Oceans of Fire

by Christine Feehan

  Abigail could feel her temper beginning to rise and she struggled not to wave her hand toward the drink in Sylvia's hand. Instead she concentrated on the universal laws and glanced briefly toward the door, hoping it was enough to get a response, before flashing another smile at the Russian. "I'm so pleased you enjoy Joley's voice. We think she's incredible."

  "I would really like to meet her." Nikitin raised his empty glass and immediately one of his men sprang up to get him a drink. "Do you think it's possible to arrange such a meeting? I would be very grateful. I'm a man who repays favors."

  For one terrible moment Abigail wanted to trade a visit with her sister for the contract on Aleksandr's life. The urge came out of nowhere and hit her hard. The walls of the room seemed to move, nearly crushing her. It was almost impossible to draw air into her burning lungs. She could see the words floating in front of her eyes, bizarre headlines flashing. The urge to speak was so strong she bit down hard on her lower lip, hoping the small bite of pain would help her focus.

  Only one other time in her life had such a thing happened. She and Joley had been experimenting, working with a spell to influence others by using a steady flow of power, and it had backfired on them. Instant recognition flooded her. She sat back and clapped her hands together, waving the air around them back toward Prakenskii, openingly challenging him. Her temper had the better of her now and if he wanted war, she was more than ready to do battle. He had secrets. His aura told her that, and his secrets weren't safe with her. He had power, but he wasn't immune from magic any more than she was.

  One of the two men Aleksandr was observing leaned over the partition and said something to Chad Kingman, and handing him a lighter, Kingman nodded and slid it into his pocket. Even as Aleksandr watched them, he felt the air around them growing static with electricity. Abigail's eyes glittered as she looked at Prakenskii. Suddenly fearing what she might do, he caught her hand again and squeezed hard. She ignored him.

  "Perhaps we should play a little game of truth or dare," she said to Prakenskii. "It's a wonderful game we enjoy. What do you think?"

  Alarm flickered in Prakenskii's eyes, then faded, leaving him stone-faced. He bowed slightly to Abigail. "I do not enjoy playing American games. Aleksandr, did you tell me you two needed to leave soon?" His tone was mild, gave nothing at all away.

  Aleksandr took the excuse, not understanding what was going on between Prakenskii and Abigail and not wanting to take any chances with her life. He rose to his feet and tugged on Abbey until she was forced to stand up as well. "Thanks, Ilya." He glanced at his watch. "I promised Abbey's sisters we'd be home in time to help with the wedding plans."

  "Mr. Nikitin"--Abigail held out her hand--"it was a pleasure to meet you. I'll certainly pass on your compliments to Joley." She kept her eyes on Prakenskii every moment.

  "I'm staying in the area for a few more days and hope we can arrange a meeting."

  "I'll let Joley know." She allowed Aleksandr to lead her to the door. As they approached it, the door swung open and Mason Fredrickson walked through. Abigail looked behind her in time to see Sylvia stiffen with shock. The left side of her face was covered in a rash in the shape of a bright red handprint as if someone had slapped her. Abbey glanced again at Prakenskii. He gave her a faint smile and a brief salute.

  "What in the hell was going on in there?" Aleksandr demanded as they hurried down the ramp into the parking lot. Before she could reply, he pushed her behind the large bushes, his arms going around her and his head bending to hers so his lips were a breath away. "He's out here."

  "Who is out here?"

  "Chad Kingman, one of the men you pointed out to me. He borrowed a lighter from one of Nikitin's men and he's out here smoking. I want him to go back inside before we get in the car."

  "I'm not going to make out with you like a teenager behind the bush, for heaven's sake," Abigail said. "Although the idea does have merit. What I'd really like to do is become Hannah for just a few minutes and send Prakenskii a little warning."

  "What did Prakenskii do to Joley that had all of you so up in arms?" He pulled her closer, fitting her body tightly against his, his hands sliding down her back to the curve of her spine. "I never saw him touch her."

  "He didn't touch her, not physically. He's like us. He has power, magic, talent, whatever you want to call it."

  That gave him pause. He stared down at her, not comprehending what she was trying to say. "Prakenskii? As in, speak the word truth and everyone reveals secrets?"

  She shook her head. "Not exactly like my talent, more like Hannah's or Joley's. Maybe even Elle's. I hope not Elle's. That would be bad."

  "Why?"

  "Elle can do it all. She has to carry all the gifts to pass on to the next generation. I saw him brush Joley's palm when she went out the door. I have no idea if he took away the pain, but if he did, that definitely makes him a very powerful adversary because he's adept at more than one thing."

  He turned his head slightly to keep a better eye on Chad Kingman. The man crushed his cigarette butt beneath his shoe, looked around, and ambled back up the ramp to the wraparound deck. Instead of going inside, he leaned over the railing and stared up at the stars.

  "Let me get this straight. You're telling me that Ilya Prakenskii, the man I've known since he was a child, is able to use the same kind of magic as you and your sisters."

  "He had to have been born with the talent, Sasha. What do you know about his background? Did you ever see him do anything different? Anything you thought was strange? As a child did he tell you he was different?"

  Aleksandr tried to remember what Ilya Prakenskii had been like in the days before they were separated. "He kept to himself. We all did. He was fast and strong and at the top of the class so in a way we competed, but we were friends. He once told me he had brothers, but the children were all sent to different homes. I have no idea whether or not he ever found them and contacted them."

  Aleksandr murmured a warning to Abigail when he saw the same Russian who had given Chad the lighter walk out onto the deck. The man looked around, shoved his hands into his pockets, and shifted closer to Chad. Chad pushed himself up from the railing as the Russian stopped beside him.

  "Thanks for the use of your lighter, man," Chad said as he handed an object back.

  The Russian shrugged and took whatever it was, concealing it in his hand as he turned and walked rapidly toward the entrance of the bar. Chad made his way to a car in the parking lot. Aleksandr caught the flare of a match just before Chad slid behind the wheel. A cigarette glowed briefly and then the car pulled out of the lot.

  "That was a very sloppy drop," Aleksandr said, puzzled. He kissed Abigail lightly and stepped out of the bushes. "Why would Prakenskii get me out of there just in time to witness a drop?" He shook his head as he opened the door of the car for her. "It doesn't make sense. Ilya would know I would see the handoff."

  "Maybe getting me out of there was more important to him than you seeing Chad do whatever he was doing," Abigail said. "He tried a power play on me, trying to get me to trade a visit with Joley for the contract on you. I had to fight hard against the impulse."

  "And you think Prakenskii put the impulse in your head?"

  "I know he did. And he couldn't risk being susceptible to my talent. He has too many secrets, not the least of which is that he isn't exactly enamored with this boss. He isn't working for Nikitin. I'm not certain he's capable of working for anyone but himself. His aura is very dangerous and violent. Death was very close to him, surrounding him." She glanced at him. "Your aura is very similar to his."

  "He doesn't have to like who he works for." Aleksandr turned the car around at the end of the road and backed it behind a shed before turning off the lights to wait. "He wouldn't want Nikitin to know what he thought of him, but would that be enough for him to give up their local contact?" He paused for a moment, glaring at her. "And my aura, whatever that is, is nothing like his."

  She flashed a brief smile at him. "I
f he had very strong feelings one way or the other, it might. I had the impression he detested the man. In fact, I'd go so far as to say Prakenskii is a very real threat to Sergei Nikitin. And yes, you do."

  "How could you read all that in him?"

  "He used power a couple of times in there. He uses it when he moves through the crowd too. I didn't catch it at first because it's so subtle. He's very strong and very disciplined. But power has a distinct fingerprint. I know when my sisters are casting and which sister did which spell. The use of magic leaves the caster somewhat vulnerable."

  "This is so out of my realm of expertise I can hardly comprehend it." Aleksandr picked up her left hand and stroked the bare fingers where his ring should have been. "I'm trying to remember Ilya as a child. Looking back, there might have been one or two odd things. Once I was talking to him and his drink was sitting on the table several feet away. I turned my head and when I looked back, it was in his hand. I had been working on noticing details. It was an exercise I not only enjoyed, but prided myself on. I knew the drink had been on the table and I couldn't figure out how he'd gotten it." He brought her hand up to his mouth and rubbed his lips across her knuckles, his tongue tasting her skin. "And you can't possibly be all that good at reading auras because mine is filled with a rainbow of colors and Prakenskii's is black."

  Abigail burst out laughing. "You don't know the first thing about auras. For all you know, black is good and rainbows are bad." She tugged at her hand but Aleksandr refused to relinquish his hold on her. "I'm the one having a difficult time believing Prakenskii really could have the ability to use such strong magic. Other than my family, I've never known anyone else born with the same kind of strength. I guess it was rather arrogant to think we'd be the only ones."

  "His coffee was always hot. It never cooled down." Aleksandr suddenly grinned at her. "We used to go on field trips. Our trips were to learn to tail someone without being seen, to make a drop or rendezvous with a contact under the eyes of our instructors without their knowledge."

  "How could you do that if they were watching you?"

  "That was the point of the exercise, to learn to be skilled enough to make a handoff or follow someone who knows they might be followed without being caught. When we were training together, no matter how long the stakeout or how cold the night, Ilya's coffee was always hot. I wondered how he did that."

  "I know you think he's dangerous because of his skills as a trained operative, but Sasha, with his powers he can do incredible things and that makes him far more dangerous than you can imagine. He can slip in and out of places using suggestions to have those he wants to remain hidden from look the other way. It doesn't mean it will work on everyone, and sometimes it's dangerous even to wield magic, but he's an adept user, I can tell just by how subtle he was."

  "What did he do to Joley?"

  Abigail sighed. "We all have silly childish retaliations when we're angry. It's better than to lose control of our tempers. Joley intended to make him stumble as he walked back to his table, but he felt the push of her magic and he retaliated with a virtual power slap. The energy turns back on the user. In all honesty I think he shoved a little harder than he intended and it hurt her hand. We didn't let Libby touch her because he would have felt Libby's 'fingerprints.'"

  "You don't think he was really trying to harm Joley?" Aleksandr leaned forward to look out the window. "There they are. They have two cars. I'm going to hang back because I'm guessing they'll have a sleeper car as well."

  "I don't know what that is."

  "Sometimes a third car waits to see if the principal--in this case, Nikitin--is followed. Ilya is driving the second car." He stayed still as the two cars turned out of the parking lot. "It's a gamble waiting for a third car, but I can't imagine Ilya, if he's responsible for Nikitin's security, not taking the precaution knowing I'm here."

  "You trained together, Sasha. He'd have to know you would be waiting to follow them. If there is a third car and it leads you to the house where they're staying, he's deliberately letting you find them. And you'd better worry about a trap, especially if you think Nikitin is the middleman for Leonid Ignatev."

  "I have reliable sources telling me Ignatev put out the hit and Nikitin brokered it for him."

  "And Ilya Prakenskii works for Nikitin. You said he's reputed to be a hit man." Abigail sighed. "I know you well enough to know there's respect and even admiration in your voice when you talk about him."

  "I had few childhood friends, Abbey."

  That simple statement tore at her heartstrings. Damn him for doing that. There was no way to have single-minded resolve when she ached for him. She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the beginnings of a headache. "He isn't a friend if he's trying to kill you. You have to listen to me, Aleksandr. If he can wield magic the way I suspect he can, he has a tremendous advantage over you."

  "We've had several battles. I have scars. He has scars. If he had such an advantage, why hasn't he used it against me? We fought with fists, with knives, even took a couple of shots at one another."

  "I have a hard time believing that you shot at him and didn't hit him."

  "I did hit him." He turned on the engine. "There it is, the third car."

  "You didn't kill him, Sasha. And that could be anyone leaving the bar, not necessarily one of the Russians."

  "I have a feel for these things. It's the sleeper."

  "You didn't kill him," she repeated. "Was he using magic to deflect your aim or..." She paused to study his averted face. "You deliberately wounded him rather than kill him, didn't you?"

  He muttered a Russian curse under his breath. "I don't look at things that way. I wasn't after him. He wasn't my job. It wasn't personal and it wasn't business. We got in each other's way." He shrugged. "It happens. I hurt him, though. If he really had the same ability to use magic as you and your sisters, would I have been able to do that?"

  "If he had my talent, or Libby's. In my opinion, Hannah would be the most difficult to harm, unless someone surprised her, came at her unexpectedly."

  "Why not Elle?"

  "Hannah's powers are very concentrated in one or two areas. Elle carries all elements so she's not quite as strong. And Hannah uses her gifts daily and she works at strengthening them. She'd make a powerful adversary. Libby uses hers as well, but I'm not certain with her gift she would be capable of harming someone."

  "You think Prakenskii is like Elle?"

  "He exhibited signs of tremendous control with several talents, not just one. I can do several things, all of us can, but we're not great at all of them."

  "I don't suppose I should venture the hypothesis that he's male and maybe stronger because of that."

  "Not if you want to live through the next few minutes."

  "That's what I thought." He flashed a small grin at her. "The idea wouldn't enter my mind."

  "Good thing." She caught his arm as he went to make a turn off the highway onto another road, following the sleeper car. "Wait! Don't take that road. Keep going. There aren't any houses for rent down that road. It makes a loop back to the highway. Just drive to the bluff up there"--she pointed--"and park. We should be able to see if they continue south or turn back on us and go back north."

  Without hesitation, Aleksandr did as she said. He had hung back far enough that he was certain on the main highway, even with the small amount of traffic, the driver wouldn't be able to spot him. He turned off the lights. "Were any of the men with Nikitin familiar to you? Could any of them be the men who killed Danilov?"

  Abigail frowned. "No. And I injured one of the men with my punch stick. If I didn't break a bone, I gave him a whopping bruise and he'll be limping for a few days. It has a very powerful blow. Just punching a shark with your fist isn't all that effective, so I use a small trigger device and it really packs a wallop. If you see someone limping, check him out."

  Aleksandr tapped his fingers on the dashboard. "What are we looking for? We know someone is bringing in artifacts and art from Russia
via freighter and dropping them off to a fishing boat off this coast. There's a good chance the items are being smuggled through Warner's gallery. Either he's aware of it or he's not, but it's a great route. He ships items to the city all the time and it would be a very slim chance that someone would open one of his crates."

  "And if they did, would they even know what they were looking at? He ships art and sculptures all the time," Abigail said. "I wouldn't know the difference."

  "He's one of the owners of the fishing boat we suspect is being used. But so is Ned Farmer. I recognized his name the minute you said it."

  She smiled. "You've always had the best memory for details. I meet people and can't remember their name five minutes later. How do you do that?"

  He shrugged. "Partly training, but I always have had a talent for names and places. I can read text and not forget it. It's a tremendous asset when I'm given so much data to cross-check." He leaned forward to peer out the window. "There it is. See the headlights? One is just a little bit off. He's going south."

  "Wait just a minute. The highway has switchbacks and twists and turns, and we'll be above him. We'll catch glimpses of him on the turns."

  He nodded his agreement and waited until the car had gone around a sweeping turn before pulling out onto the highway after it. "It would be useful to know if Chad Kingman works in shipping."

  "Jonas would know. And Inez Nelson. She knows everything. If you go into her grocery store and just hang around a few minutes and listen, everyone tells her everything. She's like the local counselor. It isn't that hard to lead the conversation where you want it to go, but she's sharp, Sasha. Very sharp. Don't let her fool you. If you think you're going to put anything over on her, you won't."

  "She must know Warner and Ned Farmer. She's a part owner in the fishing boat as well."

  "Don't even think Inez would do anything illegal. She was born and raised in Sea Haven. Her husband was a wonderful man, born and bred there as well. Donald Nelson was a leader in the community and when he died five years ago, Inez stepped into his shoes and took over helping small businesses grow and neighborhoods thrive. She was behind the small library and theater and even the park. There is absolutely no way she would be involved in anything illegal."