“Watch. Let’s see what she does.”
It was an invasion. A personal and intimate violation. It was disturbing and I had no idea why it was bothering me so much. Unit Eighteen members used my plants all the time, cutting them, touching them. But this woman was doing something else. Something odd. Somethingnot right.
The strange woman stuck her hands into all ten pots, dipping fast, as if tasting. As if she knew what I was. Or what Soulwood was. Or something worse. It was bizarre.
Seconds later, she whirled and raced after the other two women, arriving at the break room only a moment behind them. She rushed in and knelt, running grayish hands over the sleeping boy. She jerked her head to glare at Soul. She picked up Devin like a baby, though he had to weigh seventy pounds, and carried him down the hallway. The social worker had Soul sign some papers before she followed the nanny and her charge away.
“That was freaky,” Jo said.
“I don’t think that either of the women mentioned the stink of burned hair, flesh, and vinyl tile,” Tandy said, still holding my wrist. “Neither reacted or even seemed to notice it.”
“The nanny was aware of, and angry about, Devin’s deep sleep,” Jo said, “but she didn’t do anything about it. She just got the kid out of the office pronto. They were in the building for four minutes, twenty-seven seconds altogether. Soul’s coming back in.”
The conference room door opened. “They are gone,” Soul said. “Play the video, please, with audio.”
Tandy released my hand and I went to my office to checkmy plants. The soil felt fine. The plants seemed fine. But... the strange gray woman hadtouchedthem. I didn’t like that at all but I didn’t know what to do about it. But... dang it. She hadtouched my plants!
I stopped by the null magic room, where the weres had been herded by Pea and Bean, and where they would remain until they were totally calm and ready to shift back to human. T. Laine was sitting in a chair in the hallway, looking sick. Even through the door, the null room affected her magics.
I pointed at the door and lifted my eyebrows, asking for permission. She nodded and I cracked the door and peeked in. The cats were stretched out on the long table and looked bored, a spotted tail tip twitching slightly. The metal chairs had all been tipped over, and one was bent like a pretzel, clearly having suffered from cat ire. Grindys were nowhere to be seen.
I said, “Devin’s gone.” The wereleopards ignored me, as cats are wont to do. I shut the door, catching a glimpse of Soul in Rick’s office, talking on her cell, pacing. I patted T. Laine’s shoulder and left her to her null room misery.
•••
JoJo and Tandy were in the conference room, sharing a quiet moment over coffee, and probably thinking that no one knew they were an item. There was an open tin of Christmas cookies on the table, half-empty. I sat and fingered my longer hair, not willing to start back on the case, not yet. Soul came in again shortly after and started a fresh pot of Rick’s Community Coffee. We had recently discovered that Ingles grocery stores carried the brand, and he no longer had to buy it over the Net. Best coffee ever. By the scent, this was their coffee and chicory mix, which was coffee with a flavor kick I was coming to adore. The quiet moments passed and we each accepted a cup of coffee from the big boss, letting her serve us all. We sipped. Rested.
Before the cups were empty, T. Laine entered and plopped in her chair. “Pea let the cats out and they started changing back. The daytime crew needs sleep so let’s please do a quickdebrief and let us get to bed. You can fill in the cats when they get back.”
Soul inclined her head and said, “Summary. We have firestarters. Jones and Dyson have spent the last few hours going over, again, the Tollivers’ past and current financial, political, and familial status. Kent has been looking at firestarter species. Jones?”
Soul was still using a neutral, demanding tone and last names, which seemed to give this case a gravitas it hadn’t had before, again suggesting that this case was no longer an easy-to-solve one but a dangerous one. I tapped my tablet on and opened the files waiting on my screen.
Jo said, “We’ve been searching through birth and death records and fire and arson records to see if Tolliver firestarters are new to this generation or have been around a while.”
New?I asked, “How could they be new?” WasInew? Or had there been leafy people in my past family tree?Family tree. I repressed a grin, turning my lips under and biting them together, tucking my head so no one would ask what was amusing. But Tandy knew and shot me a look full of questions. I ignored him.
“Recessive genes,” Jo said, “or mutated genes. Tandy’s got the birth history research.”
Tandy hit a key on the remote that controlled the big screens. “If pyro is a new trait, then the mutation started somewhere. So let’s start with the parents. Justin was adopted but from inside the family. An older sister, Miriam Tolliver, got pregnant out of wedlock, which was a social crime in the day. The infant Justin was adopted by her parents, and a father’s name was never put forth. This makes Justin and Abrams biological uncle and nephew raised as brothers.”
Jo said, “Miriam moved away and hasn’t been seen or heard from in more than three decades. I’ve started a search for her whereabouts. Until now, no Tolliver children or adults have publicly displayed pyro capabilities, but it was Justin’s house that burned, so maybe Justin’s kids are pyros or Devin got there somehow and started that fire too. Okay. That soundsstupid for an adult, let alone an eleven-year-old. Never mind. But maybe the appearance of a pyro ability is what started all this.”
“If so, then we’re postulating recessive pyro genes?” I asked, thinking about T. Laine’s listing of the types of paranormal creatures.
“Jones and I are hypothesizing that firestarting is a natural ability that the young Tollivers have to be trained to control,” Tandy said, “and that this isn’t the first time it’s appeared. Just after Justin was adopted, he and Abrams were staying with Abrams’ paternal grandparents, who would be Justin’s maternal great-grandparents, if I have the family tree right. There was a massive fire in their remote home in the mountains near Whittier, North Carolina. Justin and Abrams survived. None of the adults did.”
He looked around the room to make sure he had our attention, his Lichtenberg lines glowing bright in my improved vision.
We all leaned in slightly. He had hooked us. “Arson investigators speculated that the fire started in the master suite, but it burned so hot and fast they were never able to pinpoint the exact location or cause, though arson was ruled out. This was almost thirty years ago, and even then the Tollivers had their hands in every political pie, so it’s possible anything suspicious but unconfirmed was ruled accidental or unresolved, as a favor to the family.”
Follow the money,Spook School taught. “Who got the estate?” I asked.
“Seven million dollars. Equally split between Justin’s missing biological mother and Abrams’ father. A week later, the elder Tollivers’ car went off a cliff in the Appalachian Mountains in the middle of a snowstorm. It crashed into a gorge and exploded, killing both of Abrams’ parents.”
I said, “So the money went to the kids. That would be motive but it’s not likely that the children killed their families, especially not by a car wreck in the mountains.”
Tandy turned up a palm as if to say maybe, maybe not, and shook his head. His reddish curls quivered with themotion. “Abrams’ parents deceased. Justin’s mother disappeared, leaving the family fortune in the hands of the boys. If we follow the money, this feels suspicious.”
