Through the open driver’s window, she heard the distinctive roar of a lion. It was answered by another lion, and then a third.
“My grandfather’s menagerie,” Tomás said.
Bile rose in her throat along with outrage as she thought of Anton Barlowe and the Weres he held captive in the maze, the creatures he knew Gulzar had tortured until they were trapped between forms. Her hands balled into fists. “Werelions?”
In answer Tomás tugged on a chain around his neck and pulled it free to reveal the charm at the end of it. “Animals. Pure lions.”
The driver parked next to another dark car with deeply tinted windows, and whether by his action, or Tomás’s, the locks on the back doors disengaged.
When she would have slid from the car, Eston leaned away from Tomás, his arms opening for her. Rebekka hugged the toddler to her, chiding herself, as she stepped onto the grounds of the estate, for taking comfort in holding him as though he were a shield.
Elegance. Wealth. Beauty. They were in every direction she cared to look—as were the walls protecting them.
“There’s no point in trying to escape,” Tomás said. “At night lions roam the entire area between the inner and outer walls.”
He didn’t expand on the statement further or point out the impossibility of her gaining freedom. He didn’t need to.
Even if she should somehow manage to get past the guards, walls, and lions, the estate was set far enough away from the reclaimed heart of Oakland to make getting there through predator-filled forests impossible. She could use her gift to calm warm-blooded animals and Weres, if she had time to establish rapport, but they weren’t the most deadly creatures prowling the night.
The front door opened and a uniformed butler stepped outside. His face revealed nothing, though Rebekka saw his spine stiffen in disapproval, as if he thought Tomás was in the company of a low-class woman who’d managed to seduce an Iberá then present him with a bastard child.
Rebekka’s stomach revolted, and she quickly blocked thoughts of her mother and her own birth. She stood straighter, forcing herself to enter the house as if she were a guest instead of a prisoner.
A priest stood in the foyer, his attention on an elderly man in a motorized wheelchair. Both of them glanced up, but it was the priest who sent dread curling through Rebekka by asking, “How is it she’s got the trapper’s child?”
“She was there when the truck was ambushed,” Tomás said.
“Where’s the prisoner?”
“She claims not to know, Father Ursu.”
“Was she willing to venture a guess?”
“No.”
“Not surprising. She’s one of the gifted, and a witch’s pawn at that.” The priest’s eyes narrowed and Rebekka felt the full force of his attention. “She carries something evil with her, a token perhaps.”
“Search her,” the old man said, directing his command to the butler who now stood within striking distance of Rebekka.
Father Ursu held up his hand, halting the butler’s movements. “Allow me to handle this matter at the church. I can dispose of the item there and question her about the ambush.”
Icy fear washed over Rebekka as she imagined an Inquisition-like room and doubted she’d leave it alive. She wouldn’t betray Levi or Araña, but if she could otherwise use the truth to gain her own freedom…
“I don’t know who he is or where he would go,” she said, unable to keep the terror from her voice.
“But you freed him all the same,” the priest said.
“From the chair he was tied to and the cage inside the truck. But he was in chains when I left. None of the keys on the trapper’s ring fit the locks on the shackles. There was nothing I could do for him. The guardsmen were drawing near. It was too dangerous to stay.”
Father Ursu looked at the old man, the man Rebekka guessed was the Iberá patriarch. “Is it possible Enzo is mistaken? Could someone in the guard have taken the prisoner and perhaps sold him to Anton?”
The old man shook his head. “No. Enzo’s spies would have told him. He’s been collecting information on those who disgrace the integrity of the guard for years. His efforts have doubled in preparation for cleaning house when he is finally in a position to do so. There were shackles at the site. If she speaks the truth, then there’s no need to involve her further in this matter.”
Father Ursu placed his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “She speaks the truth but she plays with it as well by making it sound as though she was the only one present when he was removed from the trapper’s truck. Tomás saw at least one other, a man, and told us he thinks there might have been a third person there, too. If she doesn’t have the information we want, perhaps her friends do. The sooner they’re questioned, the better.”
“Who were you with?” the Iberá patriarch asked Rebekka.
Fear threatened to close off Rebekka’s throat. “I won’t tell you his name. He left at the same time I did. He doesn’t know any more about the prisoner than I do.”
The old man’s eyes settled on the child she held to her chest then shifted to Tomás. “Where did you find her?”
“Near the Mission. I recognized Eston, then her, when they passed on a bus. Guardsmen were chasing her by the time I caught up to them. They said her companion had killed one of theirs. But they didn’t see her get in the car and I don’t think they suspected me of harboring her. I thought it better to bring her here and send word to Enzo in case she’s wanted for other crimes.”
The patriarch nodded in approval. “You made a wise decision, Tomás. Until Enzo is named head of the guard and able to cleanse it of those who don’t deserve to wear its uniform, all of them must be looked upon with suspicion.”
Father Ursu said, “The time for restoring law and morality to Oakland is close at hand, Carlos. Enzo gaining control of the guard is just the first step. Your continued presence on the council is more critical than ever before. The prisoner needs to be found, quickly and quietly. We need answers. Let me deal with the matter of finding out who her companions are.”
Cold sweat drenched Rebekka’s skin at the persuasiveness of the priest’s voice. To see the guard cleaned up…
She might have willingly offered to help them recapture the prisoner except she knew only too well how little the laws applied to the wealthy and powerful. And she would never trust the Church, which held that Weres were abominations originally created by forbidden science and by gifted who dabbled in black arts and bred with animals.
The Iberá patriarch’s attention returned to Rebekka, but his question was for the priest. “You say she’s gifted. What can you read of her ability?”
There was an almost imperceptible tightening of skin at the corners of Father Ursu’s eyes, a subtle tell Rebekka might not have noticed if she hadn’t spent much of her life around Weres. “A healer of some type, but given the witch’s evil she carries with her and her presence when the trapper was murdered, her gift has most likely been tainted and turned into a thing of darkness.”
“By all accounts the trapper’s death was well deserved,” the patriarch said. “The guard would have killed him if they’d caught him transporting dragon lizards. Just as the Church would put its former priest to death for any number of sins he’s committed before and since creating the maze.”
“I won’t argue that point with you, Carlos. It’s always been the purview of both state and Church to punish sinners when necessary.”
“My gift is to heal animals,” Rebekka said, remembering the lion roars she’d heard when they entered the estate and desperately hoping the revelation of her talent would keep her from ending up in Father Ursu’s care.
Interest sparked in the old man’s face. “Ah, that would explain her presence at the ambush, Derrick, which any other time I would have applauded, given what was intended for the animals on that truck. She’ll stay here for the night as my guest.”