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couldn’t help laughing. The old man had been working for the company all his adult life, and in all that time, no one had ever heard one complaint from him.
    He had a wife that passed away a few years back, and had a couple of kids grown and employed by the Council. It was common practice for necromancers to keep in their employ an entire family line. It was easier to hide our magical race from humans that way. His bloodline had worked for my family, the Davises, for the past three centuries, and not once were any of the Center’s secrets betrayed by a Duncan.
    “It’s just me, Conrad, don’t shoot.”
    Conrad Duncan squinted behind a pair of thick glasses. His salt and pepper head pushed forward, like that could help him see me more clearly.
    “What’s got you out so late, young man?”
    “There was a kidnapping today. One of our own was taken, so I’m snooping around, hoping something will fall into my lap.”
    I spoke candidly with Conrad. There was no reason for pretenses with him.
    “I did hear something or other about that. Such a shame. I really like that young lass.”
    Conrad adjusted his belt; the action tugged his pants up and crinkled his shirt. Before his wife, Pamela, died of natural causes, God rest her soul, Conrad’s skin had been more filled out, his belly more plump. I made a mental note to call one of his three children to keep better tabs on the old guy and make sure he was eating regularly.
    “Is there anything I can do to help?” Conrad asked.
    He ambled back over to his desk and sat down. I followed, stopping on the other side of the counter in front of him.
    “If you can run through the surveillance footage for today and the past few days, I would really appreciate it.”
    “Sure thing, Mr. Davis. Is there anything in particular I should keep an eye out for?”
    “Look for anything out of the ordinary. Take note of any unscheduled deliveries or suspicious behavior from our staff and Council members. Also, take snap shots of any new faces you may come across.”
    “Do you mind if I call in Duska to help pore over all the footage? She has an eagle eye for these things. Besides, she just called me and she’s bored.”
    Duska was Conrad’s granddaughter. She was also a hell on wheels spitfire that had a severe problem with authority, but even so, you couldn’t find a more devoted and loyal servant.
    “Sure, call her up. Just make sure she keeps her attitude in check when my sister, Kissa, arrives in a few hours.”
    For some reason, those two were like oil and water. Every time they were in the same room together, you could slice the tension between them with a knife. Everyone was waiting for the day they squared off. I was certain that a loss of life or limb would be the consequence if a battle between those two she-devils ever transpired.
    Conrad chuckled. “Will do. I’ll give Duska a call now.”
    ***
    Two hours later, and not a single new piece of evidence was found at the scene of the crime. I had decided to call it a night and drive home.
    Standing in the elevator of my downtown, Atlantic City high-rise apartment building, I was drained as hell. My hands were shoved in my pants pockets, my head down, as I rode the gilded box of gold and mirrors to the top floor.
    I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth; everything that surrounded me was opulent. All the way down to my three-thousand-dollar shoes and my ten-thousand-dollar suits, and of course, the penthouse suite I lived in. The suite was large and stretched to span across the top floor of the building, and even though it was grandly furnished, it felt empty.
    Lifting my head, I looked at my reflection. My eyes roamed over my black dress shirt which was a smooth, richly textured fabric that boasted a ridiculously high thread count. The clothes had been laid out on top of my dressing room bench by my butler—one of three. The same went for my pressed slacks and my undergarments. All these items were the best that money