by C. D. Hersh
Stepping forward, Roc shoved the guard backward. He landed with a thud on the hard tile floor, his bald head bouncing from the impact. Roc winced. “That’s going to hurt when he wakes.” He searched for Falhman.
Fingers stuffed into his ears, Falhman stood on the other side of the room. When he saw Roc face him he unplugged his ears. “You’re right. Not what I expected from a Promised One. I take it your persuasive powers aren’t innate.”
“Let’s simply say they aren’t instantaneous. Once you get to know me, I don’t do half bad in the persuasion department. Hypnotism gives me the boost I need to get over the first hump.” Without hypnotism his fiancée, goody goody that she was, would have never gone out with him knowing his true nature. The rest of their romance he’d let blossom on his pure sexual prowess, because he’d fallen in love with her and wanted real reciprocation from her, not something he’d forced.
“How long will your suggestions last?”
“Depends on the complexity. Simple commands about six months.”
“Ever hypnotize a crowd?”
Roc laughed. “That’s how I got to be class president.”
“Must have been hell for your parents dealing with a hypnotizing, pre-teen, potential Promised One.”
“They figured it out when Dad caught me hypnotizing Mom into lifting my grounding. Then it was hell for me.”
“Tell Owen he wants to stay with me and learn about the society. He loves everything shifter. Evil shifter.”
Roc gave the instruction to Owen. “You’ll awaken on my command.” He asked Falhman, “Any suggestions for the guard?”
“Nah. He’s dumb as a rock already and does anything I tell him.” He paused for a moment and then chuckled. “Tell him he’s a chicken and make him cackle. I haven’t had a really good laugh today.”
Cheap parlor tricks were beneath him. His powers should count for important things. Turning to keep Falhman from seeing the disgust he felt at his suggestion, Roc gave the command. Rising, the guard tucked his hands under his armpits, head bobbing like a bird. A loud “bawk-bawk-bawk” spilled out of him. As he pecked and flapped his way across the room, Falhman erupted into peals of laughter.
Crossing to the guard, Roc snapped his fingers in front of the man’s eyes, and said, “Awake.”
He blinked as he came out of the trance, gazing stupidly around the room. “How’d I get over here?”
“You walked,” Roc said tersely. He moved to Owen and awoke him.
Owen smiled at Roc, all traces of disdain and fear gone. “So you’re a Promised One,” he said brightly. “I’ve always wanted to meet one. I’m going to give my mom what-for for keeping you hidden from me.” He stood and shook Roc’s hand. “What’s it like to be such a powerful shifter? You got a ring? I always wanted one, but never had it. Mom said Dad didn’t leave me one.”
Falhman’s raucous laugh startled Owen into silence. Roc twisted his head toward his shoulder working out a tension kink. Great. He’d created a babbling shifter groupie. Sometimes he didn’t know his own power.
Sylvia found her son laughing and backslapping Roc and Falhman, something she’d never expected to see. What she feared was Owen tied up again because he bloodied a few noses. She shot Falhman an angry glare. “What have you done to my son?” she demanded.
“Brought him into the fold,” he said. “Something you should have done a long time ago.”
“I’ve been working on it,” she said defensively.
“If he’s not for us, he’s against us. I don’t tolerate people who are against me. Remember, Sylvia.”
She didn’t like the veiled threat in the statement. “I will.”
Moving away from Roc and Owen, he asked in a lowered voice, “What do you have for me?”
“Nothing yet.”
“I’m not a patient man.”
“The body was taken from the hospital morgue. Possibly for an autopsy.” She’d tried to convince herself of that on the way over to keep him from reading deception in her aura.
“Why would they need an autopsy?”
“Sudden heart attack in an otherwise healthy woman?”
“This isn’t going to cause a problem, is it?”
She certainly hoped not. “I was careful. They won’t find anything. But I’ll need a couple more days to find her.”
“I think the immediate threat of your son bolting is over. I’ll grant you till the end of the week to provide solid proof.”
“Or?”
“The original agreement stands.”
“Don’t you mean threat?”
“Threat is such a harsh word, don’t you think? I prefer agreement.”
She stared him down, unwilling to give in. Falhman’s eyes narrowed when she didn’t soften.
“Come now, Sylvia. Don’t be unyielding. A-gree-ment is merely a three-syllable-word. Things can go much smoother if you’re willing to say-and do-it.”
She tossed her long black hair behind her shoulder in a haughty move. “I think I might be starting to hate you, Falhman.”
His countenance darkened at her words, and she wished them back the minute she’d said them.
What’s the matter with you, Sylvia? It’s stupid to challenge such a powerful man.
Owen’s tenor laugh floated across the room, drawing her attention away from Falhman’s scowl. He was right when he said Owen should have been brought into the fold. But that was her job. Not his.
“I’ll do what you ask, just leave Owen alone.”
“Oh, I plan to from now on,” Falhman said, his tone lightening. “Roc is going to be your son’s mentor as soon as we can get a ring for him. I was thinking Baron Jordan’s might do. Father to son, you know.”
“Baron’s dead, and I’m sure Rhys Temple has his ring. If he read the inscription before midnight on Samhain, we’ll have to kill him to break the magical connection. Doing that doesn’t fit your plans to bring him to our side.”
“Then get Alexi’s ring. You should have taken it when you killed her.”
“Taking the ring would have raised suspicions right away. No way would Eli, Delaney, or Rhys believe she died from a heart attack if her ring was missing.”
“Get it. She’s a Jordan. It’s only right Owen has a ring from his bloodline.”
“Not to mention from the heart of the magic bloodstone.” Such a ring would give her son an advantage in the power department. Especially since he was starting late in life. “I’ll see he gets a ring.”
“Good.” He slid his arm around her waist and steered her toward Owen. “Let’s join the others.”
Owen rose and hugged her when she approached. “How long have you been hiding this guy from me?” he asked, pointing at Roc. “I like him much better than all those others who paraded through your life when I was a kid.” He slapped Roc on the back. “He’s a keeper, if you ask me.”
She hadn’t heard as many sentences strung together from her usually reticent son since he was a toddler in the “why” stage. “Are you okay, Owen?”
“Never better, Mom. Sit. I’ll get you something to drink.” He crossed to the bar and poured a drink. Returning, he sank onto the couch next to her and handed her the glass. “Isn’t this great? Four shifters, five if we count baldy over there, having a good-old time.”
“You’re not a shifter, Owen,” Sylvia said.
“Not yet. But I’m going to be as soon as they find a ring for me.” He reached for his drink on the table. Sylvia snatched it from him and sniffed the contents.
“How many of these have you had?”
“One.” He took the drink back. “I’m not drunk, Mom. Honest.” He took a gulp and set the glass down. “You should have let me in earlier on how much fun these guys are. They wouldn’t have had to kidnap me to get
me to come.”
Sylvia set her drink on the table with a bang, sloshing the contents onto the polished glass. “Oh, shut up, Owen. You’ve got diarrhea of the mouth.” She rotated toward Falhman. “What did you do to my normally strong, silent son? Give him drugs?”
He smiled at her, a sarcastic twist to his lips “I didn’t do a thing.”
“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with this,” she said to Roc.
He shrugged and held his hands out, palms in an it-wasn’t-my-fault position.
Her gaze swung between the two powerful men, Falhman and Roc. The answer suddenly hit her. Roc had used his Promised One persuasive powers on Owen, probably prompted by Falhman. “You,” she said, addressing Roc. “Reverse whatever you did.”
“Don’t be such a shrew, Sylvia,” Falhman said curtly. “It’s what you wanted all along. Admit it.”
“What I wanted was for Owen to decide on his own that he wants to be part of my world.”
“But I do, Mom, and I have decided on my own.”
She faced her son, taking his hand in hers. “I know you think you have, honey, but listen to me-”
Roc laid his hand on her arm and squeezed gently, stopping her from continuing. “Sylvia, I think you’d better leave this one alone.”
She glared at him. “Or what? Are you going to persuade me, too?”
“If I have to in order to keep you safe, I will.”
Sighing, she released Owen’s hand. “Since he’s no threat,” she said to Falhman, “can I take him home?”
“No way, Mom. I’m staying here. Take Roc home with you.” He winked at Roc. “He’ll take good care of you.”
She stood, grabbed Roc, and yanked him toward the door. “Good idea.”
The door swinging shut barely cleared Roc’s backside before Sylvia lit into him. He leaned against the hallway wall and let her vent. No use trying to stop a ranting mother. When she’d run out of steam, he raised a black eyebrow at her and answered in a calm voice.
“Yes, I persuaded him. Falhman ordered me to. Said he wanted to test my Promised One powers. What did you expect me to do? Refuse?”
“Yes. That is my son in there. You had no right to do what you did.”
“I may be a Promised One, Sylvia, but I’m not running the show.”
“Not yet.” She tugged him toward the elevator. “We need to talk. But not here.”
He followed her out of the building and into her car in the parking lot. Sylvia locked the doors and twisted toward him, her eyes serious. “Is what you did to Owen permanent?”
Had Falhman misread her desire to bring Owen into the society? Should he tell her the truth? She was his mentor and his lover, but, first and foremost, she was Owen’s mother. He took pity on her. “No, it’s a jump-start method, which only lasts about six months and allows me to get closer to people until I can use my charm to win them over.”
“How successful are you at the real persuasion?”
He drew his brows together. “I don’t get it. First you’re yelling about me convincing Owen, then you’re worried it’s permanent, and now you’re asking me if my real persuasions are effective. You’re flipping like a hooked bass. Are you asking me to leave Owen alone or make his persuasion permanent?”
“Neither. I had someone else in mind. Someone bigger.”
Roc wasn’t certain he liked the conspiratorial tone of her voice. “Who?”
“Falhman.”
The suggestion literally rocked him against the car door. “Do you have a death wish?”
“You’re a Promised One. If you pass all the proof tests you’ll be the leader anyway.”
“If being the operative word there. No Promised One has made the final cut.”
“All the more reason to consider my suggestion. You’re a strong shifter. Why not accelerate the process and take over Falhman’s reign right now?
She had a point there, but he wasn’t certain it was worth the risk. He liked being alive. “What’s in it for you, Sylvia?”
“I get to reign next to you.”
“You could now with Falhman. I’m sure you have the assets to convince him.”
“Not the same. He’s married. Granted, it’s a name only thing, but she’ll never let go. I don’t want to be one of his many consorts, at his beck and call without any real power. I’ve got that now without the benefit of sex.”
“You’d rather stab him in the back?”
She shrugged. “It’s better if I forge my own empire. Are you in?” Sylvia continued when he didn’t respond right away. “There’s another reason to consider this. You haven’t been able to do a proof test I know the other side’s Promised One has. Take control over the battle before they do.”
“You know what the other side’s Promised One can do? How?”
“I know him, intimately.”
A flash of jealousy surged through him. “You don’t mean now, do you?”
Sylvia laughed. “Don’t get your testosterone riled. He’s involved, or he was.”
The flare of auric passion skimming her body didn’t make him feel any better. She was thinking about screwing the other guy. “For now, you’re with me, Sylvia. If you don’t want to continue our relationship, say so. But I don’t take kindly to being cuckolded.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. You’re keeping me happy. Besides, screwing you is part of mentoring you, to find out what you can do.”
Ouch! That hurt. “Guess I’ll have to try harder to make you forget the work aspect.” He traced his index finger to the inside of her thigh. She shivered appropriately, soothing his feelings. “What can this other Promised One do that I can’t?”
“I can’t say yet. You might develop the skill as our mentoring goes along, and I don’t want to influence the natural progression.”
“Is it big enough to take down Falhman?”
She laughed. “Only if I could do it.”
“Must not be an important proof test if it’s of no use against all enemies.”
“Maybe not, but it’s one hellava ride.”
Her secrecy piqued his curiosity and jealousy even more. What could this man do that he couldn’t, and why would she describe it in such a manner? “Who is he? I want to meet him.”
“Why? You planning to persuade him to reveal the secret?”
Good idea. “Maybe.”
Tipping her head to the side, she studied him. “You know, that might not be such a bad idea. If we could combine the power the two of you have, we could easily overthrow Falhman.”
“I thought you said he was a good Turning Stone shifter, not a rogue. Why would he even consider joining forces with us?”
“Because you’ll convince him you are a good guy.”
“Not likely if he has auric reading powers.”
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have them.”
“How could he not? All high level shifters have auric powers. To be a Promised One he has to be at least a high level shifter.”
“He’s only recently come into the society. His ring and whatever powers he has are very new to him. Besides, not every Promised One has the same powers or fully developed auric powers.”
“The ones who make it the farthest do.”
“Then we’ll have to hone your ability to mask your aura.”
He cast her a skeptical glance. “I’ve never heard of this before.”
“Auric masking is not a common skill, but it does exist. I can teach you.”
“Would be handy.” Too bad he didn’t know about it as a teenager. He’d been busted by Dad every time he’d tried to scam him. He thought about Sylvia’s suggestion. Might not be a bad idea to hedge his bets, and Dad would certainly approve. “I’m in, for the moment. But if
I think this deal is going south, I’m out and you are, too. I’d rather be alive and only a potential Promised One than a dead traitor.”
“Knowing how you’ve been raised, Roc, I can’t ever believe you’d be a traitor. Being a rogue shifter is in your blood. In fact, rogue should be your middle name.”
He laughed, but he had a feeling it was a name more suited to her. From what he’d seen of her so far he suspected she’d turn on her own mother. He’d follow his father’s advice. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and get in bed with anyone you don’t trust. Despite his attraction to Sylvia, she was starting to fall into the last category.
