by Tara Lain
Oh hell, overthink everything, why don’t you? He shoved his fingers into his hair and rested his head in his hand.
“Jazz?”
His head snapped up. Carla, Khadija, and BeBop all stood beside his desk, kind of scrunched into his cubicle.
“You okay? Where were you this morning?” Carla asked.
“I wasn’t feeling great, and I overslept. Dash had the morning off, so he drove me in.”
“Drove?”
“Yeah, apparently he bought a car this morning.”
BeBop crossed his arms. “Must be nice, baby.”
“I didn’t come to lunch since I was so late,” Jazz added.
Carla leaned in. “That’s why we’re here. We saw that bodyguard looking into the lunchroom. He stared right at us but didn’t come in. Dij went out after him, since he doesn’t really know her. We figured if he saw her, he wouldn’t automatically think it was suspicious.”
“He walked right here, Jazz,” Dij said. “To your department. He went inside briefly, then left and got on the elevator again, going up. I am of the opinion he was looking for you.”
Jazz nodded. “Me or Dash. He wasn’t here either.”
Carla crossed her arms. “But you’re the one named Vanessen.”
“True that.”
Dij said softly, “I’m going to go try to find him and see what I can learn.”
Jazz frowned. “You sure, Dij? You’re not a target of these people right now, and I don’t want to put you in danger.”
Her full but unlipsticked mouth set in a line. “I’m as concerned about your family as anyone. I work here too and wish to be of service.”
He grinned. “Hey, you’ve already done so much for the Vanessens. I’d never turn down your offer.” Besides, the secrets the woman hid fascinated him.
She nodded, the gray head scarf she wore moving softly around her face. “I will return.” She turned and was gone like a shy puff of smoke.
Jazz glanced toward the open office. “Listen guys, I’ve accomplished zero today. Can you call me if Dij learns something? Meanwhile, I’ve got about a million digital files I need to catalog and store.”
Carla glanced at BeBop. “She’ll probably come find me or you when she gets back, so whoever hears anything needs to text the others.”
BeBop nodded, pushed up his glasses, and crossed his arms, flexing yet another perfectly tailored suit. “Aces, baby.”
She gazed around, acting as if she’d joined MI6. “Talk soon.”
Jazz chuckled. It was amazing to have such good friends. He wanted to be a fly on the wall when Dij caught up with that bodyguard. Wonder if she’ll find out anything? If he’s here, it means Evenride is here. Damn, wish I knew why.
He pushed back from the desk. No way he could run up there and barge into Orwell’s office like he wanted to. Come on, just work and quit this crap.
This sucks. He forced his eyes back to the computer.
Chapter Twenty-One
FIFTEEN MINUTES later, Jazz was moving through about a hundred files when he smelled Khadija. He looked up as she stepped into his cubicle. “Hi.”
“Evenride is in Orwell’s office, and he’s brought whatever evidence he claims to possess against your family.”
“How do you know this?”
Her pretty face got totally expressionless. “I heard the bodyguard say it.”
“Say it? To who?”
“Is that important now? Don’t we need to determine how to find out what the evidence is?”
He shook his head to clear the impact of the waves of secrecy pouring off her. “Yes, yes, of course.” He swallowed. I have to get into that office. “Did you tell Carla or BeBop yet?”
“No. I came to you first. I saw Dash in the hall, so I shared this information with him.”
“Okay.” He gave her a half grin. “You don’t happen to be a pickpocket, do you?”
She spoke very seriously. “No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if BeBop is. Still, it would be difficult with the bodyguard always present.”
Jazz nodded. “You go tell them. Let me think of a course of action, and we can all text each other.” He smiled up at her. “You’re brilliant.”
“Thank you. Just fortunate. I will go tell them what I have learned.”
She left, and Jazz stared after her. How the hell did she find this shit out? Even dumbass bodyguards don’t go around spilling the beans to people they don’t know. But like she said, that wasn’t the main question at the moment.
How do I see the evidence when the bodyguard is…?
Wait. Bodyguard. The one who couldn’t see me when I was standing right in front of him. If that actually happened…. But shit, if it did, could I do it again? Could I somehow be invisible to all of them? Gods, what an idea.
He leaped to his feet with no idea where he was going and glanced into Dash’s cubicle. Empty. Hmm. Has he brought Amy her coffee yet?
He walked out and peered into Amy’s office through the crack in her door. She sat staring at her computer, sipping her venti café latte.
Jazz turned. So, where the hell’s Dash? Dij said she saw him.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t a critical issue at this moment. If he was going to test his theory about not being visible to the bodyguard, he had to do it fast. Evenride could leave at any moment.
He walked to the entrance of the department, tried to look purposeful, and stepped out the door. Okay, how to do it. What happened that day? How did he not see me?
Quickly, he slipped into the men’s room at the end of the hall and stopped. Think, dammit! When he’d seen the bodyguard, he remembered freezing. Heat had climbed up his spine, and he’d felt lightheaded, somewhere between light and electricity.
Right. That’s kind of how I felt in the clearing, but it was more powerful. And when I saw the big male at the pack meeting. Can I make it happen again, this time on purpose?
Barely thinking, he left the men’s room and headed for the elevator. When he got on, he hit sixty-two and took a deep breath. It should be kind of like shifting. That made sense. Open to the universe. Focus on intention and let it happen.
The doors opened and he stepped into the elevator lobby.
That faint scent of ginger and magnolia that always surrounded Dash wafted through the air.
Is Dash here? He glanced around. I’m here. Now what, idiot?
He heard voices. A woman said, “I can’t leave the floor since Mr. Orwell still has company. Could you get me a latte? You know what I like.”
Someone else Jazz didn’t recognize replied, “Sure, dear. No problem.” Footsteps approached.
He hit the down button several times, but nothing. Hide, dammit, hide. But the elevator lobby had no closets or hiding places. He could run into the men’s room, but he’d have to pass whoever was approaching. Heat filled his chest and the tingling slid out to his fingertips. What can I say if she asks me why I’m here? Maybe she won’t.
An attractive blonde woman walked around the corner. Jazz smiled broadly. He’d seen her a couple of times when he’d been on the floor earlier. Maybe he could say….
He started to speak, but she looked up at the elevator numbers, then at her watch. Okay, she wasn’t going to acknowledge him. So he should stay cool and….
She turned her head toward him and— Wait. Her eyes didn’t focus. She looked past him, maybe even through him.
She can’t see me. She can’t— Holy gods! He took a slow step to the left. She didn’t appear to notice. Instead, she glanced at her watch again and walked over to triple click the elevator button.
Jazz slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, then ran into the department. The moment the woman at the desk turned her head toward him, he sucked in air and froze. But she kept looking around as if he wasn’t there. And to her, he wasn’t.
Oh man, this is so cool.
Quietly, Jazz walked to the door of Orwell’s office. The quiet part was because he didn’t know if being invisible made him ina
udible.
Now what? People can’t see me, but the door’s closed. At least I can listen.
He pressed his ear against the door, and it moved.
What the hell? The heavy oak door had slid a couple of inches inward, leaving a gap.
Gods, what are the chances?
He leaned into the space, listening for Evenride’s voice.
Nothing.
Were they there?
With the tip of his finger, he pushed the door in another inch, very slowly, as if some random wind had blown it in. He craned his neck to see through the narrow opening. He got the view of the back of a man in a business suit, leaning forward, probably over Orwell’s desk. He couldn’t see much more. Who knew what line of sight the others in the room had? But he pressed against the door again, very softly, and it drifted open another couple of inches.
Jazz stared at the gap. Maybe being skinny’s good.
He aligned himself with the door and slid to the side. He hit the door, and it opened again just as he saw Evenride look up from his spot on a chair beside their visitor, whoever he was.
“What’s with that door?” Evenride said. “Did someone turn up the air-conditioning?” He leaned over and pressed his fingertips against the edge of the door, and it slammed closed.
But Jazz was inside.
His mouth gaped open. He barely saw Evenride’s movement because across the desk, behind Orwell in a perfect location to spy over his shoulder, stood Dash.
Jazz’s mouth opened for a shout, but Dash’s eyes widened and his finger pressed to his own lips. Then he shook his head.
Wait. Jazz stared around the room. The three men weren’t looking at Dash either. What the holy gods of hell?
Dash Mercury was invisible too.
The man in the guest chair shuffled what looked like some pictures around on the desk.
Jazz dragged his eyes from Dash to peer at them.
“I’m not sure what you think these photos show, Orwell, but you forget, my background is in software and programming,” the man said. “You can make photos look any way you want. If you expect intelligent people to believe what you want them to see—these guys growing fur or some such shit—I’d suggest you get subtler with your photo manipulation. I, for one, don’t buy it. And furthermore, I’m a huge fan of Casper Vanessen, so if he turns into Dracula at midnight, I’ll start collecting my blood for his dinner. And there are many board members who agree with me.” He stood and shoved the photos toward Orwell. “Shame on you, man.” He glanced disdainfully at Evenride. “Hooking up with this kind of trash.” He stalked out of the office, leaving the door open behind him.
Jazz turned his glance back to Dash and their eyes met.
If your brain explodes and no one can see you, does it still make a mess?
Jazz tried to focus on what Orwell and Evenride were saying, what the pictures showed. But all he could think about was that Dash was invisible. And so was he.
Still, Dash was staring intently at the pictures on Orwell’s desk, his brows drawn together.
“Well, that went well,” Evenride snarled. “How much damage do you expect that goody two-shoes to do with the other board members? I mean, come on, man. You said you could get this done. My boss is gonna be pissed if you can’t get some of these board members to buy this story.” Evenride rose and leaned forward until he spoke into Orwell’s face. “You don’t wanna meet my boss when he’s pissed.”
Orwell looked a little scared, but he growled, “Vanessen’s popular. I don’t care who your boss is, he’ll never oust him.”
Evenride stood. “He doesn’t want to oust him. Just make sure you’ve got some true believers willing to speak to the press and make a big stink when I tell you to.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve gotta go call in.” He turned and walked out the still-open door.
Orwell glared after Evenride. Good to know they aren’t best buddies. Orwell stood and started toward the door.
Dash raced around the desk, grabbed Jazz by the arm and pulled him out the door seconds before Orwell slammed it shut with venom.
Outside the office, Jazz whirled on Dash. “How the—”
Dash pressed his hand against Jazz’s lips and hauled him to the elevator. The doors opened, and the woman who hadn’t seen Jazz before walked off with a carrier from the lunchroom that smelled like coffee. She still didn’t seem to see either one of them but instead walked directly into the department. Jazz heard the other assistant gushing her thanks.
Dash held the door—he might be invisible but he could still do that—and Jazz jumped on. The second the door closed, he spun on Dash. “What the bloody hell are you?”
Just that fast, the elevator car stopped on the next floor and two people got on. Dash crowded into the front corner of the car and motioned for Jazz to do the same. It made sense. People usually stood near the back. At the next floor, three people got on and Dash motioned for Jazz to get off.
In the hall on floor sixty-something, Dash grabbed his arm and dragged him into a small side hall. “Get visible again.”
“How do you know I’m not?”
“I just do.”
Jazz wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know how.”
Dash let out a long breath. “Okay, pay attention. Feel the warmth hovering just under your skin?”
Jazz frowned in concentration. “Yeah. I feel it mostly in my chest.”
“Good. Let it go.”
“Go?”
“Yeah. Like releasing the water in a tub. Pull the plug.”
Jazz focused on that warm center. Okay, so how do I release it? For lack of anything better, be pictured a plug in the middle of his chest, and he popped it. Something tingly and heated drained out.
“Good,” Dash said. “That’s it. Take a few deep breaths to get in touch with your corporeal being.”
“Corporeal being? Jeez, where did you get those words? I need some explanations, man.”
“That goes double. Come on.”
This time when they got on the elevator, people nodded and smiled. Big difference. Dash took them to the third floor and then switched to the elevator for the parking garage. Once there, he hauled Jazz off, then strode quickly to the car. He unlocked it as they approached, then slid in the driver’s door. Jazz circled the vehicle and got in. When he flopped onto the passenger seat, he instantly turned to Dash. “What the hell are you?”
“What do you think I am?”
Jazz spread his arms, voice edgy. “To me you register as human.”
“Register?” Dash raised an eyebrow. “You mean on your superior sense of smell? You know, superior like a wolf?”
Jazz’s brain and breath stopped. He squeezed out the words. “How do you know about that?”
Dash ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I saw you, at your picnic.”
“How?”
“I followed you and watched from a distance.”
“But-but why?”
Dash leaned back in his seat and wiped a hand over his eyes. “Because we sensed that you were different, and we wanted to find out how.”
“We?”
“Lysandra and me.” He looked at Jazz. “I’m sorry I spied on you, Jazz. I honestly had no idea what I was getting myself into. We thought you were like… us. I had no idea that changing into wolves was a thing. A real thing, I mean.”
“So now Lysandra knows about me.”
“Actually, no.”
“Why?” Cool it Jazz, just be glad.
“I never told her.” Dash glanced at Jazz, then closed his eyes again.
“Gods, why?”
“That’s a big question, for which I have no real answer. I suspect that Lysandra already knows about you. Maybe I was pissed she never told me.” He inhaled. “Or maybe I felt like I betrayed you by spying, and I wasn’t going to go further. I’m not sure.”
Jazz had to admit he liked that second answer. Jazz crossed his arms. “So tell me about you and Lysandra.”
“I suppose human
s have many names for us—witch, wizard, sorcerer. We generally refer to ourselves as mages, males and females.” He shrugged.
“Wow. Harry Potter lives!”
“Yeah. I should be so rich.”
“You are, aren’t you?”
Dash shrugged.
“And you were watching me because…?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
DASH GAZED at Jazz. “Because we could sense the power in you. When I saw you change into a wolf, I thought briefly that it was the power we were feeling, but then you kept Carla from falling, and I knew the truth.”
Jazz dropped his face in his hand. “Thank gods, I wasn’t crazy.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
Jazz pulled a leg up under him, his heart beating so hard he felt like he could pass out. “So you think I’m like you? A wizard?”
“Yes. Don’t you?” Dash gave him a small smile.
“I suppose that turning invisible thing pretty much eliminated my ability to say no.”
“That would be correct.”
“Gods, Dash, what do you think this means? Are there a lot of werewolves who are also wizards?”
“Like I said, I never knew there was any such thing as a werewolf. So I’m guessing no. But maybe I’m just out of the loop.” He frowned. Clearly, out of the loop was not his favorite place to be.
Jazz shook his head. “What about my parents? I mean, all the pack werewolves maintain that I have to be the product of two powerful alpha werewolves, but maybe they’re just sensing the whole wizard thing. Man, this is so confusing.” Suddenly his brain lit up. “Wait. If we can turn invisible, what else can we do? How powerful am I? Hell, more to the point, how powerful are you?”
“Okay, stop.” Dash grasped Jazz’s arms. “I’m assuming that werewolves don’t let people know about them, right?”
“Yeah, big time. Under penalty of death. It’s like one of the cardinal laws. I mean, think about what could happen. There’re a lot more humans. They’d find a way to put us all in labs.” He shuddered.
“But death? What about your grandfather and your mother. I’m pretty sure they’re human… and alive.”
