THE TRAIL I
Andrew's Pov
I'm out of the rest of my suit in record time. I toss on a black T-shirt and pair of pants that facilitate easy movement, two pieces of clothing I don't give a shit about. I expect this to get messy.
I round up all the manpower I can find, promising them a handsome pay. Then I call up a few more, men that have influence, letting them know I might be cashing in a favor soon.
None of them hesitates. They know what it means when I call, even without explanation. It's what I'm owed. I don't ask for nothing more than what I gave.
The wielder walks in, directed by my guard, his steps heavy and uncertain, eyes darting about. I can only imagine how disoriented and suspicious he'd be, especially being led in my bulky Maximus.
“Thank you,” I tell him without looking back. Maximus nods and leaves.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“What’s your name?” I ask, already moving toward the stairs.
He follows without being told. “Brett.”
“I need quick answers to all the questions I'm going to ask you from here on out, Brett. Can you deliver?”
He nods, as we enter what used to be Angel’s room until just yesterday. The room feels void, although vestiges of her cling to the drapes, the carpet, the very pillows on the bed.
“Can you find smell signals in this room from yesterday?” I ask.
He nods and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they've rolled slightly upward as a pale fog settles over his irises. Either he's young or he hasn't used magic in a while because I've learned to hide markers like that to a large extent. That or, he knows there's no reason to hide.
“Yours, sir. . . and the next strongest are two women.”
I tut. “Be specific.”
“One’s older, significantly. Maybe in her sixties. Cinnamon, soothing balm, undertone of sugared oats”
“Good,” I nod. “The scent you’re to find belongs to the younger one, Angel.”
“I have it. She smells like soap,” he squints, “and her perfume smells nice but her undertone. . . It smells like spring air through an open window.”
I know. “You got it locked in?” I ask.
Brett pauses for a beat before nodding once more.
“Then let’s go.”
We start for the door when he calls, “Sir, one more thing.”
I stop, barely. “Quickly.”
“I know this is a bad time, but this is when I have the most leverage,” He speaks fast, placating my annoyance, voice trembling slightly. “I might be fired from my job and my mom’s health isn't doing so good. I was wondering how much—”
“I'll give you a blank check,” I cut in, impressed he could do that but mostly fight the urge to drag him out by the shirt to make up for the few seconds we lost, “You can decide how much you're worth today.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I’m already moving again. I grab my long coat off the back of the chair in the living room as we pass, barely pausing to shove my arms through the sleeves before I’m outside.
The cold air bites into me, a slap of clarity I don’t want, playing with the ends of my coat. Is it about to rain? I hope not doesn't. That might mess with Brett's tracking.
I slide into the back seat of the car. We're of course going to follow Kiernan directions but I want to stop at Angel's last location, just to look around.
Maximus is already behind the wheel of one of my more beat up cars, through I've kept the engine in tip top shape. We shoots out of the underground garage as soon as the car doors close.
The streets blur past, too slow for my liking, every reason for a pause feeling like personal slight.
We get there in no time though because Maximus drives like a madman with two more lives in the trunk of the car. Perfect.
To Ian's credit though, he's already there with the rest of his crew when we pull up. If they keep this up and we find Angel in one piece they just might avoid jail time, although this efficiency would have best served them in not fucking loosing her in the first place.
I walk into the dingy, greasy shop with my eyebrows raised. There's nobody in here, something Ian or Larry can't seem to tell me why.
As I look around my brows get higher and higher towards my hair. What was she looking to buy that she thought she could get here? “Do you pick up her signature?”
“Yes, sir,” Brett replies. “Strong, recent. She was here.”
I run my hands over the machine beside me. It doesn't look to have been dusted since it was placed down here. “Are there any mingling with hers at the time she was here?”
His eyes fog up again before he whispers, “Yes, sir. Two.”
“Remember them.”
“Yes, sir. And—” he hesitates.
I turn to him my voice unconsciously getting gravelly. “Spit it out, Brett. Time is of the essence.”
“Chloroform, sir. It’s mixed in with her scent. They used it on her.”
My fists clench. They used chloroform on her. Drugged her! If anything happens to her brain, I’ll skin them from the skin down to bone, starting with the hand that dared press against her face.
“Let’s go,” I say, turning sharply. My phone rings as I'm pushing the door open and I fish it out of my coat.
“GPS is out, Sir,” Kiernan says without preamble. “They turned off the phone.”
“Switch to manual,” I say without missing a step. Of course I wouldn't rely just one tracking method. They'd have to take phone apart to find the little tracking chip. I considered putting one in her siezure bracelet but I didn't want to put it back together wrongly that it would stop working or be delayed in doing its job.
“Already done, si
r. And. . .” He clears his throat. “Um— ”
“For God’s sake, Kiernan—”
“It just entered Downtown.”