Masks and Mirrors: Book Two: The Weir Chronicles

by Sue Duff

  “I swear, a ball of fire was in his hand and he flung it right at the car.”

  His friend shook his head and waved him off. “What did you smoke at lunch?”

  “I know what I saw.” The man stuck his hands in his pockets and turned back toward the wreck.

  A couple of news crews were gathered around a uniformed fire chief. They lobbed questions.

  Ball of fire. A Duach core blast. Ian leaned against the storage unit and gazed up at Marcus. A fine mist blew in and swirled around them. It floated toward the crowd like an advancing fog.

  “She’s not dead!” the old general roared and gripped Ian’s shoulders. “You don’t know that she was in there when it crashed.” Marcus stuck his head out from behind the storage unit. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned against the edge. “We aren’t losing her, too. Do you hear me?” It came out hushed, desperate.

  A blur of white. Saxon used the units as cover to slip around the crowd and the fire trucks unnoticed. He headed for the warehouse on the opposite side of the crash.

  Ian closed his eyes. Marcus was right. She might have bailed, she might be near. Tara, his thoughts groped for her. Where are you?

  Silence. He opened his eyes to find Marcus staring at him.

  “Keep trying.” He stole a peek at the crowd. “It’s Saxon, he’s become Mara’s missing link, hasn’t he?” Marcus laid a gentle hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Dr. Orr used the twins DNA in his wolf experiments. All this time . . . I had hoped.”

  Saxon? Ian channeled. Here, entered his thoughts. A milky image appeared. Ian grabbed Marcus and shyfted to Saxon’s broadcast location. They appeared at an entrance to a ware-house. Splotches of red peeked through slits in the warehouse walls. The fire trucks were just outside.

  Saxon’s tail was in hyperdrive. He alternated between licking Tara’s face and nuzzling her neck. She sat propped against a huge tire. Her face was smeared with soot. She favored her left arm in her lap.

  Ian embraced her. It took a few seconds to find his voice. “You fool. You weren’t supposed to end up on dry land.” Marcus tossed Ian a dark, questioning glare from beneath scrunched eyebrows.

  “It was Ning. Ian, how did he know it was me? I was dis-guised as Carlene.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Marcus said. “Who’s Carlene?”

  “Someone we’re trying to rescue from a Duach,” Ian said. He wiped the smudge on her cheek and fought to keep his emotions suppressed. The last thing they needed was a severe shift in the weather outside. Too many witnesses. Cameras.

  “I thought Ning was dead,” Marcus said.

  “Saxon said that whoever attacked him the other night at the mansion was the Duach from QualSton. I didn’t want to believe that it was Ning. I had no proof,” Ian said.

  “He was laughing, taking his time,” Tara said. “Setting parts of the car on fire, bit by bit. The smoke. I was lucky I had the oxygen tank and mask. But Ning’s fun bought me time to find that.” She indicated an opening at the base of the far wall. A screened grate lay on the concrete next to it. “The fuel tank must have caught. I don’t know what happened to him after that.”

  Tara winced when Ian helped her to her feet. She pressed her wrist against her chest. They faced Marcus with Ian’s arm around her shoulders.

  The fire hose spray ceased on the other side of the ware-house wall. A shout. “There’s no one in here. The car is empty.”

  “Time to go,” Marcus said. “But I expect answers to questions I don’t even know to ask yet.”

  Ian nodded and steeled himself for what was to come. Tara was supposed to end up in the harbor. A missing body shouldn’t have been discovered for another couple of hours. Speculation that it had washed away, was to buy him several more.

  Donovan would soon discover his wife was every bit alive.

  Marcus gripped Ian’s shoulder. The time for cover-ups and lies was long past. Ian shyfted them without a stitch of remorse, prepared to share everything. The old general wouldn’t stay mad for long.

  {37}

  Ian approached the last elevator. A sign posted on the wall next to it read, Penthouse Suite. JoAnna had insisted that Ian spare no expense. The bottomless funds had allowed him to create the most elaborate illusion of his career. His ego had fed upon it.

  He’d nearly gotten Tara killed. When he had called Patrick with the update, his friend had summed it up. Ian’s plan had crashed and burned.

  Ian hesitated with his finger hovering over the button. He’d forgotten a lesson he’d learned long ago. Any semblance of control, was the greatest illusion of all. He pressed the button. The elevator doors opened. He gestured for Tara to step inside. When Rayne made to follow, he put his arm up to block her. “We’re not going up,” he said. “We have to rendezvous with Drion Marcus in a few minutes.” He eyed the splint on Tara’s wrist and clenched his jaw. “Get some sleep,” he said. “Then check on the rest.”

  Tara nodded. The elevator doors swished shut.

  “Check on what?” Rayne asked.

  Ian didn’t answer. He led her through the hotel lobby. “With Ning in the middle of this, I’m in way over my head. I won’t risk anyone else. No Duach is worth it.”

  Rayne made to grab his hand, but caught herself and pulled back. “Tara survived. This time Ning walked away empty-handed.”

  “That Duach assassin murdered Mara and Galen. I can’t bear to lose anyone else to him,” he said. Sympathy poured from her eyes and leaked into his heart. Ian’s core ignited, and he pressed a fist to his chest. Emotional baggage swirled and twisted inside him like a smoldering volcanic cauldron.

  Hanging crystal beads in the massive overhead chandelier clinked together. The floor beneath Ian’s feet vibrated. He looked at the large digital numbers over the penthouse and other elevators. They blinked on and off, their numbers raising or lowering in typical fashion, the quake too subtle to lock the elevators down. The low, muted tremor stilled as suddenly as it had begun. A few voices edged with concern rang about the busy lobby. Others never flinched at the planet’s shifting plates, common in the San Francisco area. Had Ian triggered it with his emotional upheaval, or was it part of what plagued the earth’s crust these past few weeks?

  “The first time we encountered him,” Rayne whispered, “we didn’t know what we were up against. You’re stronger. As a team, we can fight him.”

  Thoughts of the scholars sapped his conviction. There had been too much blood shed, too much loss already. Ian led her outside, focused on suppressing what ailed him. The atmospheric pressure brought on by his emotions settled by the time they reached the car. A fine mist, laden with moisture and cool against his skin, filled the air.

  “I thought I could bring Donovan down once I got Carlene and Bryant to safety,” he said. “But Ning’s involvement changes everything.”

  “You told Marcus what we’re doing?” Rayne asked.

  “I confessed that I’d uncovered a Duach facility here in town.” Ian pulled the car away from the curb and fell into the ebb and flow of traffic.

  “Did he blow a gasket?” Rayne asked.

  “He just smiled.” Ian pressed on the accelerator. The car picked up speed. “He smells an opportunity as much as I do.”

  {38}

  Jaered finished his call to Eve and leaned back. He closed his eyes and focused on the steady pulse of his core to ease the lingering tension of the day. By nightfall, this clusterfuck would be over. Donovan would need to be taken care of once Jaered got his hands on a viable serum for Eve. Sabotaging the shipment without Yannis discovering it was the greater challenge. If Aeros’s spy turned up missing, there’d be hell to pay.

  Jaered walked into the outer room. Yannis was sprawled facedown on the floor, moaning. He reached for the back of his head.

  The room was otherwise empty. Jaered threw open the door and ran down the hall, banging on doors, opening others. Donovan was gone. Jaered returned and pulled Yannis to his feet.

  It took some time for the man to
stop teetering. Jaered had been in the other office for a while. “What happened?” Jaered focused on suppressing the plume of heat rising from his core.

  “Donovan got a call and started screaming at Kurt about killing his wife. Then he quieted and looked out the window, listening. He mumbled something and hung up. He just stared out the window, unmoving for minutes on end. I thought he’d wacked out on me. Then, some flaming tattooed Sar shyfted right behind him. The guy knocked me out before I could re-act.” Yannis shook his head. “I didn’t know Donovan had a Sar on the payroll!”

  The man looked frightened out of his wits. Aeros would strike the man down for his incompetence, but Jaered couldn’t blame Yannis. Jaered’s head had been on getting the serum. The fault was his. “Ahhh!” Jaered punched a hole in the wall. Donovan was using his new ally to the fullest.

  Yannis flinched. “What, now?”

  “Donovan has proven too cunning. I no longer trust the shipment as it stands. I need to get a viable serum sample,” Jaered said.

  “Agreed,” Yannis said. “Stepping in as Donovan’s new executive assistant last week forced him to upgrade my status. I can get us onto the executive floor,” he said. “I’ve discovered where the safe is, but it isn’t going to be easy getting inside. I’m not a Sar. Will your power get us past a retinal scan?”

  “No,” Jaered said. “I can draw tremendous amounts of energy, but it would short out a safe’s electrical system.”

  “Is that how you can shyft without a vortex?” Yannis asked. Jaered threw him a glare full of warning. “This building is more than half a mile from the police station where you grabbed Donovan. I was only wondering.”

  Like most Weir, born powerless, Yannis’s curiosity about those who wielded power was commonplace. Jaered wasn’t about to reveal all that his unique power offered. When he didn’t answer, Yannis knew better not to pry.

  Jaered knew a Sar with the necessary power to get them in-to Donovan’s safe, but every fiber of his being told him not to go there. The Sar was Pur, not Duach. Yannis was more at-tuned than Jaered had given him credit for. This next step could place him in the middle of a minefield.

  “There’s someone we need to find, and fast,” Jaered said.

  {39}

  Vael wasn’t at his apartment when Jaered and Yannis arrived. Thanks to enough money changing hands with the slimy landlord, they found the Pur Sar at the local dive.

  Rock Solid was a dive in the truest sense of the word. The stench alone could have flattened a stampede. Yannis hung back as Jaered combed through the main floor, weaving in and out of drunken revelers and scantily clad women. Jaered ended up in the balcony where he found Vael surrounded by a trio of women. They were engaged in activity that lent a whole new meaning to the term groping.

  Jaered’s friend hadn’t changed much in the year or so since Jaered had taken off without a word. Vael’s southern charm and youthful looks had made him the perfect con man. The two of them achieved a lot in the short time they’d hung together. He didn’t approach Vael at first, and took another moment to run through his options outside of using his friend to break into Donovan’s safe. A growl rumbled in his throat when nothing else presented itself. No matter how much Jaered wanted, there was no avoiding placing his friend in danger. For the greater good, his thoughts echoed.

  Jaered approached with the attitude that Vael’s declining the upcoming request was not an option. He planted himself directly in front of Vael and his entourage, picked up the full glass of beer on the table and flung it on Vael. From the shrieks and scrambling bodies, the collateral damage extended to the ladies.

  That got Vael’s attention, but his blasphemous choice of words were lost on the rest of the bar crowd. The girls vacated the couch with halfhearted protests and a few colorful words of their own. Vael jumped up and got in Jaered’s face as if challenged to a fight.

  “What the hell was that for?” Vael hollered, wielding fists.

  Jaered didn’t respond. Their staring contest lasted a full five seconds before Vael broke into laughter. He grabbed Jaered around the back of his neck and cupped his chin in the other hand. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Where the hell did you come from?”

  “I need your unique talents,” Jaered said without a hint of pretense.

  Vael pulled back and studied him for a second as his smile relaxed. He sat down in the pooling beer on the vinyl couch, threw his foot up on the edge of the coffee table, and wiped his dripping face with his hand. His jolly persona faded.

  Jaered tossed him a couple of the cocktail napkins from under the girls’ drinks.

  “I don’t see you for what, a year or more, and you come calling with business.” Vael stared at Jaered when he offered up nothing in response. He drained the nearly empty beer in a quick swig. “You owe me a drink.”

  “You owe me a favor, and according to my score sheet, it’s a big one,” Jaered said.

  “You must be pretty desperate, showing up like this to col-lect.” Vael wiped his neck then wadded up the napkins and dropped them on the table. Yannis sat nearby not paying heed, but he caught Vael’s attention just the same.

  “Since when do you need a bodyguard?”

  “An associate with a shared agenda,” Jaered said. He scraped a chair over and sat down across from Vael. “I wouldn’t be here unless I specifically needed you.”

  “You’re making me blush.”

  “No joke,” Yannis piped up from across the way.

  Jaered clenched his jaw in regret at not coaching Yannis to keep his mouth shut before they arrived. This would be tricky enough without appearing like they were groveling. “Your particular skills for what will amount to a half hour, no more than an hour, of your time.”

  “What’s the payout?”

  “In this case, nothing of value.”

  “You’ve got some nerve.”

  “We’ll be even,” Jaered said. “Straight across.”

  Vael stared at him as if he wasn’t all there. “What’s your deal? You disappeared from the face of the earth over twelve months ago.” He scoffed. “I thought you were dead.”

  “That last job went from bad to fucked up. You wouldn’t have made it out of the bank alive if I hadn’t taken a bullet for you.” Jaered clenched his jaw and refrained from pulling back his shirt to show Vael the scar. He was coming across as desperate enough already.

  “The last time I saw you, you were falling to your death. I still can’t wrap my head around how you managed to shyft,” Vael said.

  “I wasn’t in the best of shape for a while. By the time I re-covered, I figured you had moved on to other jobs and were better off.”

  Vael got to his feet and stretched. He leaned against the railing and peered down at the pathetic crowd, as if deep in thought.

  Jaered hadn’t wanted Vael to know he was alive and back. He and Eve had used Vael for his skills, and when the jobs were done, had taken advantage of Jaered’s near-death experience to cut ties permanently. More than anything, Jaered didn’t want to ask this of Vael, the lost sheep of the Pur, who took out his daddy issues in the most self-destructive ways. He’d latched onto Jaered as a surrogate family.

  Jaered wouldn’t be able to disappear on Vael as easily as last time—if they all got out of that building tonight in one piece.

  “What the hell. I’m not missing anything I can’t get any other night,” Vael said. “It’ll be worth finding out what happened to you after all this time.”

  “I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

  “There’s no if in this buddy. You’re not disappearing again until you spill. Even if I have to hog-tie you.” He leaned against the railing. “When?”

  “We’ll stop by your place so you can clean up, but we need to leave immediately from there.”

  “That soon, what the hell?” Vael said. Jaered tossed some money down on the table. Vael grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch. “Good thing you showed up. I’ve been bored out of my mind. Wha
t am I breaking into?”

  “A three-inch-thick steel wall safe with retina and print scan. Can you handle it?” Yannis said.

  “Does the Pope piss holy water?” Vael laughed. He grabbed the scruff of Yannis’s neck, jerking it around in jest. “Oh ye of little faith.”

  Jaered followed them down the stairs. He knew what Vael was capable of.

  {40}

  Marcus appeared every bit the general while standing near the truck and directing the handful of Pur guards.

  “Did you bring it?” Marcus asked.

  Ian tossed him the handheld jam. “I know it’s supposed to prevent powers up to five hundred feet, but it’s more like a hundred to ensure full shutdown. Farther away from there, the Sar’s powers are likely to just become weak or glitchy. At best you’ll have ten, fifteen minutes max before the jam begins to fade or shuts down altogether.”

  “How does it work?” Rayne asked.

  “It’s based on your father’s acoustic jam technology,” Marcus said. “What we installed on a larger scale at the estate, after the raid on QualSton.”

  “At least something of my father’s work has been used for good,” Rayne said.

  “But the estate jam gets its power from the solar utilities on the property. This portable power source needs work,” Ian said. “It’s far from reliable.” Ian watched Marcus’s handpicked team prepping their equipment. “How soon?”

  “If we’re going to coordinate our arrival with the facility’s shift change at midnight, we’re cutting it close,” Marcus said. A wide phosphorescent glow grew in the center of the vortex. “Looks like my two secret weapons have arrived.”

  A Pur guard appeared, flanked by two boys no older than fifteen or sixteen. The teens stepped out with satchels slung over their shoulders. They approached the general with attitudes of indifference. Ian was intrigued. These were Marcus’s famous geeks.