by Laura Hall
“You’re a corroborating witness. It’s protocol.”
I stiffened against a twinge of hurt. “Okay.”
He opened the folder. The first image was of Bald Guy, aka James Frankfurt, a former litigator from Austin, Texas. The next was Wax Face, aka Darius Volker, a former car mechanic from Portland, Oregon.
“What happened to him?” I asked.
“Four years ago, a psychopath who happened to be a mage broke into his home, killed his wife and children, and set the house on fire.”
“That’s horrible,” I breathed.
Ethan nodded. “The foot soldiers of the Liberati all have similar stories. James Frankfurt’s daughter was raped and drained by a vampire.”
“Ripe for Liberati picking,” I murmured and continued flipping through photos until I saw one I recognized. “This guy gave me the shot. He was the master alchemist, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” he said softly.
Thomas Newberry, M.D., former faculty at Johns Hopkins University, Department of Molecular Biology and Genetics. Staring at his photo gave me a funny feeling, a mixture of apprehension, hilarity, and gut-melting fear. He no longer looked like Everyman to me. He looked like the Devil.
“What’s his story?” I asked.
Before Ethan could answer, there was a knock on the open door. I looked across the room, expecting the nurse and my dad. Instead, Adam stood there, Katrina beside him.
Ethan snapped, “Her location is classified.”
Katrina glared at her cousin. “So are the documents you’re showing her.”
I stood on legs gone weak. “Adam?”
He glanced at Ethan, then returned his gaze to me. “Can we speak privately?”
I nodded, ignoring Ethan’s stiffening posture. “Let’s go for a walk.”
We picked up an FBI tail as we left the room. Katrina followed as well, keeping our official shadow a good ten feet back. Not that Adam would allow any eavesdropping—a privacy spell surrounded us the minute we entered the hospital corridor.
Despite the spell, he didn’t speak until we’d walked onto a small patio, shaded by awnings against the late afternoon sun. I followed him to the edge, where we stood shoulder to shoulder facing a parking lot and beyond, a cross-section of downtown Reno.
Finally, he asked, “How are you?”
“Fine.” I took a deep breath. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for—”
“I wouldn’t have done it if Connor hadn’t insisted.”
The air left my lungs in a whoosh. “Well, then. Good to know.”
He sighed, which I knew was as close as I would get to an apology. “He was already weak from the explosion. The transfusion weakened him further. Frankly, I wasn’t sure it would work. That kind of healing only happens between master vampires and their sired young.”
I blinked. “Pardon?”
Adam’s jaw clenched. “Before he left, Connor made me swear not to reveal any of this to you. It’s the first promise to him I won’t keep. You’ve accepted his blood twice, the second time a full transfusion. You should now be irrevocably bound to him as your master.”
“But I’m not a vampire,” I said weakly.
“It’s a different bond I speak of. Between master and compagno, a human companion. The bond is even more intimate than the one between a master and their sired young.”
Of course, I knew the stories. “You’re talking about Renfield’s syndrome. Vampires making slaves of humans.”
Adam nodded. “Although I think vampires would object to the slavery correlation. Since Ascension, compagnos have been mostly moot. Whatever bonds were already in place were broken, unless the human ended up a null. Supernaturals and ciphers cannot be bound.”
I put two and two together. “But they can bind Fae.”
“Yes.” His gaze intensified. “You can never tell another Fae that Connor has done this. It’s anathema. The Courts would issue an order of execution for him. And from what I’ve heard, they’re more than capable of carrying it out.”
I took a slow breath and let it out. “He only did it to save my life. Because I was an idiot.” I gripped the cement railing and stared at the shadows below. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I need your help. Declan’s and my mental bonds to Connor have broken. Have you been able to use Sight to locate him the past three days?”
Anxiety tingled in my palms. “No,” I whispered and met his gaze. The brown irises began bleaching as I watched. “Where is he?”
“Missing. I can’t deflect the press much longer. The nation wants to see him, to know he survived the attack at the conference.” He looked away. “It gets worse. His nest is growing restless, uncharacteristically violent. It’s a sure sign that the master is either near death or dead.”
My charge spiked and a soft white glow shimmered down my gloves. For a beat, we both stared with widened eyes at the evidence of Ethan’s transition to Opal.
“Adam,” I said hoarsely. “What do you need from me? How do we find Connor?”
His gaze refocused. “He didn’t complete the final phase of the compagno bond. I need you to do it from your end.”
“How?”
“Prime Kilpatrick is in Sacramento visiting the governor. He’s aware of the situation and will guide you through it.” He glanced at the patio doors, where the shadows of Katrina and the other agent were visible, then pointed surreptitiously to the parking lot. I followed his finger to see a motorcycle parked almost directly beneath us. A seated figure lifted his hand; I recognized Declan beneath the leather jacket and helmet.
“The FBI won’t let me just walk out,” I said tensely. “My dad and I were already planning evasive maneuvers to lose them tomorrow.”
“That’s why you’re going to jump. I’ll get you to the ground safely.”
My stomach jackknifed, but I nodded—I didn’t doubt his skills. “And my dad?”
“When he’s released, I’ll bring him to Seattle to wait for you. No matter what happens, afterward I’ll help you and your father disappear. You have my word.”
I loosed a pent-up breath. “I would have done it without the promise, but thank you.” I adjusted my grip on the ledge. “Will you say goodbye to Mal and my dad for me? Tell them . . . tell my dad that I needed to settle a debt of honor.”
“Of course. Thank you, Fiona. I wish I could come with you—”
“I understand,” I said quickly, flashing a tight smile. “Someone has to run the Western Prime’s Office.”
He nodded stiffly. “I’ve pulled together a team of the best possible support for you. They won’t let anyone stand in your way.”
“Better to ask for forgiveness than permission?”
He nodded again. “Find Connor. Bring him home.”
“I will,” I quietly vowed.
Adam pulled me into a tight embrace, which ended before I could recover from the shock. Taking a swift step back, he cocked a brow.
“Ready?”
I glanced at the drop and swallowed. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Jump.”
With a final glance back, I leapt onto the railing and sprang into the air. Dense Opal magic flared to life around me, making my two-story descent feel like a trip down a water slide.
I landed lightly in front of the motorcycle and choked back the scream that had built in my throat.
Declan grinned and threw me a spare helmet. “That was awesome.”
“Yes, it was,” I said breathlessly.
Yelling drew our gazes upward. The FBI agent was in Adam’s face, gesticulating wildly, while Katrina watched us with a small smile. She must have told Adam that Ethan was bringing me gloves today. I nodded in acknowledgment and her smile widened.
“Hop on, sparky. Time to go.”
The Harley roared to life. I slammed the helmet on my head and jumped on, throwing my arms around Declan’s middle. He popped the clutch and gunned it out of the parking lot.
Eighteen
Two hours and a numb lower-half later, we pulled into the driveway of an enormous Tuscan-style villa. Built atop a fabricated oasis, the only reminder that we were still in a desert clime was the dry air.
Declan helped me off the bike, steadying me when I wobbled. “Your ankle still bothering you?” he asked worriedly.
I shook my head. “Connor took care of it.”
Understanding cleared his eyes. “Ah, right. Mums the word on that, okay? Kilpatrick will know, but no one else should.”
I nodded, glancing toward the engraved front door. “Kilpatrick—do we trust him?” I asked softly.
“Connor does. You and I, we don’t really have a choice. At least he left his Omega and Alpha in Vegas. The fewer people that know about this, the better.”
I shifted nervously. “How big is the team Adam was talking about?”
“Five others,” he said and almost managed to sound confident. “Two of my wolves, two master vamps. Remember Charles and Eve?” I made a face and he winced. “I know, the twins are a little freaky, but they were sired by Connor a bazillion years ago and are extremely loyal to him. The last person is Alisande Salvator.”
“What?” I barked. “Tell me you’re joking.”
He shook his head. “We need an Opal, and Alisande has a debt to pay.”
Still reeling, I asked, “What debt? I really don’t trust her, Dec. She tried to trade me to the Fae!”
Declan stepped closer, gripping my shoulder and lowering his voice. “Her debt is to you. When Adam learned about her duplicity, he had a talk with her. A talk talk. He bound her in a geas, a magical compulsion of the highest level. She’s oathbound to protect your life and our mission. And she’ll never speak of it without suffering terrible consequences.”
“W-why would Adam do that?”
Declan smiled and ruffled my hair. “The Omega has a soft spot for you, sparky.”
With an arm around my shoulders, he guided me to the front door. As we reached it, it opened on two men. I recognized them both, though the last time I’d seen them they’d been in tuxedos, catching me as I tripped on the red carpet. Jack was the shorter of the two, with dark curly hair and distinctive green eyes. Caleb, taller and older, was blond, and built like a linebacker with a nose to match. If I remembered correctly, they were the two most dominant wolves in the pack after Declan.
“Jack and Caleb, right?”
They nodded, brief smiles lighting beneath somber gazes. “Good timing,” said Caleb. “The helicopter landed twenty minutes ago with the rest of the crew. Our vampires are currently comparing fang length with the Southern Prime.”
Declan muttered, “Figures,” and gestured for the wolves to lead the way.
I barely noticed our surroundings beyond their opulence as we strode through an entrance hall, down a lofty hallway, and into an octagonal great room. Alisande was nowhere to be seen, but the three vampires were standing in a tight triangle in the center of the space. All were smiling through displayed fangs, voices pitched low. It didn’t look like a pleasant conversation.
We hadn’t taken more than a few steps into the room when the vampires’ heads turned with eerie precision to me.
Prime Kilpatrick was handsome in a classic Vlad the Impaler way, raven-haired and pale with deep-set, secretive cerulean eyes. He took a breath and let it out slowly. His smile widened.
“Ah, the Elemental.”
His figure blurred and reappeared directly before me. I jerked in surprise. Caleb released a throaty growl, which Kilpatrick ignored. Apparently the Prime’s fear of dogs didn’t extend to wolves. Or Ethan had lied, which wouldn’t be surprising but still stung.
Between one moment and the next, my gloved hand was resting against the Prime’s lips. “Fiona Sullivan, you’re every bit as lovely as I imagined.”
I snatched my hand back, biting my tongue on the barrage of questions I wanted to fire at him. How much of Delilah’s machinations had he been aware of? Had he cared for her, been deceived by her? Did he know she was a duplicitous, backstabbing hag?
Of course, I already knew the answers to my questions. Though his aura didn’t compare to Connor’s, he was an Ancient. And there were no secrets from the Primes.
I wondered if that was the allure for my mother, which, disturbingly, was a part of Connor’s allure for me. We didn’t have to say aloud our deepest secrets and thoughts. We could be vulnerable without having to act like we were.
The Prime’s eyes stayed on mine, glittering and knowing. I asked, “Why are you helping us?”
His lips thinned. “Connor Thorne is the most powerful among us. It is unacceptable that he be threatened or worse, killed, by a group of doddering cipher infants.”
My brows rose. “Tell me how you really feel.”
The Prime didn’t smile. “It’s extremely fortuitous you possess an affinity with him.” His gaze scanned the room, then returned to me. “Let us continue this conversation elsewhere.”
I glanced at Declan, who said, “I’ll come with you.” He looked across the room at Eve and Charles. “Be ready with the helicopter. The second we know where he is, we’re in the air.”
The vamp twins nodded.
“This way, please,” said Kilpatrick and swept from the room.
We followed the Prime up a staircase, down another hallway, and into a richly embellished study. He gestured to one of two chairs before an unlit fireplace.
“Sit, Fiona.”
I took strength from Declan’s subtle nod and perched on the edge of an uncomfortably firm leather chair. The Prime was suddenly kneeling before me, his ice-cold fingers clasping my face at temple and jaw. I cried out, rearing backward, but he held me in an unyielding grip.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
The cerulean eyes deepened to black, dense and reflective, so different from Connor’s starry power.
“There is a door in your mind,” he said, low voice rasping past thick fangs. “This door represents the pathway between master and compagno. Connor chose not to open it. I am putting the key in the lock. You are going to turn it.”
My eyelids grew heavy and a deep lassitude stole through my limbs. “Declan?” I whispered.
His voice came from far away, “It’s okay, sparky. Just relax.”
Nineteen
I had no idea where I was, but it was not a mansion in Sacramento. It was dark, damp, and cold. I reached out blindly, my bare fingers grazing porous bricks, uniform in size, with crumbling mortar between.
Turning slowly, I put my back to the wall and waited for my eyes to adjust. Twenty seconds later, I still saw only blackness. There was zero ambient light in the space.
Hello, claustrophobia.
I had no idea if this was real or another sojourn into domhan, the lucid dreamworld.
“Connor?”
There was a stirring of dark energy somewhere ahead of me, a faint shadow of his usually potent aura. But it was him. Sagging in relief, I said his name again, more loudly.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured. “Take her back, Ian. I don’t want this.”
In an oddly hollow voice, Kilpatrick said, “Your nest is falling into a frenzy. I warned you that sharing blood builds dangerous dependencies. If you go, you’ll take them with you.”
“Not if you assimilate them,” growled Connor.
“I have never taken a nest,” replied Kilpatrick imperiously. “Nor do I plan to. Not even for you. You’re defeated then, old friend? Ready for the sun, even with the succulent blood of an Elemental Fae waiting for your Kiss?”
Connor snarled, “Don’t touch her.”
Kilpatrick’s power rolled like a blanket through the room, smothering and dense. “Claim the bond, Connor. Or I will rethink my principles and take her when you die.”
The power winked out. I dragged air into my lungs, skin prickling as delayed fear messages sped from my brain to my body.
“Jesus,” I whispered. “Maybe he is as strong as you.”
&nb
sp; Metal rattled over stone as Connor shifted. “Perhaps,” he said tiredly. “Why did you come?”
“To save you, obviously.” He didn’t laugh. “Are you okay? What happened? Did you find Gabriella?”
“Yes. She stabbed me in the heart.”
Surprise cycled swiftly into an inappropriate urge to laugh. Biting my cheek, I stammered, “She—did you say stabbed?”
“She isn’t herself.”
My heart deflated. “Delilah sold you out, then? The Liberati knew you were coming?”
He laughed without humor. “They didn’t know. You were right, whatever had been obscuring the bloodbond was gone. I found her in the back of a truck headed north toward Oregon. I freed her . . .” He trailed off and was silent for several moments. “She didn’t want to be freed. Halfway to Seattle, she stabbed me and we fell to the ground. She drank me near-dry, then flew me back to the Liberati.” Metal rattled again. “I awoke as I am now. Chained with silver spelled by my own ether. I can only assume I’m being kept alive for further draining.”
What he was too much of a gentleman to say was that my transfusion had left him too weak to fight back.
What a hot mess.
“Okay, okay,” I chanted. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’ll complete this compagno bond thing, and I’ll find you. I’m assuming it will work like a compass? You’ll be magnetic north and we’ll come straight to you.”
“Fiona.” He sighed. “The bond . . . you cannot want this.”
I ground my teeth. “Dammit, Connor, people depend on you. Your nest depends on you.” And because I wasn’t feeling very charitable, I added, “Gabriella isn’t worth this.”
His aura flared, so weak, but still powerful enough to squeeze my lungs. “You mistake my intentions, as usual. Did no one tell you what the compagno bond means for the Fae? It is ownership, plain and simple. Your blood is mine. Your life is mine. I die, you die. I call for you, you come. Compulsion to my every whim. You would never be able to deny me.”
Lucid dream or not, goose bumps broke out on my body. There was something fundamentally wrong about what he’d just said, and for that matter, something fundamentally wrong with me. Because catering to his every whim sounded like a grand idea.
