Page 63 of Up in Smoke

“Many are not. Dad was basically paid to do something he wanted to do anyway. Your situation bothers my mother, because she wanted to do for you as her parents had done for my dad. I think we can make it work out, but that’s only because I’d talked to you before you’d been taken to the East—and you’d agreed to give me a chance.” Sandro grinned at me. “I will do my best to remember you’ll likely forgive me for most sins if I feed you salsa.”

“Talking to me did help,” I admitted. “And if your mother hadn’t been the winner of the auction, I would not have been quite so cooperative. But when I saw her, I realized she was in your family. You’re a chip off her block.”

“Yeah, I’m a handsome male version of my mother, and it drives my father crazy. He had to wait for two more kids until he got one that was his clone. Alas, my mother has corrupted all the handsome young men she produced. I could see my father caving for more kids just in the hopes of getting one that resembles him a little more and Mom a little less.”

“You should email them with myths on how to get twins or triplets.” I snickered at the thought of his parents trying to cope with twins. “Watch them get girls, but the girls are gorgeous versions of their father rather than their mother.”

Sandro snickered. “I think I’ll take you up on that. I’ll have to be careful because I have no doubt that Mansfield monitors everything going in and out of Tulsa. Let’s just say my parents and I communicate in code most of the time.”

Oh. I flicked an ear back. “I had wondered about that. I thought it was a little strange you could email without anyone knowing. But I don’t know that much about email. I just assumed if I sent an email that anyone could read it. Honestly, I never used the internet or computers all that much. I have used it, just not a lot.”

My parents had made certain I hadn’t been completely technology inept, as I couldn’t be of use to them if I hadn’t had a base understanding of how it worked. I’d just forgotten most of what I’d learned over the years.

“It was easier before Mansfield took everything over, but I’m fairly certain he really does control everything here. And that leads us to the next problem. If we do find evidence against him, we’ll have to find a higher power capable of bringing him down. It’s hard to prosecute someone when the judge is bought out. And when Mansfield runs everything, he wouldn’t even allow a case against him to proceed. I suspect that’s part of his goals; he is the kind who would like to be running the show without anyone holding him accountable.” Sandro rummaged through the broken bits of wood and debris. “How did that jewelry box even survive? This stuff has been reduced to splinters.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, closing the box and putting it my pack to take back to Tulsa. “I mean, I’ve gotten jewelry out of wreckage before, and I was smart enough to make sure I got a good price for the gold. I know nothing of stones really, so I would have gotten taken for a ride on those, but gold’s easy enough to get a decent deal for. I did get okay money for some gemstones out in the South the first time I went there, though. That was before Ryleigh picked me up.”

Sandro stared in the direction of Tulsa, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t suppose your magic told you why she’d come out this way, did it?”

“I think she was trying to hide the box so it wouldn’t be stolen.”

Shaking his head, he sighed. “It never fails to amaze me how often greed leads to death.”

“Says the man who chased after a vixen during a twister swarm.” I pointed at him. “You’re lucky I was willing to share my cellar, sir.”

“I wasn’t exactly being greedy. I mean, okay, I was being greedy, because once I saw you in action, I really did want you for myself. All right. That’s fair. I’m guilty. But I’m a good greedy.”

I laughed at him and began heading west in search of another clue to help us find out what had happened to the scryers. “You can try to convince me of that tonight.”

“I see you have come to terms with my greedy ways.” Sandro kicked at the debris. “Is there anything particular that works best for your magic? Is there a way I can help us be more efficient?”

“It’s whatever my magic decides is useful. You can learn how to be a scavenger. Go make me rich while I look for information on these scryers.”

“Why is your magic so helpful for this?”

I lifted my head and checked the sky, pointing at the first hint of developing clouds in the distance. I could think of many reasons Mother Nature might want to expose the truth with the magic I rarely understood. “I think it’s because someone is using magic in a way that is offensive to nature itself—and I’ve spent most of my time blaming Mother Nature for what man has done. Maybe she wants to get in her hits, too. I’m available. I’m also willing. You know what they say. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and the way I see it? Mother Nature is as much my friend right now as she’s my enemy. If that means my magic is focused on finding the truth about this mess? I’ll side with the devil if I must to get justice for Tulsa, Sandro.”

“In good news for you, I can be the devil if you need me to be. And for that cause? I will do so without hesitation or regret.”

Friday, May 1, 2037.

Shady Grove, Oklahoma.

The Alley.

The cellar doorclung to its hinges, one bad blow away from its destruction. Two men in dark clothing, reminding me of the choir in the South who had sung death and destruction to life, accompanied an older woman inside. The steps led into darkness, which they banished with a flashlight. The men led the way, and as though recognizing the cellar door would be useless if a blow did come, the woman ignored it, taking care with her steps.

The men waited for her with no evidence of impatience.

After descending the equivalent of several stories, the men opened a proper cellar door, a metal one capable of withstanding Mother Nature at her worst. Beyond, a landing led to a second door.

I could only assume it was meant to stop the place from flooding out, although they’d need to do something a lot better than a pair of doors at the bottom to accomplish that. Even the short staircase beyond wouldn’t help all that much once the rain waters flooded in.

The trio continued into the depths until a pair of double metal doors barred their way, which one of the men opened with a keypad, tapping in 4-2-3-5-9-1-8. After so many years, I doubted the code remained the same, but if it had—and I could find the place—I would go exploring to see what I could see.

A balcony overlooked a smaller version of Asylum, a dark and twisted version of the place, a prison instead of a sanctuary, with barred cages stacked upon one another, although each cage did offer an enclosed space, which I could only assume was a bathroom with a shower.

“How are our guests today?” the woman asked, and she stood at the wrought iron railing on the balcony overlooking the prison. “It’s quieter than normal.”