Chapter 16

Sixteen

Ifelt like a spy. I had never handled surveillance equipment before, but with Lucien's help, I was starting to get the hang of it. Our long, telescopic camera fed images directly into a laptop that sat on the desk. We had parabolic microphones that could pick up small sounds from several hundreds of yards away and drones we could deploy from the roof to scout the temple building via remote.

Many times, I caught myself marveling at what we were doing, telling myself it was like being in a movie… I realized I had already said that several times today, at least to myself, but every ounce of life I had ever lived had been through a television set, or from out of the pages of a book.

I couldn't believe I was here, in this hotel, running surveillance on an ominous looking building across the street under orders from a mob boss—as I was fairly sure at this point that the Diaboli family were some kind of magical Mafia family. I had lived a sheltered life, sequestered from the world, and I honestly didn't know how to handle this.

Lucien probably thought I was the most annoying person in the world, with all my questions.

"Remind me what this does?" I asked, as I handled what looked like an oversized laser pointer.

"Don't press that button," he said. "The laser will burn your retina clean off."

"What? Why would we want this?"

"This device measures distances to the millimeter. All you have to do is point it at something, and you'll get a reading right here."

I aimed it at the door to the room and pressed the button. A green dot suddenly appeared on the door, and on the screen the readout flashed to life. Twenty-eight yards. "It's not very subtle, is it?" I asked.

"What isn't?"

"That green dot. Won't someone see it?"

"Not if you're far enough away. The light dissipates, but the reading is still accurate."

I nodded, set the pen down, and moved over to the bed while Lucien turned his attention to the telescopic camera he had set up on a tripod. Using a small attachment connected to it, Lucien took picture after picture, each of them appearing an instant later on the laptop's screen.

"What are we looking for?" I asked, searching the images as they came through.

"Movement. I want to know how many people are in that building at a time. Who goes in. Who goes out. What kind of security they have. If they change shifts. When they change shifts."

"And you really think we'll figure that out from up here?"

"No, but that's what the drones are for."

"And if the drones don't work?"

Lucien looked over at me. "Then we do it the old-fashioned way."

I swallowed. "What's that?"

"We'll have to walk over and take a look."

"Oh… right," I shook my head. "Of course. These Recondites aren't just going to let us stroll into their temple, though, what if they have magical defenses?"

"They definitely have magical defenses. Figuring those out is going to be part of our in person scouting. For now, I just want to know what kind of foot traffic that building gets. There doesn't seem to be anyone going in or out, not a single person all morning. I also can't see into the building's windows."

"You can't?"

Lucien walked over to the laptop and pulled up an image. "This, right here. The windows aren't tinted—see? I was able to take a shot of the desk on the other side of the window, the laptop, the coffee cup, the pile of papers in the pigeonhole."

"I'm amazed at the lack of ceremonial pulpits and weird effigies."

He shook his head. "You're not seeing it."

"No, it looks pretty normal to me."

"Nothing has changed in the time we've been here. Nobody came back for that coffee, that computer screen hasn't changed, and those papers are all still there."

I frowned at him. "Maybe whoever's meant to be at the desk is bunking off."

"I thought that too, but every single desk on this floor looks identical."

I got up from the bed and took a look at the laptop. Lucien made the images in the gallery scroll across the screen, and I realized quickly, he was right. Each and every desk behind each and every window was the same. The same cup, the same monitor, and the same files.

"Creepy," I said.

"I doubt if we're going to get much insight into what's going on in there from out here," he said, "but we'll get what we can, and then plan our next move."

I nodded at him, then I looked up at him. Our eyes remained locked for a moment longer than I had intended them to. I wanted to speak candidly with him, to talk to him about what he had said to me the other night, and how he wanted to try to get me away from his father. I couldn't, though. Not yet.

Lucien had made a pass of the bedroom and had searched for listening devices. Just because he had found none didn't mean there weren't any in the room. I had also figured, all by myself, that if there were still bugs in the room, it wouldn't make sense for them to suddenly go quiet in the middle of the day—a feat I could easily accomplish with a little magic.

We weren't going to be able to speak freely in here. Not until nightfall, anyway, when it would make sense for the room to go a little quiet.

My stomach rumbled and my eyes fell on the room service booklet lying next to the laptop, its front page proudly showing-off a perfectly toasted BLT sandwich. I suddenly realized it was late afternoon, and we hadn't eaten anything since my magical demonstration this morning.

I grabbed it and brought it over to the bed, where I opened it and went through it. I had to admit, everything on it looked delicious—and expensive—but since we were on Mason Diaboli's tab, I figured the cost wasn't a problem, so I made a note to order the most delicious, most expensive looking things on the menu, and multiples of them, even if we didn't eat them all.

"Would you prefer the Lobster or the Sirloin?" I asked, as I picked up the room phone. "Actually, you know what, I'll get you both. You can decide what you want to eat when it gets here."

Lucien looked over at me, frowning. "What are you doing?"

"Calling for food. I'm hungry."

He rushed over to the phone. "Put it down."

"What? Why?"

"Beatrice, put it down."

There was an authority to his voice that was difficult to resist. I put the phone down just as reception answered. "What's the big deal?"

He gestured at all the equipment scattered across the room. "What happens when room service comes up here and sees all this?"

I looked around at the tripods, the cameras, the wires. "Maybe they think we're filming a movie," I said, grinning.

"Are you serious?"

I rolled my eyes. "Obviously not… why don't we just throw a tarp over it all? Or ask them to leave it at the door? Nobody has to come in."

He shook his head. "My father gave instructions. His men will bring us something to eat."

Almost as if we had summoned them—and maybe we had, there were surely listening devices in the room—someone knocked on the bedroom door. Lucien's expression darkened. I could tell the same thought had crossed his mind. After taking a deep breath, he walked up to the door and opened it.

One of Mason's men stood there with a bag in his hand. Wordlessly he handed the bag over to Lucien. Lucien nodded, then shut the bedroom door.

"That was creepier than the pictures you showed me," I said.

Lucien gave me a cold, hard stare. With his eyes, he said enough.

They're listening.

With his lips, he said, "See?"

"Great. Feeding time at the prison."

Lucien set the bag down, opened it, and pulled out what looked like a sandwich wrapped in paper. "Pastrami and cheese," he said. "It could be worse."

"No offense to Pastrami," I said, taking the sandwich, "But it's no lobster."

"You could try to sound less disappointed."

I looked up at Lucien again. "I've barely left my family's mansion. This is my first time in the city during the day. I'm in a fancy hotel, with a huge list of delicious foods and drinks I'd love to taste…"

"This is a surveillance operation, not a vacation."

He was right of course, but the words still stung. I retreated to the headboard and sat up against it. The sandwich wasn't the problem, it smelled great—I never had an issue with Pastrami, or bread, or even cheese—the problem was the reminder of the shitty situation I was in.

This room had now become my third prison. Was that what my life was going to be? Hopping from place to place, given glimpses of the outside world but never being allowed to take part in it, or experience what it had to offer? Restaurants, walks on the street, room service at a fancy hotel.

I wasn't sure I could take being denied those things anymore when true freedom felt so close.

All I had to do was bolt out of the room, sprint down to the lobby, and make a break for it. I would be free of them; free of Mason, of Carla, and the two idiots in the other room. I felt like I could make it, too. By the time the assholes knew I had left the room, I would be all the way to the stairs on the other side of the hall.

Unless one of them is waiting outside.

That was the only thought stopping me from really considering making my move. That, well, and Lucien. I couldn't read him. I didn't know if he really wanted to help me get away from his father, or if he was just stringing me along like the rest of them were.

If he was, well, I was going willingly, because something about him made me want to be near him. It wasn't so much a physical desire—although that was always there, whether I liked it or not—but an emotional one. Before I knew his name, he'd had an effect on my body I would never be able to forget.

Now, though, I felt this weird pull toward him whenever I was near him. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to behave for him. I wanted him to tell me I was doing a good job. Why did I crave his validation? Why did I want him to tell me what to do?

I had never experienced anything like this with anyone. Maybe this was the reason I had decided to end things with him in the first place, escaping before the black hole of feelings could pull me in too far.

Maybe.

Or maybe I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome and empathizing with my captors.

That was totally possible.

I decided not to try a daring escape and sit and eat my sandwich instead. Lucien didn't eat his, choosing instead to continue surveilling the building across from us. I could tell, though, that something was on his mind. He didn't seem as diligent as he had been a little while ago. He was unfocused.

After a while, he stopped, checked his watch, then turned to look at me. "Looks like you're getting your wish after all," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't get pictures of the inside of that building from here."

"Can we use the drones?"

"We will, but I don't think they'll be of much use if there's magic keeping us from getting pictures of the inside. We're going to have to go out and take a look."

Go out…I thought, excitement mounting in my chest."Right now?"

"Let's give it a little while, at least until the sun goes down." He set his equipment down and strode to the bedroom door, then opened it.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To get us something to wear. We'll need to blend in."

"Wear? Should I come with you? You don't know my size."

Lucien simply grinned, and that curling of his lips sent waves of warm tingles rushing through me. He left without another word, leaving me alone with what was left of my sandwich and a billion thoughts racing through my already frazzled brain.