Marked by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #4)(54)

We rolled to a stop outside the gates. A guard was sitting in the small booth, and he spoke to the driver of the steamcar in front of us. I watched as the back window of the car rolled down, revealing the Legal Secretary’s face, and whatever he said to the guard made the man’s face go white. Nodding hurriedly, he rushed back into the booth and pulled a lever. There was a loud buzz as the gate swung open. As we drove inside, I saw the guard had picked up the phone and was hurriedly speaking into it.

“She’ll be expecting us,” Iannis murmured as we approached the house.

We descended from the vehicles on the broad front drive, the Legal Secretary taking the lead with the two enforcer mages. I watched curiously to see if they would try to handle this mission tactfully, or with force. I had my answer when the Legal Secretary gestured to the two enforcer mages to step forward. The one on the left blasted the huge, arched wooden door with what looked like a concentrated ball of air. The door splintered as it fell backward, landing in the hallway with a loud crash, and the enforcers walked over it as they led the way into the house.

Talk about making an entrance, I thought as we followed them inside, the apprentices bringing up the rear. The foyer was as huge as I remembered it from Thorgana’s receptions, with orange-veined marble floors and a long, arched ceiling. The tall arrangement of lilies and gladiolus that presumably belonged atop the large mahogany table in the center of the room had toppled over, scattering the floor with shards of expensive pottery and white blossoms that were fast growing limp in the spreading puddle of water.

A shriek of fury echoed through the mansion, and Thorgana Mills herself rushed down the carpeted staircase at the end of the hall. She was dressed in a white velvet robe, her pale blonde hair in curlers, and judging by the state of her face, had been halfway done with her evening makeup. Even so, she looked younger than the forty-eight years she admitted to.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thorgana demanded imperiously, her normally pale, perfect skin blotchy with outrage. She skidded to a stop behind the table, mindful of the broken pottery with her thin silk slippers, and crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at the Legal Secretary. “Who has given you the right to come into my home and damage my property?”

“I’m afraid I did,” Iannis said firmly, stepping forward into her line of sight. Thorgana’s eyes widened as her gaze snapped to him. “You see, Mrs. Mills, we’ve come across some compelling evidence that your husband has been financing the Resistance, and that he is known in certain circles as the Benefactor.”

Thorgana swayed for a moment, and the non-painted half of her face grew noticeably paler. But after a moment, she let out a scornful laugh, pressing a hand to her chest. “Ridiculous! Curian, a criminal mastermind? Lord Iannis, you are absurdly mistaken about that.”

“You might not be aware of his activities,” Iannis suggested. “We may know more after searching the house.”

Mrs. Mills shook her head contemptuously. “Curian’s wealth is not nearly large enough to finance the Resistance, even in part. You are, as they say, barking up the wrong tree. He will expect your apology for this.”

It was my turn to step forward. “You’re telling the truth,” I said, surprised. Thorgana pressed her lips together at the sight of me, looking down her straight nose imperiously. My own nose told me she hadn’t lied, and yet something told me she was hiding something.

Iannis and Fenris looked at me questioningly, no doubt wondering if I had made a mistake after all, and the Legal Secretary frowned. But Mrs. Mills’ smile turned into a small, secretive gloat, and at that moment, something clicked.

“So your husband isn’t the Benefactor, and his purse alone isn’t enough to finance the Resistance,” I acknowledged as more pieces fell into place. “But yours is, isn’t it?”

“What do my finances have to do with any of this?” Thorgana demanded. Her expression grew more strained, and her right hand clutched at the pendant dangling from her white-gold necklace.

Iannis exchanged a quick look with Fenris. “That would explain a great deal,” Iannis observed, his eyes narrowing on Mrs. Mills. She recoiled beneath his gaze, face growing even whiter. I could see the swift calculation behind her cold blue eyes – she must be wondering if further denials would be worthwhile. I expected fear to be rolling off her in waves, but she smelled more of fury and determination than anxiety. Did she have something up her sleeve? I tensed instinctively.

“Man, I’ve been so stupid. You completely took me in with that airhead socialite act.” I shook my head at my own obtuseness. “At first, I thought your husband was using your money and connections. After all, that’s his right, and as an airhead socialite who doesn’t give a hoot about finances, who would you be to stand in his way?” Thorgana’s eyes narrowed at the insult, and I grinned – she’d built up the airhead persona precisely to draw attention away from herself, so she couldn’t very well refute it now. “But no, now I’m realizing that it’s not the case at all. You’re the Benefactor, aren’t you? You’ve been pulling the Resistance’s strings with your perfectly manicured hands all along.”

Thorgana shrugged her elegant shoulders. “You’ve clearly taken leave of your senses, Miss Baine.” Her blue eyes appealed to Iannis after passing over Fenris with faint contempt. “Surely you will not lend any credence to the ravings of an inexperienced young shifter, Lord Iannis? People like us don’t get involved in such sordid matters. You must know better.”