Page 51

“Yeah.”

The less the Erythraean was looked at, the better. While Adam doubted anyone would ever find White’s body, with the volcano and all, he’d prefer no one ever associate him with the place and come asking questions.

Dautre ran a desiccated leaf between his thumb and finger.

“Where would Wilcox have kept something important?”

Adam pondered the basement, the place where he’d been tortured and healed, but no. Wilcox’s ego wouldn’t let him store his valuables in such a drab place.

“This way.”

Adam led them toward the stairwell.

It was blackened, just a bit, from the fire he’d lit. The taste of it lingered and he felt an orange puff of satisfaction.

At the time, he’d needed it as a distraction, for it not to get out of control. Now he wished it had kept on burning, that it had brought the hotel down.

They rose, flight by flight, Vic and Adam’s boots tapping on the stairs while Dautre moved with elven grace and quiet.

While Vic and Dautre had no issues, Adam’s breathing grew labored as they rose. He knew Vic had been lying when he’d said he hadn’t needed to hold back on their run, which probably meant he needed to join him more often.

The door at the top was deadbolted shut.

Vic eyed it, and Adam waited to see if he had lockpicks or something.

“Allow me.” Dautre pressed a finger to the lock. Frost covered it and something cracked. Dautre pushed the lock out of the door. It landed in pieces on the other side. Reaching inside, Dautre pulled out the bolt. The door swung open.

“You could have just jumped us to the other side, couldn’t you?” Adam asked.

“Yes, but that was more satisfying.”

The elf looked pleased with himself.

“The penthouse,” Vic observed. “Why are we up here?”

“Because Wilcox would have reserved it for himself.”

The fire hadn’t come this high, and with the lights out they could see the glittering, pricey neighborhood below and beyond. Cherry Creek was Denver’s fancy shopping district, the sort where you paid to park on the street. The brands were ones Adam neither cared about nor could ever afford.

Vic had said that the neighborhood had been more fun once upon a time, but his family had been priced out of the shops and restaurants.

The suite was as much an office as a room.

There was a full bar and what amounted to a living room.

“I thought it would have been searched.”

“That’s the feds for you,” Vic said. “They’re not going to ransack the place. They’d have been looking for documents, computers, that kind of thing . . . no need to trash the couch.”

It didn’t look like it had ever seen use. It certainly wasn’t like the slightly worn one they had, blocky but comfy enough that he and Vic could curl up together and watch a movie.

Adam wished they were there now, home, alone.

“I wonder what they’d make of a spellbook.”

“Wilcox wouldn’t be the first rich weirdo they’ve encountered.” Vic shone his light into a walk-in closet.

“Here,” he said.