War Song (The Rift Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  At the same time, my Granduncle George Findlay had a heart attack, which brought up the question as to who would succeed him as the Family head if he died. Shortly thereafter, magikal attacks were launched against me and my grandmother, Olivia Findlay-James. Then evidence surfaced that David Moncrieff, the husband of one of my aunts, Courtney Findlay-Moncrieff, was a business partner with both Johansson and Ashvial, as well as the Akiyama Family.

  Johansson was murdered, then Sarah Benning, the missing girl, was discovered at the Moncrieff estate. A group of Families raided the estate and found other trafficked humans. We also captured Akiyama Hiroku, the security chief of the Akiyama Family, who was in the process of trying to smuggle underage girls to Japan. The Moncrieff Family members at the estate had been rounded up. My Aunt Courtney and her daughters were being kept in ‘protective custody’ at the Findlay estate, while David was under house arrest at the Moncrieff estate. Hiroku was being kept at the estate of Deputy Police Commissioner Thomas Whittaker under tight guard.

  My objective in going out to Findlay was a personal one—to interview my cousin Karolyn Moncrieff and ask her why she paid someone to kill me.

  Osiris Dillon, the Findlay Chief of Security, had outfitted a parlor in the west wing of the mansion for use as an interrogation room. It still looked like an elegant parlor, but magitek devices were implanted in the walls and the ceiling to record visual, audio, and telemetric data. A corner of the room had been partially walled off to hide a truthsayer who watched the proceedings.

  I sat in a comfortable chair and waited for Karolyn to arrive. By design, the only place for her to sit was an uncomfortable chair across a coffee table from me.

  When Karolyn entered the room, she looked around, sneered at me, then sauntered over and dropped into the chair. Her long chestnut hair fell across her shoulders, framing a face that should have been lovely but had too many hard planes. Her pale brown eyes were habitually narrowed due to her usually frowning expression. Karolyn was tall—not as tall as me, but several inches taller than her mother—and had her mother’s curves. She dressed in the latest fashions that showed a lot of skin.

  We had known each other our entire lives, gone to school together, and loathed each other with a fierce passion.

  “Hello, cousin,” she said. “Are you here to give me the third degree?”

  “What makes you think that?” I asked. “I’m just here to get your statement for the tribunal.”

  Mention of a tribunal—a court of the Magi—caused her frown to deepen. The Moncrieff Family was among the Hundred, and my Aunt Courtney was a Findlay—one of the Ten. They were virtually immune from civil authorities, but not from judgement by their peers.

  “As I’m sure you know,” I began, “twenty-three humans that were being held against their will were discovered at the Moncrieff estate at Elk Neck. Seventeen of them were domestic servants who worked twelve to fourteen hours a day, weren’t being paid, and weren’t allowed to leave. Since you’ve lived at the estate all your life, I was hoping you could tell me about that.”

  Karolyn stared at me, and I was sure she entertained thoughts of murder, but eventually she said, “I don’t know anything about the servants. You’d have to speak to my mother about them.”

  Not her father. Curious that she’d throw her dear old mom under the bus.

  “All right, I will. Now, the other six people we found. One of them told us that he was assigned to you, and his duties included activities of a sexual nature.” I had seen the guy, and he was gorgeous, not to mention having a body that would cause almost any woman to drool.

  She snorted. “In his dreams. He’s just a pool boy, and he had some fantasy that he was my personal servant. Follows me around, gets underfoot. You know how the underclasses are. Lying and thieving. You can’t trust any of them.”

  “I see. And what can you tell me about Sarah Benning and the other two girls we found? The empathic projectors? The mage girls?”

  Karolyn shrugged. “I didn’t pay any attention to them. I assumed they were play things for Hiroku, or maybe some of the other men. I don’t play with girls, and I mind my own business.”

  The direct way she said that while staring straight into my eyes let me know that she thought I should mind my own business, too.

  “But you know that men were playing with them? Sexual games?” I asked.

  Another shrug. “I said I assumed. I don’t know for a fact, and didn’t care to find out.”

  “Okay. Now, on the night of cousin Lila’s betrothal ball, just before the demon started killing people, you abruptly left the room. It looks on the vids as though you knew what was going to happen. Would you care to explain?”

  “No.”

  “I see. So, it was a complete coincidence that your father and sister left the room, you left the room, and your mother and Karl Rudolf went upstairs to shag, leaving no one in your family in danger of a homicidal demon?”

  I finally had her attention. Her eyes popped open, and she sat up straight in her chair.

  “What? Who told you Mom is screwing Karl? It’s a lie!”

  “Oh, well, I guess they could have spent an hour and a half in that bedroom playing chess, but based on entries in your mother’s diary and their phone records, my bet is they were having sex. Of course, there aren’t any CCTV cameras in the bedrooms, just in the hallways.” I was lying through my teeth about part of that. We hadn’t been able to crack the ward on Aunt Courtney’s diary.

  Her face turned an ugly shade of red, rather splotchy, and I fingered the magitek cube in my pocket. If she exploded, I had better be quick to trigger a shield. I knew I couldn’t match her magik.

  “I thought that was why you were screwing him,” I said. “The allure of doing your mom’s boyfriend.”

  She called me several names that weren’t very flattering.

  “But what I really want to know,” I said, “is why you paid Gecid to kill me.”

  Her demeanor changed completely. “What? Who? Don’t flatter yourself, you stupid bitch. I never even think about you. Why would I waste my time and money to kill you?”

  I held up the page of floral-scented notepaper with my address written on it.

  “Isn’t this your handwriting? And your DNA and fingerprints are on the paper.”

  “Yeah, I wrote it. So what?”

  “And why would you be writing my address for someone?”

  “Mom asked if I knew your address. I looked it up for her. She said she wanted to send you something. I might have hoped it was something poisonous, but I didn’t ask.”

  I wasn’t a truthsayer, but I’d been a cop for twelve years, and I believed her. Shortly afterward, I let her go back to her room. I wondered what she and her mother would talk about over dinner that evening.

  “She was telling the truth,” the truthsayer said as she came out of her hiding place. She chuckled. “The only lie she told was about the pool boy.”

  Yeah, that was my impression, also. So, it really was Aunt Courtney Findlay-Moncrieff who wanted me and my grandmother dead. The world made sense again.

  I dodged Osiris, going out the kitchen door to collect my bike. I didn’t want to talk to him or my grandmother until I had some time to think through the ramifications of Karolyn’s admissions.

  Chapter 3

  One of the things that trips a lot of criminals up is falling into habits. Developing conscious or unconscious patterns of behavior. Something works, so they do it again. When it works again, they get comfortable with it.

  The outside door from the kitchen led to a short walkway that branched. Turn right, and it took you to the dumpsters, discreetly hidden inside a tall fence. Turn left, and it led to the driveway that delivery trucks used to bring in the groceries. Past that driveway, another walkway took me to a pleasant little grassy area with a gazebo furnished with a small table and four chairs, and surrounded by trees.

  Unless the weather was bad, or my expected stay was fairly long, I parked my bike the
re because it was much closer than the garages.

  I turned into that miniature park and discovered my Granduncle George sitting there. It wasn’t a coincidence, because he wasn’t reading, or having tea, or doing anything else. He was just sitting and staring straight at me.

  “Why don’t you come talk to me,” he said in his soft voice. It wasn’t a question. I had never heard him yell, and at family—and Family—functions, he was always very quiet. But when he spoke, it was with an air of command. He was one of the most powerful mages in the world, one of the richest men in the world. Granduncle George Findlay didn’t have to tell anyone that. You felt it when in his presence.

  He wasn’t physically imposing. His short and slender figure, his hair and closely trimmed beard salted with gray, his sharp cheekbones, Roman nose, and his piercing gray eyes were what you noticed. He was one hundred fifty years old, the second generation of magikers. His parents were the offspring of crippled survivors of a pandemic that killed four out of five people infected.

  I walked over and sat in the chair he indicated, and he studied me. The silence stretched, and I tried not to fidget or squirm.

  Finally, he said, “Your father would be very proud of you. It’s too bad Hunter didn’t live to know you. You’ve grown into a woman who embodies every principle he held dear.”

  He reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket and pulled out a silver flask. He popped the stopper, took a swig, and passed it to me.

  “I’m not supposed to have any fun anymore. No whiskey, no fast women.” He chuckled. “Although your Aunt Denise has always been fast enough for me. No cigars, no pot, no strenuous exercise. Take a drink.”

  I did as he ordered. The whiskey was smooth as silk and burned all the way down. I passed the flask back to him. He stoppered it and put it back in his pocket.

  “There,” he said. “You’re a co-conspirator. Now, tell me the truth, and don’t sugar coat it. What in the hell is going on with my family?”

  “You mean the Moncrieffs?” I asked.

  “That, of course. Someone tried to kill Olivia, and someone tried to kill you. Now, I understand that a policewoman encounters dangerous situations, and probably makes enemies, but an ambush at her home by a pack of rogue mages doesn’t sound like an everyday affair. Spill.”

  “I don’t really have any concrete proof—” I started, but he cut me off.

  “Don’t bullshit me, Dani. You’re a terrible liar, and always have been. You’re damned good at your job, and that fiasco out at David and Courtney’s place proves it. Human trafficking? Dancing with demons? Courting Akiyama? All of it. Now.”

  So, I told him. It took a while, and I concluded with the interview I had just had with Karolyn. He didn’t interrupt or ask any questions. The only response I could see was an occasional twitch and his eyes dilating a little. I understood why his business rivals and partners considered him a fearsome negotiator.

  We sat for a few minutes in silence, then he said, “Damn. That girl has always been a problem. She thinks she’s a lot smarter than she is. You know she’s powerful, right? A strong storm mage.”

  I assumed he meant his daughter Courtney. I nodded.

  “Power without consideration—strength without compassion—has led to many a downfall,” he said. “The difference between you and Hunter is that you have some common sense. Your father was the strongest magitek of his generation, but he didn’t match either Hunter or you. And unfortunately, he felt the need to carry Hunter’s guilt. What your grandfather did is not your fault. Clear all of that kind of crap thinking out of your head, girl. You don’t have to atone for his foolishness. Just use your brain and don’t invent your own brand of stupidity. Never forget, we’re dangerous. The Magi are dangerous—to humanity, to the planet, to ourselves.”

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you. You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’m not really sure what to do about my daughter. I’ll talk to her mother, but Denise has always been the weaker person in that relationship.” He chuckled softly. “Hell, that’s probably the pot calling the kettle.”

  “Is that all, sir?” I asked.

  “One more thing. If you get a chance to talk to David, try and find out what in the hell they’re all thinking. I can’t imagine that his brother Alan was willing to toss everything their Family has built just to save a few dollars on servants’ wages.”

  It was a long drive out to the Moncrieff estate on the Elk Neck Peninsula, but compared to the distance from Police Headquarters, I was already halfway there. I collected my bike and rode out to interview David Moncrieff.

  Normally, showing up unannounced at any Magi Family residence and demanding to speak with the head of the house would be considered rude. But since David was under house arrest, I didn’t worry about it.

  I stopped and had a late lunch at a little crab shack overlooking the Bay. Mychal had taken David’s statement when he was first arrested. I called the file up on my laptop and read it while I ate.

  The Moncrieff Family was headquartered in Scotland. After the pandemic, the Moncrieff survivors displayed witch magic, but they were wealthy. Marriage to a poor but powerful mage, and subsequent marriages to mages, had mostly produced mages. The current Family head, Alan, was only seventy, which was young for his position.

  His younger brother David was a medium-strength aeromancer and a weak pyromancer who was the Family trade representative in North America. David and Courtney had a whirlwind romance when she was still at university. The Moncrieffs were one of the richer Magi Families in the second tier of the Hundred, and he showered her with expensive gifts. During their engagement, he expanded the small manor house at Elk Neck into a fifty-five room Georgian country house patterned on those in Britain.

  David was in the library when I arrived, and the Findlay guardian who served as the house’s new butler showed me in.

  David Moncrieff was tall and lanky, with straight brown hair that he was continually brushing back from his face with his hand. My impression of him had always been that Courtney was the brains in the family, although they seemed to share a lot of ambition. He did work hard, and the Moncrieffs prospered in North America largely due to his efforts and the connection that Courtney supplied to Findlay. Rather a strange relationship, considering the official Moncrieff alliance with Akiyama.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” I said. “I have a few questions that members of the Council are curious about.”

  I could tell he wasn’t particularly happy to see me, but he was gracious, standing when I entered and offering me a seat. He was in an untenable position, and although his brother had made the requisite protestations to the Council, Alan didn’t push with much outrage.

  “Who is in charge of hiring and supervising the service staff?” I asked.

  “My wife manages the household.”

  The stiff way he answered told me two things. One, that he understood the import of the question, and two, that he felt the traditional gender roles in an aristocratic house were automatically assumed.

  “Including the butler?”

  “Yes, of course. I don’t have time for such things.”

  “So, you weren’t aware that many of your servants weren’t being paid? That they weren’t allowed to leave the premises?”

  His eyes narrowed and he stared at me. Eventually, he said, “I don’t believe that has been proven. We reject such slanderous allegations.”

  I nodded. “So, you’re saying that you have no knowledge of humans being enslaved to work on your estate. You’re also saying that your wife, Courtney Findlay-Moncrieff, is in charge of the service staff, so if such allegations were to be proven true, she is the one responsible. Is that correct?”

  The stare turned into a glare. I switched topics.

  “You had a house guest, Akiyama Hiroku. Is that correct?”

  Moncrieff nodded.

  “Mister Akiyama was apprehended on your estate with two underage girls, both projective empaths. Since he
had them on a plane trying to take off from your airport, we assume he planned to take them to Asia without their parents’ permission. We also have evidence the girls were held here for some time prior to that. Did you have any sexual contact with those girls or with Sarah Benning, or were Hiroku and Karl Rudolf their only abusers?”

  He froze, his body going completely stiff. “I believe we’re done. Good day, Miss James.”

  I allowed myself a smirk. “You may dismiss your niece, Mr. Moncrieff, but I’m here in my official capacity. Please address me as Lieutenant James. You can refuse to answer my questions, and attempt to stonewall this investigation, but I assume you understand that any questions you don’t answer now will be asked by a tribunal.”

  He rose and walked out. I logged that into the recording I was making as the end of the interview.

  Chapter 4

  I was on my way back to the city when I got a call.

  “James,” the familiar voice of my boss said in my ear, “I need you to drop whatever you’re doing.” He gave me an address in the Chinquapin Park neighborhood. Extremely upscale.

  It really wasn’t much of a detour from my customary route home, although I usually took the freeway exit into my own middle-class neighborhood rather than ride through areas where the dogs had servants and the nannies had bodyguards.

  When I reached the street, I didn’t have to guess where to go. Police cars, an ambulance, and a couple of vans from the forensics squad were blocking the street, and the house was cordoned off with yellow police tape. I flashed my badge at a uniformed cop and parked my bike next to my own cop car. My partner had beaten me to the scene.

  After donning the mandatory gloves and booties, I entered the mansion and found Sergeant Mychal Novak. His face was grim.

  “What have we got?” I asked.