“Nice. And the drug company?”
“Solidarity Pharmaceuticals. Definitely a front. We’re tracking that down, trying to see who’s behind the shell companies that own it, but there’s no question we’ll eventually find technoceuticals. The humanitarian dude is more of a question mark—Dr. Sebastian Rindon, Nobel-Prize-winning scientist, dedicating his life to helping catastrophe survivors recover without getting poisoned by all the toxins in the post-disaster sludge. Rising seawater, mudslides, flooding, sewage spillover, you name it. He’s got some kind of vaccination to keep people from getting sick as well as purifiers to dump into the water, and it seems to be working. He’s a hero, so far as we can tell.”
I made a face. “That doesn’t track. Why would he be on the screen at the Odermatts’? Is he Connected?”
“Not really. Tough to tell until we get right up on him, but he’s apparently rubbed up against some Connecteds in the process of his humanitarian work. They all deny Rindon has any major woo. Some of them don’t like him, but they don’t know him that well either. He sort of burst on the scene a few months ago with his antitoxin vaccination, and he’s mainly getting the hero treatment.”
“Is he rich?”
“As Croesus,” Nikki confirmed. “Family’s South American, based in São Paulo. Absolutely flush—donates a lot of that scratch, but he’s got it to donate.”
“Well, that would get him in with the Odermatts. Maybe they’re hoping to bring him on as a personal doc to the stars.”
“Could be. He could also be a sign that the Shadow Court and their cronies are taking more interest in current events. We need to change the conversation so that it includes the Arcana Council. I’ve found out that the Devil’s going to be calling a meeting of the Council later today, and that will give you a fantastic opportunity to tell them that.”
“I don’t have time for a meeting,” I said automatically.
“You’ll have time for this one.”
I grimaced. It wasn’t that I thought Nikki was wrong, but this was an argument we couldn’t win. For millennia, the Arcana Council had done a pretty good job keeping the gods on their side of the veil and keeping magic balanced, but it had done so on the down-low rather than becoming the face of the Connected community. I was arguably the only member of the Council who had a direct connection point with mortals who felt harmed in some way by another Connected, and the Council liked it that way.
Granted, I wasn’t the only Council member who Connecteds petitioned for aid, not by a long shot. But I was the most honor bound to answer that call. Judging from the number of cases stacked behind the library doors of Justice Hall, I’d have enough calls to answer to last several lifetimes. More than enough to get me out of a meeting and an endless-loop argument about who should be doing what.
“Yeah, well, I feel a sudden and urgent need coming on to explore some of these artifact trails,” I said, gesturing to the canisters. “So you can plan on me being out of town.”
“Not so fast, dollface,” Nikki said. She waved the invitation at me, the movement seeming to spark a responding tremor in the newest slip of paper on my desk. I frowned at it, then picked up the sheet, unrolling it. A sudden flash of pigtails, braces, and moon pies assaulted my senses, an echo from the past so forceful, it made me jump.
“I…wait a minute,” I muttered, squinting at the slip of paper. “I recognize this handwriting.”
But Nikki was going ahead full steam. “You can’t leave. You have to do this,” she crowed, flapping the invitation with more force. “It’s High School Reunion: Vegas, baby, and you have been invited.”
Reunion? She’d said that before, only this time it finally registered. “What are you talking about—”
My question was cut off sharply as the phone rang beside me, the screen lighting up with the name of Brody Rooks, Detective of the LVMPD.
If anyone could save me from Nikki’s histrionics, he could. I grabbed the phone with an almost feral sense of desperation. “Brody. Please give me good news.”
There was a brief pause, then Brody’s permanently graveled voice came over the line. “I need you at Caesars Palace right now, Sara. We’ve got a problem.”
4
Technically, Brody wasn’t at Caesars Palace so much as he was in front of it, namely at the ornate formal gardens that sprawled out in front of the casino, expanding its prime real estate footprint on the Strip. The gardens were broken up into small squares of flowers and seating areas with fake Roman columns scattered around, and in the center of one of those monuments was the remnants of a trash fire.
Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be something I’d get too concerned about, except for the woman standing at the far end of the grotto in full Roman toga, golden sandals, and beaded crown. Eshe, High Priestess of the Arcana Council.
“I love my job,” Nikki breathed. She clutched her five-hundred-dollar leather tote to her chest, the cream-colored envelope sticking out just enough that I could see it.
“Why did you bring that?” I asked pointedly, mainly so I wouldn’t have to point.
“Reasons,” she informed me. “But they can wait till we figure out who our fire bomber is. And why the High Priestess decided to make an appearance, because that toga is everything.”
At that moment, Brody stood back from a knot of techs who were working the scene. He saw us immediately and ambled over, his hands shoved into his pockets. As usual, his sandy-brown hair was disheveled, his suit wrinkled. He looked like he hadn’t slept in three days, though I suspected it was probably longer. He was only ten years older than I was, but today, he might as easily have been pushing fifty. When it came to Brody, it wasn’t the years, it was the mileage. And he had seen some long, hard road.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why do you have the full court press for a trash fire?”
“Not your typical trash.” He crooked his finger for us to follow him into the crime scene, where Eshe had drawn near as well. For the first time, I noticed she wasn’t alone. An attractive young black woman stood next to her, her face serene, her eyes unfocused. She moved as Eshe moved, like they were held together with a string. If you didn’t know when you first saw her, you wouldn’t realize she was blind.
But I did know. Lainie Grant had been a promising young astronomy student until the fateful night several months ago when she had gazed into the skies at the exact moment I’d dropped a pendant of pure, brilliant magic into that same, star-filled sky. The light show she’d seen with the benefit of extreme magnification had taken her sight, at least her regular sight. At the same time, it had augmented a very different kind of sight.
Brody ignored both Eshe and Lainie for the moment as he jabbed his finger at the remains of a squat metal container, the contents of which were still smoking. Nikki and I both reacted as we approached. “Sweet oleander and chives, that stinks,” Nikki muttered.
“You got that right,” Brody said. He turned to me. “You recognize it?”
I made a face. It smelled like a combination of rotten eggs and scorched metal. It was also nothing I’d ever encountered before. I would’ve remembered it. “Am I supposed to?”