I took the wrapped hairbrush. “Did anyone touch this before it was wrapped?” I asked him.
“No one,” he assured me.
I smiled at him. “Thank you, Chief Watcher. It’s always a pleasure to work with true professionals.”
He nodded. “I understand you were there when Miss Jacobs was taken through that mirror.”
“Megan Jacobs is the student’s name,” Mychael clarified.
“Yes, I was,” I told the watcher. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t in a position to do anything to prevent it.” I frowned. “I can’t make up for what happened, but I want to help you find her—and the man who took her.”
“You’re familiar with Banan Ryce?” Rinker asked.
“We’ve met,” I said flatly. “It wasn’t professional, but it was hardly social.”
The watcher didn’t ask me to explain, which was good, because I had no intention of doing so.
I turned to Mychael. “May I use your couch? Hopefully I won’t need it, but better comfy than concussed.”
“Of course.”
I went to the couch, sat down with my back against the cushions. Even before my Saghred-enhanced seeking skills, I made it a point to try to sit someplace soft when working. The impressions I got from an object could be vague or jarring, and since I was attempting a direct link with a hopefully still-living person, the disorientation from that link could very well put me on the floor.
I held the wrapped hairbrush in one hand and peeled back the fabric with the other. It was a small silver brush of fine quality. Even better, there were a few long, blond hairs caught in the bristles. Last week, I got to experience a murder victim’s last seconds right along with him—all courtesy of the power boost the Saghred had given me. The victim had been killed the day before, so I’d gotten nothing from his personal object but last impressions and a mild case of the whirlies.
Megan Jacobs was still alive, as far as we knew. I’d never been inside a living person’s head before. I was pretty sure I could do it; I just didn’t know what to expect. Being the control freak that I am, I always want to know what to expect. Too bad I rarely get what I want.
I picked up the brush and clasped it in both hands.
The connection was immediate, crystal clear, and unnerving as hell.
I was disoriented, but what I felt was sick. I took shallow breaths and blew them out in short puffs, willing the contents of my stomach to stay right where they were. My stomach listened, and I saw the world through Megan Jacobs’s eyes.
The girl was alive, conscious, and scared to death. The scared part seemed like an appropriate enough response to being dragged through a mirror by Banan Ryce. As best I could tell, Banan hadn’t been keeping her company. That was good. What wasn’t so good was that she wasn’t in any place I could easily identify.
It was cold, damp, and almost completely dark. A single small candle in an iron holder was on the floor with her. The floor and walls felt like stone to me, probably subterranean, judging from the temperature, though whether it was natural or a man-made structure such as a cellar I had no way of knowing—and neither did Megan. She wasn’t tied up and could have gone exploring. I know I would have. She just huddled in a corner, shaking. The shaking I could deal with, but if she didn’t stop breathing like she was trying to outrun a demon from the lower hells, she was going to pass out and take me right along with her. She certainly had the right idea about Banan Ryce, but he wasn’t in the room with her now.
But that didn’t mean she was alone.
There was another girl with her. The meager light showed a slender figure, curled on her side. She was turned away from me, so I couldn’t see her face, but I could see her hair. She was a blonde. The slight rise and fall of her back told me she was breathing, so she was either asleep or unconscious.
Megan’s panicked breathing was making me light-headed. Though it might have been less from Megan, and more from what I was about to try. In the good old days of last week, when I was just a simple seeker for hire, I could use an object from a missing person to get an idea of the direction they’d been taken. A vague idea. That’s what I could do in my pre-Saghred professional life. Megan had been taken through a mirror. Mirrors didn’t leave a trail to follow; but since I had successfully linked with Megan, I should be able to pinpoint for Sedge Rinker exactly where those girls were—and better yet, where he could get his hands on Banan Ryce, if the smug bastard was nearby.
Maybe.
Knowing the mechanics of how something was done and actually doing it yourself were two entirely different things. Sometimes those things turned out to be merely unpleasant—sometimes they were lethal.
Ah, the joys of my chosen career.
I loosened my grip ever so slightly on the hairbrush, likewise loosening my direct link with Megan Jacobs. I maintained contact with the girl, although I was no longer inside her head. The impression of the girl remained, strong and clear. It was like keeping someone in your line of sight, but no longer touching them. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even. I was now back in the citadel, no longer where Megan was being held.
Step one successfully completed.
I felt myself start to smile and stopped it. Don’t get cocky, Raine.
I almost didn’t dare to breathe. As a seeker, I knew what to do now; I just didn’t know how far I could go. Logic and the strength of my contact with Megan Jacobs told me I should be able to go from the citadel directly to where Megan was being held.
Sometimes logic didn’t work. And sometimes it bit you in the ass.
I gripped the brush again, but resisted a direct link, instead focusing on direction. I’d just been with Megan; now I needed to know where she was.
The impression of the girl was like a scent. I followed it.
I felt myself leave the citadel and go out into the square where the stage had collapsed this morning. Men were working by torchlight to clear the last of the debris. I followed Megan’s scent into the twisting, cobbled mazes of Mid’s streets, through the college campus, and into the center city.
And lost her.
Not lost as in I lost the trail, but lost as if Megan Jacobs had suddenly ceased to exist. If the girl’s trail had been a lit candle, someone had just blown it out.
I gripped the brush harder. Still no Megan.
I backtracked and tried again. No dice.
Dammit.
Rami Pirin was the son of a bitch who’d taught me everything I knew about seeking. I called him a son of a bitch because his lessons had been unrelenting and most times downright mean. He was also the best seeker I’d ever known or heard of. He could have done what I was trying to do. With my new Saghred-powered magical mojo, I should have been able to do it easily. Rami had taught me that only three things could have caused what had just happened: Megan had been killed; I’d screwed up and lost the trail; or a powerful someone didn’t want me finding Megan and had done some fancy magical footwork to ensure I didn’t.
One, I would have known if Megan had been killed. Two, I knew I hadn’t lost the trail. That left option number three. Rami had always taken that particular option personally. Like teacher, like student. If that meant I had to find Megan and Banan Ryce the old-fashioned way, so be it.
“I’m just an old-fashioned girl,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
“What?”
It was Mychael’s voice.
I took my hands off the brush and completely broke contact. I slowly opened my eyes. Everything was a little swirly there for a moment, but I was still on the couch and still upright. I was safe, but those girls weren’t. And worse yet, someone packing mage-level power didn’t want them found.
“Where is she?” Mychael asked.
“Cut right to the chase, don’t you? I’m fine, by the way.”
“Good. Where is she?”
“Relatively small room, completely dark, stone walls and floor. She’s not tied up, but she’s too scared to do anything about it. She’s alive and unhurt—for now.” I paused and glowered. “And as best I can tell, she’s being held in the central city.”
Mychael glowered back. “Best you can tell?”
I resisted the urge to snap. “Yes, as best I can tell.” I told them both about the trail vanishing, and Rami’s three reasons why it could have happened.
“Do you know if Banan Ryce has that kind of power?” Mychael asked me.
“He’s been known to pack a punch, but he can’t do anything like that.”
Mychael was silent for a moment. “That’s a lot of trouble to go to for a getaway hostage.”
“Yeah, it is. But Megan Jacobs isn’t alone. There’s another girl being held with her.” I looked at Sedge Rinker. “Did you know that you have two kidnapped girls?”
Mychael looked sharply at the chief watcher.
The watcher clenched his jaw. “Megan Jacobs was the second victim,” he told Mychael. “The first was taken last night.”
“Why wasn’t I notified?” Mychael wanted to know.
“Her parents are here and want to keep it quiet.” It sounded like Rinker liked saying that as little as Mychael liked hearing it. “If it was a random kidnapping, they don’t want the abductors to know who she is. They also don’t think we’re working quickly enough, and have hired their own investigators.”
Mychael scowled. “Who’s the girl?”
“Ailia Aurillac.”
Mychael’s scowl deepened. “Her father is Gerald Aurillac,” he told me.
“The shipping magnate?” I certainly recognized that name. Phaelan had helped himself to several of Gerald Aurillac’s ships over the years. Rich takings, quality merchandise. No doubt Aurillac would be put out at the Conclave college losing his little girl. I thought I’d keep my family’s connection to the Aurillacs to myself. If Sedge Rinker didn’t know, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. He had a good opinion of me; I thought I’d let him keep it a while longer.
