Seal of Destiny (12 page)

The automatic lock clicked open, and he ushered Mira inside. Chago remained in the hall to stand guard. Kagan and Mira weaved through a maze of cubicles and stopped beside a wooden door in a far corner. The plaque declared
Office of Department Head
. He crouched, picked the lock, and gave Mira a wink. “We’re in.”

He walked to a large wooden desk at the office’s center and clicked on the lamp. Kagan opened the laptop and typed in the password Wyck had provided. He pulled the thumb drive from his pocket and slid it into the computer port with a click. Moments later, information filled the screen. Kagan leaned back and grinned, his arms behind his head. “
Oca!
Wyck, you’re
scary
good.”

Wyck’s low chuckle echoed in his earpiece. “I know.”

“Will my records be there too?” Mira asked, picking through the contents of a metal filing cabinet beside her.

Kagan shrugged. “Should be. Wyck said they automated about ten years ago.”

Stretched out behind the desk, he watched Mira skim her gloved fingers over the decorative objects on a bookshelf before stopping to examine a drawer at its base. His gaze narrowed when she pilfered a small object wrapped in plastic and shoved it into her pocket.
Sticky fingers.
His mind filled with images of her eating pizza the night before and exactly what he’d like her to be doing with those fingers.
His body stirred.
Merda!
The last thing he needed right now was a stiff cock. He tamped down his desire and focused on the task at hand.

Mira perched on one of the chairs and fiddled with her coat. “How much longer?”

“Not long,” Kagan said, glancing at the progress bar on the screen. “Tell me about McClaine.”

Her lips compressed, and she stared out the window at the gathering darkness. “He was my caseworker for the last four years.”

His muscles tensed at her frigid tone. He asked the question foremost in his mind, the answer already looming like a phantom on his mind’s horizon. “What happened?”

“The usual.” Mira walked to the windows, her arms hugged tight around her torso. “You know, groping and stuff. He liked his girls broken in before the deal.” A brittle smile curved her lips. “He’s more of a broker, really, not the end consumer.”

“Broker?” Kagan sat forward, dread boring into his stomach. “What was he trading?”

“Us.”

Kagan hands fisted as his fury soared. This was worse than he’d suspected. “He sold the children under his protection?”

“There’s a lot of cash to be had, Kagan.” Mira studied her boots. “The younger the better.”

He moved to stand before her, barely restrained violence searing benath his skin. “Did he rape you?”

She paused, hedging a direct answer, her expression a mask of sadness before it dissolved into steeled cynicism. “He laughed. Told me how disappointing I was. All show and no goods to back it up.” Mira focused on the skyline, refusing to look at him. “Except I got away. Got away and kept running. I don’t think he tried hard to find me. Not after the last attack.”

“You were only a child.” His vocal cords strained as memories of his own human family — his younger sisters — filled his head. They’d been mere children too when the Praetorians slaughtered them. He could still see their mangled bodies, left as a warning by the front gates. He squeezed his eyes shut and banished the images to their dark hideouts.

“I was sixteen, Kagan. Old enough to stop him. I couldn’t.” She leaned against the wall. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

Kagan took her chin between his gloved fingers and forced her to meet his gaze. “It matters to me,
piccola
.”

She blinked, then jerked out of his grip and turned away. “Chicago isn’t safe, not until he’s gone. Zoe and I both know enough to put the bastard away for a long time.”

The computer beeped loudly, signaling the upload was complete. Kagan returned to the desk and removed the zip drive from the port before shoving it in his pocket. “Got it.”

Mira joined him. “McClaine wouldn’t keep his records in the database.”

“No, but I’d lay odds he keeps them close by.” He glanced at her while he shut off the laptop. “At his house, maybe? Now we have his address.”

She walked to the door and paused, her eyes trained on the toes of her boots.

“What happened with McClaine wasn’t your fault, Mira.” He took in the heartbreaking image she presented, his spirit aching for her lost innocence. “You know this,
si
?”

She kicked the baseboard. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”

Kagan walked around the desk and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

As they wound their way to the entrance, Wyck’s voice snapped to life in his ear. “You need to get out of there now. Sixty seconds until the office cameras come online.”

“Si.” Kagan tugged Mira closer when they neared the door. He reached for the handle, but Chago’s sudden signal from the hallway had him ducking to the floor and pulling Mira down beside him.

“What’s going on?” Mira started to raise her head only to have Kagan force it back down again.

“Chago saw someone,” he said close to her ear. “He told us to wait.”

“Thirty seconds.” Wyck’s tone now held an edge of tension.

A soft knock sounded on the glass door, and Kagan’s head snapped up. “
Vaff!
”

He grabbed Mira’s hand, opened the door and yanked her out into the hallway behind him. The lock clicked, and the security lights flickered on moments after they exited.

Chago sheathed his dagger and led them to the service door. “The guards check every half hour. We’ve got less than one minute. Talk about cutting it close.”

Their pace quickened when the elevator doors slid open behind them. The trio disappeared through the door, easing it shut without a sound.

“
Santo Cristo
!” Chago cursed while they descended the stairs. “What the hell took so long?”

“I don’t know. Ask Wyck. He’s the hacker extraordinaire,” Kagan said. He placed a hand on Mira’s lower back, urging her forward.

“I prefer God of Technology, thank you.” Wyck’s affronted tone echoed loud in the earpieces.

“You would,
capullo
,” Chago said, grinning.

“Whatever, Spanish Fly,” Wyck said. “Are you in the lobby yet?”

Kagan stepped out onto the ground floor and scanned the area, locating two guards behind the security desk. “We’re in position.”

“Marvelous. You all set, Senor MacGyver?”

Chago palmed the device he’d rigged together in the supply room. “Ready.”

He pressed the trigger on his makeshift detonator then pocketed the crushed remains. A small tremor rippled the walls. Fire alarms wailed, and water sprayed from the sprinkler directly above Chago’s head, soaking him. “
Joder!
You were supposed to turn the sprinklers off.”

“Oh, sorry.” Wyck chuckled. “Thought you could use a shower, Chay.” A high-pitched buzz shrieked from the earpieces, and a door slammed open above. Wyck’s last transmission was succinct. “Bollocks! Got to go.”

After another quick scan of the lobby, the trio exited the stairwell. The drum of running footsteps approached, and they ducked behind a copse of large potted plants. Guards rushed by without slowing. The area cleared and they edged their way toward a side exit. The security panel allowing emergency workers access lit up, and they rushed out to the busy sidewalk, blending in with the holiday crush. The trio crossed the street and walked one block to rendezvous with Wyck and Zoe.

Mira hugged her friend around the waist while they braced against the cold and focused on Kagan. “What’s next?”

Wyck pulled out his phone. “Xan wants to meet at my apartment. Guess we should head there.”

“Argus is close.” Kagan tracked a bus rolling past. A sudden jolt of electricity — the signal of another immortal — buzzed through his system. He glanced at Chago and Wyck. They both stood at attention, indicating they’d felt it too. “On the Metro.”

Chago unsheathed his dagger. Wyck fired off a text to Xander then glanced at Kagan. “Xan says it’s your call. What do you want to do, K?”

“Wyck, you take Mira and Zoe to your apartment. Chago and I can handle this,” Kagan palmed the Glock hidden in his pocket, his thoughts veering between defense and vengeance.

“No!” Mira stepped away from Zoe. Kagan loomed above her in an attempt at intimdation. Mira stood firm beneath his menacing glower. “I’m going with you. McClaine’s my problem too.”

“Mira, I don’t think — ” Her foot shot out and pain zipped up his leg from newly clobbered ankle. Those damn boots again! He scowled while she followed after the bus, now stopped one block ahead, and Chago took off after her.
One of these days …

• • •

Argus craned his neck at the massive stone building before him. His gaze fixed on the illuminated sign for Neiman Marcus. He pushed his way through the crowds and into the revolving door. Inside, sparkling displays of jewels and cosmetics twinkled beneath the overhead lights. The smell of various perfumes wafted while he maneuvered through the center aisle, his rotund frame bumping shoppers on both sides.

An attractive woman with a crystal bottle leaned toward him as he passed. She sprayed some noxious, burning liquid in his face while shoving a sample into his palm. The fumes stung his eyes and he sneezed. Argus hissed at her before continuing on.

Humans bustled all around, stepping on the levitating steps before they disappeared into the ceiling. Stupefied, Argus gawked. He bent at the waist and peered through the hole above then straightened, took a cautious step and placed a toe on the metal stair. His leg stretched upward, creating a ten-worthy split, and he scrambled back.

“C’mon buddy, I ain’t got all night!”

Argus spun to face a perturbed African-American woman who looked like she meant business. She tapped her high-heeled shoe before knocking him aside with a swipe of her shopping bags. “Look two-pint, you need to get the hell out the way before I run your ass over.”

The voluptuous bitch bumped past him and stepped on the moving steps.
Fuck.
Argus squeezed his eyes shut and climbed aboard. He gripped the rubber railing with freshly formed demon claws, shredding the soft covering before they retracted. The humans around him chattered away, unconcerned.

At the top, his feet caught on the metal stop bar and he pitched forward, barely avoiding face-planting on the elegant marble floor of the next level. A shove from the shopper behind him dislodged him from the tread and sent him sprawling through a wide aisle. When he straightened, a sign before him proclaimed exactly what he’d come to find. “The Made-To-Measure Event.” He followed the arrows to the men’s department.

“May I help you, sir?” A voice steeped in condescension interrupted his inspection of handmade Italian leather footwear on display.

Argus turned to find a small, bookish man in a custom-tailored suit eyeing him with suspicion. “I need a new wardrobe.”

The sales clerk lowered his stylish glasses down the bridge of his nose and surveyed Argus before pushing the spectacles back into position. “Yes, I can see that. The ready-to-wear line is across the hall.”

“No. I want tailored.” Argus grabbed his arm when he turned to leave.

“Tailored is expensive.” The clerk flashed his smuggest smile. “How much do you anticipate spending on this wardrobe, Mr. — ?”

Argus narrowed his gaze on the pompous fuck. The shitpacker didn’t think he had the goods? He tossed a plastic card onto the counter. “Money’s not an issue.”

The clerk’s eyes flicked to the black Centurion Card. Awe replaced the look of superiority on the other man’s face. Argus hid a smirk. “Certainly, sir. Shall we begin?”

He directed Argus to a corner of the floor hidden behind glass walls etched with the name Armani then disappeared. Argus smiled, inhaling the smell of expensive leather.
Yeah, this’ll do.

The man returned and asked Argus to stand and remove his coat while he buzzed about with a tape measure. Argus complied until the clerk’s hand brushed the bottom of his balls. Without warning, Argus sprang forward to pin him against the wall, his plump fist wadded in his the clerk’s starched white shirt. “Look, fucker, Argus don’t swing that way.”

“S-sorry, sir,” the clerk sputtered, his face turning a blotchy red beaded with sweat. “It was a misunderstanding. I was only trying to measure your inseam.”

Argus’s fingers twitched around the man’s neck. He fought to contain the urge to kill. After several tense moments, he released his prey with a dismissive flick of his wrist. The man slid to the floor, coughing hoarsely, while Argus coolly regarded his own reflection in the full-length mirrors. When the salesman looked up, Argus held his gaze with deadly intent. “Don’t have an accident again, fucker.”

“Y-yes sir.” The clerk crawled to grab his tape measure. “We must have your inseam measurement for the pants. Perhaps you would prefer to hold this yourself?”

Argus looked at the human groveling at his feet, and a wash of satisfaction rushed through him. He placed the tape where directed while the man marked his numbers on a pad.

“Thank you sir.” The sales clerk grabbed the edge of the counter and drew himself up, one hand fidgeting at his throat while he entered the measurements in the computer. Argus noted the dark red finger marks on the man’s scrawny neck and smirked. The clerk glanced nervously in his direction when he’d finished. “Please wait here. I’ll collect some items for you to consider.”

Argus settled into a nearby leather chair and inspected the other merchandise. He spotted several pairs of shoes and belts he desired and made a note to tell the clerk. Yeah, he could’ve simply taken the items and left, but he enjoyed messing with the humans too much. Besides, he still had four days, and he planned to enjoy them.

“May I get you something to drink, sir?” A blonde woman appeared beside his chair.

“What’re you offering?” He ran an appreciative gaze over her surgery-honed, designer-clad form and shifted in his seat, blatantly displaying the growing tent in his pants. The woman’s eyes widened before she scurried away, her heels clacking a frenetic retreat. His face stretched into a huge grin and he reached to adjust his polyester Sansabelts.
Stupid bitch doesn’t know what she’s missing. Once you go demon, you never go back, baby.