Undercover Magic by Judy Teel Page B

bodies of four guards lay scattered across the lawn leading up to the house, another
     one sprawled half in, half out of the now bloody fountain in front of the entrance.
     Some were naked with shredded, bloody clothes scattered near them. Others were killed
     before they could shift.
    I keyed my gun to vamp and moved through the carnage, alert and tense.
    At the front steps, I picked my way around another body on the steps. One side of
     the double front doors had been torn from its hinges and thrown down the stairs. The
     other side hung tenaciously from its last hinge, banging against the house fitfully
     in a stray breeze. Whoever had done this hadn't held back. They'd hit fast, viciously
     and with purpose.
    I slipped inside the doors, and the smell of death intensified. More bodies. More
     blood. And signs of a fight.
    I pulled out my iC and called Falcon. "They're all dead," I said when he answered.
     "Smells like a butcher shop."
    "Get out, Addison. Anyone who can take down a team of Were mercenaries is not someone
     to mess with."
    I focused on the quiet buzz of energy in the middle of my body and let my senses roam
     through the house while I focused on my intuition, something I'd been secretly working
     on since last summer when a rampaging god had nearly killed me. A glimmer of energy
     from the fight still remained, stuck to the walls, the furniture, the bodies—I felt
     purpose, brutality, a thread of triumph and a lot of fear.
    I blinked and pulled in a long breath. "No. They got what they came for," I told him.
     Crossing the foyer, I pushed a body over with my foot. It was stiff like hardened
     clay. 
    "They were hit at least three hours ago. Probably more," I said into the phone.
    "A couple hours after sunset," Falcon concluded. "Before Laswell was due to leave
     for the benefit party."
    I headed up the curved, elegant staircase stained with blood.
    "Addison, please get out," he said, his voice genuinely worried. I appreciated the
     sentiment, but running wouldn't get the job done.
    "Where did you say Laswell's office was?"
    His sigh whispered through the phone. "Up the stairs, to the left. Down the hall.
     First double doors on the right. Jeez you're stubborn."
    "One of my finer qualities."
     
    *  *  *
     
    The double doors weren't locked and opened easily onto an immaculately appointed office
     fit for a business mogul. I edged in, weapon ready. A quick sweep showed me that nothing
     significant had been disturbed except the overturned executive's chair behind the
     desk.
    "Empty," I said into my iC.
    The old-fashioned phone sitting on the desk rang.
    "Is that a phone?" Falcon said in my ear.
    I stared at the heavy black contraption. It rang again. "I'll call you back," I said
     to Falcon.
    "Wait! It could be rigged to—"
    I hung up and pocketed my iC. Picking up the handset of the desk phone, I put it to
     my ear. "Hello?"
    A man's voice rasped over the line. "We have your brother."
    "Who is this?"
    "High Lord Navarro wanted you. But he's flexible." In the background, a man screamed
     and chills fractured down my back.
    "What do you want?" I asked the raspy voice.
    "Secrets should be kept. Find a way to do that."
    Secrets? What the hell? "How?"
    "Be creative. But get Lord Bellmonte to back down or Laswell dies." He disconnected.
    I stared at the receiver in my hand, my mind running over what I'd heard. A moment
     later Falcon rushed into the office, sweaty and disheveled.
    He waved a Browning outfitted like mine around like he expected the office to be full
     of vampires. When he almost hit me in the face, I grabbed the gun and pulled it from
     his sweaty grip. "Hey, hey, hey. It's not nice to point."
    Relieved of the responsibility of having to shoot someone, Falcon braced a hand on
     one of the guest chairs and sucked in air like a winded scarecrow. "Nothing...blew
     up... That's good."
    "They have Laswell. Turns out he also has a sister."
    "W-who...does?" he asked.
    "Someone unpleasant."
    "Someone