by Lexi C. Foss
But they would be dead.
Do it…
Her lips parted as she considered the demand. End them.
The compulsion wrapped a cloak of darkness around her, causing all her hairs to stand on end. It would be so easy— “Aya,” Issac murmured through the earpiece. “Focus.”
Stas blinked, startled out of her dark thoughts.
She immediately tested the silencing command and found it hanging by a loose thread. Her mind emboldened it immediately as she closed the door on her wicked yearnings. They were always there, lurking, and ready to take her over the edge.
Her power was intoxicating and addicting. And could be used to wield so much pain.
She met Osiris’s gaze and saw pride brewing in his lurid stare. It sickened her to the core.
He knew.
Because he openly embraced the wicked urgings stirred by this power. She’d seen him in action, knew what he was capable of, and witnessed how much he enjoyed it.
I’m not you.
He merely grinned. As far as she knew, he couldn’t read minds, but that all-knowing look left her unsettled.
“Osiris is secure,” she said over the comms.
“Yes,” Ezekiel murmured. “And as a sign of good faith, Osiris has granted permission for the teleporter to retrieve the Hydraians’ precious king.”
Stas narrowed her gaze. “I sense a trap.”
“No trap, Astasiya. Merely a token of temporary peace.”
She studied the assassin and the content Ichorian beside him. None of this sat well with her, but they’d proven their knowledge of the situation at hand.
Because of the seer.
“I believe him,” Issac said over the comms. “He has no reason to lie.”
“I beg to differ, Wakefield. He has every reason to lie. Let me shoot him.”
“Stand down, Thomas.” The authority in Issac’s tone rippled through her earpiece, soothing her in a way it shouldn’t. “Jacque, grab Lucian.”
Jacque didn’t hesitate. He teleported to Luc and disappeared in a blink.
Ezekiel grinned. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“What was the point of all of this?” Jayson demanded, folding his arms. “A punishment for rescuing Lizzie?” He was still the only Elder standing. Whatever Osiris forced Alik to do to Balthazar had left him shaking uncontrollably on the ground, while the telepath sat motionless, staring off into the distance with dead eyes.
To be forced to torture your best friends… She trembled at the thought.
Ezekiel smirked. “Elizabeth is a key reason for our meeting tonight, yes. She’s one of a kind, and Osiris would like her back.”
“Over my dead body,” Jayson growled.
“That can certainly be arranged,” Ezekiel murmured as Osiris tapped him on the arm. They exchanged a long look that left the assassin grinning. “It appears my Sire has decided to grant her freedom. For now.”
“For now?” Stas repeated. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I believe his objective has shifted, little angel.” His gold-flecked gaze sparkled. “You are quite the enigma, darling one. And he’s intrigued.”
Ice dotted her spine as she interpreted his meaning. “I’m his new objective.”
“So it would seem, for you should not exist.” He checked his watch and sighed. “We have crossed several foreseeable outcomes now. Therefore, I do believe it is time for Issac to appear. Please. Osiris would like a word.”
The ancient Ichorian nodded, his attention finally leaving her to gaze expectantly to his left. Her demon sauntered into view a second later, his expression blank, as Tristan and Mateo flanked him on either side.
“A test of loyalty,” Issac mused as he walked directly to her side. “You’ve known all along.”
The ancient lifted a shoulder.
“Partly,” Ezekiel murmured. “The seer warned Osiris of this outcome, as well as several others, but her vision of the ultimate threat remained unclear.”
“Stas,” Jayson replied as Jacque reappeared to grab Balthazar. He vanished in a flash, but no one commented. “Your seer couldn’t identify her.”
“Precisely,” Ezekiel replied, pleased. “And now that it’s done, we can go?” He regarded his superior, who shook his head.
Those ancient eyes gazed eagerly at Stas.
“You want to be able to speak,” she realized.
A nod.
“Absolutely not.” She refused to give him even an inch. “I say we kill you instead.”
He gave her a disappointed look and turned to Issac. A silent conversation transpired between them as everyone else observed.
“Is there a way for you to remove his persuasion but allow him to speak?” Issac asked, his concentration on Osiris.
“You want to hear what he has to say?” She couldn’t help the skeptical tone in her voice. He couldn’t be serious.
“I do,” Issac confirmed. “Especially as it likely pertains to you.”
“I agree,” Jayson added.
“I say we shoot him instead,” Tom replied through the comms. He seemed to be the only voice of reason.
“I wouldn’t,” Ezekiel warned, shocking Stas. “The seer already foresaw the possibility, Thomas, and you will fail.”
Stas’s brow furrowed. “You can hear him?”
“Of course not, but I know what was predicted. And Skye is never wrong.” His lips twitched with that last sentence as if he was actively suppressing a reaction. “That said, you could all try, but you have no idea what you’re truly up against.”
“Immune,” Alik rasped.
Ezekiel’s lips quirked at the corners. “Yes, as Alik discovered the hard way, Osiris and I are both immune to Hydraian and Ichorian talents. And the incendiary bullets in your rifle won’t penetrate our shields. But again, feel free to try.”
“That’s great, except I’m controlling Osiris right now,” Stas said, proving his theory wrong.
“Indeed you are, young one. Well done.” Ezekiel clasped his hands in front of him. “Shall we agree to a temporary armistice and hold a discussion, or should Thomas attempt to pull the trigger?”
“Stand down, Tom,” Jayson said, his voice holding no room for argument. “I want to hear what Osiris has to say.”
“Likewise,” Issac agreed. “Astasiya, please?”
She met his vivid gaze, startled. Please? Really? Stas could never deny him when he asked nicely, and he knew it. But he couldn’t be serious.
“He’s a monster.”
“Perhaps, but he has allowed Balthazar and Lucian safe passage to Hydria. He also granted us temporary amnesty, and I believe him.”
Stas openly gaped at him.
“Trust your Elders, child,” Ezekiel suggested. “They’ve been playing this game far longer than you.”
She glowered at the assassin but refrained from replying. The man who murdered her parents saw fit to grant her advice. She had half a mind to demand he kill himself for sport.
The vision painted itself behind her eyes, eliciting a grin from a dark, dark place inside of her.
It would be so easy.
“Aya,” Issac said, his hand brushing hers. “Please.”
Twice.
She closed her eyes. The first time had been hard enough. The second, she couldn’t ignore. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”
They wanted Osiris’s explanation, so she would give him back his voice. But they’d better at least consider killing him afterward.
Stas toyed with several phrases in her mind while the others waited. The command had to be concise with no flexibility to be interpreted as anything else, or this would go badly.
“Osiris, do not use compulsion on anyone within a one-mile radius of your current position.”
He seemed much too pleased with her word choice and nodded, waiting.
She traced the mental strings to the order forbidding him from speaking and snapped the bonds.
“Thank you, child,�
�� he said. The fact that he felt the coercion lift implied far too much about his power. “You have much to learn, the first of which being that voice is never a requirement for persuasion. And as a second lesson, our shared gift is technically not called compulsion. My gifts have remained intact throughout our entire interaction, but I chose not to use them and will continue to do so now.”
His amusement fled as he focused on Issac. Stas waited for Osiris to show his true colors and enact a horrid command, but he merely said, “The Conclave will be forever changed. I would request you all attend the next one, but I won’t insult your intelligence.”
Issac acknowledged the comment with a slight bow of his head, his version of respect. “I suspect we will see each other again soon, Sire.”
Osiris returned the gesture. “You continue to impress me, Issac, even in your defiance. I may keep this entire interaction to myself, at least for now. Please give Aidan my regards. I will miss him.”
“Of course,” Issac replied in that cordial way of his, giving no outward reaction to the comment regarding Aidan.
“Best of luck to you. Until we meet again.”
“Likewise, Sire.”
Stas could not believe they were chatting like old friends. Just when she thought she understood this fucked-up world, the immortals in it went and held a pleasant conversation essentially underlined in threat.
Oh, by the way, I’m probably going to kill you soon.
Feel free to try at your leisure.
I will. No hard feelings, of course.
No, no, none at all.
Brilliant.
Seriously? This was why the world would end. They’d all sit back, enjoy a round of tea, and then beat the shit out of each other mentally.
Awesome.
Her inner sarcasm died as Osiris returned his ancient gaze to hers.
So old. So cruel.
“I daresay I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Astasiya. Here I’ve spent the last few decades waiting to create a new protégé to replace my broken one, just to find that what I needed already existed. You.” He turned to Ezekiel. “I’m quite impressed that Sethios managed to keep this revelation from me. His resilience truly is remarkable, yes?”
“Indeed, Sire,” he agreed, his tone emotionless.
“Your gifts are quite rare, child,” Osiris continued. “So rare, in fact, that they reveal your ancestry, daughter of Caro and Sethios.” His lips curled into an avid smile while she fought to breathe. “Or would you prefer I call you ‘granddaughter’?”
Her eyes widened impossibly more as her throat went dry.
What?
Daughter of Caro and Sethios?
She opened her mouth to refute his claim, then closed it as a sense of rightness overwhelmed her.
Stas’s parents’ names were Caroline and Seth, though her father frequently referred to her mother as Caro. And Sethios wasn’t all that far off from Seth.
But “granddaughter”?
Was that why he seemed so familiar?
Green eyes… The same shade as her own. Her father’s, too.
No.
She shook her head in denial.
No. That was just… No.
That was impossible.
His son would be a Hydraian, and Hydraians couldn’t procreate with humans.
Unless another Lizzie existed, which Ezekiel implied as a possibility. Was her mother a product of the CRF?
“Osiris and I are both immune to Hydraian and Ichorian talents.”
“Except I’m controlling Osiris right now.”
“Indeed you are, young one. Well done.”
The conversation replayed through her thoughts on repeat. A ruse? A lie meant to provide false hope? A hint? A way to fuck with their minds?
Osiris turned to Ezekiel. “Granddaughter is the appropriate title, yes?”
“Yes, Sire.” Dark eyes met hers, and she swore a hint of pain flashed in his features.
“Excellent.” Osiris pinned Stas with a final stare. “I look forward to our next conversation, my child. Might I suggest researching appropriate terms in the interim? Try, perhaps, psychic persuasion.” He winked and grabbed Ezekiel’s arm. “I will see you soon, Astasiya.”
“Until next time,” Ezekiel added with a nod.
They vanished into the shadows, leaving Stas gaping at the hole they created, both physically and mentally. She hadn’t even had a moment to process the idea of attacking him after that information bomb.
“Grandfather?” she whispered, her psyche shattering.
“I have you, love.” Issac wrapped her in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She moved into his chest on autopilot, needing his scent and comfort. “He’s…? I don’t…”
“Go to Elizabeth,” Issac said over her head. “I can take it from here.”
“We’ll need to discuss this,” Jayson said.
“Indeed,” her demon agreed. “Later.”
“Yes,” Jayson said. “Later.”
Issac’s lips brushed Stas’s temple. “We’ll figure this out, Aya.”
The double meaning in those words destroyed the thin wall she’d built around her emotions. “Issac,” she whispered, shaking as the world around her tumbled down.
She clung to him as her legs gave out, and he caught her, just as he promised, and lifted her into his arms.
Her energy fled with the last of her control.
Grandfather…
What did that mean for her?
28
There’s No One Like You
Memories firmly erased and humanoid impressions implanted, as per the direction of the benefactor. Subject will be moved to the Watkins home briefly for simulation purposes.
—Entry Log 118.03.4-7
Lizzie placed the file on the dining room table. “I have no idea where to start.”
Amelia and Eliza sat across from her—two complete strangers who had taken it upon themselves to help Lizzie feel welcome in Jayson’s home after Jacque had dropped her off.
The two women tried to distract her with a shower, fresh clothes, and a very large cup of hot chocolate. Lizzie’s mind never trailed far from Jayson or his current predicament, but she tried to play along as best she could. Especially since Amelia and Eliza seemed just as worried as her.
“I suggest you start from the beginning,” Amelia said as her elegant fingers flipped open the folder.
She mentioned her familiarity with the CRF during the initial part of their conversation, something Jayson had touched on briefly while in Bora Bora. He also informed Lizzie that Amelia and Tom were romantically involved. The news left Lizzie feeling like an outsider. Tom—the man who treated her like a sister—had run off and fallen in love, and she had no idea. She felt as if she didn’t know him at all.
“It looks like a series of logs.” Amelia scanned the words while she spoke. “Little snippets of details throughout your years in the lab.” She flipped to the end. “And out, I think.”
“It’s a code,” Eliza said, her ebony gaze sparkling as she reviewed several entries. “The first digit is always one, but the next number seems to increase at specific intervals. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four,” Lizzie replied. “Soon to be twenty-five.”
Eliza nodded as she flipped to the back of the file. “Then yes, your age in the file is the next two digits. For example, this one is one zero four, so you were four years old when they created this entry. And I bet the second set is the month since it never goes over twelve. The last is your project name, four dash seven.”
“Huh,” Lizzie mused. “So it’s a chronological catalog of my life.”
“It’s a qualitative log,” she explained. “Typical for researchers in labs. I’m guessing there’s a quantitative report somewhere as well, but the one you have is more important anyway. The other would just be numbers and statistics.”
Lizzie thumbed through a few of the pages, looking for her eighteenth year. She wanted to conf
irm a theory that had been planted in her head by Osiris—the one about her memory. With all the insanity of the last day, she hadn’t been given a chance to consider it, but now she needed to know.
Her eyes scanned the file from her eighteenth year, month eight.
Eliza and Amelia read with her, both of them paling at the information detailed on the page.
“So it’s true,” Lizzie murmured. “None of my memories are my own. They erased everything and gave me a false sense of identity.” That explained the fuzziness of her thoughts and the recollections that didn’t stick. Like Rome. “Interesting.”
What did that mean for her personality development? Her polite convictions were literally programmed into her, as was her innate innocence. She never desired men because they instructed her not to.
She flipped to the end of the file to search for any notes on Jayson.
Nothing.
So they didn’t pair her with him—not purposely, anyway.
There were a few notes about her infatuation with Tom, though. Amelia’s cheeks flushed as she read the lines, and Lizzie cleared her throat. “I… It’s not like that anymore.”
“It’s okay.” Amelia smiled, her cheeks flushing. “I quite understand the allure.”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “You two really need to take your home back and just move in. I can crash with B.”
“We’re building a home,” Amelia said. “It’s almost done. Then Jayson can have his place back.”
“Seriously, you know the offer stands,” Eliza pressed. “I understand why everyone gave me space at first, and I appreciated it, but really, I can handle sharing a house with B. He doesn’t, well, you know.”
Amelia’s eyes sparkled. “I do. He’s always treated me like a sister and nothing more.”
Lizzie swallowed. “He intimidates me.”
“Oh, I bet,” Eliza replied. “But I hear you’re handling Jayson just fine, which tells me B would not be a problem.”
“I don’t… It’s not…” She shook her head, flustered. “Jayson is the one I want.” At their startled gazes she added, “He’s the only one I want.”
“Well, that is the best welcome-home present I could have ever asked for, Red,” a deep voice murmured from right behind her. “Although a hug would be wonderful as well.”
