Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(77)

Yeah, right.

“You want to know what I’m trained to do?” Duncan leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “Smell bullshit a mile away.”

Hektor muttered something beneath his breath, but he wasn’t stupid enough to insult an armed cop to his face.

“All right. We received word from an anonymous source that the coin holder had been identified so we were able to move the coin before it could be stolen.”

Duncan snorted. He’d worked with anonymous sources for years. Ninety-nine percent of the info he got from them was worth jack-squat, the other one percent was usually little better than a random guess that accidentally turned out to be right.

He wouldn’t depend on an anonymous source to tell him the time of day, let alone to entrust the protection of the very reason for his existence.

“How did you know you could trust this source?” he demanded.

“They’d always been right before. Unfortunately—”

Hektor bit off his words, a flush of embarrassment crawling beneath his skin.

“Unfortunately?” Duncan prompted.

“When we were warned that Calso’s name had been discovered it was decided it was too risky to move the coin until we’d found some place that couldn’t be traced.” The man’s lips thinned with anger. “We put out word that the coin had been transferred to a new host, hoping the necromancer would be fooled long enough for us to find a more permanent solution.”

A risky decision.

One that might destroy them all.

“How did Calso get the coin in the first place?”

“It was decided that the necromancer hunting the coin had found a way to recognize members of the Brotherhood.” Hektor absently lifted his hand to trace a small tattoo that looked like a stylized arrow on the side of his neck. “It was imperative we find someone who had no formal connection to our group to hide the coin”

It made sense, but Duncan couldn’t imagine how a group of self-righteous nut-bars had chosen a financial whiz who had a weakness for pretty strippers to harbor their most precious treasure.

“Why him?”

Hektor thinned his lips, as if he hadn’t been entirely pleased with the choice.

“Calso was a trusted friend of our leader and since he was already a collector of art, it wouldn’t be suspicious for him to invest in high-tech security measures.”

Duncan resumed his pacing, making mental notes to check the various ways someone could have discovered Calso had the coin.

It could be done.

He didn’t doubt that for a minute.

But tracking down leads took time.

Sometimes days, sometimes weeks.

Time he didn’t have.

There had to be a faster way to find Lord Zakhar, or whoever the hell was using a dead woman as their personal puppet.

“Can you—” He gave a vague wave of his hand.

“Can I what?”

“Sense the coin?” he asked.

The man scowled. “I’m a human, not a high-blood. I have no unholy magics running through my veins.”

Duncan narrowed his eyes. “And yet you seemed to know that Callie was a high-blood from the minute she entered the room.”

“The ability to sniff out the enemy is a gift from my god,” Hektor said with a sneer.

Duncan curled his lips. Hypocrite. Any powers he and his so-called Brotherhood had came from the same place as high-bloods, not from some mysterious god.

Now, however, wasn’t the time for a philosophical debate.

Actually, as far as he was concerned, there was never a good time for a philosophical debate.

Instead he concentrated on the only thing that mattered.

“Fine. Can you use that god-given gift to track down the necromancer?”

The dark eyes flashed at the edge of mockery that Duncan didn’t try to hide.

“If we had that power then we would have eliminated him years ago.”

“Really?” Duncan asked dryly. He would bet good money the Brotherhood was very good at hiding in the shadows and very bad at actually getting off their asses and taking care of business. “Do you often eliminate people?”

The man hastily glanced toward the camera in the ceiling. “Certainly not.”

Duncan was abruptly done.

He’d hoped the man could offer a way to capture the necromancer.

Instead he’d gotten fairy tales and vague threats.

“So you don’t know where the coin is or how we can find the necro who stole it,” he snapped. “Why the hell are you here?”

“To warn you of the danger if the coin isn’t immediately returned to our protection.”

“Worthless,” he muttered, heading toward the door. “Feel free to show yourself out.”

Anxious to track down Callie and make sure she wasn’t being hassled by his supposed friends, he hissed in frustration when Hektor was demanding his attention.

“Sergeant?”

He glared over his shoulder. “What?”

The man rose to his feet, his expression hard with warning.

“High-bloods once tried to make themselves into gods,” he said in fierce tones. “Don’t for a minute doubt that they won’t try again.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Zak opened his eyes, briefly confused by the realization he was lying face first on a stone floor with blood dripping down his neck.