by Lexi C. Foss
However, when he reached the foyer and found his father hugging Balthazar, he realized he’d given the teleporter too much time. Emerald eyes—so similar to his own—froze him on the spot. A maelstrom of emotion swirled in those ancient depths.
Luc would never have children, and suddenly, he was thankful for that small mercy. Because pain unlike any he understood radiated from his father in that moment.
His heart broke for him, for everyone.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had nothing. No solution. No real information. It was as if his gift had stalled when he needed it most.
Why can’t I figure this out?
Again he tried to say something. Anything. And the look in his father’s eyes said he understood all too well, which only made it worse.
“Aidan, I need you to make a phone call,” Issac announced from the second floor. He stood with his hands on the railing, his stance far too calm.
Balthazar pulled away from Aidan, his brown gaze sharp as he focused on Issac. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice riddled with shock.
A wave of calm settled over Luc at seeing his number one lieutenant alert and alive. It’s going to be okay, he realized. We’re going to get through this. Saying it to the others was one thing; believing it was entirely another.
“Yes,” Issac replied as he started down the steps. “For those of you unable to read my mind, I have a theory. Cherie and Robert clued me in to it with their mention of extra food. Amelia was entertaining. So where are the guests?”
He stopped in the foyer and tucked his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants.
“Did you find them?” Aidan asked, his voice low and laden with emotion. Luc hadn’t heard that tone from him since Amelia’s mother passed several centuries ago. She’d been the love of Aidan’s life, not that he spoke of it often.
“No,” Issac replied. “But I did find a bottle of red wine in the fridge while searching for evidence of her dinner party.”
Luc frowned. “What?”
“Yes, that was my initial reaction. Amelia would never refrigerate red wine. I think she placed it there as a hint.” His pupils flared. “It contained blood—O negative—and was from a popular vineyard in the South of France.”
“No…” Aidan shook his head. “Jonathan?”
Issac didn’t react to the name. “Call him. Ask him when he last saw Amelia and Eli. Say you’re trying to get in touch and no one is responding. Something. See how he responds.”
“You think Jonathan did this?” Luc asked even as his mind started cataloging the possibility. It would explain how someone entered the home undisturbed, why Eli showed no signs of a fight, and how they knew to destroy the surveillance evidence. Jonathan possessed enough knowledge of the Conclave to fabricate a scene as well. “But what does he gain from this?” And why hadn’t I realized something so obvious?
“Power,” Aidan whispered. “He’s always craved it. Isn’t that why he created the CRF? He wanted to be in charge of something. But what is he hoping to gain by sparking an Immortal war?”
“I may be able to answer that,” Mateo replied as he joined them with a device in his hand.
Issac didn’t seem surprised by the declaration, indicating he’d already spoken to his progeny about his theory. “Did you track his phone?” he asked.
Apparently, they’d been busy while Luc was wandering aimlessly around the ballroom. He hadn’t even considered Jonathan as a culprit, hadn’t really considered anyone other than the Conclave. That wasn’t like him at all. For the first time in his existence, his gift had truly failed him. Because of his grief? The weight of having to carry an entire nation on his shoulders? His age? Nearly four thousand years of living took a toll on one such as him.
I need to analyze this later. I can’t afford for it to happen again.
“Jonathan was here tonight,” Mateo informed, his focus on the screen in his hand. “Just returned to the city about an hour ago.”
“Timing is right,” Issac replied. “What else?”
“He’s building a paramilitary unit that specializes in hunting and killing rogue immortals. There’s also something about a new research wing that I haven’t been able to hack into yet. His technology is crazy advanced; I’d be envious if I wasn’t so fucking irritated by it.” Mateo tapped something on his device and sat on the stairs. “I’ll keep digging.”
“He’s mentioned the Sentinel unit to me,” Aidan said. “Their primary purpose is to save mortals in dangerous situations. However, he did say he wanted to prepare them to go against immortals should the need arise.”
“It seems he’s trying to create one.” Balthazar crossed his arms, all signs of sadness gone and replaced by anger. “We need sufficient proof before we act on this.”
“Working on it,” Mateo mumbled, his mind fully engaged in the task. Issac had chosen well in turning this one into an Ichorian. His affinity for technology was very helpful.
“Why would Osiris allow him to create a military unit in the middle of Ichorian territory?” Luc asked, confused. He could see no logical reason for it to be allowed. Granted, he didn’t quite trust his gifts at the moment, given his obvious mishap. Even so…“It seems contrary to his goals.”
“Perhaps they have a deal where Jonathan tracks rogues and returns them for punishment?” Aidan suggested. “I’m more interested in knowing where Jonathan procured his funding for the CRF to begin with, because it wasn’t from me.”
“I’ve wondered that myself,” Issac said. “He was never one for investing or saving.”
“Did he approach you for financing?” Aidan wondered.
“No, but he is interested in partnering with Wakefield Pharmaceuticals on a business level, an idea I’ve not yet entertained.”
“Perhaps you should,” Aidan replied.
“Or perhaps I should kill him.” The nonchalance in Issac’s voice did not match the furious gleam in his gaze. “If we find sufficient proof of his guilt, I will slit his throat, allow him to recover, and do it again and again until I’m satisfied with his death. Then I will light him on fire and force him to watch as his body slowly crumbles into ash.”
Luc didn’t bother to point out the unfeasibility of the latter part of his plan or that he would require an incinerator of high heat to turn the body to ash. Wait, how did Jonathan turn Amelia to ash? Another misstep in his intelligence-gathering earlier. “Mateo, is there a crematorium nearby?”
“Ahead of you, and no, there’s not. But I suspect he didn’t need one.” Mateo’s brow furrowed. “He’s been experimenting with bullets that can incinerate the blood from within, as well as mobile incineration units. Which explains the swift cremation, but, hmm.” He stood. “I need to see Eli’s body again.” He didn’t elaborate, just left.
“The blood doesn’t look right,” Balthazar explained, letting the rest of the room in on Mateo’s thought process. “And he’s almost certain Jonathan is behind this, based on his research.”
The puzzle pieces began to move into place, his gift finally registering the task at hand. It settled over him in a flourish of details, all coming together at once. His mind spun, weaving a scenario that fit. How he didn’t see it earlier was beyond him because everything seemed perfectly clear now.
Luc ran his fingers through his hair, relieved to feel somewhat grounded again. “His motive is clear; he’d profit from an Immortal war, especially if it went public. Think of the government funding he’d receive if he could produce an army of super soldiers already equipped to handle Ichorians and Hydraians. It’s a risky endeavor, but certainly feeds his power complex.”
“Would Osiris ever allow it to succeed to that point?” Aidan asked, his focus on Luc.
“It wouldn’t matter,” Luc pointed out. “We all know he could care less about humanity and considers himself a superior being. What I don’t understand is how Jonathan thinks he could be an even match against Osiris and the Conclave. They would destroy him with ease.”
Aidan was already nodding. “He must have some other play, some weapon we’re unaware of.”
“Likely tied to the financial backer?” Luc suggested.
“Very possible.” Aidan’s brow furrowed. “Even if we find Jonathan guilty, we need additional information to proceed. Someone is pulling strings. He’s not intelligent enough to pull this off on his own.”
“Not to interrupt, but Mateo just confirmed his suspicions,” Balthazar said, his face pale. “The blood covering Eli doesn’t belong to him. It was planted to hide the true cause of death—incineration from within.”
A new type of weapon.
One that could incinerate the blood on impact?
“That confirms Jonathan’s involvement,” he whispered more to himself than to the room. “The Conclave would never develop such technology. They’d prefer mental and physical power over a gun with fancy bullets.”
Issac, who had been calm and quiet the entire time, began to pace. “I agree with Aidan. Jonathan is not intelligent enough to orchestrate this on his own. We need to gather more information.”
Luc nodded, agreeing. The emotional side of him craved revenge, but the rational side confirmed the need to think this through carefully. They needed a plan. “What do you suggest, Issac?”
His sapphire gaze smoldered. “He wants a partnership. I’ll give him one. Then we play the long game, determine whom he’s working for, what he is trying to achieve, and take everything from him. Including his life.”
“The evidence will be needed to justify the execution with the Conclave as well,” Aidan added. “Osiris will not be pleased to lose an Ichorian—even one as weak as Jonathan—without due cause. And unfortunately, assassinating two Hydraians won’t qualify even if he did it with the intention of provoking a war.”
Hmm, and if they killed Jonathan without proper evidence, that itself could prompt retribution from the Ichorians. Yes, they needed to play this strategically, not emotionally.
“We need to keep this knowledge between us for now. The fewer who know, the better.” It would be hard enough for those in this room to remain natural and calm around Jonathan; Luc could not imagine an entire island of pissed-off Hydraians around the culprit of their pain. Amelia was well loved, as was Eli.
“I concur.” Issac stopped pacing. “Where did Tristan go?”
“He went with Jayson and the mortals to the guest house on the property. We’ll apprise them both—Alik and Jacque too—of our findings. No one else.”
“Not necessary.” Balthazar gestured up with his chin. Alik and Jacque both sat on the second-floor landing, their backs against the railing. “They’ve heard everything, and Alik sent messages to Jayson and Tristan.”
Luc nodded. “Good. Then all that’s left is to make appropriate arrangements. We need to grieve.”
His heart ached with the words, but he knew them to be true. Amelia and Eli required a proper ceremony—a goodbye filled with tears, memories, and, most importantly, love. It’s what they both would have wanted and what his people needed.
After he finished holding everyone together and cherishing them all to the best of his ability, Luc would retreat to the serenity of his home. And only then would he allow himself to truly break.
A leader is the strength his people seek when they need reminding of the light. It’s in the darkness that he mourns. Alone. Always alone.
Luc cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “All right. Let’s bring Eli and Amelia home.”
Issac: To remind us all why Jonathan is going to die?
* * *
Tom: Yes. Painfully.
* * *
Jayson: Good to see you two agreeing on something finally.
* * *
Stas: I have a question.
* * *
Luc: Shoot.
* * *
Stas: Why did you skip chapter three?
* * *
Luc: Chapter three? There were only three chapters.
* * *
Stas: It goes from two to four.
* * *
B: Huh. Weird. Seems to be a glitch in the formatting.
* * *
Alik: Or maybe fate is wishing this book would fucking end already?
* * *
B: So negative. I think we need a sexy story, Luc, to improve the mood.
* * *
Stas: Hold on. Before we go there, I have another question. Eli mentioned Amelia being the daughter of a duchess. Does that make Issac a duke?
* * *
Issac: Yes, I inherited the title when my birth father died.
* * *
Stas: Seriously?
* * *
Issac: Does that increase the romance for you, love?
* * *
Stas: No, but it explains your wealth and, uh, personality.
* * *
Issac: Meaning?
* * *
B: Your priggish nature?
* * *
Tom: Don’t forget the arrogance.
* * *
Issac: Are we going to finish this book or continue to assassinate my character?
* * *
Stas: I just meant it explained his formality. You should probably start the next story now.
* * *
Amelia: Can you try for something more uplifting, please? I’m rather tired of living in the past.
* * *
Luc: Brazil?
* * *
B: Brazil.
* * *
Leela: Real version or fake one?
* * *
B: Well, hello, sweetheart. And just who might you be?
* * *
Leela: Yeah, I thought the real version too. I’ll take over after your introduction, boys.
* * *
B: I like her.
* * *
Luc: Me too. Who is she?
* * *
B: No idea. Let’s find out.
“Before we begin, let’s make sure you’re properly up to speed. Remember this scene from Forbidden Bonds?”
—B
* * *
———
* * *
The sadness in his expression answered her thought. He brushed his thumb against her neck in a soothing gesture that made it hard to refuse him. “All right,” she murmured and stood.
“Don’t go too far, A.” The emotion in her brother’s voice tugged at her heart. Her relationship with him differed from what she had with Issac, mostly because she didn’t grow up with Luc, but she loved him. Even when she disagreed with a decision, such as keeping Tom locked up. He stood as she walked over to him and engulfed her in a hug.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.
“I know.” He kissed her hair and held her a little longer than he used to, as if he feared she might disappear on him again. “Let’s talk in the morning. I’ll make waffles.”
Balthazar snorted beside them. “Rubbish.”
“Ignore him,” Luc replied as he let her go. “Pancakes are flat and shapeless, while waffles are geometrically delicious.”
Amelia smiled at the familiar debate. “Good to know not everything has changed around here.”
“Pancakes can hold a variety of shapes,” Balthazar argued.
“But do they form pockets for the maple syrup?”
“Not all of us are obsessed with even servings.”
Luc arched a haughty brow. “That’s not an answer.”
“Jesus Christ,” Alik muttered. “Make it stop.”
Jayson chuckled and shook his head. “B, I thought you were going on a walk, man.”
“Right.” Balthazar extended his arm to her. “Walk with me, and I’ll explain why pancakes are the superior breakfast food along the way.”
She slid her arm through his and grinned. “You realize I’ve heard this debate a thousand times, yes?”
He looked at Luc and addressed him instead of her. “I’ve proven you wrong a dozen times on that front.” His gaz
e narrowed. “You’re on. Next weekend. I choose Brazil. Fine. Yes, maple syrup is allowed. Whipped cream as well. All the toppings, Luc. That, too, and yes, I pick Jay. Deal.”
“What kinky challenge did I just agree to?” Jayson asked.
“Luc will fill you in while Amelia and I take a walk.”
She snorted. “You act as though I’m a blushing bride.” She knew Balthazar and Luc were constantly engaged in a battle of wits, and it usually involved sexual escapades of some sort. Seemed this one involved breakfast, Brazilian women, and teams. I don’t want to know.
“One day I’ll corrupt you, love.” Balthazar grinned. “Don’t you worry.”
* * *
———
* * *
B: Perfect. Now you’re ready. Flip the page to find out why pancakes are superior to waffles.
