Magic Breaks (Kate Daniels 7)

“What if we compromise?” I asked.

Jim looked at me for a long second. “They’re going to need sweaters in hell.”

Because me trying to be the voice of reason froze hell over. “Har har. You said they had vampires for backup. Let’s split our people in two. One group comes with us, the other waits as a backup. Put someone solid in charge of it, whoever you want, and have them wait nearby. Within running distance.”

Jim pondered that. “I pick both crews.”

I spread my arms. “Fine.”

“I can live with that. I’ll prepare a couple of exit strategies for you in case shit hits the fan. If I’m wrong, we lose nothing. If I’m right . . .”

“I hope you’re wrong.”

“I hope I’m wrong, too,” he said.

“Good. Then we’re done here.” I walked away from him, conquered the hallway, and started up the stairs. That was enough excitement for the day. If nobody did anything crazy, I could hide in our rooms and read . . .

Hannah, one of my and Curran’s guards, ran down the stairs.

Please don’t be for me, please don’t be for me . . .

“Consort!”

Damn it. “Yes.”

“There is a knight of the Order here to see you.”

What now? The Order of Merciful Aid served as a semiofficial law enforcement agency. Competent and efficient, but rigid in their thinking, they helped private citizens deal with their magic hazmat problems. Unfortunately, once you asked them for help they did it their way and not everyone liked it. I used to work for the Order. They decided shapeshifters weren’t people, I decided they were, and we went our separate ways. Ted Moynohan, the knight in charge, was still pissy about it.

“He has Ascanio and Julie with him. He says no charges will be filed.”

Why me?

• • •

I WALKED INTO the conference room ready to do battle. Ascanio sat in one chair, looking suitably guilty and regretful, and if I hadn’t worked with him for the last few months, I would even believe it. Julie sat across from him, slender, blond, and defiant. She had mostly passed through her Goth phase, but black was still her favorite color and I was treated to a lovely ensemble of black jeans, charcoal turtleneck, and piercing stare.

A huge man took up the only other occupied chair. Massive, slabbed with muscle and covered in elaborate tattoos, he had the bold handsome features, dark skin, and dark eyes of a Pacific Islander.

“Mauro!” Of all the knights of the Order I liked him the most.

“Hello, Consort,” Mauro boomed. He got to his feet, spread his arms, and curtsied.

Ascanio clamped his hand over his mouth.

“I see you still think you’re funny.”

“Damn right.” His face split in a happy grin.

I turned to Hannah. “Could you bring us some hot tea?”

“Sure.”

Mauro nodded at my ward and Ascanio. “I brought these two miscreants to you.”

“What happened?”

“I was on an unrelated call in the Shiver Oaks, when a woman ran out from the house across the street and asked me if I could help her with some burglars her dog cornered.”

I turned to Ascanio and Julie. The look on my face must’ve been scary, because they flinched in unison. Ha! Still got it.

“Burglary?” I asked quietly. The Pack took a dim view of any criminal activity. We had enough trouble as it was.

Ascanio sighed, clearly resigned to his fate. “She wanted to see the bunnycat kittens. It was the breeder’s house. We found the ad in the newspaper. The woman wouldn’t let us in unless we showed her money, so we scaled the fence when she went out. I could’ve dealt with the Rottweiler. I just didn’t want to hurt him.”

Of course, Julie would want to see bunnycat kittens. Hell, I wanted to see the bunnycat kittens. And of course, he took her. The problem was, they got caught.

“We weren’t going to steal them,” Julie said. “We just petted them.”

“Is she pressing charges?” I asked Mauro.

“I convinced her it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time,” he said.

I looked at the kids. “Scram! I’ll talk to you later.”

They scurried out, nearly knocking Hannah and her platter of tea off her feet. She bared her teeth at them.

“Thank you.” I took the platter. Hannah stepped out and closed the door. I served tea to Mauro. “How’s it going?”

Mauro took his cup and blew on it. “Thank you.” He swallowed a little. “God, that’s good. I was about frozen solid. Damn weather. Things are . . . going. Selena still thinks I work too much.”

“How is your wife?”

“She’s good, thank you.” He hesitated. “I’m thinking of transferring.”

That was news. Atlanta was considered one of the more important Order chapters in the South. Not only that, but knights didn’t like changing duty stations. Once they were assigned to a chapter, they developed street contacts and professional relationships. Most of them would do just about anything to avoid starting over. “Transferring where?”

“Somewhere. Charleston. Orlando.”

Odd. I added more tea to his cup. I’ve learned that if you just stay quiet, people will say more to fill the silence.

“Thank you.” Mauro sighed. “This post used to be the place you went because it would be good for your career. You know, high-speed post. Where things were happening.”

“Things are still happening.”

“Not the right kind of things.” Mauro set the cup down. “Did you know Ted Moynohan was one of the original Ninety-Eight?”

Twenty-three years ago the original Ninety-Eight, drawn from different law enforcement agencies, formed the core of the Order of Merciful Aid. They were dramatically knighted in a single ceremony in front of the Washington Monument. The Order had wanted to make a statement.

“That makes Ted a knight-founder,” I said.

Mauro nodded. “We’ve had three hundred fifty percent turnover in personnel in the past three years. Typical for a chapter is about twenty percent.”

That made sense. Knights died, but they died occasionally. They were really well trained and difficult to kill. “Atlanta also had a hard three years.”

“People up the chain of command noticed. A three-knight investigative team came down from Wolf Trap. There was a hearing. A question was raised about some of the turnover. You came up.”