Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(106)

“Because it’s one thing to create weather conditions for a storm and another to initiate one.” Adeyemi squeezed her hands into fists. “I didn’t think he would do it. None of us thought he would. This is . . . The loss of life will be catastrophic. This will be a national emergency.”

“Why now?” Rivera wondered.

That, at least, was obvious. “He knows we have the files,” I said. “He knows that sooner or later we will decrypt them and that Brian is now worthless as a bargaining chip. He wants to bury us. If everyone’s dead and the city is in ruins, nobody will care about the conspiracy. Can we prove that he’s the one responsible for the storm?”

Adeyemi shook her head. “Not unless we see him. Weather spells are untraceable, just like other magic. One could make a guess, but a guess wouldn’t be good enough to stand up in court or before the Assembly. You have to decide fast. We’re running out of time.”

The three men stared at Rogan. The question was obvious on their faces. What do we do?

He looked at Adeyemi. “How long do we have?”

“An hour,” she said. “I can buy you maybe another thirty minutes.”

“We hit him first,” Rogan said, his face savage.

Rivera grinned.

Rogan pivoted to me. “What is House Baylor’s position in this matter?”

Do I go back and ask my family?

They were looking at me. It dawned on me that I was the Head of the House. I had to make the decision now. “House Baylor will render all necessary aid to House Rogan on and off the field.”

Rogan grinned. “Thank you. Heart, I want the plans for the Sturm family compound up.”

Heart turned and walked away.

“Rivera, I want everybody out of their racks and in full battle rattle in ten minutes in the motor pool with team leaders in the briefing room.”

Rivera took off at a run.

“Bug, take Ms. Ade-Afefe and get her whatever she needs to start working, then notify Diana and Cornelius and Rynda Charles.”

Rogan pulled his cell out of his pocket.

I took off for the warehouse. Behind me, Rogan said into the phone, “Lenora, we have a problem.”

I ran into the warehouse. It was just past eleven, and the light in the kitchen was on. I pressed the button on the intercom and said, “I need everyone in the kitchen now, please.”

In twenty seconds, Mom, Grandma Frida, Bern, Leon, and Catalina stared at me in the kitchen.

“Sturm is making a storm that will hit Houston in an hour,” I said. “Everything will be destroyed. I don’t know if the warehouse will survive. Our only chance is to hit him fast now. Rogan asked me what we will do. I told him we will fight.”

Silence claimed the table.

“If anyone would prefer to evacuate instead, now is the time,” I said.

Nobody said anything. I looked at Catalina. My sister bared her teeth at me. It was the kind of expression I would’ve expected from Arabella. “I’m coming.”

“Third rule,” Leon said. The Baylor agency had only three rules, and the last was the most important. At the end of the day we had to be able to look our reflections in the eye.

I studied their faces. They gazed back at me with grim determination. Baylors made strategic retreats when occasion demanded, but when push came to shove, we didn’t run.

“Bern, is everything backed up?”

He nodded. “All of our business records are stored on a server in San Francisco. Our personal records too, the photos, copies of documents, and all that.”

“Then we’ll have to operate as if our home will be destroyed. Everyone grab anything you can’t live without. We’ll meet back here in five minutes and go over to attend Rogan’s briefing.”

Shock slapped Catalina’s face. It finally sank in.

“But all of our things are here. Our whole lives are here,” my sister said. Her voice almost made my heart break.

Mom smiled at her. “They are just things, darling. We’ll get new things. Go. There is no time.”

The family scurried off.

I dashed up the stairs to my loft. My entire life was in this room. The last echoes of my childhood. If we failed, and even if we didn’t, it could still disappear. I spun around. All my little treasures: my pictures, my books, the stuffed toy dog named Trinity I had kept since I was a kid, who now rested on the shelf . . . What do I do? What do I take?

There was too much. I grabbed the picture of us. It was about ten years old, Dad, Mom, Grandma Frida, my sisters, and my cousins, all crowding into the same shot. I pulled it out of the frame, folded it, stuffed it into my pocket, and headed for the door.

Shoot.

I spun around, dropped to my knees, and pulled the ammo box out from under the bed. The Tear of the Aegean sparkled inside. I slipped the chain around my neck—it was the safest place I could think of—dropped the beautiful stone inside my T-shirt, and ran downstairs.





Chapter 14




All of Bug’s nine screens were on. He sat at his workstation like a wizard cooking potions in his arcane laboratory, glancing at the screens arranged three to a row.

The three monitors on the right showed an aerial view of what looked like a concrete mushroom cap, circled by two rings of walls, the inner being stone and the outer a chain-link fence, probably electrified and anchored by four guard posts. The views slid and turned, as the birds of prey carrying cameras fought the wind gusts. House Harrison had sent their scouts. Even if Bug’s drones could’ve handled the rising winds, Sturm’s people would detect them and shoot them down.