Now everyone was on the second helping or the fourth taco, if you were Leon, and the conversation slowly restarted.
“You hired Augustine?” Mom asked.
“We hired MII,” I told her.
“Oh, how the tables have turned.” Leon bit into his taco.
“It’s coming out of the Warden budget.” I glanced at Arabella, hoping to prevent another explosion of financial outrage. “Hopefully.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Arabella said, giving Konstantin a dirty look.
“These tacos are delicious,” the prince said. “The chicken especially.”
He rolled some shredded cheese into a ball and dropped it on the floor for Rooster. She snarfed it off the tile without ever taking her eyes off him.
“Rooster will not respond to bribes,” Cornelius informed Konstantin. He had been trying to rest and recuperate from his injuries. His color was good and Matilda at his side was smiling.
“Pass the mango pico, please,” Runa asked.
“Blasphemer,” Grandma Frida told her. “Pico is pico, it’s not a fruit salad.”
“Can we not start that again?” Mom asked.
The conversation floated around the table like playful currents clashing and winding around each other. In this happy little pond, Alessandro was a dark gloomy rock jutting next to me. The waters of banter flowed around him, while he remained silent. It didn’t stop him from consuming a record number of steak tacos. They were his favorite.
Augustine Montgomery walked in. He was wearing his normal persona, a marble demigod in his early thirties, tall, lean, with perfect features and light blond hair. Konstantin glanced at him. The two illusion Primes stared at each other.
Leon whistled a vaguely Western tune.
“Nice scar,” Konstantin said.
“So is yours,” Augustine told him.
Arabella got up and pulled a chair out for Augustine. “Please join us, Prime Montgomery.”
“I’d be delighted.” Augustine sat down and began loading his plate. “It’s done. The FBI was positively giddy.”
Great.
“What’s done?” Mom asked.
“We’ve removed all of Arkan’s operatives embedded in the state,” I said. “He is flying blind. Konstantin provided the intelligence, Matt the snitch confirmed it, and the MII and FBI jointly apprehended everyone.”
“The FBI called it Operation Beartrap.” Augustine rolled his eyes and bit into his taco. “The food is delightful as always, Catalina.”
Konstantin looked at me. “Does everyone come to your house to eat?”
“Sometimes,” I told him. I had made enough to send plates to our guards. When I’d told Leon that my upset level was at eleven, I wasn’t lying.
My phone vibrated. I glanced at it. A text from Patricia.
We have a guest.
A video followed. I muted the phone and tapped play. Julian Cabera, the younger of Luciana Cabera’s brothers, in our office. A slack expression claimed his face. He’d clenched his hands into a single fist, staring at the floor.
“Problem?” Alessandro asked.
I showed him the phone and turned to the family. “Something’s come up.”
Alessandro rose.
“Leave the plates,” Arabella told us. “We’ll clean up. You cooked. It’s only fair.”
“I didn’t know you helped with dinner, cousin,” Konstantin said.
“No, but he made it possible,” Leon said.
Bern turned to Konstantin. “You should speak less.”
“The lack of respect for the crown is appalling.” Konstantin grinned. “I love it.”
His smile was bright, but it didn’t touch his eyes.
We hurried out of the house and down the path. The heat of the day showed no signs of abating. The air was still and ominous somehow, the way it felt before a thunderstorm.
We found Julian in the conference room, alone. Patricia favored a specific method when dealing with Prime visitors. She led them into a building, locked it, and watched them through security cameras. It minimized casualties.
Julian jumped off his chair the moment we walked through the door.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.” He looked frantic. “I called the FBI, and they sent me here. They said you would handle it.”
“What’s going on?” Alessandro asked.
“It’s Kaylee.” Julian dragged his shaking hand through his hair. “I think my niece has lost her mind.”
Just what we needed right this second.