, production isn’t affected. I assure you, the labs will be checked out thoroughly.”
Vlad stood, a clear indication the meeting was over. “So we understand each other?”
“Yes, sir.”
Vlad headed for the door, pausing at the threshold. “You’ll be receiving a large shipment by the end of the week. Can you handle the increase?”
The comment was a deliberate insult to Zacharias’s competence. Vlad was treating him like an inexperienced punk kid. Zacharias smiled more broadly to hide the tightening in his jaw. “Piece of cake.”
Zacharias waited until the Grand Vizier had left the warehouse and was in the parking lot before he was able to control his breathing well enough to make a call. When the person on the other end picked up, Zacharias snapped an order. “I have a job for you. One that you’ll find to your liking. There’s a rat in my warehouse. Find the bastard and exterminate him.”
Chapter Fifteen
Across town, rain drizzled over the gray streets of Seattle as Rowan walked to his scheduled appointment with Detective Lyons. He’d landed his private plane a short time ago, parted ways with his brother and Renegade, and headed into the downtown area by cab. Meeting with Lyons was the last thing on his mind—the goddess at Bealtaine being the first, and the mysterious disappearance of her, the children, and the female Wizards running a close second.
But he owed it to the detective to fill him in on the deaths on the island. There was a connection, and Lyons might have learned more details while Rowan was gone. The man might not have a magical bone in his body, but his foster mother had been a recovering vampire who drank only synthetic blood. With this kind of mother, Lyons had been taught early in life about Seattle’s underground magical community and how to navigate it without getting killed.
By this late on Monday afternoon, there were still no leads on the missing Wizards. Rowan was running out of options, so a meeting with Lyons was a long shot he was willing to take. After they landed, they’d all separated, Stryker to track down his leads, Renegade his. Or at least that was what Rowan hoped the Troll would do. The man was harder to read than a zombie’s expression.
Rowan waited on the corner for the traffic light to change. It seemed to take longer than normal. Too early in the spring season for a power outage, but this was the Northwest and known for high winds, rain, and changes in weather. One minute the day was as grey as the underbelly of a dragon. The next the sun blinded, and he was the only one wearing sunglasses.
Rowan glanced at his cell. He was going to be late. His time on the island had changed the rules, and that made him veryimpatient. Forty-eight hours ago, his life was simple. Hunt down the bad guys. Catch the bad guys. Kill or arrest the bad guys. The latter outcome depended on his mood and the crime.
Three ravens dropped from a rooftop and perched on a trio of newspaper stands. People rushed past the birds as though they were the harbingers of doom in a fairy tale. The humans’ instincts might be closer to the truth than they imagined. Most people couldn’t tell the difference between crows and ravens. Crows were true scavengers, content to feed off scraps and roadkill. Ravens were hunters and protected their own. It was not uncommon to see them drive off an eagle who threatened their nest.
One of the ravens turned toward Rowan. For a split second its eyes looked human, and in that instant Rowan knew—they were Ravs, part raven, part human. Ravs were messengers, spies, snitches, protectors, and shapeshifters—which meant that, like the majority of the magical community, some were good, and some were evil.
The ravens lifted from their perch and disappeared down an alley. He couldn’t tell if they wanted him to follow or… A horn blared. It seemed to shake the pedestrians on the sidewalk. Generally, Seattleites didn’t honk horns. Must be a tourist, or maybe someone who’d just moved to Seattle from another part of the United States.
He swore under his breath. The presence of Ravs was never a good omen. It almost always meant a warning of some kind. What was taking so fracking long for the lights to change? Taking advantage of the sluggish flow of traffic, he jogged around the cars clogging the intersection and headed to the coffee shop.
It was in the middle of the block. Lyons sat under one of the café’s large umbrellas, waiting for him. Rain had forced the less hardy indoors, which Rowan knew suited the detective. Lyonswasn’t a people person. He sat at a table in the rainy drizzle as though it were a balmy day, wearing his grey wool suit like a superhero’s costume. His college football career had ended with a torn rotator cuff. He felt his life was over, but in his senior year he learned that his foster mother had died trying to save an innocent, and her unselfish act had awakened a new sense of purpose. He was a rare breed and seemed surprised he got paid for doing something he loved.
Rowan joined Lyons, nodded hello and sat facing the street, accepting the black coffee that Lyons shoved his way with another nod of thanks. “Did the evidence you and I gathered on the Pentagram serial killer hold up?” Rowan said.
“Like glue. It’s now in the court’s hands.” Lyons’ grin lit up his face, minimizing the dark circles. “And thanks for the tip on the kidnapper. The guy was right where you said he’d be. The pond scum had the woman tied up in a deserted warehouse—lots of nasty-looking knives set out in neat rows on a table. Dried blood from previous victims smeared on the walls and floor. A real nightmare.” Lyons rubbed both temples as though trying to erase the memory from his mind. The look in his eyes told Rowan he hadn’t been successful. Lyons let out his breath and reached into his suit pocket for an envelope. “We never would have rescued the girl from that ghoul in time if it weren’t for your tip.”
Rowan accepted the envelope and tucked it away without counting the money. He knew it would be fair. Rowan was off the books and there was a silent benefactor at the department who paid him for tips or when he brought criminals to justice. “Glad I could help. Feels like more than usual.”
“Consider it a bonus. The chief thinks you’re a cross between a bloodhound and Houdini. I give you a sample of something belonging to the missing person and you find them.” Lyons satback and glanced over at the slow-moving traffic. “If I told them who you really were…”
“They’d throw you in a padded cell.”
Lyons laughed. “I might enjoy the quiet time. I’m going to add fortunetelling to your job description. That’s exactly what they’d do.” Lyons stared into his coffee as though it was a crystal ball. “Think you’d reconsider starting a P.I. business with me? We can pick our cases instead of them picking us.”
Rowan had received a lot of offers over the years. Working with Lyons held a unique appeal. He was the first human he had ever trusted. The global issues the Talons and the Grey Council dealt with took years, sometimes centuries, to accomplish. He and Lyons might be able to do a lot of good in the here and now. Besides, in addition to trusting the guy, he also respected him. He was one of the good guys.
Rowan finished his coffee. It had turned ice cold, but the jolt of caffeine was just what he needed. “I’ll think over the offer. New topic. Any leads on the yacht, and the missing female Wizards and Wizardlings I mentioned over the phone?”
Lyons took out his notepad and flipped a few pages. “The only boats docking in the last twenty-four hours were cruise ships and ferryboats. Bad weather reports kept everything else tied up to a pier, but I’ll keep checking. Want to tell me what this is about?”
“Would you like a refill on your coffee, Detective Lyons?” A tall blonde cliché batted her eyelashes and smiled, her teeth so white Rowan almost squinted.
Lyons didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
She hesitated and then headed back inside.
“Interesting,” Rowan said. “She acted like she knew you or wanted to know you.”
