Diamond Fire

Okay? What did okay mean?

We sat some more.

“Someone’s poisoned Nevada’s wedding cake. There is a man whose job it is to impersonate people’s relatives for a fee. Bug says the company has a really good medical plan. Also, I got in a sword fight.”

“Did you win?” Mom asked.

“I didn’t lose, and he cheated.” I looked at her. “Also, I have learned how to use my magic to get people to tell me their secrets and then make them forget that they did. I’m like Nevada and Grandma Victoria, except I don’t force people. When I violate their minds, I just dangle my magic in front of them and they trip over themselves to tell me everything they know.”

I looked back at the screen.

Mom hugged me.

“Are you mad about college?” I asked.

“No. I’ve done my job. I’ve raised you to be a good person. You’re kind and smart and when you see a wrong, you try to fix it. That’s all a parent can hope for. The rest is up to you. It’s your life. You have to live it, and I would be a terrible parent if I tried to do it for you. I have no doubt that if you want a formal education in the future, you will get one. Everyone’s path is different, Catalina.”

“We found the crown under some bushes,” I said. “They took the jewel out of it and left the expensive diamonds behind. It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“It doesn’t make sense, because you assume the thief wanted the crown for the money or because they wanted to embarrass the family. Maybe they just wanted the jewel from the start.”

Bern walked into the room carrying his laptop. He landed in the recliner. “Did you see the email from Bug about Mikel?”

“I saw.” It explained a lot of things.

“Are we ready for this?” Bern asked.

I nodded. Bern typed in a quick sequence. The camera zoomed in slightly, bringing the table into better focus.

“What’s going on?” Mom asked.

“Earlier today we sent Lucian a text from Mikel’s number telling him to meet in that spot at eight o’clock.” I pointed at the tv. “We sent an identical text to Mikel from Lucian. It’s seven fifty-five.”

“Mom,” Arabella called from the depths of the warehouse.

Mom hugged me again, kissed my forehead, and walked out.

Lucian walked into frame. He looked around, clearly impatient.

A minute passed. Another.

Mikel came striding down the path. He hurried to the table and stepped in close to Lucian. They were the same height but where Mikel was thin and awkward, Lucian looked fit and athletic.

“What is it?” Mikel hissed. “I’ve wired the payment. What the hell do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you. You . . .”

“Then stay the hell away from me. There’s no more. You’re bleeding me dry as it is. Leave me alone.”

Mikel took off down the path at a near run.

Lucian looked after him and sneered. There was something very familiar about that sneer. Lucian pulled out his phone and typed something.

“Who is he texting?” I wondered aloud.

“No way to tell,” Bern said. “The angle is wrong.”

Lucian didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. We waited.

A slim figure came down the path and stopped by the table, her chestnut hair spilling over her shoulder.

“Have you lost your mind?” Eva asked.

“I miss you,” Lucian said.

What?

“Really? Now, here of all places, with all the family here, you miss me?”

Lucian moved toward her, and she stepped back.

“What you and I did is in the past,” Eva said. “It’s over. It has to be over.”

“It’s not really over, is it? Some consequences can’t be ignored. Especially when they blunder so badly.” He took another step toward her. “Come on, Eva. Let me help you escape this house, if only for an hour or two.”

She turned around and dashed down the path. Lucian rolled his eyes and started walking in the direction of the house at a leisurely pace.

“Clearly, this is not Lucian’s night,” Bern said.

“Can you bring up Lucian’s image?” I asked.

Lucian’s face filled the screen. He was a very handsome man. Dark hair and a distinctive line of the jaw.

I picked up my phone and dialed Rogan’s number. He answered, “Yes.”

“Can I have permission to request a DNA test from the Scroll database to determine if someone is a relative of House Rogan?”

“Why?” Rogan asked.

I told him.

“I’ll make the call,” he said.

I thanked him and hung up.

“Well, that is a hell of a thing,” Bern said.

I rubbed my face and wished I hadn’t. It hurt. “This is a messed-up family.”

“I’ve got a very nice shot of Isabella collecting money from Elba and restocking her with Oxy,” Bern said. “Does that cheer you up?”

“We still don’t know who took the Sealight.”

“You should rest,” Bern said. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I want to look at some more footage. Maybe there’s something I missed.”

Bern got up and put the laptop in front of me. “The folders are marked by date. Have fun.”

It was past 1:00 a.m., when I watched a gang of kids run down the hallway. Behind them Mrs. Rogan followed in her wheelchair, a happy smile on her face. You would never know she was a dragon. Mia Rosa trailed her, dragging her stuffed unicorn.

I was so tired, I almost missed it. Mom must have heard me laughing like a lunatic, because she came in, confiscated the laptop, and chased me off to bed.

It was Friday, two days after Xavier had headbutted me and the swelling had finally gone down. I had another bruise on my shoulder, because on Thursday morning Arabella saw my face and we had to physically restrain her from jumping into the car and driving to Mountain Rose to “fix Xavier’s face so good, his mom wouldn’t recognize him.” She accidently punched me while swinging her arms, and then she felt bad, and followed me around trying to get me to eat chocolate she bought for me.

Also, on Thursday Nevada called. She had finally closed the Nightingale investigation. House Nightingale was satisfied, and Rogan and my sister were going to celebrate. Arabella and Grandma Frida wanted to know which restaurant they would be going to, and the answer turned out to be Domino’s. They had ordered pizza and spent the evening watching bad movies.

Today was the day of the rehearsal dinner. None of the high-ranking guests were coming, so it would be just the two families, Rogan’s and ours. The wedding was on Saturday, and everyone involved would be spending the night at Mountain Rose.

I had driven to Rogan’s house and met him in his kitchen, while Nevada was getting ready. Rogan was in a hurry, and so he used his magic to do several things at once. I would never get used to the coffee carafe pouring the coffee by itself.

“What’s up?” he asked, as the coffee mug landed in his hand.

“I found out some things about your family which you probably should know. They’re unpleasant.”

“I’ve known that for years.”

“No, I meant the things I found out were unpleasant.”

“I knew what you meant,” he said. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I can either expose all those things, or I can tell you and Mrs. Rogan in private. If I do it in public, it will get ugly.”

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “But I don’t want you or Mrs. Rogan to be embarrassed or uncomfortable. You’re the client. Tell me what you would like me to do.”

“Do any of those things compromise or have the potential to compromise the security of the family?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Rogan drank his coffee. “I say let’s get it all out there. As much as my mother wants to retain her privacy, she would be the first to tell you that potential security issues override that. Do what you need to do.”

“Okay.” I just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.