Cast Into Darkness (21 page)

“Put me in charge. I have a way to ensure the operation goes even easier than you planned.” He told his father about the conch-shell key chain, lying about how he’d put it together with black market parts. “I can activate it whenever, wherever, we want. Kate has it now. We can get into the Hamilton estate, get the stone, get out. She barely needs to be involved.”

His father stood. Kristof could see the veins in the man’s neck standing out, blue and cold.

“Another secret? When exactly, were you planning on telling me about this?”

“You need to hear me out.” As soon as he spoke, he realized his mistake.

“I don’t
need
to do anything.” His father heaved the table over, sending coffee, food, and newspapers flying everywhere. Hot liquid hit Kristof across the arm, the burning pain making him flinch. His father stared at him from behind the mess he’d made, chest heaving. The bodyguards, used to his father’s temper, stood back. Their focus was on Kristof.

“You’re the one who
needs
to do something. Stop lying to me.” His father stalked around the upended table toward Kristof, arm out, finger pointed at his son’s chest. “
Another
secret.
Another
lie. What else haven’t you told me?”

Kristof stood and let his father come all the way up to him, chest to chest. He clasped his hands behind his back to hide their shaking.

“I had no chance to mention it to you. Until I knew what you were planning, I didn’t know where it would fit in.”

His father poked him on the chest with his fingers. “So why should I give field command to a son who runs his own operation behind my back?” his father asked. “Who tries to steal an artifact out from under me?” He poked him again. “What were you going to do with it, eh? Tell me that?”

“Isn’t ambition what you want in an heir?” He saw his father’s eyes bulge, the redness creep into his father’s cheeks. He hurried into his explanation. “You’ve said time and again that you want initiative. Daring. Success.” He was pushing it, but the spark of interest that flashed across his father’s face confirmed that this line of reasoning was working.

“Controlled ambition, yes. That’s exactly what I want.” His father eased back a pace.

“That’s the son I want to be. I was just trying to impress you, Papa.” He took a small step toward his father. “I never had any other intention with the stone. Did someone tell you otherwise? Dmitri? And wouldn’t he have a motive for misleading you about my reasons?”

“You have an answer for everything today, don’t you?”

Every muscle in Kristof’s body went still.

“I want that stone. We need to rebuild our arsenal—match what the Hamiltons took from us years ago. I should be wearing your grandfather’s amulet around my neck. Instead, it hangs in Hamilton’s study like a bloody trophy. Get me that stone. No more games, no more lies.”

Kristof could feel a small bead of sweat roll down his back. “Yes. If I can have Melina as the other operative—”

“No. Not your sister. Dmitri.”

“Dmitri’s a fuckup.”

“Your cousin gets the job done.” His father chuckled. “He’s merely…overenthusiastic. Boys will be boys, after all.”

He couldn’t let Dmitri deal with Kate. But Dmitri couldn’t carry out the other half of the plan, either. He didn’t have the skills or finesse. But the thought of Dmitri with Kate…

“Papa, let me handle Kate. I can—” he began.

“No. You aren’t going near the Hamilton girl. She’s Dmitri’s problem. You take care of the stone.”

“I can deal with both—”

“That’s enough,” his father barked. “If you expect to lead this family someday, you have to learn to lead everyone in it. If you can’t control Dmitri, why should I let you be my heir? Why shouldn’t I name Dmitri? He’s already proven he can manipulate you.”

That answered the question of who had told his father about the stone. But how had Dmitri found out about it?

His father clamped a hand on his shoulder. He squeezed hard. Kristof didn’t let the pain show in his eyes. “Don’t let me down on this. I’ll be monitoring the operation via talisman. Deviate from the operation’s parameters and your last session in the Pit will feel like a lover’s caress.”

“I understand, Papa.”

His father turned and yelled for servants to clean up his mess. Kristof, knowing when he’d been dismissed, walked back up the steps and into the house. Thanks to his father’s temper, he’d lost half of his breakfast. Maybe he could find some inside. After he found Dmitri and they came to an understanding.

Kristof tracked down
Dmitri in the gym. He had their younger, smaller cousin, Anton, pinned to the mat, arm twisted in a joint lock behind his back, his short, dark hair plastered to his face with sweat. Anton slapped the mat as hard as he could with his free hand, gasping for breath. They wore white judo gis, Dmitri’s belted with black, Anton’s with brown.

Dmitri grinned, eyes lit with sadistic joy.

“Let him up,” Kristof said. He leaned against the wall of the gym, arms folded.

“You going to make me?”

“If that’s how you want to play this.”

“Sure you’re recovered enough?” Dmitri’s lips twisted into a sneer.

Kristof took his sunglasses off and laid them on the bench by the mat. Even that small movement hurt. He strode toward Dmitri.

Dmitri let go of Anton’s arm. The young man groaned and rolled away, giving Kristof a grateful glance. At Kristof’s nod he left, shutting the gym door behind him.

Kristof circled Dmitri on the mat. “My father just assigned you to me. We have a mission.”

“That’s funny, Uncle Nico didn’t tell me anything about it.” Dmitri kept pace with Kristof.

“He didn’t have to. He gives me an order, I give it to you.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s the way it is. If you don’t believe me, you could go ask my father. If you want to bother him.” Kristof watched Dmitri’s face.

There. Dmitri’s eyes flared, and he stepped in, grabbing for Kristof’s shoulder. He hooked his right foot behind Kristof’s left, trying for a quick leg sweep.

Kristof drove his left leg into Dmitri’s midsection. He grabbed Dmitri’s gi, then threw him, hard. Dmitri flew backward to the mat. He landed with a
thwack
. Wasting no time, Kristof knelt on Dmitri’s chest and grabbed his collar, crossing his arms before he applied the necessary pressure for the choke hold.

Dmitri gasped, his face turning red as he squirmed in Kristof’s grasp. He rolled from side to side, trying to escape. His legs kicked out, one foot striking Kristof in the thigh. Kristof pressed down harder. Finally, spittle flying, Dmitri tapped out.

Kristof let him up. His hands, his leg, even his arms where he’d pinned Dmitri down, were throbbing. That bout had probably hurt him more than Dmitri. But it was worth it.

He grabbed a towel from the bench. Wiping the sweat from his face, he watched his cousin.

Dmitri picked up a water bottle and took a long drink. “You don’t think that settles anything, do you?” Dmitri locked eyes with his cousin. Kristof met his gaze until Dmitri let his eyes drift away and turned on his annoying smirk.

“We have a mission to complete,” Kristof said. “Until it’s done, we have to work together. We can settle our differences afterward.”

“Fine. I was getting bored around here anyway.” Dmitri threw himself down on the bench, tossing the water bottle in a corner. “We’re going after the stone?”

“Yes. How’d you find out about it?”

“You think you’re Uncle Nico’s favorite, don’t you? Think you can do whatever you want? You slipped up, and you will again. Don’t expect me to show you your weak spots so you can fix them.”

Damn
. He’d have to find out how Dmitri had gotten his information some other way.

“So what’s the mission?”

“The Hamiltons have the stone. We’re going to take it from them.”

“Great.” Dmitri took another swig of his water. “Who do I get to kill?”

“No one. Papa wants you to do some babysitting. A girl.”

“Cool. What’s she look like?”

Kristof took a step forward. “Let me make this clear: Your job is to guard her. She’s not one of your playthings.”

“What’s she to you?”

“Nothing. She’s a hostage. If she’s damaged, we don’t get what we want.”

Dmitri’s eyes searched Kristof’s, hoping, Kristof thought, to find something, anything, to use against him. Kristof stared right back, his expression closed.

Dmitri stood, towel around his neck. “So what’s the plan?”

As they left the gym and walked out into the warm sunlight, Kristof glanced over at his cousin. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that beating him in judo meant that Dmitri would cooperate on the mission. There was no way to keep a watch on him during this operation, either. They’d both be on their own. He’d have to trust Dmitri to do his job.

The thought gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. If he couldn’t control Dmitri, he wasn’t the only one who would suffer. Kate would, as well.

The late-afternoon sun
shone through Kate’s bedroom window, and for the first time in days she had a real break. Pulling on her favorite jeans and a white poet’s shirt, she threw her training clothes into the laundry basket. Time to find out how Brian really died. She stuffed Brian’s journal and Grandfather’s watch into her pocket and tossed her keys, with Kris’s conch-shell fob hanging from the chain, in her purse.

And she knew just the person to help her: Dylan Pearce. Maybe he’d found something out about the stone by now—something he’d be willing to share. She’d texted him and arranged to meet at a little café in Paumanok. Except for her time out with Kris the other night, she’d been grounded on the estate ever since Brian’s death. Stir crazy didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.

She rummaged through the closet, pulling out a pair of white flats, then tossing them back on the floor. Surely a brief trip into Paumanok wouldn’t be dangerous. Dad pretty much owned the place. She should tell Victor about her trip but…

Shoes, shoes, what to pick…the red sandals. Perfect.

Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. No reason to give Victor the chance to exercise his apparent veto power over her life.

But when she found Dylan standing by her car, one look at his face shot her plans to hell. Tension shone through his tight eyes, his scrunched-up lips, the way he straightened his glasses with a firm push on the wire bridge.

“It isn’t safe for you to go into town,” he said. “Victor mentioned the attack against you. He said there’s a security lockdown.”

Damn Victor’s paranoia.
“We’ll be safe enough in Paumanok. No one would do anything there.”

“Perhaps not, but rules are rules.”

She stopped, all the desperation of days spent grounded shining from her face. “Please. Anywhere but here.”

His eyes softened, and he nodded. “We can talk at the Hamilton offices in DC. The security grid will protect us there.”

“But won’t my dad see us? Or Victor?” She followed him out of the garage, into the kitchen, and down the hall to the outgoing teleport pattern, the marble tile foyer next to the staircase.

“It doesn’t matter if they do. Your uncle gave me an assignment—”

“Investigating the stone?” She grasped Dylan’s arm as he touched a talisman inside his jacket—a silver eagle.

“No, keeping an eye on you.” His tight lips relaxed into a wry smile. “Making sure you socialize with casters, without…”

“Getting into trouble.”

She missed his response as the teleport spell seized them and zipped them off to the big rotunda in the Hamilton headquarters building. Huh. No teleport headache. Well, at least that was one advantage of being a caster.

Kate trailed Dylan out of the rotunda, down a long corridor, and into a small room with wooden tables and chairs. They’d walked all the way to the north end of the building.

“Cafeteria?” She read the sign. “I didn’t know Dad had a cafeteria.”

“I suppose it’s better than interrupting work to get a sandwich. And safer,” Dylan answered.

A few hours past lunch and only two or three staff members sat in the circular room, surrounded by high glass walls. Kate squinted at the panoramic view of the capital. Sure enough, the red energy of a security grid glowed through the glass.

Dylan paid for their coffees, and they settled in at a small table by a potted plant as far away from the other diners as possible. He reached into his jacket and touched a silver cone, his eyes losing their focus for a moment. The jade glimmer of a spell settled in around them. The staff sitting in the café got up, one by one, and left. Even when they weren’t finished eating.

“What did you do?”

“Ensured our privacy. We can talk without fear of being overheard now.”

Kate added a packet of sugar to her latte, stirred it, and took a sip. Was his concern general paranoia or did he have reason to worry about someone listening to them? It wasn’t backlash from the spells—the talisman he used stored a spell that the caster—probably Dylan in this case—charged it with beforehand. The backlash came when the caster charged the talisman, not when he activated the spell inside. Or so Grayson had told her.

Dylan pulled out his notebook. “I know your uncle’s theories about what happened. Now I’d like to know what you experienced firsthand.”

“Did you find out anything about the stone?”

“I discovered a few things. I’ll have a much better idea if you answer my questions.”

Kate told him what had happened, from the time Brian had given her the stone to when she’d blacked out in the Sanctum. Her throat grew tight. She swallowed down tears. She took a deep gulp of coffee, its warm richness filling her with comfort.

“You know the rest,” she said.

Dylan jotted a few notes in his book, then looked up. “How did you feel each time you looked at the stone?”

Kate thought back. “I wanted to keep looking at it. I kind of got lost in it, I guess. It was for me and me alone.” She focused on the feeling. “Actually, I felt that way every time I touched it, too. And I wanted to touch it whenever my hand was near it. In my pocket or when I was looking at it.” And when her uncle had taken it out of its box, after it had changed her. But he’d told her not to say anything to anyone about that.