by Gabi Moore
“I don’t think it’s better,” Aurora pointed out irritably.
“It probably is.” Milo shrugged. “Just look at yourself. You look almost back to normal. The energy did you good.”
“Yeah, by taking it from you.”
He made a frustrated sound in his throat. “You’ve been doing it without realizing for a long time,” Milo told her, exasperated. “Years. Your ability to draw people’s energy has grown with you, and believe me, it’s driving Ian crazy. It’s really a huge help. As your abilities grow, he gets weaker. Eventually, you’ll kill him without even meaning to.”
“What?” Aurora shrieked. How could he just say this, like it was nothing? Seeing Milo’s face, she took a deep breath and tried again. “Look, I get it that you’ve been at this for years, but I just found out my father is alive, I just found out he’s in New York, I just found out he wants to get to me, and I just found out about all this stuff that’s been happening for years behind my back. Do you even understand how it feels when you tell me I have to kill him?”
Aurora mentally shook herself. Of course Milo knew; he was probably the only one out of all of them who knew precisely what she was going through because he could read her mind. He was watching her now, probably listening to all this play out, but it didn’t show on his face.
Finally, he sighed. “I’m sorry we’re all being so callous. We aren’t trying to be—you’ll just have to believe that we aren’t.
“BUT,” Milo held a finger to silence her. “But. Keep in mind that you’ve never known your father. You’ve never met him. You don’t know how he is. But we were all friends before he left… so if you think it’s cruel for us to talk so openly about killing your dad, try to think how long it took for us to accept killing our friend.”
“I’ve only got one father, though,” Aurora pointed out. He was right and she knew it. But damn if she was going to own up to that—not when it forced her to consider the reality that was coming her way. That they were all right. That eventually, she was going to do exactly what they expected her to. “You all still have each other.”
“And you have us, too,” Milo insisted, stirring his soup. “You’re going to have to get used to us butting in, now. You’ll love and hate us as much as a real family in no time, believe me.”
Aurora sighed and watched him poke at the soup—she hadn’t eaten since the eggrolls yesterday. When she’d been shaken awake by Lucien, her appetite had been gnawing out the inside of her belly. Now, however, she was barely interested. Her hunger was gone. It was a disconcerting thought.
“I’ve never had a real family,” she realized suddenly. Milo had a mouthful of baked potato soup, so she rambled on. “It’s been just me and my Momma for… all my life. I guess I have grandparents in Louisiana, but they didn’t approve of her running off with my father, so I’ve never spoken to them. I’ve never even seen pictures of them. We don’t have any at all in the apartment.”
Milo chewed thoughtfully. “Your mother always used to say she didn’t look back because she wasn’t going in that direction.”
Aurora smiled. And then, she looked at Milo sharply.
“How long ago?”
“I haven’t spoken to Ramona in… what… twenty years?”
Aurora frowned at him. “How old did you say you were?”
Milo poked at his soup coyly. “I didn’t.”
“You’re really old, aren’t you? I mean, like Mr. Cheng and Madame Moreau were way too old to still be alive. You are too, aren’t you?”
Milo gave a gasp of mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m not a day over sixty.”
“Sixty?! What about Lucien?!”
“Now, Lucien hasn’t joined the actual circle yet. He’s in the… outer circle, I guess you would call it, so he’s still aging at almost the normal rate. But he’s about forty-two.”
Aurora’s mouth dropped open. Lucien didn’t look a day over thirty! But then, he’d mentioned it, hadn’t he? He’d claimed to have been there when Aurora’s father went rogue. That would have to put him over forty, at least.
“You’re slowing down, too, though you’re too young to really notice it,” Milo went on. “Lester, too.” Aurora had almost forgotten Lester was there; he’d been quiet as a mouse through the whole conversation. At the mention of his name, Lester stood suddenly.
“I’m going to get a shower in,” he announced, even as he was walking out of the room. “Those clothes I left here should still be under Lucien’s counter…”
“You’ll have to forgive him,” Milo told Aurora as the bathroom door closed. “He was very close to Moreau. Even before… he’s always been on the shy side. When he manages to come to grips with it all, and when gets to know you, he’ll hardly shut up.”
Come to grips with it? That sounded familiar. Aurora sighed and leaned back into the couch. Her mother disappearing, her father being alive, herself being some sort of energy vampire. She had a lot of ‘coming to grips’ to do on her own.
Chapter 10
The afternoon was wearing quite thin by the time Aurora got Milo to admit that something might have gone wrong.
Shut up in Lucien’s apartment, it was easy to start feeling cabin fever. The first time she’d restlessly brought up the time to Milo, he’d pointed this out gently. He convinced her that she was just unaccustomed to being shut up inside all day, and that with everything happening over the last thirty-six hours, it was normal to start thinking disaster lurked around every corner. So Aurora settled down a little to wait.
It had been a whole day sine Lucien left, now, and the cabin fever argument was wearing thin. Milo wouldn’t let any of them leave, but even he couldn’t pretend that Lucien shouldn’t have been back by now.
“He might have run into trouble,” he admitted, reluctant.
He might have run into trouble. Those were terrifying words to Aurora, who already felt as if all her control had been stripped away. Her life was in these peoples’ hands, and now he might have run into trouble?
“What do we do?” Aurora asked urgently. What she wanted to ask was, ‘What can I do?’ or ‘What will you let me do?’ or ‘Please, for God’s sake, let me do something!’ But this was all so new. Was there anything she could even offer in the way of help?
Milo had quite recovered from being partially drained. His skin had regained color, and he looked quite as young as ever. He paced slowly around the apartment, frowning.
“This is a pickle,” he sighed. “Moreau gone, now Cheng and Lucien gone. I can’t really leave you and Lester, can I? Besides the fact that my powers aren’t really offensive. Well…” he smirked and shrugged. “Not in the fighting sort of way.”
“Let me go,” Lester piped up; it was only now that Aurora realized his voice still had a squeaky quirk to it. Just finished changing. He really was young. “I can fight better than you can.”
“Sometimes,” Milo replied grimly. “Other times, you still freeze up. You need some practice before I throw you out alone.”
“You might not have much of a choice,” Lester pointed out.
Milo didn’t answer that. Aurora guessed that he didn’t have a ready reply—after all, Lester had hit the nail on the head.
In fact, it looked like Milo was about ready to give in altogether when the apartment door slammed open.
Aurora jumped out of the way as Lucien and Mr. Cheng stumbled into the apartment. She was so shocked, her brain took a while to process what she was seeing—both of them were naked. Mr. Cheng was wrapped in what looked like an old blanket, staggering along, but Lucien wore nothing, not even shoes.
Heat rushed up Aurora’s face and she spun away, torn between helping Mr. Cheng to the couch and desperately not wanting to see him without clothes. Lucien wouldn’t have been so bad—except that Milo was right there, probably with an eye on her mind, and she’d rather not have him in her head when looking at all of Lucien’s bare skin.
At least Milo seemed too busy to notice at the moment as he di
ved across the room, grabbing one of Mr. Cheng’s arms to help guide him to the couch. “Easy there, Cheng. Close the door! What happened?”
“There were a lot of them, more than we expected,” Lucien replied, still naked, as he shut and locked the door. “When they lost our trail, they all went back and converged on Cheng. He’s been fighting all night—you should have seen the mess by the time I got there. He’s going to need some sleep, but I’m not sure this is the place for it.”
“What do you mean?” Lester asked. He was in the kitchen, throwing food in the microwave.
Aurora was still turned away, but she heard the grim tone as Lucien answered, and could imagine his face. “They followed us here. They can’t get in yet, but Ian knows where we are.”
Silence fell in the apartment, broken only by the tiny chiming of Lucien’s many wards. There was no air current, no breeze inside, but some of the charms were moving, now, as if stirred by forces unseen. A chill went down Aurora’s spine.
“What about Lester’s ward on you?” Milo asked, breaking the eerie silence.
“Still there,” Lucien replied. “But it seemed to falter once I changed. And it doesn’t extend to Cheng.”
“Dammit,” Lester muttered. “I didn’t think of that.”
“What now?” Milo asked, urgent.
“I don’t know!” Lucien exclaimed. “Without Moreau we can’t move around unseen for long. We could make it to another safehouse, probably…”
“I… know where we… must go.”
Every eye in the room (even Aurora peered back over her shoulder) turned to Mr. Cheng, who had managed to sit up unaided on the couch. He blinked and looked around the room, still in a bit of a daze. He shook his head a bit, as if to clear it.
“There is a… safehouse,” he continued. His voice seemed odd, and if he was having trouble speaking. Immediately, Aurora was worried. How badly had he been injured? “Moreau and I… kept it secret. In Manhattan.”
“We have a safehouse in Manhattan?” Milo asked, bewildered.
Aurora looked at Milo. How had they kept a secret from him?
“Yes,” Cheng replied. “For years. Near Moreau’s home.”
It didn’t surprise Aurora at all to hear that Madame Moreau had lived in the Upper East. What was shocking was knowing that they had managed to procure an extra property there, an auxiliary base, pouring money in property taxes and upkeep into real estate that most of them didn’t even know about. Just how much extra income did they have?
“Let’s get you two dressed,” Milo suggested. “How long will we be safe for?”
Lucien shrugged. “Probably no more than a few hours before they narrow our location down. All the charms have this entire building in a fog, but they’ll figure out where it’s coming from sooner or later.”
“Then we can’t waste time.” Milo gestured to Lester. “Get these two some food—the faster we can get them recovered, the better. I’ll grab Cheng’s extra clothes.”
Aurora didn’t dare mention the extra clothes Lucien was supposed to bring for her; he’d obviously been a little preoccupied. Still, sneakers would have been nice. It was another hour before they were all gathering to head out the door, clothes and all. Again, Lester went through the process of warding them each—with many curses and staring over again. Aurora felt for him, feeling new and unprepared for what the situation needed. Not to mention overwhelmed. Overwhelmed was a sensation she was really getting accustomed to.
Through it all, Mr. Cheng was rather silent. Aurora hadn’t had a chance to speak with him, but he managed to dress (covering a large, beautiful tiger tattoo on his back that Aurora just got a glimpse of) and eat the food pushed at him without difficulty. Afterwards, he really did look much better, but Aurora couldn’t stop thinking of the way he’d kissed Madame Moreau’s cheek just before she died.
Her heart squeezed. She had never imagined… Moreau had never been married, and she had never showed an interest in one man or another. Aurora had never seen her and Cheng together, but no doubt Moreau would have hidden any feelings for him then, too. It didn’t fit in with her glamorous image, loving a humble old Chinese-American dress-maker.
But there had been a time when they were young, and far from here. She could picture it, just barely, Estelle Moreau as a mademoiselle instead of a madam. Mr. Cheng, young and strong. What a strange love story it made, but then, there were much stranger things.
When it came to Mr. Cheng’s turn to be hidden by magic, Lester seemed to have an especially hard time. Frustrated, he dropped his hands after several tries.
“It’s like there’s something in the way,” he complained.
Milo didn’t reply, but he frowned; his eyebrows were furrowed together, as if he were concentrating. Mr. Cheng waved a hand.
“Not important. Ward her,” he gestured at Aurora.
“But why can’t I—”
“Hide her, first,” Mr. Cheng insisted stiffly. He was easily the shortest member of their group, but he drew himself up straight and set his jaw. “No need to worry about this old man so much.”
“What if they find us through you?” Lucien asked, crossing his thick arms.
“They will not,” Cheng replied firmly. “Besides. Lester will hide you well. They will not see you, even if they come for me. No time to worry.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Lucien muttered. “All right, then. I guess get Aurora cloaked, too, Lester. Your best ward—she’s the most important right now.”
And with that uncomfortable comment, Aurora submitted uneasily to standing perfectly still and having a spell put on her. She’d never in her life imagined this happening; she’d never been a huge fantasy fan, preferring crime fiction and mystery novels, herself. Her daydreams usually included police work and private investigation, not magic. She didn’t know what to expect.
“And don’t screw it up,” Milo added playfully. “We need her in one piece.”
Well, Aurora hadn’t been terribly nervous until that comment. She swallowed and grit her teeth. Her face probably looked most frightened, because Milo was wearing a smirk and Lucien smiled uncertainly at her.
Lester stood in front of her and rubbed his hands together. She’d never really looked closely at his face, since he usually stayed out of the way and avoided her. “Okay. Let’s make a ward.”
Her nerves were reaching a pitch; in the attempt to distract herself, Aurora shut her eyes and tried to watch it all through the strange second sight she’d discovered earlier. Milo had said she had control of it—it would be safe to use while Lester was casting a spell, surely.
Again, in her mind, Aurora saw the shadowy second world draw forward. It was much easier this time. Maybe it was easier this time because she knew what to look for, but she slipped into the second sight without a moment’s hesitation. There were the glowing motes of energy again; Aurora was careful not to draw them to her consciously.
The others appeared as conglomerates of light in her mind. Millions of tiny specks made them up, giving a clear impression of their form and place. Milo was just the same as he had been. Lucien radiated light like a sun. Lester, too, was a mass of light dots; Aurora watched in awe as he cast the spell, which she could also see in the form of weaving energy constellations, like stars. They wrapped around her and ordered to her form, like a suit of magic from head to toe, like the ones he’d made for the others.
But when Aurora looked at Mr. Cheng, she paused. His body was filled with motes of light, too, but not nearly as many. The others (and Aurora herself) were burning with energy; but amid all the light motes in Mr. Cheng, there were specks of darkness, like pieces of ash.
Death. The voice was far too clear in her head. Frightfully clear.
Aurora snapped out of her second sight as Lester finished the spell. She didn’t mention the darkness in Mr. Cheng, although it did not leave her mind. When she’d taken Milo’s energy before, she had also exhaled ash specks just like that, leaving her rejuvenated and refreshed. Wh
at were they? Why were they gathered in Mr. Cheng? Was he sick? Was Mr. Cheng… dying?
That would have been too much to face, on top of the rest, so Aurora followed the group as they filed out of the apartment. There would be a time to ask about it later. Mr. Cheng was probably just tired from his fight, she convinced herself. It was nothing to worry about.
Down the elevator they travelled (a relief to Aurora, who had to struggle back into her high heeled boots) and several blocks over to where Milo had parked his car. In daylight, it was actually a dark, dark maroon color. Nice.
“Where to?” Milo asked Mr. Cheng. They had all piled in, Aurora squished in the back between Lucien and Lester. Mr. Cheng was sitting up front; she sighed, but it wasn’t too surprising that they should refuse to let her have shotgun. They were treating her more carefully than the president’s daughter.
“Head to Manhattan. I’ll tell you more when we cross over the bridge,” Mr. Cheng answered.
Sitting in the back, Aurora eyed him closely. She’d never heard him use contractions before, but none of the others seemed to notice, so she shrugged it off. He’d probably played up his Chinese accent when acting like a simple dress repair man all these years. Hell, if he was over two hundred years old, he probably spoke a few more languages than just Chinese and English.
As far as car rides go, this one was particularly unpleasant. Aurora didn’t spend much time in cars (she almost always took the train) and she couldn’t remember ever being packed like sardines into a sedan like this. Not much fun, and having both Lester and Lucien glance awkwardly at her leather pants every now and then was not helping her mood. She really needed a change of clothes.
Traffic sucked, as usual; it was evening before they got over the bridge to Upper East Side. Moreau’s shop was less than an hour walk from here, Aurora recalled with a pang. At least she didn’t have to worry about being late for work, apparently ever again. Still… she would rather be headed to an overtime shift right now.
