Blood Brothers (Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2)

by C. D. Hersh

  From the recesses of the great room couch, Falhman’s slim hand waved her forward and he ordered a drink for her with a single word command. “Whiskey.”

  She hated whiskey.

  “What news do you have for me?” he asked. “A name, perhaps?”

  “The name,” she replied. A doozy of a name she hoped would put her in his good graces indefinitely. “I found the birth certificates for Rhys and Roc, and the mother’s name.”

  Falhman sat forward, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Do tell, quickly now.”

  “McCraigen,” she said, watching closely for any reaction.

  He blanched and sunk against the couch cushions. “Kayla McCraigen?”

  “The same. I take it you know her?” From his reaction it was probably know in the Biblical sense.

  “Our paths have crossed,” he replied.

  Crossed my eye. I’ll bet my next month’s wages from Rogueman’s Bar you’ve crossed her in more ways than one.

  “The father?” he asked.

  “Apparently, she had an immaculate conception. No father was listed.”

  Marking out the empty line of the father’s name in the copies of the birth certificates she’d given Roc and Rhys kept her in the power seat. She wasn’t sure the same ruse would work with Falhman, so she followed her gut instinct.

  “I haven’t been able to find evidence of one, even though I searched under every rock in her history for him.” She paused and sipped the whiskey the butler handed to her. It tasted sweet thanks to her cunning deductions. “As a member of the famed McCraigen family, it appears Kayla had something big to hide.”

  She gave him a sly smile, feeling like she’d swallowed the proverbial canary. “I did find some photographs of Roc and Rhys when they were younger.” She set her drink on the coffee table, dug into her handbag, withdrew the snapshots, then slid them across to Falhman. “They look a lot like the photo in your office of your dead son.”

  He glanced at the pictures, feigning indifference, but she could see the shimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Really? What a coincidence.”

  “Oh, come on,” she said, exasperation lacing her voice. “You send me on this big search for the family lines of The Promised Ones on both sides of the society, then act as if the news I bring you is no big deal. Doesn’t wash, Falhman. A kindergartener could put this together, and I’m a whole lot smarter than a five-year-old.”

  Putting his index finger to his lips, he signaled her to be quiet. “Clear the area,” he commanded. His henchmen slipped soundlessly through the door on the other side of the great room. “You may be smarter than a five-year-old, my dear, but it appears you have the discretion of one.” His eyes narrowed and a crease formed between his brows. “This topic is not for general discussion, Sylvia. Do you understand?”

  She understood all right. The bloodlines were why these two men were so powerful. “You’re Roc and Rhys’ father, and they have the blood of two major Turning Stone families running through them. Families who have access to Turning Stone rings made from the heart of the bloodstone. You have to be excited about this.”

  Unable to contain her own exhilaration, she leaned forward. With news like this, she and Roc could take Falhman down. His own son, or maybe even sons, were going to be the linchpin for the destruction of his rule and the rise of her rule. And Roc’s. Can’t forget him in this plan. He is even more essential than he had been before. Him and Rhys.

  “Think of what this means to the rogues. Your sons, your incredibly strong, talented shifter sons, could rule beside you. We’ve got Eli and his stupid followers right where we want them. Where he’s never been before.”

  Falhman scooted to the edge of the couch, angling over the coffee table as he caught her excitement. “All right, I admit I could be their father.”

  “Yes!” Sylvia’s hand fisted and rose involuntarily from her knee, pumping in a small motion in front of her chest. “I knew it.”

  “Could doesn’t mean is, however. I would need positive proof before I claimed them. DNA proof from a reliable and discreet source.”

  “Which Owen could provide. He’s a forensic scientist. He could tell you what he needs. Provide the lab space and supplies, and he could run the tests on the QT. You do have access to a lab, don’t you?”

  Falhman laughed. “I have access to anything I need, my dear, except Rhys’ DNA.”

  “I can get that. I work in the same office as he does, remember?”

  “Of course. I never forget anything of importance to me.” He relaxed onto the cushions and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We need to find a way to bring Rhys over to my side. After all, we have no idea what kind of poison he might have already been fed about us.”

  “He can’t know much, because he hasn’t had his ring long. Besides, Roc is working on him. I’ve no doubt he can manage him.”

  “Then it’s settled. As soon as I have the DNA results, we’ll set a meeting with my sons.” He paused and smiled, and for a second Sylvia saw beneath the hard, cruel exterior he showed the rest of the world. Then, as quickly as it came, the tenderness disappeared.

  She rose, ready to set the rest of the plan in motion. “Can I ask one thing?”

  He indicated she should proceed.

  “Did you love her? Kayla McCraigen?”

  “I did, but not enough to surrender all of this. Power, my dear, especially ultimate power, leaves no room for sentiment in one’s heart.” He cocked his head at her quizzically. “I’m surprised you’d ask the question, considering your history with Baron Jordan. It is, I would have supposed, a lesson you learned with the Jordan family massacre.”

  “I did,” she replied, unwilling to let him know otherwise. After all, she had spared Baron, the man she loved, and inadvertently Alexi, and then lied about what happened. She stared at the man seated in front of her. His reputation, the mere mention of his name, struck fear in the hearts of rogue shifters. If things didn’t go as he planned, she didn’t expect he would share her weakness.

  The whole office was buzzing when Sylvia arrived the next morning.

  “Have you heard?” Gladys asked, rushing to meet her as she neared her desk.

  Sylvia plopped her handbag onto her desktop and started to unbutton her coat. “I just arrived, Gladys, why would you think I’d heard anything?” She swiveled to face the office gossip. “What’s happened?”

  “Agent Delaney’s daughter was found dead in another person’s casket.”

  Sylvia’s fingers froze on the buttons. She didn’t care for Delaney, but she wouldn’t wish the death of a child on any mother.

  Gladys wrung her hands, and Sylvia saw real concern in the middle-aged woman’s eyes. “It’s awful, don’t you think? Awful.”

  “Yes, it is. Is she here? I want to offer my condolences.”

  Gladys stared at her, shock written all over her. “Would you be here if it were your child?”

  “Actually, I would. I think it’s better to keep the mind occupied when tragedy strikes.”

  Wrinkling her nose at Sylvia, Gladys sniffed. “Some people don’t get the grieving process. You have to grieve to move past the pain.”

  She disagreed. Pain motivated and fed passion. Pain should be kept close to the heart until no longer useful. Gladys started to leave, and Sylvia called to her.

  “I suppose you’ll be collecting for flowers for Agent Ramsey.” She dug into her handbag and took several bills from her wallet. “Here’s my contribution.”

  Gladys fingered the fifty dollars she’d handed her. “Oh, you’re very generous. I didn’t know you thought highly of Agent Ramsey.”

  “I don’t. But I’m a mother. In spite of what you might think, I do have feelings.”

  “Hummph,” Gladys replied. “If you showed them more around here, folk
s might think better of you.” She waved the bills in the air. “Thanks. This will go a long way to a beautiful arrangement.”

  Sylvia ground her teeth, fighting the urge to throw an acerbic barb at the middle-aged woman. Probably wouldn’t hurt the old bat, anyway. She whirled toward her desk in time to see Rhys slip through the door, coffee cup in hand. Tipping the cup high, he drained the last bit from it, crumpled the paper sides, then tossed it into the trash next to a desk. The promise to Falhman to get Rhys’ DNA popped to the forefront, and she began scheming how to retrieve the cup without anyone spotting her. Grabbing a pile of files from her inbox, she strode toward the trashcan. When she reached her target, she halted and let her files slide into the waste can.

  “Crap!” she exclaimed as she rooted in the trash. She retrieved the papers and the cup Rhys deposited, hiding it beneath the tangle of her papers. “I seem to be all fumble fingers this morning.”

  The unsuspecting employee sitting at the desk gave her a startled smile. His eyes darted side-to-side apprehensively. “Were you coming to see me, Agent Riley?” His voice quivered, jumping between tones like a grace note played on a flat trumpet.

  Sylvia gave him her most dazzling smile, the one meant to disarm. “Not at all. I simply had the bad luck to drop my papers in your trash.”

  “Good,” he said and then quickly amended his statement. “Not that you’re fumbled fingered, or that you had to rummage through my trash.” A gigantic gulp forced his Adam’s apple to wobble. “I mean-”

  “Don’t worry. I know what you mean.” She spun on her heel and walked away, her smile melting.

  “Intimidating the help?” Rhys asked when she passed his desk.

  “You, too?” she asked.

  “Me, too, what?”

  “Gladys told me I’ve been acting thoughtlessly, and you’re accusing me of intimidating the help.”

  “Well, don’t you, and haven’t you? We can only report what we see.” He stared at her quizzically. “Besides, when did you start caring?”

  “I care for others.” Her tone sounded more defensive than she intended.

  “When it suits your end.”

  He was right, but the words still stung. She didn’t know why. “Did it ever occur to you I might have feelings?”

  “Never,” Rhys answered without missing a beat. “At least not any feelings normal folks have. The way I see it, you live on hate and fear and scorn. They fuel you.”

  She did thrive on those things. And intimidation. “Have you seen your brother recently?” she asked, moving the topic off her.

  A dark scowl clouded Rhys’ brow at the word brother. “Have you forgotten? I’m an only, adopted child.”

  In spite of all her efforts, a cat-got-the-canary-smile curled her lips. She tried to clear it, but it kept getting bigger. She leaned in closer so no one else could hear. “Not for long, Rhys. Not for long.”

  Rhys watched as Sylvia went to her desk, gathered her handbag, and headed for the exit. Where was she going, in her overcoat, with an armload of precinct files? What the heck did she mean by that parting shot? She must have something new about Roc to hold over his head.

  Picking up his Stetson from the desktop, he moved to follow her, but Captain Williams called out his name. Turning, he saw the captain motioning him into his office. Precinct business or shifter business?

  “Morning, Captain,” Rhys said as he entered.

  “Close the door,” the captain instructed.

  Complying, he shut the door, then faced the captain.

  His mouth was set in a grim line, his eyes devoid of their usual spark. “I’ve been trying to decide how to handle Lila’s case, Temple. The one thing I’m sure about is we have to keep Ramsey out of it. She’s too close. We’re all too close. I sure as hell can’t assign someone else to it. Not if any of this shifter stuff could get out. In spite of your association with the shifters, I’m thinking of having you lead the case. I know I told Ramsey I would lead it, but I don’t feel I can because of the shifter aspect.” He paused, searching Rhys’ face. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “How long have you been part of this?”

  “Less than a month.”

  “And Alexi?”

  “She was born into a family of shifters, but she’s only been part of it for about ten years. After her family was murdered, her uncle tried to keep her out of the life until she was older.”

  “How did you come by whatever it is that makes you a shifter?”

  “The ring?” Rhys held out the hand with the Turning Stone ring. “This was Baron’s ring.”

  “I thought it was stolen by the mugger who killed him. How did you get it?”

  “Long story, short. Alexi, Eli, and I tracked him down, off the record, using precinct information.” Captain Williams started to protest, but Rhys raised his hand, effectively stopping him. “We couldn’t tell you what we were doing then. Besides, you wouldn’t have believed it. I barely did and I’d seen Alexi change in front of my eyes.”

  The captain raised his eyebrows quizzically.

  “Another story for another time,” Rhys said. “The night Alexi was mauled by a panther she had an appointment with the perp who killed Baron.”

  “The DOA in the alley who was killed by the panther?”

  “The same. In the scramble, he tossed the ring to Alexi. She gave it to Eli to give to me, hoping I’d join her.”

  “And the panther?”

  “Probably a shifter. We don’t know for sure.”

  “Wait. You do animals, too? No, no, forget I said that. I don’t want to know.”

  “Good idea. Eli said you should take it slow.”

  “Was the panther anyone I know?”

  Sitting, Rhys propped his Stetson on his knee. Raking his hand through his hair, he replied, “I’m not sure I should say. Some of these shifters have special skill sets. They can read you like an open book, and you’d be better off with your cover closed.”

  “Can Delaney do this?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  “Is it over between you two?” Rhys asked.

  “I don’t know that either. Tell me, how did you come to grips with all the magic hooey?”

  “It’s not hooey, and until you believe you won’t be able to accept the Turning Stone Society. It’s different for you. They wanted me to be part of the society. They offered me a ring. Eli was dead set against you knowing.”

  “Will he be a problem for us?”

  “I don’t know. But if you stay with Delaney you will be a mortal with a shifter. I can’t advise you on that relationship.”

  He sat there watching the emotions play across the captain. Uncertainty, confusion, want, and need. He understood all of them. Had experienced them all when making his decision about Alexi and this new life. He was even feeling them about his brother. What else could he say to convince the captain to take a chance and accept Delaney for who she was?

  “I do know this-if you love her, don’t let her go, Captain. The people we care about, friends and family, are the most important things in life.” Maybe even a long-lost brother. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Another shifter related revelation?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Sure, why not? I guess one more secret won’t hurt.”

  “I think I might have a brother. He’s a shifter.” The weight lifted off Rhys’ heart. Felt good to talk to someone about Roc. Someone who wasn’t tangled in the whole Promised One thing.

  Captain Williams rocked in his chair, his surprise evident. “Good or bad shifter?”

  “Bad. Really bad. I’m hoping there’s still a spark of good in him.”

  �
�Does anyone else know?”

  “Alexi. I thought she might need to know in case he tried to impersonate me.”

  “He would do that?”

  “I’m not sure what he would do. I need to be careful. Can’t say anything to Eli or Delaney. They might go after him.”

  “Consider your secret safe with me.” The telephone rang, and Captain Williams answered it. “Williams, here.” He put his hand over the receiver and whispered to Rhys, “It’s the morgue.” Three nods and four ‘huh-huhs’ later he hung up. “We’ve got a possible reason for Lila’s murder.”