Dark Haven Unmasked (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Book 48)

by I. T. Lucas

  Was it possible that compulsion didn’t work on a distraught mind?

  Peter’s experience with handling rescued victims of trafficking had taught him that thralling the scared and distraught women was extremely difficult, and sometimes impossible. He had to wait for them to calm down before he could reach into their minds and erase details of the rescue from their minds.

  If he managed to work himself up, maybe he would be able to resist Emmett’s compulsion.

  The problem with that was that he’d been training his entire life to be in control and not panic. He was most likely incapable of manufacturing a hysterical state.

  Besides, Peter needed to remain clear-headed to collect as much information from the guy as he could. So far, he’d managed to get more of his questions answered than Emmett had.

  The guy liked to talk about himself, probably because he’d spent long years without anyone he could talk openly with.

  “If you get me to tell you things I shouldn’t, my people will have to chase you, and they will find you. You have no idea who you are dealing with. We have hackers that can hack into the most secure locations, including your foreign bank accounts.”

  “Let them try.” Emmett didn’t look scared. “Tell me, Devlin. Is that your real name?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Since we are going to be spending a lot of time together, I should address you by your given name. What is it?”

  “Peter. Is Emmett your real name?”

  “It wasn’t the name I was given at birth, but it is the name I chose a long time ago. It means truth. Emmett Haderech means the true way.”

  Peter chuckled. “As in Emmett’s Way that your disciples quote?”

  “It’s how I choose to live my life.” He slanted a look at Peter. “My way, my truth, and not anyone else’s.”

  “I respect that. What I don’t respect is you snacking on the blood of your bed partners.”

  “I see that you’ve chatted with Marisol. What’s her real name?”

  “Eleanor. So, what’s the deal with the blood-sucking?”

  “You don’t do that?”

  “No.”

  “But you have fangs, right?”

  “Yes, but they are meant for delivering venom, not for blood-sucking. Do you fancy yourself a vampire?”

  Emmett shrugged. “Perhaps. It would seem that you and I are not the descendants of the same gods.” He turned to Peter and winked. “And if we are already using human myths and analogies, you could say that I’m not descended from the gods at all. The progeny of demons is more appropriate.”

  46

  Bowen

  “It’s been a while since I pulled a mass illusion.” Yamanu followed Bowen into the clan’s jet. “I might be rusty.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Bowen took a seat in the last row. “And just in case you don’t, Vincent gave Ewan a crash course in pyrotechnics.”

  Yamanu sat next to him and leaned into the aisle. “Hey, Ewan, so you are now a fake explosives expert?”

  The guy smiled. “I hope I get to play.” He walked over, crouched next to them, and pulled out his phone. “This is Safe Haven.” He showed them an aerial picture. “Vincent suggested that we plant one bomb here.” He pointed at the main lodge’s west wall. “And another one here.” He pointed at the two-story building several hundred feet behind the lodge. “That way, everyone will need to leave, and we can blame faulty gas lines.”

  Bowen narrowed his eyes. “I hope there are no gas lines in the vicinity of your fake explosions. You might accidentally set a real fire.”

  He would have felt much better about the pyrotechnics if Vincent was the one setting them up, but the guy was in Australia on a shoot.

  Vincent had been a Guardian back in the day, but these days he was working in the film industry, playing with fake explosives and other make-believe stunts. The only other time they had used him was on Gorchenco’s estate.

  “Guys.” Yamanu lifted his hand. “None of this will be needed. I’m going to create an illusion of two explosions going on simultaneously and then two huge billowing fires. They will be running away like rats from a sinking ship.”

  “Thanks for the visual.” Bowen grimaced. “I hate rats.”

  “Why?” Ewan tilted his head. “They are smart and resourceful. Didn’t you watch Ratatouille?”

  “Don’t remind me.” As Bowen’s phone started ringing, he pulled it out of his pocket. “I almost puked my guts out watching that. Whoever made that movie has never seen real rats running around a kitchen.”

  He accepted the call from Leon. “How is the honeymoon going?”

  “Great. Are you going to Safe Haven?”

  “Yep. I’m here with Yamanu and Ewan. Vincent couldn’t come because he’s shooting a movie, but he taught Ewan how to use his pyrotechnics.”

  “Via Zoom?”

  “I guess.”

  “If you have Yamanu, what do you need pyrotechnics for?”

  “Backup. You know Turner. There is always plan B.”

  “I hope you don’t need a plan B. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is that Anastasia wants you to keep an eye on her friend.”

  “I won’t have time to babysit anyone. We are supposed to find Eleanor, catch the cult leader, and get out of there.”

  “Anastasia is worried that her friend will panic. I will give you her description, and if after you find Eleanor, you happen to see Margaret losing her shit, help her out. You can call me and let her talk with Anastasia. She will calm her down.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Late thirties, about five feet seven inches tall, and very skinny. Anastasia says she looks skeletal. Brown hair and brown eyes, supposedly pretty.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open for her.”

  “That’s all I’m asking. Good luck, and keep me posted. I don’t have my earpiece with me, and I want to stay in the loop.”

  “I could’ve brought it to you when I came over with Amanda. Why didn’t you ask?”

  “Because you didn’t tell me that you were driving her. Besides, it didn’t occur to me that I would need it.”

  Bowen chuckled. “Of course not. You are on vacation. How are things going?”

  “Excellent.” There was a moment of silence, and then Leon said in a low voice, “Except, she’s not transitioning.”

  “Give it time. You’ve been with her how long?”

  “Six days.”

  “For some, it takes longer than for others. Be patient.”

  “Took Mey over two weeks,” Yamanu said. “It was nerve-wracking.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Leon said. “But enough about me. Good luck, and enjoy playing firemen.”

  “We will. Take care of your girl.” Bowen ended the call.

  Next to him, Yamanu sighed. “It’s difficult to fall in love with a woman and hope that she can share your life forever, waiting for her transition to start and dreading it at the same time. Mey was young and healthy, and I was still out of my mind with worry. How old is Leon’s girl?”

  “She’s about Mey’s age. She’ll be fine.”

  “I wish Ronja could transition. She’s a fine woman, but at her age, it’s not even a dream.” Yamanu cast him a sidelong glance. “Are you okay with that?”

  His Guardian friends were a bunch of gossiping busybodies, and they were insulting both him and Ronja.

  Bowen rolled his eyes. “You too, Yamanu? There is nothing romantic going on between David’s mother and me. I’m just helping her to get settled. She and Lisa have gone through hell, and they need me.”

  “Perhaps there is nothing on your side, but I’ve noticed how she looks at you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Bowen leveled his eyes on Yamanu’s. “The woman has just lost her husband. She still cries over him and tries to hide it from Lisa, but I hear her sniffling from the other room, and I can smell her tears.”

  Yamanu shrugged. “Well, she still has eyes, and y
ou are a handsome fellow.”

  “That might be true, but I didn’t notice her looking at me with anything other than fondness and gratitude. Don’t you think I would have known if there was more to it?”

  “I might have been mistaken,” Yamanu conceded.

  “You definitely were.” Bowen crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s offensive to Ronja to even suggest that she’s showing interest in a male less than a month after her husband died in such tragic circumstances.”

  Yamanu winced. “You are right. My apologies.”

  Hopefully, Yamanu would pass along what he’d just said, and that would put an end to the stupid gossip.

  47

  Peter

  Emmett pulled up to a gas station. “Stay in the car, don’t move, and don’t make a sound.”

  He’d already told Peter to keep quiet after his bizarre demon comment, so commanding him to not make a sound was superfluous, but Emmett was being careful.

  They hadn’t been driving long enough to need a refuel, but that wasn’t what Emmett was after. Peter watched him walk up to a guy with a Honda Odyssey, and after a short conversation, the two exchanged car keys.

  Emmett had done precisely what Peter had expected, ditching the showy car for a nondescript family vehicle.

  After pulling his duffle bag out of the Corvette’s front trunk, Emmett walked up to Peter’s side and opened the door. “Follow me into the Honda. Don’t speak, don’t look at anyone, and don’t make any facial or body movements that might attract attention.”

  Damn, the guy was getting good at his phrasing.

  “Get in the passenger seat and buckle up.”

  Peter had no choice but to do exactly as he was told. He had so many questions, but they would have to wait for when Emmett was ready to start his. Until then, Peter was under compulsion to shut his mouth.

  As Emmett got behind the wheel and pulled out of the gas station, Peter looked at him pointedly until the guy sighed. “You can talk. But don’t ask me questions until I permit it.”

  Damn. “It’s difficult to conduct a conversation like this.”

  “Perhaps you are right, but I found myself answering more of your questions than you have answered mine, and I don’t have all the time in the world.” He turned onto the highway. “Eleanor said something that at the time I didn’t take notice of, but now that I think about it, I would like you to explain. She tried to convince me to take her instead of you, saying that she was an outsider, a newcomer who has done some bad things to your people, but they still took her in and gave her a chance to prove herself. How did she come to be in that position?”

  “I don’t understand the question, and I can’t ask you to clarify because I’m not allowed to ask questions.”

  “Fine.” Emmett waved a hand. “Ask away.”

  “Do you want to know what the bad things were that she has done, or do you want to know how come we invited her into our community in spite of them?”

  Emmett shook his head. “First, I want to know how an outsider found her way into your community. Humans have no idea that immortals exist, so I assume that she belonged to a different group of immortals. Is there migration between the different communities?”

  Emmett’s assumptions made it easy to avoid a direct answer.

  “There is.” That was true. They had just accepted a whole bunch of ex-Doomers into their village.

  “Is there cooperation between the different groups, or are they hostile to each other?”

  “Both. Some are friendly, and some are not. In that regard, we are not that different from humans.”

  Peter loved loopholes. He could think of the Scottish and Alaskan arms of the clan as friendly, and of Navuh’s as hostile, and by elaborating in that direction, he had manipulated Emmett into thinking that there were many communities of immortals. The more misdirection he could create, the better.

  “Which kind did Eleanor belong to? Friendly or hostile?”

  “Neither.”

  “So, how did she find you?”

  “She didn’t. We found her.”

  “Do you search for immortals who don’t belong to other groups?”

  “We used to.”

  Letting out a frustrated breath, Emmett turned to look at him. “I’m so tired of your evasive answers. What’s the name of your supervisor, your commander, or whatever the person who tells you what to do is called?”

  That was an odd question, but he had to answer and give the guy a name.

  “Onegus.”

  “I want you to regard me as Onegus’s replacement. No more evasions, no more one-word answers. I want each of my questions to be answered as if you were reporting to your supervisor. How do you find new members for your community?”

  Damn. He would have to answer as if he was talking to Onegus, but he could use a loophole nonetheless. After all, they all believed in the Fates to some extent, and Dormants were thought to be discovered with their help. Emmett would have no use for the information.

  “The Fates bring them to us.”

  Emmett rolled his eyes. “More human myths? I would think that a bunch of people who lived for so long among humans would know better. How do you really find lone immortals?”

  “We don’t find immortals. We find Dormants, and only when we are lucky, hence the belief in the Fates bringing them to us.”

  “What are Dormants?”

  There was no way Emmett didn’t know what Dormants were. His people must have a different name for them. If they were a lone group of survivors from the ancient cataclysm, they would have known that they were the descendants of gods and that hybrid children could be activated. And if they were the descendants of immortals, then they had to know how to activate Dormants or they wouldn’t exist.

  “Dormants are human carriers of the godly gene.”

  Emmett shook his head. “Do you truly believe that you are the descendants of gods?”

  “We are. The gods were real. Some of the stories about them are not, but they were real people with unimaginable powers.”

  “Are they still around?” Emmett’s expression was pinched, and waves of stress emanated from his body.

  For some reason, he was concerned about the gods.

  “Most of them are gone. One god turned against the others and dropped a bomb on their assembly, destroying that entire region, including its human population and most of the immortals who lived there. But some must have survived, and their human descendants carry the godly genes, which we can activate.”

  Emmett’s eyes blazed as he focused them on Peter. “How?”

  “You really don’t know?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking if I did. How do you activate Dormants?”

  “With venom. When a female Dormant is bitten during unprotected sex, her godly genes are activated. A male has to fight an immortal to get bitten. How does it work for your people?”

  “It doesn’t. Only pure-bloods can have long-lived children. The rest of us can’t.”

  48

  Margaret

  “How is your new workshop coming along?” Gwen put her tray next to Margaret’s and sat down.

  “I’m almost done. I’m working on the final details, and I think that I’ll be ready to show it to Emmett on Monday.”

  “Good luck.” Gwen lifted her glass of orange juice and took a sip. “I’m looking forward to participating. What are you going to call it?”

  Margaret grimaced. “The total immersion method in a creative process as a path to happiness. It doesn’t sound sexy, but it’s a good description.”

  “What do you mean by total immersion?”

  “When you dedicate all of your mental faculties to one subject until you master it. I’ve read that the brain can actually create new pathways when a concentrated effort is made to learn a subject, and it happens at any age, not just when people are young. You can learn how to paint even if your level of skill is a stick figure. I’m going to demonstrate the effectiveness of the method by tea
ching sketching in charcoal.”

  “Why charcoal?” Gwen asked. “You need passion to dedicate yourself to something to the extent you are talking about, and not everyone is interested in drawing.”

  “You might be right. What should I use for demonstration instead?”

  Gwen shrugged. “I don’t know. Everyone is passionate about something different. Maybe songwriting? Everyone is capable of doing that, maybe not well, but I can see people getting excited about it.”

  Margaret intended to ask her if she meant lyrics or music when an explosion shook the dining hall.

  “What was that?” Gwen’s panicked eyes darted to the exit.

  “I don’t know.” Margaret looked around, checking what the others were doing.

  Everyone had gone quiet, but when a moment later the fire alarm went off, all hell broke loose. People started shouting and rushing toward the exit, while several of the senior members tried to take control and keep the stampede at bay.

  “Let’s go.” Gwen jumped to her feet.

  “We will get trampled.”

  “That’s better than getting fried. Can you smell the fire?”

  “I can.” Margaret followed behind her friend.

  By some miracle, they made it in one piece out of the building and stood with everyone else on the front lawn, not sure what to do next.

  Thick smoke was billowing through the air. It was coming from the main lodge, but Margaret couldn’t see any flames.

  That was good, right?

  Then another explosion went off somewhere behind the community building, and everyone started running toward the gate. Someone opened it, but the narrow passage only created a bottleneck, and people started shoving and pushing each other to get through.

  As a fire engine siren sounded from not too far away, Margaret wondered how they had managed to arrive so quickly, but she was grateful that they did. The firefighters needed to take control over the stampeding herd of people before someone got hurt.