White Hot (Hidden Legacy #2)(43)

The demon flexed his colossal shoulders. I could feel the heat of the fire. I smelled it. How was that even possible? The other guy’s illusion had looked real. This felt real. I swallowed.

“Yes, he looked like that. Except he was a foot shorter and there were no flames. He had a hood.”

“Dilettante,” the demon said in Augustine’s voice. “Living fire takes concentration.”

The demon deflated in a rush, snapping back into Augustine. He slid his glasses back on. “Philip McRaven. Also known as Azazel, mostly because he attempted to get everyone he ever worked with to call him that. He cost me a great deal of money.”

“How?” I asked.

“He was a Significant, related to the San Antonio McRavens. They excised him twelve years ago for various offenses and when I met him, he was working as a free agent. He advertised himself as a decent tracker. We were looking to expand our staff and I can always find use for a good illusion mage, especially one with a secondary talent. In addition to being an illusion mage, he was also an upper-range Average psionic.”

That explained the panic.

“I put him on a skip trace. One of the Houses had a runaway spouse who married into the House and six months later took off.”

“Took the good silver?” I asked.

“Nothing so pedestrian. He made his getaway in a California Spyder.”

“Good taste,” Rogan said.

I glanced at him.

“It’s a 1961 Ferrari. Only fifty-three ever made,” Rogan explained.

“The last one to come on the market sold for seven million,” Augustine said, his voice dry. “The man was a gambler who used to frequent Vegas. A relatively easy job. McRaven was to find him and call in the local team so we could deliver him and the car back to his heartbroken wife. McRaven found the runaway, put on his demon routine, and then choked the man to death. To add insult to injury, the thief voided his bowels while still in the car.”

“How inconsiderate of him.” Rogan’s expression was perfectly placid.

“Yes, how dare he ruin the upholstery,” I murmured.

Our sarcasm flew right over Augustine’s head. “It’s incredibly difficult to remove the stench of human waste once it soaks into the carpet fibers. I almost killed McRaven. When I asked him why he did it, I got psychosis on parade with all flags flying and a marching band. According to him, he had done it because he liked, and I quote, ‘to see light go out of their eyes as they wet themselves in terror.’”

“Charming,” I said. Whatever mild tinges of guilt I felt about killing a man who’d tried to murder me evaporated.

“I seriously considered making him disappear,” Augustine said.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked.

“One, he was my employee. There were plenty of warning signs in his background check, so the fault was mine for hiring this psychopath in the first place. And two, his mother came to see me from San Antonio. The McRavens may not be a full-fledged House, but there are four Significants in that family and now they owe me a favor.” Augustine studied Rogan for a long moment. “How do you fit into this? What are you involved in?”

“I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you,” Rogan said.

Nobody laughed.

“You should wink next time you make a joke,” I told Rogan. “So people know when to laugh.”

“I’m not joking,” he said.

“He isn’t.” Augustine pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Except I’m obviously not trembling in terror. Let me break this down for you. I own the largest investigative firm in Houston. Obtaining information is literally what I do for a living. I’m now intrigued enough to divert resources from other, profitable ventures, to look into this. I will put the two of you under enough surveillance that you won’t be able to breathe. I’ll bug your offices and your vehicles, I’ll hack your computers, and I’ll have you followed by people who change their faces and bodies with a thought. You can devote an enormous amount of resources to fight me off or you could just tell me, because we all know I’ll figure it out in the end. I can be a nuisance or I can be an ally. Your choice. Either way is fun for me.”

Rogan considered it.

Augustine waited.

Rogan leaned back. “Do you know how Forsberg’s people were killed?”

Augustine peered at him through his glasses. “You realize I referred Harrison to Nevada?”

“I meant, do you know what really happened?”

“No, but I’m all ears.”

I sighed and headed to the counter, where Grandma Frida’s coffeemaker waited. This would be a long conversation and I needed coffee for it.



By the time Rogan was done talking, we’d moved back into my office, since there was less chance of discovery there. I chased Leon and Arabella off, then checked up on Mom and Grandma and told them I was discussing things with Rogan just in case they decided to look for me. I was on my second cup of coffee, it was barely eight o’clock, and I was still sleepy.

Augustine took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A modern angel, urbane, well-dressed, and carrying a briefcase filled with savage weapons.

“So there is a conspiracy, probably involving several major Houses. To what end?”

“They are trying to destabilize Houston’s status quo,” Rogan said.