“No,” I said quietly. I knew he’d heard it.
He inclined his head, letting the word linger, studying it as if it was foreign to him. A word he wasn’t familiar with as a command. His dark eyes narrowed, and the halo of light that framed his body from the rising sun made him look more ethereal than dangerous. It was enough to make me forget I was dealing with the Master of the city and consider him just my roommate’s boyfriend. Well, I tried to make it seem like that was what he was, but he wasn’t just some random guy that my roommate was sleeping with. He owned the most successful clubs in the city, had a place on the Magic Council, and with just a simple command had two imposing men following me around like I was an influential political figure who needed a security detail.
“I don’t want or need guards,” I complained.
“They were helpful yesterday, am I not correct?”
“They were helpful to the SG, not me.”
I raised my hand, exposing the band around it. His brow lifted in inquiry. I closed my hand, and metal claws shot out.
“How clever,” he observed.
It was something I’d started carrying with me after my last Tracker attack. I would always carry a knife with me, but I could keep this in my palm: one squeeze and I had claws that were sharp as hell.
He looked at the Suits, back to me, and then into the apartment. Fighting the laugh, I clenched my teeth together ignoring the fact that he seemed to be taking his orders from Savannah. She and I definitely had to have a talk. Seemingly overnight she had become a force to reckon with, her place with the Shifter Council and relationship with Lucas giving her access to power that comforted me for her sake but was quickly becoming a pain in my ass because she was using it against me.
For several moments I commanded a great deal of Lucas’s attention. Then he inclined his head in the Suits’ direction. “Thank you, I think she will be fine.”
“For good,” I added. “No more guards, I don’t need them.”
An amused smile nestled on his lips. “Have a good run, Levy” was his only response, and I figured it was the only one I would get. I didn’t push it. I decided to pick my battles with him as needed.
Seconds later I was running, clearing my head, my thumb running along the metal bar warmed by my hand. The troll was dead, gone to whatever hell the other creatures had gone to. A streak of anger ran along my face. The SG gave full rein to the Trackers to put us down like animals, but they let things like that continue to exist. I pushed the thoughts out of my head as a car crept up beside me. I did what I typically did, ignored it. I wasn’t sure what it was about a woman running and sweating that made men think she wanted to be hit on.
The car kept creeping along and I was about to tell the driver where to go, how to get there, and what route he needed to take, when I recognized Gareth’s AMG.
I stopped. “First, Lucas and now you.”
His brow furrowed. “Lucas.”
“Yep, he gave me my own personal detail. I tell you, a couple of people try to kill you and everyone overreacts.”
Gareth laughed and leaned over to open the passenger side door for me. I considered continuing on my route, but I needed to talk to him more than I wanted to run.
As soon as I got into the car, I asked, “How big of a mess is it?”
He exhaled heavily, running his hands through his hair, mussing it. “Last night, we apprehended the Maxwells.” I didn’t ask more questions. Something in his tone led me to believe that they’d been apprehended, but may not have lived through it. I was curious if it was a political move or something that had happened during the process. I studied his face but it didn’t betray any emotions.
“What about Gordon Lands?” I asked as he pulled into a parking space in front of my building. Once again, his face didn’t give much away as he followed me through the door. As usual, he and Lucas studied each other. There wasn’t any animosity, just the tendency to check the boundaries of their dominance in an odd predatorial display. The first time they’d done it, I’d found it odd; now it seemed normal. Or as normal as weird crap like that could be. I felt a bit better when Gareth followed me into my room and I’d shut the door.
“I don’t know what to think about him. We met with him yesterday and he seems to want HF to be a human rights advocacy group.” He shrugged.
“And you don’t believe it?” I asked, plopping on the bed.
“No, but he believes it. However, I have a feeling there is a fragile line between it being what he wants and what the original founder wanted, and yesterday didn’t make things better.”
“You’re not confident that if Conner approached him, he wouldn’t try to cut a deal.”
“Exactly.” I understood the strained look on his face. Conner didn’t need HF: the Necro-spears had been confiscated, so they didn’t have anything tangible that he wanted. But they could be instrumental in severing the alliance between the humans and supernaturals and planting more seeds of discord. The weighted look that marked Gareth’s appearance was understandable. This situation was getting complicated.
“Harrah still would like you to come out.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to do that.” I’m not sure why it was a big deal; technically I’d revealed myself yesterday.
“Are you willing to meet Lands?”
“What am I, your show pony? The well-behaved Legacy that represents us all? Do I get to perform for him? What persona would you like me to display?” Frustration made my voice sharper than I wanted.
He didn’t seem too bothered by it and kept the half-grin on his face. “Well, Anya, when you aren’t babbling about your comic book heroes and seeing if your next sentence can be snarkier than the last”—he moved closer, his lips just inches from mine—“you can be charming. So yes, he will see that there really isn’t anything to fear and there aren’t supernaturals lurking in the dark, ready to do an apocalyptic spell that will wipe out a bunch of people.” He kissed me lightly, allowing his lips to rest there for a few moments before pulling away. “After all, you charmed my pants right off.” He returned to his seat across from me.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure I could have done that by just saying, ‘Hey you, take off your pants.’”
He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that leveled the tension in the room. “I’m not that easy.” Then he grew quiet.
“At least meet Lands, okay?”
I nodded.
CHAPTER 9
Gordon Lands had settled into his position as the head of HF quite nicely. He’d traded one cliché for another. Instead of men in black t-shirts and pants, sporting stern, hostile looks and an air of badassery, the membership was now represented by men in slacks with guns holstered at their sides, grimaces in place, and eyes narrowed in scrutiny. I was sure if I checked their pockets I would have found each had a pair of sunglasses. They stood on either side of him.
He had changed a lot about the office. The executive desk had been replaced with something smaller. There was a computer monitor placed on each end, and two comfortable-looking leather chairs were in front of it. I didn’t remember the bookcases being there before. They held a collection of mythology, law, and history books. I didn’t doubt for one minute he’d been studying up on the Cleanse and the war, and the various supernaturals that existed, and their gifts and weaknesses. Hanging behind him was a framed copy of the HF mission statement.
I looked at my phone. I was on time, but Harrah, who was sitting in one of the leather chairs, her legs crossed and bouncing, looked as though she’d been there for a while. Lands leaned forward from behind his desk the moment I walked in. His slate gray eyes stayed fixed on me, watching me carefully with avid curiosity and perhaps antipathy. He definitely didn’t like me.
“Have a seat,” he offered in an even voice. My attention moved between the men standing at his side and Harrah, and I wished I hadn’t decided against bringing in my sai. This was supposed to be an amicable meeting, but there wasn’t anything about it
that seemed like it was. I ushered a gentle smile on my face before sliding into the chair, sitting with the two politicians. I wasn’t under any illusions that Harrah wasn’t just that, a politician.
She spoke, her voice melodious and satiny smooth. “I’m very happy you decided to meet with us.” I remembered her touch that made the police officers’ eyes glaze over and what Savannah said she’d done at the club. She looked at me and gave me a sharp look, perhaps sensing the shield I’d put up. If this meeting didn’t go well I wasn’t confident that she wouldn’t change the outcome.
“Of course.” Lands leaned over, opened his drawer, and pulled out two thick iron manacles. “No offense, but I will feel better having this discussion knowing that magic won’t be used to influence the results.”
Harrah kept the pleasant smile on her face as she leaned forward and took one off the desk. She held his gaze as she snapped it around her arm.
He looked at the remaining one and then my wrist, a subtle way of telling me to put it on. He’d studied, but not well enough—iron didn’t affect my magic. Instead of correcting him, I snapped it around my wrist, content to have at least one weapon at my disposal.
After several moments of tense silence, Harrah spoke. “I wanted you to meet Levy. You’re probably familiar with her face for her courageous intervention the other day. I doubt things would have gone as well if not for her involvement.”
Lands relaxed back against his chair, his fingers steepled, waiting patiently for her to continue. After he didn’t say anything, she continued, “She is a Legacy.” She waited for him to react—something he didn’t do. Even the grimace that he had on his face earlier had disappeared and his face with a mask of stoicism.
“The reason I wanted to have this meeting is because I do not think Humans First’s existence is a good thing. It will only show strife between humans and supernaturals. And you as head provide a legitimacy to the separatism that this group promotes; it will compromise everything we’ve worked for.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course, Harrah.” His tone was just as genteel and pleasant as hers. And then he flashed her a smile, one I’m sure he’d used many times on the political trail. “Please understand that the reemergence of Humans First has nothing to do with us no longer wanting a working relationship between the two groups. However, over the past months, I’ve watched the Supernatural Guild and the Magic Council, and you fail. Can you not agree that things have become more chaotic and tumultuous? And although I appreciate the visit, I don’t think trotting out your little murderer is going to help things.” With that his voice dropped and his sharp gaze fixed on me.
He turned his monitor toward us and clicked on a few things on his keyboard until an image popped up. Not just any image … an image of me going into the Humans First office and moments later running out. I remembered that incident as though it was yesterday. I’d been invited to a meeting with the head of HF and one of his recruits. They were supposed to convince me to help Conner perform the Cleanse, which I’d refused to do. But they had a Necro-spear, which they planned to use to perform their own Cleanse. They had made a deal with Conner in hopes of getting rid of supernaturals, unaware of the disadvantages and the predicament they were putting themselves in.
His gaze remained fastened on me, as did those of the two other men. They didn’t see a Legacy, a potential murderer, but Levy, an actual murderer.
“I didn’t kill your friend,” I asserted.
“Do you mind explaining this?”
“That was handled,” Harrah offered. And from handled I assumed it had been cleaned up, explained away with a nice story, and put in a tidy little box with a pretty little bow and presented to the world. But it hadn’t been handled, and we were looking at the results of that. It wasn’t tidy. It wasn’t cleaned up.
“I know it was handled in your way—explained away with a web of lies.” His attempt to appear pleasant was becoming more difficult.
“I want to know what really happened to my friend.”
“Your friend,” I started, trying to hold my voice steady and prevent anger from tinting my words, “made a deal with Conner. If you don’t know who Conner is maybe you should look that up as well. He’s a Legacy.” I wasn’t sure if he knew about Vertu and I didn’t want to explain it. As far as everyone was concerned we were one and the same anyway. “He was so disgusted with supernaturals he was willing to make a deal with this man to do a Cleanse and kill us off. Us. All. Off. I’m sorry you lost your friend, but he wasn’t as innocent as you would like to believe. His betrayal had consequences. I didn’t kill your friend; the person he made his deal with did.”
“Then why were you there?” he asked.
“Daniel invited me. They were trying to convince me to help them do this. I understand your sorrow, but in essence your friend was trying to kill me and my friends because of his hate. And reviving this hate group isn’t going to make things better.”
He shifted in his chair. I wasn’t sure if he was even considering my words and the idea that his friend had so much hate for supernaturals that he would do such a deplorable thing; I wasn’t in a mood to care. Whatever he was thinking about had consumed his thoughts and a frown was etched over his appearance. After long moments of silence ticked by and the tension in the room became palpable, he finally spoke. “I don’t necessarily believe in what my friend did.” He started off slowly and perhaps it was sorrow or anger or a combination of both, but his voice dropped, cool and darkly ominous. “Sometimes we have to do what we perceive as the greater good. Magic is unexplainable, chaotic, and messy. There are so many ways to circumvent the rules constraining it, and I’m sure we both have seen instances of that. Perhaps what he wanted was cruel to some, but I don’t believe it was wrong. I appreciate you all coming here, but I have not changed my mind. The direction of Humans First isn’t known at this time, but I will not dismantle it.”
He rose slowly, keeping a steady eye on me as he did, the mistrust apparent. The more his keen gaze stayed on me, the more it jabbed at my anger. At this point, things had become a clusterfuck of all clusterfucks, and I was ready to rain flames on it and walk away. I’d fought, been injured, attempted to do everything I could to resolve things, and now I watched as any chance of reconciliation slipped through my fingers.
I stood. “Your friend is dead not because of what I did but because of what he did. He made a fool’s bargain with someone unscrupulous. And in case you read the Cliffs Notes version of the Cleanse, let me give you the real version. A group of very powerful magical beings who make the magic that you are used to looking like a magician’s at a child’s party decided they wanted to be the only magical beings that existed. The other supernaturals’ crime for such a vile sentence? Having inferior magic. If they consider people who can shift into animals, make magic their bitch, and take down people with a flick of their hands, manipulate minds, and cause glamours that are so real they aren’t distinguishable”—I glanced at Harrah. As powerful as I thought she was, I doubted she was a match for Conner—“inferior to them, unworthy of living, what do you think they think of you? And what do you think will happen when they lose interest in you?”
He crossed his arms over his chest but continued to listen to me intently, the stone-cold look easing but not by much. Barely moving into his nod, he urged me to continue. “The Great War was won because supernaturals and humans worked together. I know history tends to make us lose perspective. You can’t on this. I’m sorry about your friend, I really am. He and his misguided Justice League were zealots.”
He made a face. “Justice League.”
“Sorry, they had the whole mean mug, fitted T-shirt, and ‘I’m the ultimate badass look’ going on. It annoyed me.” I recovered my train of thought. “I’ve had losses, too. That very hate you are instilling by reviving the Humans First agenda is the same view that a group stalking and trying to kill us has.”
“Trackers?” he asked.
I nodded. Studying him, I was t
rying to make a snap decision about whether I was getting to him or if his mind was already made up and he was just entertaining my little spiel to get more information. “How do you know about them?”
He glanced at the pile of papers on his desk. For fuck’s sake is HF working with the Trackers? It was now clear to me that HF aligned themselves with anyone who could do the most damage. They were loyal to none. They’d aligned themselves with Conner to get rid of the supernaturals and the Trackers to get rid of the Legacy. What were their plans to kill off the Trackers? They were more devious than I’d given them credit for.
The men to the side of Lands hadn’t moved. Their appearance was still stern, cool with indifference, which was probably the worst thing a person could feel. They didn’t care whether I lived or died.
“Thank you, Levy, for taking this meeting with me.” And with that he dismissed us with a sweeping look as his eyes brushed over us and went to the exit he was kindly asking us to use.
Harrah had settled into a gentle professional smile as she waited for the manacles to be removed.
“That was informative and something he needed to hear from you,” Harrah commented after we’d exited the building.
“What are your plans?” I asked, turning to look at her.
Several moments passed before she spoke. “Surely, you’ve discussed it with Gareth,” she said.
“No.”
“You two don’t talk between your amorous activities?”
Heat brushed my cheeks, but I ignored it. I wasn’t going to fall for her distraction techniques.
“We don’t talk about work.”
“Of course.” She flashed a smile. “We have no desire to be at odds with the Legacy. The Necro-spears have been destroyed. From my understanding, the number of Legacy that exist is too small to do anything like the Cleanse again. I’d like to enlist you in helping us find the others before the Trackers get to them. We go from there.”
Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3) Page 9
