Embolden

by Syrie James

  “Not as some sort of species, no. But I imagine others with symptoms similar to mine helped inspire the myths.”

  Claire couldn’t help asking, “Do you … bite people?”

  “Wouldn’t do me much good. I don’t have fangs.” Malcolm smiled, then touched his pearly-white teeth with his tongue. “I’ve had to resort to … less-than-pleasant methods in the past to obtain the sustenance I need. Now I just acquire my supply from blood banks. It’s very neat and clean. Yet Alec’s activities of late suggest he has a problem with that.” He waved a hand and shook his head in annoyance. “Typical Grigori shortsightedness.”

  Claire knew there was no way this guy was telling the whole story. If Alec was against the operation, then Malcolm didn’t acquire his blood supply legally. He must be stealing it. “Next you’re going to tell me they’re all against us or something, right? Like you and I are two peas in a pod on the same side?”

  “But we are. Your Grigori protectors are holding you under their thumb. Alec lies to your face while Helena stalls the search for your father.” The smile he gave her was dazzling. “I can find out where he is with a phone call.”

  Claire’s heart jumped at those words. She shook off a shiver of temptation. There was nothing she’d ever be willing to give these people in exchange for their help. Still, she was curious. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  Malcolm rose from his chair and crossed to her, extending his hand. “Go ahead, use your talent to see for yourself.”

  Claire hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to actually touch this man. On the other hand, here was a chance to get a vision of her father, with no strings attached. She could finally confirm for herself that he was still their captive, maybe even learn something useful in the process. Swallowing hard, she stood, removed her right glove, and took the hand he offered.

  Instantly, she felt a charge of energy bolt through her—and she was no longer inside her own body, she was Malcolm.

  He wore a black suit and thin leather gloves, and was seated in the backseat of a long, dark limousine. One of the rear doors opened, admitting a bright shaft of sunlight. S/he felt the force of it as it enveloped his body, a searing pain that weakened him and made him wince.

  A tall man wearing a suit and tie, his dark hair neatly groomed, was forcibly ushered into the seat opposite.

  Her father!

  A broad-shouldered man climbed in and sat close beside her dad. He looked like a bodyguard. Claire noticed a glint inside the man’s ears—he was wearing the same earbuds.

  As the limousine pulled away from the curb, Malcolm’s voice issued from her throat. “I would just like to say how much I appreciate your help in this delicate situation, and on such short notice.”

  Claire’s father nodded, his face blank, his eyes expressionless, like a drone. “You’re welcome. Sir.”

  Malcolm pulled his hand away from Claire, yanking her out of the vision. “Did you see?”

  She nodded, disappointment spinning through her. She’d wanted to stay longer, to learn more. The dark living room spun for a second before coming back into focus. “You’re drugging my father, aren’t you, and holding him against his will! Why?”

  “He is doing our organization a great service,” Malcolm replied. “I’m not in charge of his situation, but I receive updates, and I assure you he’s being made as comfortable as possible.”

  Claire straightened her spine in defiance. “A fancy suit and limo doesn’t mean he’s comfortable! What do you want with him?”

  “If you agree to work with me, I will answer all your questions. Trust me, you will be far better off working with me. As a fellow Halfblood, I am the only being on earth who can truly understand you and what you suffer.”

  It was a deal with the Devil, Claire thought. Or was it? Malcolm had a point: on a basic level, he was more like her than Alec or Helena. And he seemed to know more about her mind-control gift than anyone else. Maybe he was the mentor she truly needed?

  Or maybe he was the one doing the brainwashing, but without any fancy powers. Claire looked away from Malcolm, struggling to collect her thoughts. He was so attractive, and his gaze was so magnetic, Claire almost had to remind herself that she’d been brought here by force. Before she could work out an answer, she suddenly felt and heard a crackly sound on the edges of her mind. It was strangely familiar although she couldn’t say why.

  Claire, a female voice faintly intoned. Don’t listen … I’ve sent…

  The psychic message broke off. Claire recognized the voice: it was Helena, trying to contact her, the way she’d done in the past. But why had it come so late in the game? And why was the message so weak and full of static? She worried that Helena had been in another accident—or that Malcolm and his people had somehow gotten ahold of her.

  At that moment, Claire heard a massive thud outside. Her heart leapt. Had Alec made it here to rescue her after all? Just then, one of the shuttered French doors burst open, emitting a blast of sunlight. But Alec wasn’t there.

  In fact, no one was standing in the entryway.

  Malcolm recoiled into the shadows. “No one invited you, Watcher.”

  “Miss Brennan wasn’t invited either,” announced a male voice. Light bent and color flooded the empty space in front of them, giving form to the previously invisible intruder: Zachariah.

  With a calm but unyielding strength, Zachariah added, “This ends now.”

  twenty

  “Miss Brennan, please move to the door,” Zachariah commanded.

  Claire stood her ground, paralyzed with indecision. Although grateful that someone had come to her aid, Zachariah still posed a threat to her and Alec. She sensed the tension between the two men, who stood staring at each other, with Claire caught in the middle.

  “Such bravado is unnecessary,” Malcolm insisted. He picked up his wineglass. “We had a nice chat, but we’re finished for now. Isn’t that so, Claire?”

  Claire nodded. “Definitely.”

  “Miss Brennan?” Zachariah eyed her expectantly.

  She hesitated. Did she really want to leave with him? From Zachariah’s expression, it didn’t seem that she had any choice. She’d have to be very careful what she said around him. Hopefully, he’d just bring her home.

  As she moved to join the Watcher, Malcolm called after her, “I do hope we’ll be seeing each other again.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Claire replied though she wasn’t so certain. Malcolm’s offer was still stuck in her mind. It was unsettling to think that he might be the only person who could help her get the answers she wanted.

  As she stepped out the door, Claire almost tripped over the unconscious body of Rico. She spotted Javed in a similar heap over by the pool. Celeste was nowhere to be seen.

  “How’d you know where to find me?” Claire asked, as Zachariah led the way down the path toward the front of the house.

  “Your grandmother sensed that you were in danger and alerted me.”

  “What took her so long?”

  “I’ll let her explain.”

  How cryptic, Claire thought in frustration. She yearned for a straight answer. “Is she okay?”

  “She will recover.”

  Now Claire was genuinely worried. Despite all her recent frustrations with Helena, Claire loved her grandmother and didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. Besides which, at times like this, it was nice having a guardian angel looking over her shoulder. Hoping Zachariah couldn’t sense how uncomfortable she was in his presence, she added, “Thanks.”

  “It’s all part of the job,” he answered matter-of-factly, as they approached her car.

  “You seem a bit shaken,” he said. “So I’ll drive.”

  As she got in, she couldn’t help thinking that there was something anticlimactic about being rescued by a flying, invisible angel, then being chauffeured
home in your own car.

  Silence reigned during the drive back to the condo. Claire was too worried to speak, afraid she’d accidentally spill the beans about Alec, her search for her father, or her newfound talent.

  There was a topic she was dying for updates on, though. “So,” she said finally, “any news about Vincent?”

  The pale Watcher shook his head. “His trial is in progress. Nothing has been decided yet.”

  Claire nodded. Well, apparently Vincent hadn’t said anything about Alec. That was good.

  As Zachariah pulled onto her street, another broken message from Helena suddenly infiltrated Claire’s brain, accompanied by static: Claire … look up. Alec … !

  What now? Claire’s eyes snapped up to the windshield in alarm. Her worst fears were confirmed when she saw Alec getting out of his car in front of her condo complex, halfway down the block.

  Panic surged inside her. A warning text would take too long and be too obvious. If only she could send Alec a mental signal, persuade him to drive off! But he was a Grigori and might not be as susceptible to suggestion. Plus, he was so far away. There was just one avenue left to her. Zachariah was also a Grigori, but at least he was sitting right next to her.

  “Zachariah,” she began, constricting her thoughts to a laser focus, “thank you for coming for me, and for driving me home. I’m so grateful.” Simultaneously, she thought at him: The young man climbing out of that Mustang may look like Alec, but he’s not Alec. He’s just another teenager.

  The Watcher glanced aside at her. “You’re welcome.”

  Her mantra didn’t seem to be taking. She had to try harder. Reaching out with every tendril her mind could muster, Claire tried again, her increasing dread fueling her subliminal message: He’s nobody. He’s not Alec. You won’t recognize him. You won’t recognize him. Aloud, she said, “I’m so fortunate to have you and my grandma watching over me.”

  Claire’s heart pounded, waiting to see if her powers were having any effect. There was no thrum of tension signaling a connection. She couldn’t tell if the buzzing she felt was a hint of contact or mere anxiety.

  Zachariah said nothing as he steered the car into her condo’s driveway, stopping just outside the entrance to the underground garage.

  Continuing to mentally hammer away at Zachariah’s mind, Claire said, “Thanks again. I can take it from here and park the car myself.”

  “As you wish.” Zachariah shut off the engine.

  Alec headed toward them, recognizing her vehicle. He was smiling and looked only mildly concerned. He must have believed the text Celeste sent him, had no idea she’d been in any danger.

  Claire threw open her door and leapt out at the same time that Zachariah stepped out from the driver’s side. Alec skidded to a halt a few feet away from her, his cheerful expression changing to horror when he caught sight of Zachariah.

  Was this it? Were they both dead? Claire could hardly breathe, but she kept broadcasting her message to Zachariah while she addressed Alec neutrally, “Oh. Hi, I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

  Claire could tell from Alec’s body language that he felt as terrified as she did.

  Zachariah stared at Alec with a wary expression. “Hey,” he said slowly, as if in recognition. “You’re—”

  “He’s a friend of mine from school,” Claire interjected, focusing all her inner fear, tension, and emotion on Zachariah: He’s not Alec, you don’t recognize him, you don’t recognize him.

  Zachariah blinked several times, his eyes growing somewhat distant and unfocused. Squinting, he pressed one hand to his temple, as if he had a sudden headache. “A friend of yours?”

  “Yes,” Claire insisted with forced calm, keeping her mental projection on Zachariah while simultaneously struggling for an excuse to clue Alec in. To him, she added, “Sorry I missed rehearsal this afternoon. I ran into some … old friends unexpectedly in the village, who insisted on whisking me away. I didn’t want to go, so I was glad when my cousin here appeared out of the blue and brought me home.”

  Alec slowly nodded in comprehension but seemed afraid to speak.

  Claire held her breath, waiting. Alec’s life depended on what would happen in the next second.

  Zachariah blinked again, still squinting as if pain, or maybe processing what she’d said. Finally, he gave Alec a tight smile. “Nice to meet you, young man.” To Claire, he added, “I do hope you’ll be more careful in future, Claire. Until next time. Good-bye.” With that, he turned and walked off down the street.

  Claire and Alec stood frozen in anxious silence, waiting until Zachariah turned a corner—where she presumed he’d find some quiet spot to disappear and fly away.

  Once he was out of sight, Claire heaved a huge sigh. “Oh. My God. It worked. It worked! He didn’t recognize you!”

  Alec’s eyes were filled with awe. “You used mind control on Zachariah?”

  She nodded, falling instinctively into his arms and hugging him tightly.

  “That was insane,” gasped Alec. “I can’t believe you got away with it. Are you okay?”

  “Mostly.”

  Being in Alec’s arms didn’t totally have the comforting effect Claire had hoped for. Her relief, both at having deceived Zachariah and being back home, was tempered by confusion over what she’d learned today. Malcolm had insisted that Alec was messing with the Fallen. Malcolm had been so deadly earnest, she was inclined to believe him. So why hadn’t Alec told her a thing about it? Since the day Alec had admitted what he truly was, she thought they’d both been entirely honest with each other.

  Apparently, not anymore. She wondered if there was anything else he was hiding from her.

  But, Claire reminded herself, maybe he has a reason to? She hadn’t been entirely up front with Alec lately either, by trying out her mind-control powers despite his and Helena’s strict insistence that it was dangerous. And lucky thing she had! Without practice, there was no way she could have saved Alec from Zachariah just now.

  Claire stepped out of his embrace and gestured toward the passenger seat of her car. “Climb in.”

  After she pulled into the garage, parked, and shut off the engine, Alec asked, “What really happened today? I take it there was no family emergency?”

  “Yeah. Celeste grabbed my phone after the boys threw me in the car.” Claire turned to him, wishing she could ask him what had really been happening lately. But she didn’t feel right bringing up his activities without admitting to her own.

  “Did they hurt you?” Alec asked, anger burning in his green eyes.

  She nodded. “A little.” Taking a deep breath, she plunged in, relieved that she could talk to him about everything else that had happened today. “Then they took me to Shane Malcolm.”

  Claire’s mom almost tackled her as she and Alec walked though the front door, clutching Claire in a python-like embrace.

  “You’re okay! You’re really okay. Right?”

  “I’m fine, Mom.” Claire returned the fierce hug. After two weeks of awkwardness, suddenly all of the tension between them seemed to have melted away. Sometimes, Claire thought, it felt good to be in your mother’s arms.

  “I’ve been on pins and needles for hours.” Lynn pulled back to look Claire over, as if desperate for visual reassurance that she was truly in one piece. To Alec, she added, “When Helena spotted Zachariah, then you arrived—I was so worried.”

  “So was I,” Alec nodded grimly. “Claire averted a catastrophe.”

  Claire worried about the direction this conversation was heading. Was she going to get crap, now, for using her new ability on Zachariah? She knew, if any of them found out she’d been practicing it on others, it would spark an even lengthier debate. Not wanting to get into it, she quickly changed the subject. “Where’s Grandma?”

  “I’m right here,” came a rather weak voice.

  Claire
darted into the living room to find Helena lying on the couch, dressed in yoga clothes, her forehead covered with a damp cloth.

  “I made you some food,” Lynn said, disappearing into the kitchen. “Helena said you’d be starving.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I am.” Claire turned to her grandmother. “Are you all right?”

  Helena raised an eyebrow. “So now you’re talking to me?”

  Did Helena always have to be so bitchy? Claire and Alec sat down across from her, his look of silent reproach reminding her that she was the one who’d been acting bitchy lately.

  “Sorry,” Claire said. “I guess I’ve been making everything harder than it needed to be. But you were right about one thing, Grandma. I’m glad you got inside my head today, after all.”

  “Well,” Helena replied, “I appreciate your apology. To my chagrin, it seems you had a point, too. If you hadn’t gotten yourself inside Zachariah’s mind just now, we would all be in bigger trouble than you know.”

  So it’s okay for me to use that power? Claire wanted to ask. But she could guess where that would go. “So you did see what just happened?”

  “I saw everything.”

  “Then why didn’t you warn me earlier? Why was every attempt to reach me so staticky?”

  Helena took a deep breath. “I’d spent the morning deep in meditation, and it was enough to wring the life out of a tiger. When I came out of it, I was so exhausted I could barely move. By the time I foresaw what would happen to you, it had already begun, and I didn’t have the energy to properly communicate with you.”

  “Why didn’t one of you just call me?” Alec asked.

  “I felt Zachariah could get there more quickly,” Helena answered.

  “True,” Claire smirked, adding with her best Back to the Future impression, “He doesn’t need roads.”

  Alec shook his head, visibly frustrated. “I would have dropped everything to find you. Instead, I spent all afternoon in rehearsal like a chump.”

  Claire eyed him with empathy. “It’s not your fault. But for future reference: Celeste calls you Handsome, not me.”