“He’s afraid of a burger?” I asked, baffled.

Mzatal’s brows drew together as he deciphered the meaning from me. “No. Big Mack is a man.” He returned his attention to Paul, and I held back further questions. Fortunately, Mzatal provided an explanation before I went too far into my vision of a scary hamburger clown wreaking havoc. “It is one named Farouche.”

“He must mean James Macklin Farouche,” I said. “These guys work for StarFire Security, which is owned by him.” I frowned. J.M. Farouche was a prominent Louisiana businessman and philanthropist. The security company was only one of his many holdings. “That’s who he’s so afraid of?” I asked, unable to fully hide the note of disbelief in my voice. “Everything I’ve ever heard about him is that he’s a great guy—gives tons to charity, treats his employees well. His family has lived around here for a couple hundred years. In fact he still lives on the Farouche plantation.”

“It is truth. This Farouche held heavy influence over this one,” Mzatal said. “A compulsion component wound tightly with primal fear. I have removed much of the influence and dispersed the residuals such that they will not obligate him to take action.”

I had a tough time believing a respected—and seemingly ordinary—businessman like Farouche could do such a thing, but I also knew better than to doubt Mzatal. “All right. That’s pretty, um, interesting.” I took a few more seconds to process it all. “If it’s not manipulation, then how does it work? And how is a human doing it?”

Mzatal frowned. “I have seen talent for such in three humans before,” he said. “For two of them, it was an innate ability to influence the actions of others simply by being in their presence, though without lasting effect.” His frown deepened. “The third, long ago, demonstrated not only the passive influence, but also a conscious and invasive ability to impose her will in more permanent fashion, much as Farouche has to Paul Ortiz.”

A shiver ran over me. Bad enough that lords could mentally control people, but at least they were usually tucked safely away in the demon realm. I knew there were humans other than summoners who had more-than-normal abilities. In fact, it had been less than a year since I tracked down a killer who fed on the essences of her victims.

But I’d never heard of one who could control actions and behavior as Farouche supposedly did, and even the concept left me cold.

“I asked Paul if he or Thatcher ever used the arcane,” I told Mzatal. “He denied it, but I wanted to check with you. Did you assess him?”

“I did,” Mzatal said. “He speaks the truth of himself and what he knows of Bryce Thatcher.”

“Can we trust them?” I asked. “I told Paul we’d help them both, but at the same time I don’t want to bring a potential enemy into our midst.”

Mzatal withdrew his hands from Paul’s head and stepped back. “In this moment, Paul Ortiz holds no intention of taking action against us,” he assured me. “However, I will continue to monitor him for any indication of duplicity or threat.”

“Thanks, Boss,” I said, relieved. “I’d rather be over-paranoid, y’know?”

Paul blinked, focused on Mzatal. “What happened?”

Mzatal regarded the young man. “I have eased your unnatural fear of James Macklin Farouche.”

Paul opened his mouth as though to protest but then closed it again. Bafflement swept across his face, followed quickly by amazement as he no doubt felt the difference in himself.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” He gazed up at Mzatal as though looking into the face of a superhero. “Thank you.” Tears glistened in his eyes.

Mzatal inclined his head. “You are most welcome.”

“Paul, this is Lord Mzatal,” I said. “We need to get Thatcher out of here and get the place cleaned up. You cool to go with us now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper, eyes still on Mzatal. “I’m okay now.”

A sudden wave of disorienting vertigo hit me, as though I stood in the middle of an upward swirling vortex. I threw a hand out to steady myself, felt Mzatal gather me to him.

We both held onto each other and swayed for nearly a full minute until the sensation subsided.

“What the hell was that?” I gasped out.

“Ten-seventeen!” Paul exclaimed with unmistakable exuberance, though he looked just as shaky as I felt. “It’s ten-seventeen. That was the wiggle!”

“This is a nodal point of the valve system,” Mzatal said, face set in the familiar frown that told me he was deep in assessment of the area. “What we experienced was a type of valve emission, a release of—” He paused as though seeking the words. “—a release of pressure, like unto a geyser.”

Comprehension dawned. “It’s a place that regulates the pressure of multiple valves?” Mzatal nodded. Like an arcane Old Faithful, I thought. “And Tracy was trying to use that burst, that emission, to feed his gate creation,” I added with satisfaction as a few more bits of the puzzle came together. It also explained why Tsuneo had shown up, though it didn’t explain what he’d planned to do once he was here.

“It was unwise of him to attempt such,” Mzatal said, expression darkening. “The balance of both worlds depends upon the integrity of the valves. They are not to be altered or misused. Tampering with a node risks damaging many valves.” He swayed again, but this time I knew it was from potency depletion and not an aftereffect of the node geyser.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I’ll bring the car close to the door. Eilahn, can you carry Thatcher?”

“Wait!” Paul exclaimed, aghast. I paused mid-stride to give him a questioning look. “You can’t just go outside like that!”

Frowning, I glanced down at myself and then at the others. “Oh, of course,” I said with a low laugh. “Good catch. Boss, will you please loan Eilahn your jacket?”

Mzatal slipped off the Armani suit jacket and handed it to the still-topless Eilahn, but Paul shook his head. “No, no, no. Not that,” he said with a touch of exasperation. “There are cameras out there. My tablet. I need my tablet.” He looked around, face twisting with a different kind of worry as he looked where he’d dropped it. “Shit.”

I retrieved the tablet and handed it to him. It was in a rugged, shockproof case, and the screen wasn’t cracked, so hopefully it was all right for whatever he needed it for. “You can do something about the cameras?” I asked doubtfully. I hadn’t really been worried about surveillance when we arrived, but that was before we’d stumbled into a gigantic mess.

“If my tablet still works, sure,” he said matter-of-factly as he pushed the power button. His shoulders slumped in relief when it turned on, and he proceeded to quickly tap away at it.

“You’re serious.” I stared at him. “You can hack into the security system here?” Was he so good with computers he warranted a bodyguard?

He shook his head. “There’s no system in here. I mean, not in this building, and not one that’s active anymore.” Intense concentration suffused his features as he continued to tap, reminding me weirdly of Mzatal’s super-focused expression.

“Streetlight cam that catches the entrance to the industrial park,” he murmured to himself. “Two cameras covering the back of this section of the park. Knock the street cam out for a bit, loop the others to cover.” He frowned, tapped some more. “Wipe our entry.” He flicked a glance up then back down. “And yours.” His frown deepened, but about a minute later his mouth spread into a grin. “There. All set!” He took a deep satisfied breath and released it, looking almost recharged by the quick bit of hacker work.

“Um, okay.” I gave a mental shrug. With Mzatal monitoring him for anything treacherous, I had no reason not to trust him at this point.

I hurried out and brought the car closer. Eilahn carried Thatcher out, showing no more strain than if he were a child. Paul followed her, clearly impressed and amazed by what surely seemed like a superhuman feat.