Christian opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“Describe the telekinetic,” I prompted.

“Young, in his twenties. Dark hair. Tan skin. Good teeth. Accent.”

“What kind of accent?”

“Not sure.”

This was like pulling teeth. “Was he a member of the club or a guest?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Was he with someone else?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Did he offer you anything? Did he give you some way to contact him?”

Christian shook his head. “We talked for a bit while we walked. That was it. He didn’t tell me his name.”

“How did Leon’s name come up?”

“He asked what I thought about all your family members. I told him that I didn’t care for any of them. I told him that you acted as if you were too good for us, and even your damn dud cousin snubbed my son and told him some made-up stalker story about a girl named Audrey.”

Not much to go on. As soon as I got home, I would ask Bern to go through the surveillance next to the club and see if anyone looked familiar.

“What happened?” Albert asked.

“Audrey is dead. Leon was framed for her murder, but he has a bulletproof alibi.” I looked back to Christian. “Anything to add?”

Christian jutted his chin into the air, his eyes defiant. “I’m right. My son is too good for you.”

I hid my wings, rose, took my tablet, and walked out.

Chapter 14

Fifteen minutes from the house I called in to report to Victoria’s office like a good little soldier. Trevor answered on the second ring, his voice clipped.

“Please hold.”

The look of horror on Christian’s face when I mentioned my evil grandmother was branded in my memory. Did I have to become Victoria for us to survive? I was learning to think like her. To react like her. If I kept going, there would come a time when the act of being Victoria’s granddaughter would no longer be an act at all. I didn’t want to turn into my grandmother. I wanted to go back to the time when my lack of experience gave me blinders.

Now was a bad time for a moment of weakness. Trevor would come back on the line to take down my report, and I couldn’t afford to sound bitter.

The phone clicked, and my grandmother’s crisp, upper-class voice filled Beetle’s interior. “What did you find out?”

Surprise, surprise. Grandmother had no phone privileges. Somehow, I doubted the prison administration would be shocked at this appalling breach of security.

“Christian was approached on the golf course of his country club. A white man, probably twenties or thirties, dark haired, tan, with an unidentified accent, looking for dirt on House Baylor. They had a casual conversation, then the man left. Christian doesn’t know how he got into the club. He’d never seen him before, and he would have noticed him, because the stranger was a telekinetic and didn’t have to retrieve his golf balls.”

Country clubs catering to upper-level magic users usually took a dim view of members using magic on the grounds. It carried the same social penalty as flashing around large wads of cash. It was considered gauche and simply wasn’t done. The stranger had flaunted the rule to identify himself as a high-ranking mage, someone Christian would consider worthy of conversation.

“Anything else? Details?”

“No. The senior Ravenscroft isn’t a detail person. If he encountered an elephant, he would describe it as a large grey animal.”

Victoria sighed. “If you cracked Christian’s big head, you’d be lucky to find a tablespoon of brains. Their entire House isn’t overburdened with intelligence or imagination. Did he say why he opened his mouth?”

“He doesn’t feel I’m good enough to marry his son.”

Victoria laughed, the sound ringing through the vehicle.

“Also, he’s afraid of you.”

“Maybe he’s gotten marginally smarter with age. Call me the moment you learn anything new.”

“Yes, Grandmother.” That was easier than I thought.

“Your Italian came to see me.” Amusement bubbled up in Victoria’s voice.

What? He did what?

“He hasn’t told you,” Victoria said.

Damn it, waited to respond a second too long.

My brain finally registered that my exit lane was about to end. I merged a foot before it ended. Behind me a red pickup blared its horn in outrage.

I willed my voice into careful neutrality. “What did he say?”

“He threatened me.”

Oh my God. “Did you hurt him?”

“You need to do a better job of concealing your feelings. I can hear the panic in your voice.”

“Did you hurt him, Grandmother?”

“His mind is intact. I found him entertaining. Besides, he is a beautiful boy. So much power. It would be a waste to turn him into a vegetable.”

I would strangle him. What was he thinking? He probably didn’t even understand how lucky he was to come out of there with his mind undamaged.

The humor in her voice grew. “He informed me that you are perfectly capable, and my interference is impeding you. He also suggested that if something were to happen to you as a result of my attention, he would cut off my head.”

“He didn’t.”

“Oh, he was perfectly charming while suggesting it. Impeccable manners, great poise. Good breeding always shows, even when dressed in ratty jeans and a faded T-shirt. I think your pauper prince truly loves you, the poor fool. It’s a shame.”

She was mocking me. “Gloating is beneath you.”

“Catalina, I’m in prison. I take my fun where I can find it. You know where you and I stand.”

The call cut off. She’d hung up.

Here is fine, I’ll find my own way. I’m going to turn right around and poke a ravenous shark with a stick to see what happens.

I would kill him. No, worse, I would yell at him when I found him.

I drove to our security booth, got out, and let myself be sniffed.

Regina walked out of her house, strode to our front door, and waited with her arms crossed.

Security cleared me. I drove Beetle through and parked it. “Did something happen?”

“When Leon and your sister brought Rhino back, it felt odd.” She passed her hand over Beetle’s hood.

“Odd how?”

“I thought I sensed something animated but couldn’t find it. I’m checking the other vehicles. Your truck is clear.”

“What kind of something?”

“Not that kind,” she assured me. “Ordinary animation. Patricia is doing an extra sweep and I sent Cinder to hunt. We’ll see what she catches.”

I walked into the house at twenty past eight. The building was quiet. Shadow bounded out of the media room and scratched at my legs, overcome by doggy excitement. I pet her and trudged into the kitchen. I was so tired. Yesterday had been a long day, today was an even longer day, and everything hurt. I needed food and sleep, in that order.

I missed the warehouse. Now we were split into three stories, with Bern and Leon taking up the third floor, and Arabella and Grandma Frida using the second. Only Mom and I stayed on the bottom floor, and right now, with everyone busy doing their own thing, I felt abandoned and isolated. It was almost like coming home to my own private apartment, mine, but cold and lonely.

Except for Shadow.

I made a beeline for the fridge. Replenishing magic burned a lot of calories, and my stomach had turned into a black hole swirling with acid. I’d missed dinner but there would be leftovers. There were always leftovers.

The fridge offered me Mom’s fajitas. It was a simple recipe, marinated skirt steak or chicken thighs chopped into bite-sized pieces and wrapped in flour tortillas with cheese, chunks of tomato and avocado, and mild sauce. They kept surprisingly well, were good hot or cold, and everyone in the family liked them. Mom must have made a ton, because the platter held at least a dozen, wrapped in plastic so the fridge wouldn’t dry them out.

I pried the plastic open, snagged a fajita, and closed the fridge. Nevada stood three feet away. I jumped and dropped the fajita. Shadow darted across the floor, scooped up the fajita, and bolted down the hallway.

I swore. “Make some noise next time, please.”

Nevada crossed her arms over her chest.

Uh-oh. I knew that look. That was the you-are-doomed look.

“Albert called,” my sister said.

I opened the fridge and took out a Corona. “What did he say?”

“He wants to talk. He says he knows he fucked up, but he thinks there’s still a chance, despite all the threats. He wants an opportunity to apologize.”

I opened the beer and took a long swallow. I barely tasted it, but it was cold, and that was enough. “He has nothing to apologize for.”

“He thinks he does.”

I tried to get past her to the table, but she stayed where she was, trapping me between the island and the fridge. I had a feeling that if I turned around and circled the island, she would just step to the side and block my way again.

“Initially I thought he might have threatened you,” she said.

“Albert?”

“Yes. But after five minutes of his apologizing, I realized that he wouldn’t have, which means you threatened him. I asked Bern to trace your phone route.”