“Azrael.”
“Interesting. So, the freaking Angel of Death blows into town just as a girl goes missing and our mayor turns up dead!”
“By why would she care about them?” Ingrid argued. “You know the Fallen are bound to that Code of theirs. They’re not supposed to bring harm to humans, and there hasn’t been a human death attributed to them in centuries. It just doesn’t make sense . . .” Then her face went pale. “Wait a minute . . . I told her about the Orpheus Amendment . . . that she would need a soul to sacrifice to Helda for the one she wants returned, and she said she already knew about that part, that she was prepared for it.” Ingrid looked horrified. “You don’t think Azrael could have taken Molly, do you? Or Todd?”
“Anything could happen,” Freya said. “Especially with zombies and vampires around. Next thing you’ll tell me Dad’s back.”
“Actually . . .” Ingrid bit her lip. “Never mind.” Freya didn’t seem to catch it so Ingrid soldiered on. “Anyway, what do you think we should do?” In times like these, she looked to her younger sister for action and leadership. At heart, Ingrid was a seer, someone who studied and analyzed situations; she liked to lay the facts on the table and let someone else make the hard decisions.
“First we’ll pay Azrael a visit,” Freya said. “Then we look for Lionel.”
chapter thirty-three
Safe House
I thought Mom had all the tunnels destroyed,” Ingrid said. They were standing in front of the door to Freya’s closet. They had driven back home instead of driving to the city, at Freya’s behest. “There’s really one still here?”
Freya put her hands on her hips and smirked. “She kept the wands, Ingrid. Don’t you think she might have kept a few other things?” She threw open the doors, tapped her wand, and a light emanated from the end, guiding the way. “Anyway, it’s so ridiculous. Why would I have to live in some dingy walk-up in New York when we had this all along?”
Every witch abode automatically sprouted magical pathways, which the witches could use to travel long distances that would otherwise be tiresome by broom. But when the house in North Hampton was built, the Council had ordered them destroyed as part of the restriction. Freya always suspected that Joanna had kept one as a safety precaution and, a few decades ago, discovered she had been correct in her assumption. She led the way inside, past the racks of coats and furs and the sign she’d made that read, “Looking for Narnia? You’re in the wrong universe,” until they found themselves in Freya’s old apartment in the city.
Since it was connected to North Hampton, like the town it existed just slightly outside of time; so that while in the physical world it was only several hundred square feet, it was also a huge mansion with a fireplace, a beautiful kitchen, and plush English country furniture. “Nice, right?” Freya smiled. “You can’t get this on the market these days for what I paid.”
“So while we were living in drudgery and couldn’t even use magic to clean the dishes, you were living here all these years? No wonder you never came home.”
“Hey, I found the tunnel that led to this safe house. Mother must have kept it around in case we ever needed to get out of North Hampton. Useful, right?” Freya smiled. “God, I’ve missed this place. I used one of her old spells to redecorate. I figured the restriction only applied to new magic.”
“All right, then. How do we go about finding a vampire in this city?” Ingrid asked, nodding approvingly at the plush surroundings. “It’s not like they’re listed in the phone book.”
“Actually, they are,” Freya said, firing up her computer and taking a seat at her desk. “The Fallen kind of run New York. Let’s see what we can find.” She typed Mimi’s name into a search engine.
Since Mimi Force was the beautiful and fashionable daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the city, if not the world, there were many entries concerning her frenetic social life, including numerous mentions in the tabloids and gossip columns. There were articles documenting her beauty routine, her eating habits, what nightclubs she currently frequented. However, the Internet did not reveal any private details. Like many of the rich and famous who lived within a cocoon of privacy rare to ordinary folk, the Force holdings and estates were mostly hidden through a network of trusts and attorneys.
“If you want to know what she wore last week to some party, I can tell you, but I don’t think we’ll find an address,” Freya said, tapping the keyboard in frustration.
Ingrid perched on the armrest of Freya’s chair and peered at the screen. “Well, then, if we’re not going to find her that way, then the best bet is to try and ambush her at one of these parties.”
“You’re a genius; I know that’s why we’re related.” Freya smiled, pulling up a site that listed the social events scheduled for that week. “Here we go. The Blood Bank Committee has some kind of party tomorrow night, which is technically tonight since it’s already tomorrow. All the Blue Bloods are sure to be there, Mimi included. It’s their little pet charity to keep the blood supply clean.” She yawned. Ingrid had fetched her at the bar around midnight and it was already the wee hours of the morning. “Let’s get some sleep so we’ll be ready for the ambush. If Azrael did take Molly, she’s not going to give her up easily.”
Freya slept fitfully, tossing and turning in her bed. She could hear Ingrid snoring from the guest room, but it wasn’t the reason for her insomnia. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ingrid’s strange dream about Killian—her sister would not divulge any more details, but she got the gist of it, and it bothered her. Why would Ingrid dream that Killian wanted to kill her? Killian liked Ingrid, as far as Freya could tell; she couldn’t see how he could wish her harm . . . except . . . but that had happened so long ago now, he couldn’t possibly still hold it against her?
When she wasn’t worrying about that she could not stop agonizing about the way she had ended it with him earlier. Was it really over between them? She could not imagine never seeing him again, even if it was probably for the best. Bran would be home soon; he promised that after his big summer project was wrapped up he would leave the traveling part of his work to others. She could not keep up the fa?ade and the lying anymore. Being in love with two men at the same time was not what she had signed up for when she had launched this affair. She had to stop acting and start thinking; for too long she just rushed into things without worrying about the consequences. Like agreeing to marry Bran after only a month, or having sex with his brother after meeting him for the first time at a party. She had to get her life in order and commit to the direction she had chosen, which meant marrying Bran in September. Things were great until she met Killian. She was happy, she was in love, and then he came into the picture. But she had allowed him in, she reminded herself.
She finally drifted off to sleep just as morning broke, and when she woke up it was the afternoon. She could hear Ingrid puttering around in her dressing room, searching through the racks of clothing. “What time is it?” she asked her sister.
“Five o’clock. You slept the whole day. Come on, get up, the party starts at six. I want to be there early.”
Freya rubbed her eyes and moved slowly out of bed. She walked to the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of coffee from a pot Ingrid had made.