Before I could respond, my father and James Graham, his second-in-command, strode in. James wore his standard-issue black T-shirt and camouflage cargos, the same uniform I’d seen him in my entire life. The ensemble matched his short dark hair and olive skin perfectly, adding a unified blend of menace and strength to his tall frame. James was an impressively large wolf, with a pair of huge shoulders, and would’ve stood out in any outfit, but I was glad to see he hadn’t changed at all.
My father acknowledged Nick with a quick nod. “Nicolas.”
“Hello, sir,” Nick answered, scrambling to stand.
“How’s your leg, Jessica?” my father asked as I rose.
“All healed.”
He looked me over for a few seconds, then gave me a quick nod.
James approached me. “It’s good to see you, Jessica,” he said as he encircled my waist in a warm embrace. His rough Irish brogue was still infectious after all this time. “Glad to see you are well.”
I gave him a hug. “It’s been too long, James.” I smiled as I stepped back. “Far too long.” He’d been instrumental in my final departure from the Compound seven years ago and I was happy to see him. Without his support I might never have left, and it had cemented a bond of friendship between us that hadn’t existed before.
“Let’s head into my office.” My father strode into an adjacent opening off the living room and disappeared inside.
The rest of us followed. As we came in, my father set two chairs in a semicircle in front of the leather couch facing the windows. His office had originally been the old library, and rows of beautifully crafted bookshelves lined the walls. It also had a superb, unobstructed view of the lake.
“Jessica, please take a seat on the couch. Nicolas, you sit beside her.”
We sat immediately.
Without needing to be asked, James took the chair next to my father, leaning over and bracing his forearms on his thighs, ready to start the discussion.
My father sat straight and imposing. Physically he was a few inches shorter than James, but his body held more mass. His strong arms spilled out of his rolled-up dress shirt. My father was always dressed for the occasion. I’d never seen him run a serious meeting in a T-shirt and jeans. My father was a leader. There was no mistaking it.
“Nicolas,” he began. “After this briefing I want you to find out everything you can about the rumors circulating in the supernatural community concerning Jessica or a recent shift. See if any news has spread outside of this Compound. If you find anything out of the ordinary I want to hear about it immediately.” My father continued, “That will be your top priority. But for now, let’s start with a replay of what happened early Saturday morning when you first arrived at Jessica’s apartment. I know you’ve already relayed it to me, but I want to hear it again from start to finish.” He nodded my way. “And I’m sure Jessica would like to hear what’s happened in her absence.”
“Yes, sir.” Nick turned toward me.
“This should be interesting,” I joked, hoping to ease some of Nick’s tension, which smelled like burned toast to my new nose.
“Tyler called me around two-thirty a.m. the night you shifted,” Nick said. “He was worried and thought you were in trouble. I jumped into my car and immediately called Marcy, and told her to meet me there. I knew if there’d been some kind of a disturbance at your place there was a strong chance your neighbors had already called the police. Having her there would make things easier.”
“Good thinking, ace,” I said. That was the best news I’d heard since I jumped off my three-story balcony. Marcy Talbot, the secretary at our firm, was a very talented witch, even though she refused to give herself any credit. Marcy hated working under pressure, and had the misfortune of constantly misfiring her spells in stressful situations, which kept any coven from accepting her. But when she did perform, it was completely mind-blowing.
“Marcy and I arrived at your complex at about the same time,” Nick continued. “It was a total miracle we made it there before the police. It was a mess and people were milling around all over your hallway. Marcy conjured a spell on the spot, something that made everyone think they were needed elsewhere. Once they cleared out, we slipped into your place unseen.”
“Go, Marcy,” I said. “How did the apartment look? My wolf busted up a lot of stuff trying to get the hell out.”
“ ‘Busted up’ is on the tame side.” Nick flashed me a cynical grin. “It looked more like you laid a bunch of C-4 around the place and blew it up. There were piles of demolished furniture everywhere and the floor was trashed with huge gouges. Your bedroom was the worst. But we didn’t have time to clean it all, because the police sirens were getting close. Marcy had a brainstorm to make it look like something busted into the apartment, instead of you jumping out. So she made your sliding glass door look like it had been punched from the outside in.”
I nodded along. “Brilliant.”
“After that she was almost drained.” Witches needed to refuel when they conjured consecutive spells. “So we ran back to your bedroom, because we knew it had to be clean or it would’ve launched a huge investigation. That much unexplained blood would have to be accounted for.”