Andros didn’t like Faye being referred to as “the woman” but he’d take it up with Johann later. Clear.
It was quite the team. Ricardo the shape-shifter. Johann, who had a deeper connection with Andros. Serena, one of the most awesome Sorcerers he knew, and Nick Ivy, the roc he’d met on the roof. Now he wondered if that meeting had been entirely coincidental. No, paranoia lurked that way. But just because you thought they were watching you didn’t mean you weren’t right. Maybe Nick had been waiting, if not for him, then for someone else. Maybe he should have found Faye that night.
The thought sent a shot of pure anger through him. Tough luck, Nick. Because he wasn’t getting near her now.
After a bit more rabble-rousing, Nordheim left the meeting with an exhortation for the new Talents to join up. “I won’t ask you what you are, or even if you’re a Talent at all. Unlike some people. The movement is open to all and we invite you to join us. To fight for justice for man and Talent alike!”
Great huge cheers. Andros was forced to applaud or face the wrath of the audience, but every clap stung him. This secret agent thing sucked. Living a lie must really get to a person after a while.
He leaned forward on the crutch supports and gave Faye his best bland smile for the benefit of the people listening. “Do you want a coffee?”
Two assurances of “Sure,” followed. One he expected, one he hoped for. And got. Fuck, how had Nordheim arrived so fast? He’d hoped to get clear before most people had left then whisk her away to STORM.
He led, and once people saw them, they moved out of the way, before either his disability or Nordheim’s awesomeness. Once out of the crowded classroom, he let the professor lead, preferring to keep him in his sights.
He concentrated on following Nordheim, who forced his way past to lead them, and sped up some. He took them to the main cafeteria on the first floor, Andros noted with a sinking heart. He’d hoped for someplace a little less crowded. It was almost a relief to see the dark figure of Johann walking with them as if he were another customer heading for the self-service beverages section. Johann moved ahead. There were fewer Talents around now. Andros slowed and let some people move in front of him. He could keep back and then lead Faye away.
Then Johann laid a hand on Nordheim’s arm and leaned in, murmuring something in his ear. Probably a variation on, “Come with me and keep it quiet.”
Nordheim didn’t move a muscle. Not a twitch. A female voice said from behind him, “Are you ready to go now? I’ve called a cab for you.”
He recognized the voice. Serena Duval, crisp and efficient. He was more than ready to go. He sighed, maintaining his cover. “Just tell us where it’ll be waiting.”
The crowd pressed in, not giving him room anymore and he began to feel uneasy. Nothing he could define, just a general sense of not-quite-right. Serena instructed them, “Forward, fast, then to your right. Move!”
Andros put his crutches into action and swung forward. He ruthlessly connected with legs, forcing people out of the way. Son of a bitch, he’d have to dump the crutches. He really didn’t want to do that, not this soon. He didn’t want people to know and if this mission turned nasty he wanted an advantage. Apart from the ability to turn into a fifteen-foot dragon, of course.
People massed before them. He recognized some from the meeting.
They’re stopping us moving forward. Johann is with him though, and we have people waiting outside. Chill, Serena said.
Sure. Relieved, he touched Faye’s arm. She glanced at him and smiled. “Shall we give the coffee a miss?” he asked lightly.
“Sure. You want to come to my place for a coffee instead?”
“Come to mine.” His place being STORM.
“Love to.” She said the words flatly. She still didn’t trust him.
A commotion in the crowd before him drew his attention. Cries of “You’re not taking him!” and “Get out of our lives!” echoed off the walls. Shit. Nordheim’s acolytes had got there too, and now they’d have the battle the STORM agents wanted to avoid.
The crowd milled through the open double doors to their right, which led to an open space, one of the green areas between buildings. If they hadn’t followed, they might have been trampled. They had no choice, but Andros fought against the people sweeping him and Faye ahead. He braced his crutches, widened them and planted them firmly in the grass. Handy that he didn’t need them to walk anymore, but he’d always known about their value as weapons. He wouldn’t hesitate to use them if anyone tried to push him and Faye any farther forward.
Serena dodged around him and ran.
Blocking out the cacophony, Andros concentrated on contacting Johann, just checking that the vampire was okay. He couldn’t find him. Johann was either unconscious or—he was unconscious. Had to be, or Andros could have sensed him. But he’d had his orders and they weren’t open to interpretation.
The area was thronged with people milling around the central spot where, presumably, Nordheim was taking his stand. Keeping a hold on Faye’s arm, Andros made his way across the back of the grassy area, toward the doors that led to the building exit.
Before he got there, several screams heralded a new development.
A great bronze bird spread his wings and issued a warning. Not a telepathic one but a great screech, issued from its huge, wickedly hooked beak. The roc must be around full size, a magnificent sight, awe-inspiring. Nick Ivy was a bear of a man, but that only reflected the huge mass of his other form.
Behind him, a dragon burst into life. As massive as the roc, it grew even larger before it took to the air and hovered, providing protection for his colleague. Ricardo Gianetti, badass agent and sensitive artist. Right now the artist was probably not in the forefront of his mind.
Nick had something strapped on his back and Andros was guessing it was Johann. His heart in his mouth, he watched the roc take off. He risked opening his mind in this chaos, had to know. Is he okay? Johann Kovacs, how is he?
He didn’t get a reply.
Other Talents exploded into form. Nordheim’s followers, prepared to fight for their leader. The last thing the STORM Talents wanted was a battle with their own kind. Most of these Talents were misguided, nothing else. They didn’t deserve to get hurt in the service of someone who was misleading them.
The roc lifted, flew up, the dragon following, providing an escort. The Sorcerer spoke. Get her out of here. Now.
Then he felt it, like a sweeping wave, and he knew what was happening. Serena had thrown a psychic net over the crowd, snared them so the flying Talents couldn’t follow the STORM agents and the Sorcerers couldn’t fight back. Serena was trained and very strong, the reason STORM had employed her in the first place.
He turned to Faye. “Come on. We’re getting a cab.”
No more psi until they got to STORM. He needed the rest.
Chapter Four
Back at STORM, Faye preceded Andros through the doors to be greeted by the receptionist, a glossy, superbly groomed professional—a non-Talent whose eyes warmed when she rested her gaze on Andros. But Faye felt the presence of Talents here like nowhere else she’d ever visited. Not like before, during her clandestine visit. That had been in the early hours, so most people wouldn’t be here. Now she felt a tingle in the air, a humming atmosphere. With a shock, she realized that it felt right. Like coming home. She’d deliberately spent time away from Talents recently, trying to cope with the changes in the world, deciding what she wanted to do, and the sense of them welcomed her, ushered her in. Dangerously seductive. Like the man standing next to her.
The receptionist looked at her, her eyes now cold, her face so carefully made up Faye wondered if she’d had parts of it tattooed on. “Andros? Ms. Reynolds asked me to tell you to go straight up to conference room three. Could you take your guest with you?”
Andros gave the woman a grin Faye wasn’t sure the icy female deserved. Oh shit, what was she, jealous? “Sure.” Andros led the way to the elevators then glanced at his
crutches. “I don’t need them here.” When the car arrived, he took them in one hand and strode into the elevator. “All this because I wanted my ankle bracelet back.”
He glanced at her. She’d remained silent on the way back and Andros hadn’t seemed to notice. Now he did, but he shrugged. “Talk or don’t, as you please. My brother-in-law is in trouble, maybe dying.”
“He’s your brother-in-law? I felt his presence, so I know he’s a Talent. Why didn’t he do something?”
“Because he’s a vampire. Johann can’t turn until after sundown and that’s hours away yet. They have to keep him alive until then.” His mouth flattened.
Shock arced through her. Please God, keep him alive. She couldn’t bear to be the cause of the death of a Talent, even indirectly, and that Andros cared for him made it much worse somehow. She followed Andros along a green-carpeted hallway to a brightly illuminated room with fittings a lot more upmarket than the lecture hall Harken had used. A large glass table with a few chairs set around it dominated the space. The furniture screamed style. The people in the room glanced up when they entered and she opened her mind enough to read their Talents and let them read her sigil. Although she’d spent time away from Talented society, she still remembered her manners.
Andros’ first words when he entered the conference room were about Johann the vampire. “How is he? Has someone contacted Ania?”
“Didn’t you?” She recognized the cool blonde from her voice. The Sorcerer who’d stood behind them. Tall, with ice-blue eyes and frosty-blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail, immaculately dressed in a slim unstructured gray and black dress with a black jacket and long, glossy legs crossed under the glass table. The décor suited her. All ice. If this Sorcerer wasn’t a virgin, Faye would give up flying for a month. The Sorcerer gave her an icy stare. “They sent me in to get you out. I didn’t know the cost, then.”
She’d even got to STORM before they had. Maybe another Talent, or maybe she hadn’t sat in traffic on Madison for ten minutes as they had. In uncomfortable silence.
Faye’s attention shifted to the spokesperson and commander of STORM. She knew Ann Reynolds from TV. She took a breath. This was a smallish conference room but she dominated it, this well-built, middle-aged mortal, dressed in a dark amethyst power suit. She wasn’t even standing, or sitting at the head of the table. Other leaders might need pomp and circumstance to bolster them. Not Ann Reynolds. She ran STORM with a firm hand that nobody ever questioned, or so all the news agencies and documentary-makers claimed. Faye had wondered how before. Now she didn’t. The woman had a presence such as she’d never come across, not in Talents or anyone else. Charisma, pure and undiluted. She gave Andros a reassuring smile. “He’ll be okay. Ania’s on her way to the hospital.”
Andros let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
Ms. Reynolds lost the smile and glared at him. “No thanks to you, or the team I sent in. I wanted a professional group of Talents, not a group of bumbling clowns. And what the hell were you thinking, going off on your own to get that anklet back? Haven’t we trained you well enough? Or maybe the people I entrusted with your training did a bad job?”
Not Faye’s best introduction to STORM. Ann spared her a glance and a short nod, then indicated the spare seats at the table, side by side. Andros and Faye took them without a word. Ann introduced the other people in the room to Faye. Andros seemed to know them already. “Serena Duval, Sorcerer. Nick Ivy, roc.”
She’d never met a roc before Nic. Now she’d seen him, she didn’t doubt the legends, ancient and new about the great bird that was said to have transported Sinbad. A powerful, huge birdlike creature that could take an elephant in its claws. This one looked as if he could do it without shape-shifting. He filled the chair he occupied and then some, his legs set apart and braced for balance. His broad shoulders were showcased by his loose black polo shirt, muscles rippling under the thin fabric when he shifted restlessly. The two Talents gave Faye brief, unsmiling nods. She responded in kind, meeting the gaze of the man she’d seen briefly on the roof last night.
“Do you have the professor?” Andros asked.
“No. He got away.” Ann Reynolds paused, grimaced. “He stabbed Johann and left. He had a knife in his pocket. If Johann didn’t have good reflexes, he’d be dead by now. After dark he’ll be fine. But he’s off this mission.”
“What mission, Ms. Reynolds?” she asked sharply before she could censor herself. As far as she knew, she’d freed a man who just wanted Talents to claim their rights.
Ann’s gaze went to Faye, accusation burning in her cold stare. “It’s Ann in this room. You’ve caused us complications. You stole Andros’ ankle bracelet to get the professor free. Could you tell us why you did that?” Courteously phrased but impatiently delivered.
Faye tensed and just for a moment she felt Andros’ mind in hers, touching her with sympathy. Before she could respond, he disappeared. He couldn’t help her now. Because the Sorcerer’s senses were open, pressing on her. She’d spot any lie in a heartbeat, more reliable than any polygraph.
Eyes burning with purpose, Faye remembered what Harken had told her. She didn’t entirely believe it, not after Andros had assured her things weren’t like that, but she couldn’t entirely discard it. Harken had a tremendous sense of purpose. “The professor leads a movement of Talents. We don’t see that we have to reveal ourselves, as the law wants. And as STORM wants, or so he told me. He helps people escape their unveiling, that registration they want to make law. And if the law changes, we’ll defy it. I still believe that.”
Ann huffed, a small sound of disgust. “I’ve heard of these groups. You really want to go outside the law?”
Faye put up her chin and glared back. “If necessary. Talents have rights too.”
Ann’s lips curved in a smile. “So will we, if we have to. That’s why we’ve never allowed STORM to be part of any government association, here or anywhere else in the world. Did you really think we’d support such a draconian measure?”
Faye heard her, listened numbly as everything started to fall into place. Not that she’d believe it without a lot of proof.
Ann continued. “Harken Nordheim has a huge presence. We’re fairly sure he’s a Sorcerer, although he prefers to remain hidden. He uses his powers to compel, something the Talented community has always banned. He probably set a compulsion in your mind so you believed him easily. But something has changed that. Hasn’t it?”
Faye couldn’t meet Ann’s eyes. It sounded right and hit her with the certainty of truth, although that could just be persuasion. But Harken could have planted a compulsion in her. She’d put down a lot of his charm to charisma, but now she was in the presence of true mortal charisma, in the person of Ann Reynolds, she detected a difference. Something subtle, maybe a difference in the pattern, the underlying rhythm. She had to think. Had to keep calm and work this through.
Ann pushed a file across the table to Faye, then turned to Andros and heaved a sigh. “You nearly wrecked everything, Andros, going off on your own like that. If I’d known she’d target you, I’d have kept you back that night. Didn’t you recognize the Talents on the roof?”
Andros sighed. “Yes, some. I just thought you had more operatives than usual in town.”
Ann tsked. “I thought it probable that one of Nordheim’s pet Talents would try to get him back. We just made it a bit easier for them.”
Faye groaned and buried her head in her hands. She’d been used. They’d let her rescue Nordheim, set her up to take him out. “I should have known. It was far too easy to break in.”
“Not that easy,” Ann said. “I have to say you did well, and efficiently too. Have you had any training in the past?”
Faye shook her head. “No, not proper training.” She groaned again. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it.” Ann’s lips curved into a hard smile. “But don’t beat yourself up too much. Either you help us or we’ll hold you until the operation�
�s done. And you won’t escape.”
“I believe you.” She lifted her head, determinedly blinking away her unshed tears. “But I don’t understand your role in all this. He stands for what you stand for, or so you claim. Why would you want to stop him? He showed us things, papers, that showed that STORM wanted the exposure of Talents. Can you prove you don’t want that?”
Ann shrugged. “Multiple times.”
“Why would we want that?” Andros sounded puzzled rather than angry, as he had every right to be.
“So they could show their strength, demonstrate their power. STORM wants to control Talents. That’s what he said, what the papers said,” she insisted.
Ann regarded her coolly, her previous anger with her team gone or shelved for now. “Not precisely. We’re here for the protection and support of Talents, as we always have been. Not for their aggrandizement. We hold no political views, only advocate the best interests of the people we serve.”
Faye had heard Ann say that before to the media and she’d thought it just a meaningless policy statement. But hearing it in this room, spoken with such calm certainty, she began to wonder if she’d been wrong. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I just don’t. And I can’t help you until I’m sure. I won’t make a mistake again, and I want proof that you’re telling me the truth. All I know is that you sent agents out to feed me a security clearance that night so that I could rescue Harken. I don’t know why.”
Ann gave a grim smile. “That’s better. Believe what you see, what you feel. For a start, if you try to break someone out of a high-security establishment and it all goes very, very well, don’t assume it’s your excellence. It might be, but then again, it might not. And if you want to think about world domination, don’t assume it’s Talents who want it.”
The blonde spoke. “Nordheim’s a Sorcerer, I’m sure of it. I had little contact with him before he closed down on me, but I got that much.”
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