Matt Archer: Bloodlines (Matt Archer #4) (24 page)

We took different sides and slowly worked our way around,
checking the ground. I’d made it all the way to the corner where the Volvo had
stalled before I saw a hint. A slightly deeper shadow leaned against the
building. I signed to Dad and pointed down. He nodded.

Okay, so we found her. But now what? If we tried to drop
down, we’d be fried.

“Erik,” Ann sang out again. “I’m waiting, dear. Let’s get
this over with, shall we?”

I leaned close to Dad. “There’s no telling how many shadow
monsters or other freak shows she has down there with her. The only way to know
is to flush her out.”

A corner of Dad’s mouth lifted in a cold smile. He hefted a
large stone that had broken off the decorative border surrounding the roof…

…and dropped it straight down at Ann’s head.

“No!” I squawked. “We need her alive.”

But then light flashed, followed by a sound like pebbles
hitting concrete.

Dad, who’d been watching at the edge of the roof, jumped
over the side.

“Shit!” I waited in horror for another flash of lightning or
the sound of a body going splat.

Neither came, and I peered over the side. Dad had landed in
a crouch on a small balcony on the third story. Ann was watching the top of the
building and our eyes locked. She lifted her hands and I scrambled backwards,
narrowly missing a blast of light that took out part of the parapet, turning
the rock to sand right where I’d been standing.

I had to get off this roof.

Knowing I had no time, I turned and ran toward what looked
like a fire escape, but I hadn’t even gotten halfway across the roof before
someone laughed behind me. Gooseflesh rose all over my arms. I whirled around
and came face-to-face with Ann. She hovered a few feet above the roof, smirking
as she gently touched down.

Oh, God. She could fly? I was so effing screwed.

In an eye-blink she’d crossed the distance between us. I
drew the knife and slashed at her abdomen, but she leapt away, impossibly
fast…like I did when the spirits had me spun up.

My fist clenched hard around the knife handle. “You stole
Tink from me.”

“Hurts, doesn’t it? To know there’s power just out of your
reach.” Her smile was mocking as she raised her hands. “I’m tired of playing
with you.”

I backed up against the edge of the roof with nowhere to go.
I’d have to jump and take my chances. Better that than being struck by Ann’s
lightning bolts.

I lifted my foot, ready to topple over the side, when Ann
jerked. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she went down hard.

Dad stood behind her, holding a brick. When I stared at him
open-mouthed, he shrugged. “Thanks for keeping her busy for me. Oh, by the way,
you don’t always have to fight magic with magic.” He glanced down at the
witch’s prone form. “Just saying.”

“She—she could fly!” I blurted out. “Like for real.”

Dad produced a pair of handcuffs and dragged Ann’s arms
behind her back. “After everything you’ve seen, a flying woman is what freaks
you out?” He let out a tired chuckle. “That’s unexpected.”

Like a radio being tuned from static to a real channel,
Tink’s giggles slowly filled my head.
The man has a point. Besides, if
you
ever want to fly, let me know.

“Nice of you to tell me that’s a possibility
now
,
instead of, say, two years ago.” I sank down onto the roof, my heart hammering
away in my chest. God, this night…I needed a steak and a fourteen hour nap to recover.
“What do we do with the witch?”

“We drag her ass back to the U.S.,” Dad said with a grim
smile. “And then we make her talk.”

I sat in the service area next to a general aviation gate at
Schiphol airport in Amsterdam. With just three phone calls, Dad had acquired
six CIA operations officers and a private jet bound for D. C. Dad’s next two
phone calls had been to Aunt Julie to ensure Ann Smythe had a welcoming
committee once we landed. With luck, she’d be facing a pair of shamans by this
time tomorrow.

Ann shifted restlessly next to me and I smirked at her.
“Looking forward to the trip?”

“Not particularly,” she said in a flat tone.

“Music to my ears, lady,” I said.

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to do,” she said,
an evil smile twisting her pretty face into something smug and deviant. “It’s
not like you can hold me for questioning.”

“He can’t, but I can.” Dad stood over her with his arms
crossed, matching her arrogant smile with one of his own.

Ann’s gaze flicked around the service area. “You don’t have
jurisdiction. I’m an Australian citizen.”

“Oh, where I’m taking you, jurisdiction doesn’t exactly
matter, but the Aussies were happy enough to let me take you off their hands.”
Dad’s voice was cold as deep space. “I wouldn’t be planning on a fair trial.”

“Revenge is sweet, I suppose,” she said, giving him a
knowing look. “Avenging a lover gives all this a bit of righteousness in your
mind, doesn’t it?”

I held very still. There hadn’t been any time to ask what
Ann had meant about Carrie, and until I knew the real story, I wouldn’t know
how to feel about him betraying Mom after all his talk.

“Vengeance and justice are two different things.” Dad stared
her down. “Carrie wasn’t my lover. I’ve heard what you do with your male
initiates, so I’m guessing you think the world works that way, but Carrie found
me
. She wanted to put a stop to the sacrifices and I told her I could
help.”

“Oh, and you helped, didn’t you?” Ann spat. “You helped her
right into her grave. Tell me, Officer Archer, do you even give a damn? That
girl died and you as good as killed her in your quest for
justice
.”

A muscle spasmed in Dad’s clenched jaw. “I’m not the one who
killed her, but I’ll accept responsibility. And her death wasn’t totally in
vain. You’re here, in cuffs.”

Ann didn’t seem to know what to say after that, so she sat
and stewed instead.

I leaned back in my seat, feeling better. It shouldn’t have
bugged me so much, thinking Dad slept with Carrie, but I knew why it did. I
hadn’t wanted to believe he’d do that to Mom, not after his visit home. Weird,
considering I didn’t think they’d ever get back together. Unfair, too, most
likely. But I still felt that way. I wanted him to be honorable, to surprise
me. And this time, he did.

Finally, the gate agents waved for us to board. The gate
manager met us at the jetway. “As soon as you board, the crew is instructed to
shut the doors and push away from the gate.”

“Thank you,” Dad said. “We appreciate the assistance.”

Without telling the crew why, of course, Dad’s team had
explained that we needed to roll as quickly as possible. We didn’t think Ann
would try to crash a plane mid-flight and risk her own life, but there was
always the chance she’d try to do something before we took off. We needed to
minimize that time.

We hurried down the jetway, and the gate manager closed that
door behind us. The steward was waiting. He nodded tersely and, as soon as we
set foot on the aircraft, signaled to have the main door closed. The jet was
good sized, set up to seat sixteen with four seats to a row, and a generous
aisle in between. If I hadn’t been escorting a notorious fugitive across the
pond, this flight would’ve rocked.

The plane rolled away from the gate before we made it to our
seats. Two of our men sat in the first row. Ann was seated behind them, and the
other four officers took the seats behind hers. I’d asked to sit next to Ann
and Dad agreed. I think he knew I wanted the pleasure of guarding her.

“This is nice, don’t you think? Lots of legroom,” I said as
I sat down next to her. Dad snorted and took the seat across the aisle.

Ann didn’t find that funny. She glanced at me, her
expression one of total boredom. “You aren’t going to be one of those tedious
boys who prattles on during the whole flight, are you?”

I gave her a wolfish smile and put in my headphones.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ann picked up a magazine on new age healing and started
reading. Knowing what I did about her real pursuits, I was offended on behalf
of Wiccans everywhere.

“Aren’t you the least bit worried about bringing a witch
onto a plane?” she asked after a few minutes. “We fly awfully high up.”

“Nope,” I answered. “If the plane crashes, we all die. And I
think you’re the ‘self-preservation’ type.”

“Rescue’s out of the picture, too,” Dad said. “As far as
anyone—including your own government—is concerned, Ann Smythe ceased to exist
the moment you stepped on this plane. All your vital records, everything, have
been destroyed.”

Her shocked expression warmed the chambers of my heart. I
winked at her. “We also have a couple of people looking forward to meeting
you.”

The smug smile came back. “Well, I
did
have business
in the U.S. so it’s very kind of you to fly me there on a private jet.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to attend to any business,”
Dad said.

“Oh, not to worry. Even if I no-show, it’ll get taken care
of. My people are quite competent.”

I really wanted to ask her what that meant, but Dad caught
my eye and barely shook his head. Right, don’t give her anything to bargain
with.

“I’m sure your people are competent,” Dad said, “but so are
mine. Enjoy your flight. It’ll be the last time you see daylight for a while.”

I couldn’t help but grin when she scowled at him before
turning back to her magazine.

* * *

When we landed at Andrews Air Force Base, two dozen members
of Special Forces, led by Uncle Mike, escorted us off the plane. It was just
after sunset, and we used the cover of night to smuggle Ann into one of the
Army’s fleet of black SUVs.

“Where are we going?” she asked politely.

“The dungeon,” Dad said, without a trace irony in his voice.

“Ass.” She crossed her arms and stared out the window. “I
wouldn’t be too superior. This is only temporary.”

I was jetlagged and tired of her mouth. “Why don’t you shut
up for a while?”

“So snarky. But teens usually are.” Ann gave me a knowing
smile. “Even those born under the right stars.”

I sat up straighter. Tink had said almost the same thing,
not long ago, in Africa. “What?”

Ann chuckled; it sounded like an out of tune piano tinkling
out warped high notes. “Oh, so the poor dear doesn’t even know. Sad, really.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that
she’d
be sad if
she didn’t stop giving me half answers, but Dad caught my arm. “There will be time
for more questions soon enough.”

Yeah, but would I get to ask mine? Looking at all the
serious faces around me, I doubted it.

“Is everything ready?” Dad asked Uncle Mike.

“Yes. Final package is being delivered around midnight.
We’ll be good to go in the morning.”

Dad nodded. “Then let’s process her and call it a night. I
want to make sure our guest is fresh and ready for her first interview.”

The darkly eager tone in his voice made Ann blanch.

It was a start.

When Johnson brought me to the conference room at Langley
the next morning for Ann’s interrogation, I got a big surprise: Will, Mamie and
Jorge were waiting for us. I knew they’d sent for them, but I’d worried they
wouldn’t find Jorge right away. Of course, that was a stupid worry. Jorge could
always be found when he wanted to be.

“You did it!” Mamie squealed, throwing her thin arms around
my neck. One of her pigtails flopped in my face. “You brought her back.”

“It was mostly Dad,” I said. “He’s…pretty good at his job.”

“No doubt,” she said. “He told us about Carrie before he
left to get Ann. I’m sorry to hear she’s dead.”

“It was awful, but I can’t talk about it here.” And given
the news Tink had delivered, I wasn’t sure I’d
ever
talk about it with
Mamie. A real Shadow Man meant my nightmares could come true, and that’s the
last thing she needed to hear.

Will and Jorge waited until Mamie was done strangling me
with her hug before coming closer. Will was wearing civvies, in jeans and a
long-sleeved shirt like Mamie, but Jorge had opted for khakis and a sweater. A
sweater.
I was happy to see, that despite the boring, wrong clothes, he’d opted to
wear his bone necklace.

He caught me looking at it. “I thought I might need a little
extra boost today.”

“Good idea,” I told him. “It’s—”

I stopped short, slammed by a migraine out of nowhere. I
grabbed the back of a chair and took a deep breath. After a second, the pain
lessened to a dull throb and I managed to look up.

Will was squinting, like the fluorescent lights hurt his
eyes.

“Headache?” I asked.

“Bad. Better now.”

Jorge sighed. “My apologies. I must admit I forgot about
your sensitivities to knife-spirit concentration, given all the excitement.”

“We’ll be okay,” I told him.

Pain or not, I was glad he was here and I reached out to
shake his hand. Even though Jorge was nearly a foot shorter than me—the
shortest person in the room, in fact—his grip was strong and spoke of hidden
power I knew had nothing to do with the physical. “It’s good to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you as well,” he said. “I just wish it was
under more pleasant circumstances.”

Uncle Mike, in full class B uniform, opened the conference
room door. “We’re ready.”

He led me, Mamie, Jorge and Will into a small observation
room, where Johnson was waiting for us. It wasn’t like those old-school two-way
mirror rooms at police stations. Instead, we faced a screen playing no less
than six monitor feeds that captured Ann Smythe from various angles. Dad sat
across from her, looking angry.

“I guess this is my cue,” Jorge said, before heading back
outside.

As soon as he left, my headache disappeared. I glanced at
Will and he smiled, shrugging. Well, that answered that question—we’d never had
trouble with just one other wielder around. Our sensitivity to the
knife-spirits was definitely getting worse.

“Is he going to question Ann now?” I asked Mamie.

“Yes. I’ll only go in if I’m needed,” she said, looking
nervous. “But she hasn’t answered any of Dad’s questions yet. He’s been at it
since six a.m.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday afternoon,” Will said. “They called us
after you captured the witch. They asked me to come as Mamie’s bodyguard.”

I was glad the Army was taking Mamie’s safety seriously. Lt.
Colonel Tannen probably had something to do with that. “Thanks, man.”

The corner of Mamie’s mouth lifted in a little smile. “Brent
wasn’t too happy to hand over his duties, but I’m glad for different company
for a while.”

Movement caught my eye and I turned back to the video feeds.
Jorge had entered the room. He spoke to Dad, then Dad left. For a moment Ann’s
eyes widened, but she regained her cool faster than I would have in Jorge’s
presence. From our vantage point, I could see how his eyes burned with some
unearthly fire as he stared her down.

Dad slipped into the observation room. “Hopefully he’ll do
better than I did.”

“We’ll see,” Uncle Mike said. “She’s a piece of work.”

“Yes, yes she is,” Dad said. “Let’s get this party started.”

He pushed a button on the wall, and a light flashed behind
Ann’s head. It must’ve been some kind of signal, because Jorge dipped his head
once to acknowledge it, the launched into his interrogation.

“Tell me why,” he said in his nasal, clipped accent. “Then
we’ll talk about how to stop it.”

On camera, Ann reached up with cuffed hands to tuck her hair
behind her ears. She didn’t look very elegant in her beige prison jumpsuit, but
there was still a sort of cold beauty about her— long, deep red hair, high
cheekbones, large eyes, tilted at the corners. Too bad she had a heart as black
as night, because she wasn’t half bad to look at.

“Well?” Jorge asked.

She stared at her fingernails and a full minute ticked by
without an answer.

Jorge leaned forward, his palms resting flat on the table
between them. “Tell me why and your incarceration might be shorter.
Might
be.”

“I saw you there,” Ann said abruptly. “I don’t think you saw
me, though.”

Not the answer any of us expected, and Mamie tensed beside
me. Jorge’s eyes narrowed. “Saw me where?”

“The spectral plane. I followed you in…you know, while you
were binding the spirits to the knives? I’d been looking for a door, and there
it was. Very chivalrous of you to hold it open for a lady.”

For the first time since I’d known him, Jorge appeared
rattled. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you were so busy, cajoling the spirits of light to join
your little crusade. How could you notice a guest was there, too? I really appreciated
the spirit who knocked you unconscious for a while. It gave me time to find my
footing.” Ann’s smile was coy as a cat cornering a pet gerbil. “I found
everything I’d been looking for…and you’re to thank for it. So take your unholy
glares and point them somewhere else. I’m your equal and good luck getting
anything from me.”

Jorge was breathing fast and his hands clenched into fists.
This news, whatever it meant, was almost as bad as when we found out that by
opening the rift between our world and the spirits’ world for Tink and her
brothers, Jorge had let the monsters in.

Now it seemed he might have let in something worse.

Slowly he collected himself and asked. “Then let’s discuss
something else. Pentagrams.”

Ann shrugged. “Pentagrams, then.”

“Australia didn’t have a prime monster, not like Afghanistan
or Africa or even Peru. Given what we know about the points of the star, there
should’ve been one--Fire.” Jorge leaned back in his chair. “Why didn’t a major
enemy arise from the Outback? Did you forget something? Make a misstep?”

Ann shook her head like that was the dumbest thing she’d
ever heard. “Where did you learn to read, Shaman? Yale must not be as
prestigious as I thought. Because, in case you didn’t notice, a prime didn’t
arise out of Montana either.”

Jorge’s eyes narrowed and his muscles were bunched up. If I
had to guess, it was taking everything he had not to throw an elbow. “Explain.”

“You know, I think I will. Maybe it’ll do you some good to
understand just a little bit more of the puzzle.” The cat-like smile was back.
“You’re correct that there are two primes left, the ones who line up with the
points of the star, but you’re missing a piece. A big one.”

“Can we give her truth serum or something?” Will asked as we
watched Jorge frown in concentration.

“We’ve violated enough international treaties for one day.”
Dad shot Will a tired look. “I wish we could, though.”

Jorge gasped suddenly over the feed. “The pentagon, in the
middle.”

She clapped her hands once, twice. “Give the man a prize. Yes,
the pentagon. And a prime
did
come out of Australia.” She rested her
elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Me.”

“There’s a flaw in your argument,” Jorge said, eyes
flashing. “The points each have a brother they meet in combat, and I don’t
remember your name being on that list.”

“That’s because you’re talking about the wielders, not the
shamans.” She laughed. “The wielders are only tools, sent to protect from the
worst my master could send. The shamans are where the real power lies. We guide
the pieces into place.”

Jorge cocked his head. “So I’m your foil?”

“Hardly. You’re not powerful enough.” She leaned back in her
seat, assuming a bored expression. “I don’t think any of you are.”

At this, Mamie slipped away from my side. Before I could ask
where she was going, she disappeared into the hallway. Will nudged me. “What’s
she doing?”

“Don’t know,” I said, frowning. I didn’t think she’d miss
this for a bathroom break.

We got our answer thirty seconds later. The door to the
interrogation room opened, and there was Mamie.

Ann’s back was to the door, but as soon as Mamie stepped
into the room, Ann’s whole body went rigid, and for the first time, she looked
scared.

“Your arrogance makes you stupid, Annabeth Mirabel Smythe,”
Mamie said softly, in a voice so deadly I couldn’t believe it came out of my
sister’s mouth. “Jorge’s more than a match for you, but Jorge is the knives’
Maker and that makes him a wielder first. He has another duty in this war, so
he doesn’t have time for your games.” She smiled, cold, hard and beautiful.
“Unlike me.
I
have all the time I need.”

Ann visibly swallowed. “Time’s a luxury none of us have. But
I think you know that.”

Jorge stood and offered Mamie his chair. She thanked him,
then turned back to Ann. “We’ll see. So, what shall we talk about? Dead
children? Demons? Or your own fallibility?”

The witch stared at the table, shaking her head.

“Oh, so the topic is my choice? Excellent.” Mamie’s smile
gave me a shiver. “I guessed a long time ago that I was tied to the center of
the star. I also guessed that the shamans, as a group, weren’t the important
part in all this. We’re not the reason the major locations were chosen, are we?
They were chosen because of the power that lay dormant there. Which is why
Australia had no prime, and isn’t a point on the star—because whatever power
you think you have, you’re no fallen god.”

Ann was shaking now. She clasped her hands in her lap, but
they still jumped like guppies caught out of their fishbowl.

“Now that we have that settled, let’s start with an easy
question,” Mamie said. “Why did you murder Dr. Burton-Hughes?”

“She had a truth,” Ann whispered. “She was too close to the
answer.”

“About where
he
came from, is that it?” Mamie asked.

The witch shook her head, eyes wide. “I can’t, you know I
can’t.”

“I don’t believe in can’t, so let’s do this the hard way.”
Quick as a snake, Mamie reached out to grab Ann’s forearm.

Ann clamped her mouth shut, but a moan escaped. Through
clenched teeth, she said, “No. I won’t. I
can’t.
”

Slowly, like she had all day, Mamie slid her other hand
across the table, stopping short of Ann’s other wrist. “Well?”

“Please…”

“Too late.” Mamie grasped Ann’s forearm tight.

The look of terror and pain on Ann’s face scared the hell
out of me. She cried out, begging for Mamie to stop. Instead, my sister closed
her eyes, murmuring to herself.

Ann’s nose started bleeding.

“God almighty,” Johnson whispered.

“What’s Daisy doing to her?” Uncle Mike asked nobody in
particular.

No one answered, because now Ann was talking. “I didn’t
know! I didn’t know you were here! Goddess be good, none of us did! Please…you
have to believe us. We had no idea what we were doing or what was at stake.
I…in my pride, I pretended I did. But he was too smart, too powerful.”

“You were playing with things you didn’t understand, and it
got out of hand,” Mamie said, nodding. “Are we too late?”

She released Ann’s arm, and Ann wiped her nose with
trembling fingers. “Yes. We didn’t know what it meant.”

Mamie’s voice was soft when she said, “I know you didn’t,
but I can’t help you now.” She sighed. “And the wielders?”

The witch covered her face. “They’ve been negated.”

A look of blind rage crossed my sister’s face. I’d never,
ever
seen her so angry. It passed quickly, though, leaving me to wonder if I
imagined it. “Tell Jorge what you can about how you let the Dark Master in.
Maybe he’ll find a way to close the door. That’s your only chance, and it’s a
very slim one.”

She left Ann alone with Jorge and Will turned to me. “Matt,
what is your sister?”

Not who…
what
. “Maybe she’ll tell us.”

Because I sure as hell didn’t know.