Ilona Andrews - Wildfire

I nodded and went to stand by Rogan. “Did you catch all that?”

“Yes.” The voice was glacially cold.

“I especially liked the part where he casually threatened me.”

“I caught that too,” he said.

I leaned forward to look at his face. The dragon was out in all his terrifying glory. I grinned. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

Lie. “You can’t kill Garen Shaffer.”

“Technically, I can. I choose not to. And I wasn’t thinking of killing him.”

“If you go over to his place and break his arms in five places, it would look bad. People will be afraid to do business with me.”

“I wasn’t thinking of breaking his arms either. I was thinking of hamstringing his corporation, ripping it apart, and selling it piece by piece while he watched.”

Mad Rogan, the Scourge of Mexico. A civilized and considerate enemy. “You can’t ruin every man who threatens me.”

“Yes, I can. Besides, I would only have to ruin the first couple and the rest will get the hint. Except for the Maderos, who are particularly stupid, apparently.”

“It’s okay. I had a nice chat with Frank and Dave’s grandpa. We understand each other now.”

On screen, Garen reached out and touched my hand. The carved biceps on Rogan’s arm visibly tensed. Behind us, a chunk of metal rose in the air and crimped, contorting with a harsh screech.

I had to thaw him out. “See how he maintains eye contact. A gentle, yet firm touch, just brief enough to underscore sincerity. Reassurance that he’s on my side, he’s in charge, and he will take care of everything.”

Bug turned and looked at me, his face surprised.

I winked at him. “Garen knows how to read people. He watched them lie his entire life. It gives you a unique perspective. He knows how to obtain a confession. You do it by convincing the person you’re on their side. He started with that charming confession about being uncomfortable with choosing the wine and it only got better from there. He was sincere, disarming, and logical.”

“Is that magic?” Bug asked.

“No, it’s human nature. Shaffer is a professional interrogator. But so am I.” I gave Bug my best reassuring smile. “I can see into your brain, Bug. I know what makes you tick.”

He shuddered. “Don’t do that.”

Bern laughed in his chair. Rogan remained stoic. Still no dice.

“The good news is, Garen isn’t involved in the conspiracy, so he isn’t our problem. We can set this aside and move on.”

Rogan gave no indication he heard me.

“I have something to tell you, Rogan.”

His expression didn’t change.

“Rogan.” I touched his arm.

He came to, turned, and looked at me, his attention completely focused on me. The effect was overpowering. For this moment nothing existed in Rogan’s universe except me. I loved when he did that.

“Yes?”

“I have a strong reason to believe that Brian Sherwood is working with Alexander Sturm.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t satisfied with the way his family turned out. His daughter is an empath, which is useless as far as he’s concerned. Kyle has no magic, and it threatens Brian. His parents raised Brian as their golden child, whose only value was in his talent, which would ensure he would inherit BioCore and become a Prime of a certain standing. His entire self-worth is tied up in being Brian Sherwood, the brilliant herbamagos Prime and Head of House Sherwood. Brian knew since birth that he is special and he has grown accustomed to the world acknowledging it. He hates the idea that someone might question his ability to sire Prime children. He wanted out for a while, but as long as Olivia Charles was alive, he didn’t dare to make any waves in that placid pond. And since his wife became a social pariah, now he views her as a liability.”

He thought about it. “Olivia is dead. Why not just divorce Rynda?”

“Because Edward told him that Brian has certain responsibilities as a husband and father and if he shirked those responsibilities, Edward would retire, leaving BioCore in Brian’s hands. Brian can’t run that company. He has no idea how to do it. If Edward retires, all of Brian’s prestige evaporates. He knows he will run BioCore into the ground. He would no longer be treated with deference. Nobody would think he was important.”

Rogan’s eyes darkened, his expression harsh. “But if something happened to Rynda, and Brian became a widower, things line up rather nicely.”

“Yes. He wouldn’t hire a hit man. It’s too risky and he doesn’t even know where to look for one. He’s probably terrified that if he tried to find someone, they would turn out to be an undercover cop and he’d end up in prison. This way everything is taken care of: his new violent friends get what they want while he cools his heels in some mansion, and when the time comes to make the exchange, Rynda is tragically killed.”

Rogan nodded. “If not at the exchange, then shortly after. Perhaps the children die with her.”

“Yes. He’s then free to pursue his new life, and nobody is the wiser.”

“It’s plausible. How solid is this?”

“We know that the kidnapping occurred in view of one of only three cameras facing Memorial Drive,” Bug said.

“We can put Brian and Sturm together in a coffee shop two days before the kidnapping,” Bern said. “We also know that someone accessed his home computer that night, using Brian’s credentials, while Brian and Rynda were out.”

“We have Edward Sherwood, who told me about the conversation he had with his brother. He didn’t lie. And, the ear they sent us doesn’t belong to Brian,” I finished.

“Have you told Rynda?” Rogan asked.

“Not yet. But I will. She’s my client, and her life and the lives of her children may be in danger.”

“If she’s so empathic, how come she didn’t see this coming?” Grandma Frida asked.

“I listened to the initial interview,” I said. “She never said, ‘Brian loves me.’ She said Brian takes care of her and the kids. She talked about how much the kids miss him. I think she sensed the resentment. What I don’t understand is why the marriage happened in the first place. Rynda didn’t need his money, and as much as she craved stability, I find it hard to believe she saw something irresistible in him.”

“I can explain that,” Rogan said.

“How did you figure it out?”

“I asked my mother. Rynda is an NPTN WC variant.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“NPTN is a gene responsible for coding neuroplastin, a protein. Some variants of the NPTN gene are linked to higher intelligence,” Rogan explained. “Normally magic is passed on from parents to children, and it’s hereditary in power and type, which is why we have Houses.”

That made sense. If the parents were aquakinetics, water mages, their children likely would be water mages as well. There was some variation, but the talents didn’t vary widely. Two water mages might have a child who is psychrokinetic, able to control ice, or mistukinetic, able to control mist and fog. But they wouldn’t make a truthseeker, for example.

“People with NPTN WC variant roll the dice,” Rogan said. “WC stands for wild card. Their children may or may not be magic, and those who have power are unpredictable. If Rynda’s children have magic, it will likely be of a mental type. They might be empaths, telepaths, precogs, or harmonizers. There is no way to predict the exact nature of it. My father was willing to roll the dice with Rynda, because he was confident in our genetic line. He figured that at least one of my children would be a strong telekinetic, and if anyone could produce a telekinetic telepath, it would be Rynda.”