As if.
Bran nodded at François who headed in one direction as Willie stepped away. He really did have an aversion to fireworks.
Me not so much. I held my ground even as Bran stepped closer, having the audacity to put his hands on my shoulders as if I needed to be restrained.
And here I thought I was doing well, only giving him a what-the-hell glance instead of ripping his arms off.
“We went over this in detail last night,” Bran said, impatience straining his voice and darkening his eyes until they almost looked black. It was a sexy look for him, but then all Bran’s looks were sexy. Focus, Alex, back to the issue at hand.
“No!” I wagged one finger at him. “You went over this last night as if I was a toddler who needed you to tell me what to do.”
His hands tightened. Not enough to hurt me, which surprised me because I could read the restraint he was exerting in the tension of his jaw. If he were a shifter he’d be revealing fur already.
“The plan is solid,” he said.
“Your plan is solid for your agenda,” I bit off each word.
“Meaning?”
“You’re using my brother to draw out Vaverek. And your plan does just that. Wait until Van is exposed, assume—” I inhaled a deep breath to repeat that last word. “Assume that Vaverek will be nearby so you or Fido François can jump him.”
“What’s wrong with that? Your people want Vaverek as much as I do.”
“Not quite.” I stepped back. No longer able to stay still. I was standing in one of the world’s biggest parks and I couldn’t draw a breath of air. “You want Vaverek more than anything else. Including my brother’s life.” This time my finger stabbed his chest as I stepped forward and blinked to keep my eyes clear. “Maybe you’re thinking if Van dies that will make up for Dominique’s death some way. Tit for tat. But let me tell you, buster.” My finger hit with each word. “I. Will. Not. Let. Van. Die.”
He glared at me and I was surprised I didn’t incinerate right there. “Have you ever considered I’m trying to keep you alive here?” his voice a low growl, his nostrils flared. “That I might actually have your interests at heart?”
“In your dreams.” Emotions bubbled so close to the surface I kept expecting to spew fire. “If you did you would not have been so quick to suggest black magic as the ‘only’ way to find Van.” I used my fingers for air quotes and to keep my hands from balling and beating against him.
“It was the only way,” he snapped each word. “Of all the stupid, stubborn, pig-headed women I had to get involved with I got you.”
“Me? This isn’t about us. There is no us.” He so did not fight fair. Men weren’t supposed to throw things from the past into a fight. But obviously holier-than-thou Bran did not get the male-memo book. “There never was an us because you couldn’t trust me a micro-inch. Still can’t. Which is why you are shunting me off with Willie so the ‘big boys’ can handle the business.”
He towered over me like a predator ready to strike. “Fine. Do it your way, but if you think for a minute I’m going to let Vaverek dance away while you’re playing Sabrina the inept witch, think again.”
“Oh.” Now he’d really done it. I lowered my voice, which my brother could have told him meant hurricane gale force winds about to blow. “If I’m such a poor witch how come we’re standing here right now?”
“Because I was told to be here and you were guaranteed to come along.”
Okay, he did have a point, but that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t happy about his logic either. I got us here by breaking my rules and finding Van last night. Sure I might be a screw-up as a powerful witch, and we needed the GPS he’d saddled me with, but I had pulled a few spells out of my ass and they’d worked. Could I repeat the process? Who knew? But I was still willing to do whatever I had to in order to save Van. If we caught Vaverek, that was a bonus.
I took a page from his playbook and switched tactics. “Fine, your Mage Majesty. You do what you need to do and I’ll do what I need to do.”
“And if you get killed?” He said it in such a flat of-course tone I was surprised I didn’t haul off and hit him.
“That will save you the effort.” I stood toe-to-toe with him and it took Willie clearing his throat several times for both of us to spin on him.
“What?”
“What now?”
He flared his hands then pointed behind us. “Sorry, but I think they’re coming for you.”
Bran and I both pivoted to see a delegation of three tall, thin individuals walking down the white gravel path toward us. Only they looked more like they were hovering just above the ground.
“Fae?” I whispered aloud.
“Simin fae,” Bran said, all emotion leached from his voice.
Oh crap. I’d heard of them. Think of the most benign looking of individuals, with lightning fast speed and tongues that made a whip look like a yarn tassel. Before most creatures could even think of taking flight one simin fae could have them lassoed and giftwrapped tighter than a crazy aunt’s holiday package. But three?
Not that Bran was thinking of running. A quick glance out of the corner of my eye reassured me that he wasn’t, which allowed me to start breathing again.
And that’s when I realized what drove a lot of my anger. Not fear of him as much as fear for him.
This was a heck of a time to discover that.
Especially as I looked beyond the fae and saw Vaverek.
CHAPTER 62
Jeb waited in the side room, releasing his anger with every breath he took because he knew anger could cloud his judgment and reason. Wheels within wheels were moving. He glanced at Pádraig with his shaman vision, not looking at the physical being but the spirit.
He hadn’t expected to see much but what he did see was revealing. Or more specifically what he didn’t see. Pádraig was a druid so knew how to cloak his spirit self. The old ones learned the ability to protect themselves when mages and black witches walked the world more freely. It was like covering a beacon with a cloth to not attract attention, or tamping down one’s power until needed.
But there should be no need for Pádraig to cloak himself today. But he was, emitting only a small silver aura. Jeb could feel the hum from him, as if banking power and waiting. But why?
That was the piece Jeb struggled with. There was too much unknown.
When the door swung open to allow Jeb and Pádraig to re-enter the red salon Pádraig went first then paused as if realizing his presumption, his assumption that now he and Jeb were equals.
Jeb said nothing but waved the young man ahead. He assumed what had happened and was not surprised when Cristobal announced in sonorous tones as if speaking to a large assembly hall that Pádraig was accepted as the newest member of the Council.
Once again Jeb noticed what wasn’t said so asked, “What was the vote tally?”
Cristobal flinched as if struck then tilted his head and shared, “Four for, one against.”
Jeb didn’t need to look at Tintilla but he sent a high-five thought in her direction. Wei Pei must have felt that a yay vote would earn him some allies but Jeb could have told him not to bother. There would be no reprieve from this group. It’d only be a matter of time before they found a way to replace Wei Pei or he met an untimely accident.
At least one question was answered for Jeb. This is why Philippe had to die. He was standing in the way of plans already in motion. Philippe had always been about building consensus and the need to act for the greater good. Jeb had agreed which is why his daughter was imprisoned. Saving her meant exposing too much to the humans.
But now? What did Cristobal want? Did he plan to use the less experienced Pádraig? Step into the role of a mentor as Philippe had been, not as a guide but as a manipulator. If Pádraig threw in his weight with the vampire, demon, and witch, no telling what trouble a block of four could brew. Wei Pei was like the bamboo stalk that would blow whichever way the wind demanded. Which left Tintilla and himself as the
sole voices of reason.
This shift of power was accomplished so smoothly, so easily, it was clear it had been planned for a long time. Jeb’s gut told him what had just transpired was the beginning of something larger, but he didn’t know what.
CHAPTER 63
“Eleven o’clock,” I whispered to Bran, not sure what the hearing range of a simin fae was.
He looked at me as if I’d flipped. “It’s not yet ten.”
Men!
“Behind the fae. Eleven o’clock. Could be Vaverek.”
He followed my directions and I could hear him suck in his breath as I also heard Willie move up behind us.
“Can you smell Were?” I mumbled, not turning around but acting like my attention was one hundred percent on the first threat approaching, the fae.
“Yes,” Willie responded after a few good sniffs. Then he added, “At least six or seven. A couple of fae, other than the simins, and . . .” he sniffed again. “One shifter, who’s very agitated.”
Van. It had to be Van but the man I was thinking could be Vaverek was alone. He looked like a common thug, about as tall as Bran with wide shoulders and a figure that leaned toward thickening in the middle, disguised well by the very pricey suit he wore. Who wore a suit when visiting a tourist attraction? Plus his body language was all wrong. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his shoulders thrust forward, his focus on where Bran, Willie and I stood. Sort of a pudgy attack Doberman on alert.
Could I be wrong about who he was?
With a quick glance around I caught what Willie had just indicated. There were a number of individuals, male and female, that didn’t seem to be focused on the gardens or the three-story building directly in front of us.
“Freeze the fae,” I mumbled to Bran.
“Why?”
“Something’s going down. Now. The fae take you and you’re a sitting target.”
“I don’t go with them now and an execute order will be applied.”
I glanced at him. “Not if they’re frozen and can’t do anything. Blame it on me.”
“No, I –“
“Do it.” We had no choice. His was stronger magic with the containment spell. I could do one but needed a circle and blood.
In a few seconds we might get blood if he didn’t do anything.
They were ten feet away.
He straightened and lifted the fingers of his right hand.
“Continere.”
Not good enough. “More.”
Six feet away.
“Continere.”
Three feet away. So close I could see the neon green of their slitted eyes.
“By the power of three,” I mumbled. Did he want to be trapped by them?
He uttered the final and last words needed, “Continere lam.”
A pulse of magic wafted forward, catching the three with their feet planted flat on the ground.
Thank the Spirits they stopped. Close enough they looked like they were just pausing, maybe chatting us up, doing anything except being frozen in place. From the location of the Were that I thought was Vaverek stood all he’d see was the trio in front of us, doing nothing.
“Now?” Bran asked, a bite to his voice.
“Now we stop the bad guys.”
“And they are?”
Okay, he was getting downright snarky, even if he was right. There were non-humans and humans spread across the broad rectangle of grass about the size of a football field. White gravel walkways outlined the grass area with the three-story Petit Trianon hunkered down on the end closest to where we stood. Rows and rows of sculpted shrubs acted as a visual break between this residence and the rest of the gardens and buildings.
“More Weres arriving,” Willie whispered into my ear, looking to the left of us. Four individuals, two male, two female stepped from the shrubs bracketing that side of the grassy field.
“How many is that?” I asked, keeping my attention on Vaverek.
“Twelve by my count,” Bran said, his focus on holding the fae still. That was the problem with the stronger containment spells. They weren’t static but needed the intention of the caster to remain strong. If they were three humans a simpler spell could have been cast, even one I could manage without a problem. But fae could counter magic and he couldn’t risk the spell failing.
“You know where François is?” I asked.
“Circling the back of the Petit Trianon,” came Bran’s reply.
Great. Our only asset was out of sight and out of striking distance.
I could practically feel Willie vibrate behind me. “I can’t—I really can’t . . .“
“I know.” No sight of the IR members. Maybe Stone and Ling Mai stopped them already. Down to Bran and I and if Bran released his focus on the spell we’d have three simin fae ready to attack.
One problem at a time.
“Keep the fae in place,” I whispered to Bran.
“What are you—“
“Look for reactions,” I mumbled.
“What—“
No time to explain. We were running out of time. I’d already thrown back my shoulders, plastered a wide-eyed expression on my face and was running past the fae and toward Vaverek.
“Help. Oh, help!” I screamed like every Slasher movie I’d ever seen and with four brothers I’d seen a lot, regardless of what we’d told my dad. “A bomb. There’s a madman with a bomb.”
CHAPTER 64
Jeb’s shifter hearing caught the scream of a woman shouting beyond the salon’s windows before the others did.
Alex?
He half rose from his seat, earning a glare from Cristobal. “What are you— “
“Listen,” he snarled, pushing his chair back.
“I hear a woman,” Tintilla said, glancing toward the windows. “What is she saying?”
“Bomb.” Jeb’s voice was back under control, as were his emotions. It couldn’t be Alex. Not here.
Still he hurried as he crossed to the window, looking out at the formal gardens stretched in front of the Petit Trianon. A lot of people ebbed and flowed over the grass, too many given the chateau itself wouldn’t be open to the general public for over two hours.
“What’s happening?” Pádraig pulled near him, leaning toward the window.
Jeb looked around, his heart locking as he sighted what he’d hoped not to see. Alex was running away from a trio of simin fae, the ones sent to escort the warlock into the meeting and two males behind them. She was shouting about a bomb. Others were starting to react, looking around, some groups already fleeing the area. The rest glancing wildly around.
But what Jeb noticed more was the lack of movement from several of the small groups. As if they too remained as frozen in place as the fae. Frozen or they knew more about what was really happening.
“The warlock?” Pádraig said as Cristobal joined them. “The fae are there.” He pointed to the trio. “The warlock looks like he’s just beyond them. A ploy to escape them?”
“He knows the consequences,” Cristobal snarled, sounding shocked that anyone would be so stupid as to even dare disobey a summons to the Council.
From all the research Jeb had done regarding the warlock, stupid was not a word he’d apply to the dress designer. Calculating, focused, determined, yes, but not stupid, especially not to execute such an action within full view of the Council.
“What is transpiring?” Tintilla said, arriving at the next window over, Wei Pei by her side. “Are we under attack?”
“Not us.” Jeb said, watching the individuals remaining in the grassy area begin to converge. In twos and threes they moved toward where Alex was arguing with a single gentleman. She was waving her hands, shouting, acting hysterical. Which was not her way. Not at all.
So what was she doing?“That woman appears to be pointing toward something,” the Koura demon said from one of the windows. “She keeps shouting about a bomb.”
“Then why doesn’t she run?” Tintilla said, shaking her head.
“Unless . . .” Her words petered off.
Wei Pie murmured quietly, “Careful with others is a must have.”
“What?” Cristobal turned to focus a lasered look at him. “Speak up.”
Wei Pei stepped back, shoving his hands into the sleeves of his cloak, which effectively hid them from too watchful eyes. Faces could lie, but hands often revealed too much. “I said be cautious of people who may hurt you intentionally.”
Tintilla fluttered her hand before the window, “What does that mean? Is she a threat or not?”
The Chinese shifter was correct. If Alex truly feared a bomb, she wouldn’t be standing there arguing with a stranger. She’d cold cock him, drag him out of harm’s way and deal with the consequences later.
But she wasn’t. So what . . . and that’s when Jeb saw three men move from between the cone-shaped shrubs behind where the fae and the warlock stood. Three men and a wolf.
Van. Leashed with silver, snarling with rage, primed to attack.
That’s what Alex was trying to do. Protect her brother.
Jeb was turned toward the door as he answered, “She is a threat but right now she’s being threated more.”
“By who?” Tintilla demanded.
“That’s what I’ll find out,” Jeb shouted as he dashed through the salon door, prepping to shift as soon as he knew he could get outside of the building.
CHAPTER 65
If I’d had any doubts about this individual being Vaverek they vanished as I drew closer, playing the crazy tourist to the hilt.
He barely blinked. Instead he waited, a smug twist to his lips as I drew closer and closer.
Others were scurrying away.
Thank the Great Spirits. The innocents might be safe, for a few minutes, though I doubted it’d last for long. Vaverek would find a way.
INVISIBLE POWER BOOK TWO: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) Page 25
