by Susan Illene
Also, magic was severely repressed on the otherworldly island for anyone not born a full angel, so their abilities were much stronger now than in Purgatory. The temptation to use them often was great, especially with so many more people around to experiment on. Bartol knew he had to be patient when dealing with them, but it didn’t make it easy when one could force deep, dark confessions out of him.
The plane began its descent. Everyone settled into their seats and buckled in as the aircraft took them on a bumpy ride toward the ground. The winds were high, making it particularly uncomfortable. Bartol watched as they got closer to the airport. The grounds around the runway were covered in snow, but oddly none of it swirled across the tarmac. He frowned, knowing it wasn’t natural. Only magic could create such a phenomenon.
They touched ground and taxied across the runway toward a group of three individuals—one woman and two men. They stood alone and unafraid of being hit should the plane not stop in time. It did, of course, but no more than a dozen feet separated the nose tip from the group.
“Couldn’t the pilot have gone just a little farther?” Tormod asked, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing up. “He would have gotten some cool points for running over those three.”
Bartol lifted a brow. “Cool points?”
“Uh, it’s hard to explain.”
Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t get it, either. I think it’s something he got from that sensor girl, Emily. She teaches him stuff, and then he tries it out on us. Sometimes we like it and use it, sometimes we don’t.”
Bartol grabbed the duffle bag he’d packed and joined the others as they filed out of the aircraft. The co-pilot had already gotten the stairs down for them. Bitter cold hit him as he stepped outside and hurried toward the ground. It wasn’t as frigid as Fairbanks, but it was still cooler than Bartol preferred. If he was going to finally leave Alaska for the first time, it was too bad he couldn’t have gone to a warmer climate. Perhaps the demon could do him a favor and be hiding down in the south of Spain.
“Welcome,” Zoe said, moving toward them.
Her gaze was directed at her daughter with a happy smile on her face. It was the perfect expression for a mother who’d missed her offspring and was happy to see them again. She attempted to hug Rebecca, but the young woman stepped away, shaking her head.
“You haven’t earned that right yet,” the younger woman said.
A flash of hurt touched Zoe’s gaze before she collected herself. “Of course, you’re right.”
She turned her attention toward the rest of them, her back ramrod straight. The clothes she wore were simple and yet elegant with an azure sheath dress that stopped just below her knees and a cream overcoat. Zoe was thirty-two hundred years old, but she could have easily passed for thirty. She had long, strawberry blonde hair like her daughter’s, though she was slightly taller and better endowed in the chest department as well as having wider hips. The woman used her naturally sensuous body to her advantage every chance she got, as Bartol recalled from previous meetings.
He’d never slept with her, but she’d done a fair job of tempting him once or twice. The only time her wiles failed completely was while she was imprisoned in Purgatory since the guardian, Kerbasi, had not been affected by anything she tried. Even Zoe—with all her beauty and manipulations—could not escape his torture. Of course, most people wondered if Kerbasi was capable of lust at all.
Bartol gestured at the men behind the female nephilim. “Who are they?”
“Oh.” She glanced back at the two males who appeared to be in their mid-twenties. Both had dark brown hair, sky-blue eyes, strong facial features, and stocky builds. The main difference between them was one had olive tinted skin, and the other was pale. “These are the two nerou I personally train.”
Zoe would pick favorites.
Tormod gave the males a derisive look and snorted. “I could take them down—easy.”
“You could try,” one of them said, crossing his arms to show off his large biceps.
“Both of them are over seven hundred years old. I highly doubt even you could take them at the same time,” Zoe replied, sniffing in disdain.
Bartol leaned toward Tormod. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew. We aren’t here to prove who is the strongest or toughest. I need you to focus on the mission.”
Tormod worked his jaw. “Yeah, I know. But I could still take them.”
“As you can see, I’ve met my end of the bargain,” Caius said, breaking the growing tension. “Now you must fulfill yours.”
Zoe lifted her chin. “I want a week with my daughter first.”
“When I last saw you, you emphasized the danger of this rising demon and that we must stop him right away. Now you want to put off dealing with him for a week?” Caius’ golden eyes blazed. “That was not part of our agreement.”
It was no surprise she wanted to delay things. They’d expected that.
Bartol glared at Zoe. “You have forty-eight hours with Rebecca, and you will tell us all we need to know during that time or we will take her and leave.”
Outrage filled the female nephilim’s features. “That’s not good enough.”
“It will have to be,” Rebecca proclaimed loudly. “Because that is the longest I am staying here and putting up with you.”
Zoe drew in a deep breath. “Be reasonable. We’ve spent precious little time together in your life, and you’ve only heard about me through those who hate me. Why not give yourself a chance to form your own opinion?”
Bartol couldn’t entirely blame Zoe for her feelings, considering all she wanted was to spend time with a daughter she was forced to give up centuries ago as a baby. She might have garnered some of his sympathy if not for what she’d done to his friends—and especially to his mate. Never mind the way she'd manipulated them into coming to see her. The female nephilim was conniving and ruthless with no real remorse. She would say anything that would get her daughter to stay for even a few hours longer.
“What do you want from me, Mom?” Rebecca asked, emphasizing the last word. “You planned which man I would fall in love with, and you’ve hurt people over and over to get what you want. There’s no denying that. Why should I give you a chance when all you’ve ever done is screw up people’s lives, especially Derrick’s?”
“I taught her the word ‘screw’ just last week,” Tormod whispered proudly. “It’s such a good word—especially since the angels would never teach us that one.”
Bartol didn’t bother to reply.
“I want us together—no matter what it takes,” Zoe replied pleadingly. “Can you truly blame me when you were ripped from my arms while you were still a suckling baby?”
Rebecca lifted a brow. “Was it worth the deaths of so many people to get what you wanted?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Does it even bother you?” Rebecca pressed on.
“No.” Zoe shook her head. “Not really.”
The nephilim’s eyes rounded, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Her daughter’s powers were at work again, but this time on her. Perhaps such a coercive skill could be useful when directed the proper way. Rebecca could literally force the truth out of people whereas a sensor could only detect it.
“Are you afraid no one will ever love you? That maybe the only chance you have for redemption is through me, your daughter?” Rebecca asked, her voice taking on a stronger edge.
Zoe worked her throat. “I’ve felt that way for a long time.”
Bartol and the others exchanged looks. Many people had suspected a longing for love and acceptance were the driving motivations behind many of Zoe’s actions over the last few centuries—which was when her behavior had become the most extreme—but hearing her admit what she felt was different. Within her gaze, one could see the abject loneliness and insecurity that the woman usually hid so well. It was almost pathetic.
He could not watch it anymore. “Forty-eight hours, take it or leave it.”
“No more barte
ring,” Rebecca added.
Zoe’s pale hands trembled. She was still in shock after being forced to reveal such a deep and dark secret. “If that is all I can have, then I will take it.”
“Good.” Caius pulled out a map and showed it to Bartol and Tormod. “This is where the nerou compound is—a little over one hundred miles northeast of here.”
They glanced over it, listening to the rest of his directions so that they’d be sure not to flash too far off their mark. It was tricky going to a place where they’d never been before. At least Tormod could travel that distance on his own, and Caius could take Rebecca so that Bartol would not have to touch anyone. Zoe would have to flash her own two nerou back herself since neither of them would have the ability to do it. Bartol wanted nothing to do with them. And anyway, transporting two people at the same time appeared to be something Zoe was capable of doing at her age and strength.
After everyone was clear on where to go, the female nephilim appeared to have collected herself once more. She ran her gaze across the group. “After we arrive, I’ll give you a tour of the compound and show you to your rooms. I want the rest of the evening alone with my daughter, but I will meet you after breakfast in the morning, and we can talk about the demon then.”
Bartol figured that was a fair enough compromise. “Very well.”
Zoe flashed away with her nerou, Caius and Rebecca going next. He waited until he was the last one standing before addressing the pilot and co-pilot standing by the aircraft. “You’re both free for the next two days, but don’t go too far and keep your cell phones turned on in case we need you.”
They were werewolves and appeared ready to explore new territory. “Will do.”
With the dismissal, Bartol flashed away after the others.
Chapter 9
Cori
Tomorrow, she’d be preparing the biggest meal of her life. It seemed like every time Cori turned around, someone informed her of more people planning to show up for Thanksgiving dinner. She was scrambling to make sure she had all the food and ingredients she needed beforehand, and she’d baked several pies that morning to get a head start. No way could she do it all in one day even with Emily’s help.
The teenager pulled a pecan pie out of the oven, pausing to inhale deeply. “I don’t suppose we could eat this one early?”
“No.” Cori wagged a finger at her. “And if I catch so much as a slice gone, it’s on your head.”
Emily set the pie on the counter with a sigh, then turned and put her hands on her hips. “What if Kerbasi sneaks in here? I’m not strong enough to stop him.”
Cori smiled. “That’s why you’re on guard duty tonight. You’ll have a Taser, so if he causes any trouble—zap him.”
Emily let out a huff of air, teenage rebellion in her blue eyes. “I don’t want to hurt him. He screamed and wailed like a baby last time, and I had to console him for fifteen minutes to calm him down.”
The teenager had no idea he did that solely for his own benefit. Kerbasi didn’t get love or positive attention from anyone else, so he took advantage of the fact Emily cared about him and felt sorry for him. He could handle more pain than he let on, as they’d seen a few times when Lucas laid into him. The guardian just didn’t like it very much since he was used to being the one who hurt people before coming to Earth.
“Melena said you could have your friends spend the night if that would make it easier.” Cori paused, considering. “And you can have one pie among yourselves if you promise to guard the rest with your lives.”
The teenager chewed her lip before responding, “Yeah, okay. I can work with that.”
“Good.”
Cori’s cell phone buzzed. An unknown number came up on the screen, but she was almost positive she knew who was calling. “Hello.”
“I’ve arrived in Russia,” Bartol said.
Even after not seeing each other for almost two days, he was still a little stiff with her. She hadn’t even been allowed to see him off at the airport. Lucas had been apologetic, but he hadn’t let her past the security fence no matter how much she argued with him. Bartol’s wishes had to be respected.
“Did…did everything go okay? No problems with the plane or getting into the country?” She was trying very hard to choose her words carefully and not sound like a weak, pestering woman.
“The flight went well.” Bartol paused, letting the silence stretch between them. “We had to stop a couple of times to refuel and deal with customs, but Lucas already had the paperwork settled with the officials. They didn’t give us any trouble.”
He stated everything as facts without much warmth behind his words. Cori paced the kitchen, wishing she could get some kind of emotional reaction out of him. It was hard enough to be far apart at a time when their relationship was at its weakest, but worse when it sounded like it tortured him to talk to her. She couldn’t fix their problems if they didn’t communicate.
“What about Zoe? How’s it going with her?” Cori asked, hoping that was a safe topic.
“As well as expected. She wants more time with her daughter, but we insisted on the two-day limit. As of yet, all we have gotten from her is a tour of the compound, and she showed us to our sleeping quarters. We’ll talk to her further tomorrow.”
Cori imagined Bartol alone in a bedroom and wondered what he was wearing. “What’s it like?”
“Cold,” he said, annoyed. “The beds are small, and the rooms have little heat.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It could be worse.” He paused. “Is Lucas helping you with your problem at the shop?”
A slight weight lifted from Cori’s shoulders. At least he was taking some interest in her or else he wouldn’t ask. There’d even been a hint of concern in his voice.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “He’s meeting me at noon and taking me to Derrick’s to talk to him about what we can do.”
“Good. That alpha better help, or I’ll strangle him.”
Cori almost laughed. How could Bartol threatening another man’s life for her sake actually sound endearing? She was getting so screwed up in the head.
“I miss you,” she blurted, then winced. Too soon, it was too soon for those kinds of confessions.
For three long seconds, he said nothing. “I’ve got to go. It’s getting late here and I haven’t eaten yet, but I will try to call again soon.”
Cori squeezed her eyes shut. She’d lost that tiny grasp of emotion he’d shown by saying something as simple as she missed him. “Okay. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“Take care.” He hung up.
When she lifted her lids, Emily gazed at her from across the kitchen with sympathetic eyes. The young sensor would have heard the phone call with her acute hearing and felt Cori’s emotions. “That was…rough.”
“He’s still mad.”
“Want me to call him and talk to him?” she offered.
Emily had a way with people that could make most of them listen, but it would be cheating to use her. “No.” Cori shook her head. “He has to forgive me in his own time.”
The teenager nodded. “So I’ve got two more pies ready for the oven.”
“Thanks. That’s good.”
She was glad for the change of subject. Cooking and baking were Cori’s greatest escapes from her problems and one of the reasons she’d become good at them over the years. She proceeded to sink herself into finishing a few more pies with Emily, only stopping once Lucas arrived shortly after noon. He was another welcome distraction.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
As usual, he wore a crisp, clean suit—this one navy blue with a white shirt underneath. His blond hair was cut short and styled perfectly with gel. He could have easily been a model if not for the perpetual cold look in his eyes that rarely warmed except for Melena and Emily.
Cori pulled off her apron, setting it aside. “Yes.” She turned to her teenage helper. “All you have to do is pull the last two pies out and keep an eye on
them. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Tell Derrick I said hi!”
Lucas reached toward one of the cherry pies as if he planned to dip his finger into the thick red filling. Cori slapped his hand. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I was just…” He gave her a consternated look. “My apologies.”
He might not like eating in front of people, but she’d learned he had a special weakness for baked goods. Sometimes he’d even snack on them when she was around to watch. It was funny really, considering he was usually a rather fastidious person.
“Let’s go,” she said, leading the way out of the kitchen.
***
They pulled up to the gates of Derrick’s mansion in Cori’s Tahoe—she’d insisted on driving. As usual, there were guards standing there who checked them over closely before admitting them. They parked along the side of the house in a designated space for visitors and met another set of guards when they reached the main doors at the front. The alpha werewolf did not skimp on security even when the Fairbanks area appeared peaceful.
His home, which was also a refuge to supernaturals who did not wish to live among humans, didn’t look too fancy despite its size. It was large with a main entry at the center and two-story wings on either side. Though Cori liked to refer to it as a mansion, it had simple cream siding and didn’t appear ostentatious. Even the gardening was limited to hedges along the walls and a scattering of white spruce trees that stood sixty to seventy feet high, sheltering the snow-covered lawn. The main thing that made this place stand out from other large homes was the metal shutters on the windows—most of them closed during the day to protect the vampires living inside. They were powered by electricity, but they had manual wind-up handles in case of an outage.
The guards, each armed with a sword and pistol, nodded at Cori and gave a fearful glance at Lucas. She wasn’t surprised at their reaction to him since he had a tendency to make most supernaturals nervous. While Bartol was a recluse who didn’t show off his power, Lucas let his flow out wide for everyone to feel. Now that Cori had a touch of angel blood in her, she could sense the static charge emanating off of him. It was enough to set her teeth on edge if she stood too close to the nephilim. She wondered if he let his strength show like that to keep people from bothering him, or if he had other reasons. Lucas wasn’t known for his subtlety or ability to deal with those of lesser power, so maybe it was his way of stopping trouble before it started. She was really glad he’d always tolerated her, considering he hated humans more than most anyone.
