by P. M. Briede
“Of course she was. You thought she made that up?”
“Yes.”
My jaw dropped. “Why?”
“Humans concoct all kinds of mystical explanations for things they don’t understand,” Olivier said. “You burned her. That much was evident by the blisters on her hands. I just assumed her mind filled in the coloring of your skin to help process what she experienced.”
Just then Olivier’s arm shot out, catching the aide in the chest and slamming him back against the wall. The aide had been so quiet since I entered the house that I’d actually forgotten he was there. Olivier turned towards him, locking his eyes on the aide’s. I could see the flames from Olivier’s eyes reflected in the aide’s. “You will remember nothing of this.” Olivier spoke softly, his voice taking on a melodic quality. “Pack everything you heard and experienced in this room away. Lock it up and forget about it. Never think on it again.”
While Olivier spoke to him, the aide’s pupils shrank in on themselves to miniscule pinpoints. It was quite disturbing to watch because not only was the sight of his eyes practically missing the pupils just wrong but I didn’t need Olivier to explain what he was doing. He was altering the aide’s mind. He’d mentioned giving Russell the memory of dancing with me at the fundraiser for the school at Valentine’s. Afterward, Russell’s eyes had done this same thing when I asked him about it. At the time I didn’t understand why they’d behaved that way. Now I did.
Before I knew it Olivier had escorted the aide out and was kneeling in front of me. Somehow I’d sunk down to sit on the edge of his couch. “Charlotte, we need to talk about what you saw.” His fingers caught my chin, lifting it until our eyes met.
That’s when I remembered all the times he’d insisted on trapping my gaze. He intended to… “Get away, Olivier!” I shouted as I swatted his hand from my face. I moved to get away but he leaned forward and trapped me between him and the couch. “Get off of me!” I fought to get out from under him but the damn man is built like a boulder. He wasn’t going to move until he wanted to. It wasn’t long before my wrists were trapped in his vise like grip.
Olivier covered my mouth with a hand and peered directly into my eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not going to mess with your mind. You have nothing to fear from me,” his pleading and soothing voice broke through my fear. I stopped fighting and looked at him but not in the eyes. We were nose to nose and that’s when I noticed how tired he was. “No more screaming?” he asked. I nodded and he sank to his knees, laying his head in my lap. “Tell me more about the glowing skin.”
“There’s nothing more to tell,” I answered. “His skin was glowing green. Paige said mine did the same thing. I don’t know why. Now what were you doing with the aide?”
“Have you ever seen your skin turn this green color?” he pressed, side-stepping the aide topic.
“Only in a dream and at the ball.”
“Was this the dream where the whelp said you burned him afterward?” Olivier asked. Of course he focused on the dream.
“No,” I mumbled. It was the dream where I’d had extremely raw sex with Olivier the morning after consummating my relationship with Wesley.
“What was happening in the dream when you noticed your skin change color?” My cheeks grew warm and I shifted uncomfortably. The absolute last thing I wanted to tell him was the truth. “Charlotte?” Olivier pressed, lifting his head from my lap.
“It’s not important,” I answered. “My dream has nothing to do with why his skin was glowing. If you had no intention of burning him then why did it glow?”
“Hard to say since I didn’t see it and I had to let him go before I could ask him.” Olivier shot me a pointed look.
“How is it I saw it and you didn’t?” I snarkily retorted.
“I can’t say for certain as in general angels don’t mix with muses,” Olivier shot back. “My guess is it’s a muse thing.”
“Except that Paige saw it too!” I challenged him.
“Then I don’t know, Charlotte!” he fumed.
I exhaled audibly. “Then what is your best guess for why he was glowing?”
Olivier sat back on his haunches. “Our exile mole. You’ve convinced me it’s Banks. I thought I’d search the mind of someone who wouldn’t know to deter us and find out what she looks like. But I was blocked.”
“What do you mean search the mind?” I asked. Olivier was opening up about things he’d never wanted me to know about before. Whether it was genuine honesty on his part or an attempt to lure me back, I didn’t care at the moment. I was getting the answers I needed.
“With direct eye contact I can read a person’s thoughts,” he admitted. “They don’t have to think of the topic for me to find it but it’s easier when they do. So I ask about it knowing no one is adept enough to not think of something they’re asked about unless they don’t know.”
“And what did you see?” I prompted.
“Nothing.”
“So he didn’t know.”
“No Charlotte,” Olivier exhaled in frustration. “A mind will try to recall things it doesn’t know about. In this case there was a hole. That’s the best explanation I can give. That aide knows who Banks is. I’d bet my life that Banks is the one who stripped the image from the aide’s mind. It’s the only explanation I have for the brick wall we all keep hitting.”
“What do you mean stripped the image?” I asked in shock. That sounded awful!
Olivier cupped my face. “Erase it, make the person forget. It’s not painful, my dear.”
That doesn’t make it right! “Do you do this?” I flung at him. His eyes cut away from me. “You were trying to do something similar with that aide, weren’t you?!” Again no real answer. I grabbed Olivier’s jaw, bringing our eyes together. “Hear me, Olivier, and know I wholeheartedly mean what I’m about to say. You swear to me you will never mess with a mind again…”
He cut me off. “Charlotte, with everything that’s going on that may not be something I can swear too. I may have to in order to protect us all.”
The idea of him turning the minds of the unsuspecting to mush sickened me. “You want me back in your life?!” A stunned expression stole over his features before he nodded. “Then you’ll do this, Olivier. You don’t get to make those decisions. It shouldn’t be a decision at all. A person’s mind isn’t your personal playground. You swear to me that you won’t do this again, on my life, or you’re on your own.”
He swallowed hard and sweat beads sprouted at his hairline. “You don’t know what you’re asking. For me to swear on your life isn’t the same as it is for any human. If I break my word, you’ll die.”
Why wasn’t I surprised? Where his voice had been shaky, mine came out firm. “Then I suggest you don’t break your word. I can’t be friends with you, knowing you’re out there manipulating people. I’m not okay with that. You say you want to be a better man, a worthy man. Prove it. Stop making decisions for others based on what you think is best.”
“I’d do anything for you but you don’t need to risk your life for this.” His hands had taken mine and I could feel his trembling.
He had to swear though because without it there would be wiggle room if he felt too much urgency at the given moment. There had to be an end to his manipulation. For millions of years it has gone unimpeded. “If you’ll do it just because I asked,” I began and he exhaled with relief, “then there is no risk to you swearing. I realize the gravity of my request, Olivier. I have faith in you.” I hadn’t realized that I did still have faith in him, hope in his intentions, until the words crossed my lips. What was it about this infernal man that pulled at me like gravity? He’s dangerous. He’s secretive. He’s practically demonic! I’d thrown him out of my home just the other day because he’s volatile on top of everything else. Yet, here I was doing what any normal person would consider irrational: giving him another chance. And the biggest reason I was because in the days we’d spent apart the only person I knew I could
count on to help stave off the exile rebellion and protect Wesley was Olivier. “My life will not be endangered by your actions.”
With a vise grip on my hand he seethed through gritted teeth. “On your life, Charlotte Grace, and mine, I swear I won’t manipulate the minds of strangers.” When his words died away, there was a burning in my hand and smoke rose from our clasped palms. I wanted to pull it away but his grip disallowed it. “It’s done, Charlotte,” Olivier announced. “You’ve literally put your life in my hands. I just hope I’m worthy enough to keep it safe.”
I sighed, nodded, and caught my head in my hands. Olivier remained silent as we both got over the incident with the aide and me forcing him to swear to stop manipulating people. Could this get any worse? How was I supposed to protect Wesley if this exile could keep herself so well hidden from us all? “What’s wrong, my dear?” he finally asked.
“I’m just worried about Wesley leaving tomorrow,” I croaked out. Tears burned my eyes but I refused to let them fall.
Olivier’s arms wrapped around me. “This can’t just be about missing him.”
In a small voice I told Olivier the truth. “Wesley’s going to be alone with no one to look out for him. It was different when he was working from home. I saw him every day. I controlled who was in the house. He never went anywhere without me until the end and only then it was just the office. Now he’s on the road. The schedule’s so complicated I’ll never truly know where he is and there’s not a damn thing I can do. Are you sure it would be worse for all of us if he quit? All I have to do is ask and he’d be home and safe.”
“Would it bring you comfort to know that Breaux’s not alone?” Olivier whispered in my ear. I straightened up to look at him. What was he saying? How could that even be possible? Of course it would bring me comfort! Before I could pose a single question Olivier continued. “After our conversation a few days ago, I mentioned your theory that he’s not the true threat. That he’s not in league with the exile mole. The angels didn’t care but there is someone I trust enough who was able to get hired onto the campaign and can hopefully get the answers that so far have eluded us.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Olivier hedged. “I hadn’t planned on telling you at all because I don’t want you to get your hopes up. My friend isn’t there to protect Breaux and if the wrong move is made, he won’t get in the way. But he was willing to watch and tell me what he witnesses so that I can figure out what we need to do. The whelp is still flying blind, so to speak, but he does have a shadow, so nothing will happen to him that won’t get reported to us.”
Well, it wasn’t quite what I wanted but knowing there were eyes on Wesley, and they were second-handedly Olivier’s, was better than nothing. Sinking into Olivier, my mind ran wild. “The other night I suggested that Wesley call his press secretary,” I started rambling aloud. “He made the call and I was able to confirm that Banks is the press secretary. He also told me to watch the news for the statement. But when I did, her voice was digitalized and her image pixilated. Plus Banks and the press secretary are the only people who seems to instantly put Wesley in a foul mood. In all my experience with Wesley, he is never rude even to those he dislikes. It doesn’t make for good politics.”
When the wheels in my mind stopped spinning I realized Olivier wasn’t holding me against him anymore. I was an arm’s length away and he was wearing a dumbfounded expression. “What?” I asked.
“When did you figure all that out?”
I shrugged. “The other day. Look, it’s just a theory. We shouldn’t just focus on the press secret…”
“It’s not just a theory, Charlotte!” Olivier exclaimed cutting me off. “At least now we have a name and position.”
“Olivier, they were idle thoughts when I was tired. Don’t put too much stock in them.”
“They’re not idle,” he argued. “We won’t stop investigating all our possibilities but I think you stumbled on our exile. Besides, at minimum we have a position now. There’s not a network on the planet that would hide the identity of a presidential mouth piece. I don’t understand it. It shouldn’t be possible to hide her face from us.”
“What do you mean it shouldn’t be possible? You hid our past from me.”
“No, I changed my appearance so you wouldn’t realize we had a past,” he disagreed.
“You know what I mean,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “She obviously can’t do the same thing every time we’re around, can she?”
“No,” he grumbled.
“Okay, so let’s stop focusing on how it shouldn’t be possible and move on to how it is. You said she hid herself from you at Mardi Gras. How?”
“She was faceless. But that’s no surprise since it was just her and I.” He showed me how as all of his features slid off his face. Skin covered his eyes, nose, and mouth until he looked like some horrific nightmare conceived from someone’s twisted imagination. I gagged at the disturbing sight. Then his lips alone appeared to continue his thought. “But she can’t look like this in front of other people.”
I turned my head away from him. “I get it. Can you please put your face back on?” I demanded as I gagged again. I refused to look at him as I continued. “And that doesn’t explain how I can watch a press release that she delivers, or see her picture in the paper, and still not retain any details. Or, why no one is willing to tell us what she looks like.”
He caught my chin and gently brought my face back to his. “I’m back,” Olivier said with a smile. “That I can answ…”
“Which?”
“Let me finish,” he chuckled. “She probably set an order in their minds. They know what she looks like. So to maintain her anonymity she’s instructed them to avoid the issue. It’s the same as giving them a memory.”
“Like what you did to Russell at the fundraiser?”
There was a flash of fire in his eyes at that particular memory. “Very close.”
“Then couldn’t there be a similar instruction in our minds? One saying to forget her image if we came across it?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No.”
I waited patiently for him to continue, except he didn’t. “Um, can you give me more details?”
He looked away from me. “I’d prefer not to.”
I grabbed his jaw and whipped his face back around. “You don’t get to do that. Give me more details, Olivier.” I demanded.
He swallowed hard and gently removed my hand from his face. “I looked and didn’t find a trace.”
My jaw fell open. “What do you mean you looked?”
“I searched your and Paige’s minds. There are no holes, no breaks. Everything is as it should be.”
He’d done what?! I moved to swat at his arm in frustration but he’d anticipated the response and had already trapped my wrists in one of his hands. “When?”
“The other night when Paige came home from Houston. You were so upset about the whole thing and I’d hoped to find some evidence that you were right about Breaux instead of Paige.”
“You thought it was a plant?” I assumed aloud. “Something for Paige to tell me to tear me from him?” My questions fell weakly from my lips.
“Or a false memory given to her,” Olivier added. “But what she believes is what she saw. I’m sorry, my dear.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I chastised him. “She was wrong. I only need to see Wesley now to know that.”
He sighed and looked away from me. “I don’t think she was, Charlotte.”
I sank back into the couch. He was wrong. He just didn’t want to admit it. “Forget about Wesley. How is Banks able to hide from us while being out in the open?”
“I don’t know,” Olivier answered in frustration.
Chapter 7
At the airport, Wesley and I had settled on no scenes. I’d requested a quiet good-bye and a chaste kiss since the last thing I needed was to drive home alone frantic for my lover’s touch. Did I get that? Nope. What di
d I get? A scene. As Wesley and I approached security, Tristan was hovering around with Paige before going through himself. They made eye contact with us but respected our privacy for our own farewell. Everything went as agreed at first, though Wesley’s voice was choked, requiring him to clear it a few times.
When I lifted my chin to meet Wesley’s lips with mine, I noticed something behind me catch his attention. His eyes flashed, his lips thinned, and his embrace tensed before I was bowled over with an intensely passionate kiss. My brain incessantly shouted not to succumb to him, to not part my lips and meet his tongue with mine, to not melt and arch into his body, and to not wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him like my life depended on it. Apparently, my body was deaf.
He ended the affair, chuckling against my lips, as he reached behind his head to disentangle himself from my arms. “I’m going to miss my flight, Charlotte.”
“Damn the flight, Wesley. Kiss me like that again.” With a growl, his lips returned to mine and this time my needs were completely in line with his and I didn’t care what anyone saw or thought.
The sound of Tristan clearing his throat reminded us that we’d reached the end of our time together. “Sorry to interrupt, but Wesley, we have a flight to catch,” Tristan paused to stifle his laughter. “Can you please be a man and say good-bye so we can get through security?”
“Go to hell, Tristan,” Wesley seethed against my lips before trying to recapture them one last time. But Tristan was right and it was time to act like an adult.
I pulled as far away as Wesley’s arms would allow and caught Tristan’s eye. “A little help, please?”
With a laugh Tristan put a hand on Wesley’s shoulder. “Well, I see now who wears the pants.” Wesley shot Tristan a glare and shrugged Tristan’s hand off his shoulder. “Man, I don’t claim to know how this is for the two of you but I can sympathize knowing how I feel about being separated from your friend. But you’ve got to let Charlotte go. I’m sure it’ll be that much sweeter the next time you see her.”
Wesley took a deep breath and closed his eyes as his grip on me went lax. “I’ll call you tonight,” he promised as I fought the tears and the sudden constriction of my throat. As our men walked away, Paige came and put an arm around me. I held my head high while I watched Wesley turn down the corridor, desperately trying to hold my heart together. A pit had fallen into my stomach. For some reason it felt as though this was going to be the last time I saw him.
