The grand foyer of my father’s home looked like a showcase, marble floors and walls decorated with priceless works of art, displayed to their best advantage so the “wow” factor grabbed you right as you walked in. I’d always found it pretentious and overwhelming. Plus, the fear that I’d break something had kept me from fully enjoying the magnificence. It was so perfect, visitors were instantly uncomfortable. Jedren knew how to wage psychological warfare from the moment “guests” stepped inside.
Give me my comfy little apartment with secondhand furniture any day. I’d take a home over wealth.
We wandered down the hallway, past the grand staircase and back to my father’s office. Adjacent to the two-story library full of numerous first-edition books, Jedren’s office was huge. Inside sat a conference table, his large desk—made from an incredible exotic wood—plush leather chairs, a big-screen television, two computers, and more antiques. Hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment and relics filled the room.
Suddenly and foolishly, I wished I’d worn something besides my plain lavender cotton shirt and jeans—business casual would have been better suited to this meeting. I needed to remember to play the part, and dressing up even a little would have given me a confidence boost. My long dark hair was braided in an effort to tame the unruly waves, which was a step up from my normal ponytail. Seattle’s climate was hell on curly hair. At least I’d put on makeup and worn cute leather mules.
Teryl whistled under his breath, making me smile. I’d forgotten he’d never been in the grandiose office. When we’d played as kids, it had always been at my mother’s house—my real home. “Over the top, isn’t it?” I whispered.
He nodded with a faint frown, still trying to take it all in.
Jedren indicated we should take a seat at the conference table. An older gentleman was already there, waiting patiently with his hands resting on his lap. I watched him warily.
“My attorney, Charles Janson,” my father said, in answer to my unspoken question.
“Er…hello,” I replied, not sure what to make of having an attorney present. I wanted the contract binding with blood, but I hadn’t thought about the normal, human legalities.
The attorney stood and offered his hand. I shook it, still confused. “Do I need an attorney too?”
My father lifted the corner of his mouth in what I’m sure he intended to be a smile. “No, Mr. Janson is fae. He’ll ensure the contracts are official and fair.”
Fair? I doubted he knew what the word meant. However, I trusted Teryl to interpret the legalese for me.
I looked at Mr. Janson more closely as he sat back down. He didn’t look fae. I don’t know what I expected to see—wings, or sparkles shooting out of every orifice, maybe. Instead, he looked like a regular guy. I think something out of the ordinary would have made me feel more comfortable. Mr. Janson’s normalcy made it creepier somehow. He continued to sit patiently under my inspection.
“If it will ease your concerns, the fae are neutral, so the contract is in both of your favors. Can I answer any questions?” he asked in a polite, quiet voice.
Embarrassed to be caught staring so blatantly, I sat down. “No, sorry. I’ve never seen a…uh…fae before.”
“Faery.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“I am a faery,” he explained in the same polite voice. “I am fae, which references the group of us. Plural. By myself, I am a faery. Singular.”
Um, okay. Grammar lessons from a faery. “Great, thanks for clearing that up.” I looked at Teryl, who winked. At least someone had a sense of humor.
The attorney nodded and smiled, as if pleased to be of assistance. I turned to my father, hoping to speed up the process and get out of here. “You are holding my stipulations. What else needs to be signed?”
“Our contract. I had Mr. Janson draw one up for us.” He handed me a stack of papers.
I glanced at Teryl, who watched Mr. Janson. “Is that true?” No way would I take my father’s word for it.
He met my gaze. “Yeah, it should be fine. The fae are impartial, so they keep things fair. It’s a common practice. Here, let me look it over.” He reached for the papers and scanned through them for a few minutes. I noticed Maxim had taken the seat next to my father and had a legal pad and pen at the ready. I had no idea how I’d tolerate working with him.
Teryl handed the papers back. “Looks good to me.”
“Whom, exactly, do you work for, Teryl?” Jedren asked in a mild voice. He sat back and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “The last time I checked, you were on my payroll.” Mild but pointed, the rebuff hit home.
“Isn’t it my day off?” Teryl asked, keeping his composure. Score one for Teryl.
“He’s here as my friend, not as anyone’s employee,” I countered.
“Actually, that’s one of the things in the contract,” Teryl said.
“What are you talking about?” If my father had fired him…
Teryl smiled, though it was strained around the edges. “Your father wants to transfer me from his accounting department.”
“To where?” If he shipped Teryl overseas, I’d walk out right now.
“He wants to appoint me as your adviser.”
My adviser. I looked at Jedren, who had an amused glint in his eyes. Jedren wouldn’t know humor if it slapped him in the face. Not once in my entire life had he done anything nice for me if it didn’t benefit himself.
“Consider it an early birthday gift,” Jedren said as I stared at him.
In six days’ time, I would turn twenty-eight. Two weeks ago, I had been looking forward to it. Now? It made me nervous. This birthday could prove to be my undoing. Mentally speaking.
My recent trip to Scotland was to find my fate. After learning my father was a shadow elf, I had also been told by Teryl that I had a fate written specifically for me. My father should have given it to me years ago but hadn’t for reasons known only to him. The trip had yielded far more than I’d bargained for, including the knowledge that my mother wasn’t a nice, normal human, either. She was a demigod. I still wasn’t clear on why my father had killed her, but I was guessing her demigod status had played a significant role.
Because of my demigod blood, I would gain my full powers on or around the age of twenty-eight. I didn’t know what to expect. The surprises I’d encountered so far didn’t offer much hope. They’d all included pain or death.
I ruthlessly silenced my depressing inner monologue and focused on Teryl. “Are you okay with that?” What I really wanted to know was if he’d read more into it. Would he even want to change careers, knowing the risks involved in working so closely with my father? He worked for the accounting department of Warlow Imports, but he hadn’t been on my father’s radar until now. I was scared for him.
“Yeah, it’s great.” Teryl’s eyes spoke volumes. We’d have a lot to talk about later. But if he thought it was okay to sign, I might as well get it over with.
“Okay, how do we add my stipulations to the contract?”
Jedren handed my sheet to Mr. Janson, who looked it over. “You agree to these?” he asked my father.
“I agree, with a few edits.” He pointed them out, and they made adjustments until we were all satisfied.
Mr. Janson nodded, pulled out a small stamp, and added his official seal of approval. “If both parties are in agreement, we’re ready to sign.”
My father took off his jacket and rolled back one of the sleeves. He gestured at my right arm. “Roll up your sleeve. The blood must be taken from the palm of your right hand.”
I obeyed automatically, years of programming kicking in. Mentally slapping myself, I stopped. “Why the palm of the right hand?”
Mr. Janson cleared his throat. “Are you right-handed?” At my nod, he went on, “Then the right hand is your power hand. The blood is stronger there, magically speaking. An open palm signifies trust, and it binds the contract for both parties.”
That made sense, I
guess. “Thanks for clearing things up.” Again.
He smiled, the wrinkles on his face crinkling in interesting ways, and grabbed a box from the chair next to him. He set it on the table carefully. My father waited, palm up, as the attorney pulled out a long, wicked-looking dagger.
My breath hissed between my teeth. “You’re going to cut us with that? I mean, can we just do a drop of blood? Is that…uh…weapon necessary?” I thought a small needle would work just fine. That thing looked like it could take off a few limbs and maybe chop down some trees.
Mr. Janson shifted in his chair, his only sign of impatience. “My dear, this is a ceremonial fae dagger, carved from the bone of a fae. It seals the contract. It’s part of the magical binding.”
Bone? I looked at the serrated edge closely. Instead of a polished, shiny blade, this dagger had a dull, muted finish. Yes, it definitely looked like bone. Nasty. I didn’t want someone’s bone cutting my palm.
“We all have better things to do today,” my father said. Despite his calm tone, I heard the underlying threat. He’d barely tolerated my stipulations, and now I was trying his patience. It had been my suggestion to sign this in blood; I couldn’t get squeamish now. And anyway, I’d been on the wrong side of a knife more times than I could count. Luke had used his knife, which the bastard named “Princess,” to mark me throughout my childhood. To willingly submit to being cut again would be nearly impossible. It took most of my mental strength to hold the old fears at bay. I’d sworn to prevent Luke and Jedren from hurting or killing anyone else. This was just one more step toward that goal.
Stifling a sigh, I stood and offered the attorney my right palm. Better to get it over with and not piss off my father. I stared at the far wall when Mr. Janson took my hand in his, and I felt a small jolt of energy when he touched me. It seemed to be coming from the dagger. I closed my eyes when I felt the sharp tip touch my skin. Don’t pass out; don’t show weakness.
Right as the blade drew blood, the shock of a ward hit me. I’d recently learned a ward is like an invisible, magical security system attached to an item or building. I’d run into a number of them in Scotland. I wasn’t expecting one to hit in Seattle.
I had a split second to think, Oh crap. Words whispered through my head, searing into my memory. I gritted my teeth to prevent them from spilling out of my mouth and locked my knees to keep from falling. I didn’t know if Jedren knew about this new power of mine, but I couldn’t tip him off now.
Still, a small groan escaped my lips before I could help it. The burning sensation indicated a ward mark had settled onto my upper left thigh. It stung like hell. Damn it. Last week, I’d discovered that not only are there such things as wards, but that I’m a ward thief. I still don’t understand what that means, exactly, but when I come into contact with a ward I absorb the magic. Depending on the size and type of ward, it ranges from a mild tingle to the feeling of being electrocuted. Or so I assume, having never been electrocuted. Needless to say, it’s not a pleasant experience. And I end up with a mark, signifying which ward I now have permanently etched in my brain and on my body.
The first ward I’d accidentally stolen had been a big one. It had felt much like I assume a Taser would—minus the loss of bladder control. I didn’t like the label of thief, because it hadn’t been intentional. But if nothing else, I hoped the wards would come in handy. First, I had to figure out how to use them.
I added that to my mental To Do list.
I opened my eyes to see Mr. Janson staring at me questioningly. His eyes were a strange, light green color behind the sheen of his glasses. And they were very old. I had an unpleasant feeling he saw much more than I wanted him to.
“Elleodora, it’s a small enough cut. Don’t be so dramatic.” Disgust laced my father’s words, but I felt the sudden tension in my shoulders ease a bit. He didn’t know I’d just stolen a ward. I wanted to keep it that way.
“Sorry,” I muttered, pulling my hand away. I sat down heavily in the chair, wishing my knees would stop shaking.
Mr. Janson watched me for a second before taking the bloody knife and distributing my blood in an odd pattern on the paper. He then sterilized the dagger and reached for my father’s hand, repeating the process with meticulous care. My father didn’t make a sound, merely watched with indifference. After muttering a few words I couldn’t understand, Mr. Janson drew symbols in the air above the contract.
He bowed his head for a moment, then looked at me. “All finished. I’ll keep the original at my office and will have my secretary send you a copy later this week.”
“Oh. Okay, that’s fine.” I looked at my father, who adjusted his sleeve, then back to Mr. Janson. “Is that all?” It seemed a little anticlimactic.
“Yes,” Mr. Janson answered. “I have a few things I need to discuss privately with you, Elle. Mr. Warlow, a pleasure to see you.”
My father gave a curt nod, and his pale eyes cut to me. “I’ll give you the day to settle in. Though I expect you to meet with Maxim tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, he’ll find a new trainer for you.”
Maxim practically jumped out of his chair and hustled to open the library door for Jedren. “Yes, Mr. Warlow.”
Jedren left the room without another word.
I looked at Teryl, who shrugged at me. Okay, then.
Mr. Janson shuffled a few papers. “Elle, I haven’t seen a ward thief in many years. Your magic is very strong. Do you know how to handle the one you’ve taken?”
“Son of a…” Teryl trailed off with a sigh, covering his face.
Well, damn. I had hoped no one would notice. “Was it that obvious?”
Mr. Janson smiled, an expression genuine and startling in its in-tensity. “Only to a member of the fae. You now own one of our wards.”
“It’s not something I can control. Trust me, I didn’t mean to take it.” I watched his smile dim, and I quickly went on. “I just discovered it last week, and the few wards I’ve collected seem to—”
His mouth opened in shock and he interrupted my rambling. “You’ve collected a few in a week?”
“Yes, but it was an accident, and I…”
The attorney’s face had paled.
“What?” I looked at Teryl, who watched the exchange in resignation.
“I…” Mr. Janson took a breath. “I haven’t heard of a ward thief with that ability for centuries. Does your father know?”
I bit my lip. I’d have to tread carefully here.
He waved a hand at me. “Never mind; I know the answer. Some advice, young lady.” He leaned toward me, green eyes serious behind his glasses. “Keep that information to yourself. A ward thief of your caliber will cause quite a stir. I doubt you’d last long in your father’s care.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t need a reminder of that fact. After my parents divorced, I’d spent two weeks out of every year with my father, two weeks that had been full of torture at Luke’s hands. Jedren had eventually arranged a marriage for me to MacLean—one of my two mates—which meant I’d then spent more time here. It also meant Luke had had more opportunities to use his knife.
I lifted my chin. I’d lasted longer than most. “Care to elaborate?”
Mr. Janson shuffled the papers again. “The longer you fly under the radar, as they say, the better your chance of success.” He looked me straight in the eye when he said, “You’ll need your mate’s help.”
“For what?” I whispered.
“To defeat Jedren.”
I opened my mouth to protest because I have two mates. My fate specified, Fated for two, meant for one. Just thinking about Jax and MacLean calmed me. One was my employee, the other my former fiancé.
Mr. Janson shook his head before I could say anything about them. “We know. It was written decades ago. You’re the one.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? I have no idea what it means.” And it grated on my nerves. “It would be nice if someone could enlighten me. Besides, aren’t you my father’s attorney? Why wo
uld I trust you? Better yet, why are you telling me these things?”
“You need your mate’s help to fulfill your fate. He will play a crucial role. We want you to succeed, but many of us can’t interfere directly.” His lips tightened for a moment in frustration. “The gods prevent us if it’s not written in our fate.”
“If they prevent it, then how do you know? Is it written in a book? Are you making an assumption? I’m nobody’s hero, but I’d really like to know why some of you believe I am.” I had no desire to ride in to save the day, unless it involved getting rid of Luke and Jedren. “I’d also like to know why I have two mates. Am I the only one?”
Mr. Janson looked troubled by that question. “As far as I know, you are. I’ve never heard of it happening before. But the gods don’t do anything without good reason.”
Was it just me, or did he sound a little bitter? “Okay, so I’m the only one to have two mates in a while. Is this why I keep getting the ‘you’re the one’ line?”
“In part. Everything is connected, and your fate will become clear as your birthday moves closer. I’ve already said more than I should, though I wish I could elaborate.”
“Will the gods punish you if you answer a couple of simple questions?”
“I think a better question to ask Janson is, what does Jedren hold over him?” Teryl muttered.
Mr. Janson tilted his head toward Teryl. “Very astute. I am paying a debt to your father, Elle. No more, no less. I owe him no allegiance. The gods are a different matter, though. I will say this: you’ll find many allies. More than you might realize.”
Baffled, I stared at him. “Allies?” Thus far, I’d met only enemies, with the exception of Jax, Teryl, and MacLean.
He nodded. “This is much bigger than any of us. It goes beyond personal vendetta.”
I swore I saw reproach in his eyes. It rankled. “You don’t know anything about me. I’m not even sure what you’re referring to.” Lie. “And I don’t care.” Another lie. How did he know so much? Anyone who worked with my father automatically fell under suspicion. Maybe he was making it all up. It could be another of my father’s mind games.
Stone Cold Revenge (Set In Stone, Book Two) Page 2
