we can question him, a definite possibility considering he’s currently residing in California.”
“And the Nast Cabal is based in Los Angeles, meaning they’d beat us to him.”
“Precisely. My father’s suggestion, and one I would second, is that we proceed to California ourselves and investigate Everett further, before we press the Nasts for details.”
“Sounds good, but—”
The ring of my cell phone cut me off. I checked the call display.
“Adam,” I said. “Before I answer, what part of California are we heading to?”
“Close enough to Santa Cruz that you can ask him to join us.”
I nodded and clicked on the phone.
An hour later we were back at the airport, picking up tickets purchased for us by the Cortez Corporation. This was, of course, Benicio’s doing, though it was one step down from what he’d really wanted, which was for us to use the corporate jet. When Benicio offered the tickets instead, Lucas—eager to stop arguing and start investigating—had accepted. Neither of us was happy about the obvious manipulation, but the truth was that we could ill afford to be crisscrossing the country like this. Dana and Jacob deserved better than a low-budget investigation, and we’d make sure they got it, even if it meant accepting transportation expenses from the Cabal.
Of course, Adam didn’t mind playing host and tour guide, not when it came with the opportunity for excitement. I’ve known Adam for half my life, long enough to accept that he’s the kind of guy who does as little as he can get away with—unless the “doing” involves straight-up ass-kicking action. Today, with the prospect of some less-than-legal adventuring, he was keen enough to actually meet our plane on time.
Adam was twenty-four, and good-looking in a wholesome California way with a perpetual tan, light brown hair sun-streaked blond, and the well-built body of a surfer. Like his stepfather, he was a half-demon. Robert had long since suspected Adam was the most powerful subtype of fire demon—an Exustio—but it had only been last year that he’d finally incinerated something and proved Robert right. That marked the culmination of seventeen years of increasing powers, dating back to childhood, when Talia had gone seeking answers for Adam’s early displays of power, not content to accept a psychiatrist’s explanation that Adam’s literally hot temper was only adolescent acting-out. Her search had led her to Robert Vasic, who’d eventually given her the answers she sought…and fallen in love with her.
“So what’s the plan?” Adam said as we climbed into his Jeep.
“We’re starting right at the source,” I said. “A home invasion, if we’re lucky.”
“Sweet.”
“I thought you’d think so.”
Less-than-Legal Adventuring
EVERETT WEBER LIVED OUTSIDE MODESTO, IN A SMALL farmhouse, an ugly cinder block with a freshly mowed lawn and tidy yard, but with woodwork years overdue for a paint job. Probably a rental, owned by whoever owned the surrounding vineyards. Like most renters, Weber was quite willing to keep the place neat but wasn’t about to dip into his own pockets for repairs.
Weber worked at a place in Silicon Valley, so we hoped that at one P.M. on a Friday, that’s where he’d be. From Lucas’s preliminary background check, Weber appeared to live alone. Add in the fact that his house was on a dirt road, with no neighbors for a half-mile in any direction, and a daytime break-and-enter wasn’t as risky as it sounded.
The remote location made it perfect for a B&E but more difficult to get up close and check for occupancy. We called the house from the road, and no one answered the phone, but that didn’t necessarily mean Everett wasn’t there. After some skulking around, Lucas proclaimed the house empty, and we met at the back door, whereupon we discovered that every window came complete with bars and security decals. After a quick check, Lucas declared the decals legit. Weber had a security system, and it was activated.
“No disarming spells in your repertoires, I suppose?” Adam whispered as we huddled near the back door.
Lucas pulled a small kit from under his leather jacket. “No, but I do have this.”
“Cool.” Adam crouched beside Lucas as he worked. “Now this you didn’t learn in law school.”
“You’d be surprised,” Lucas murmured. “No, this comes from having Cabal contract employees as clients. As you might expect, the Cabals don’t contract them for their typing skills. In some cases, an exchange of skills proves more valuable than financial remuneration.” He fiddled with a mess of wires. “There. Now comes the difficult part. I need to cut these three at the