by Sara DeHaven
He realized that, in a way, he’d been trying to protect Bree. But there was no doubt saving his own ass was more important. He needed Marton to stay happy with him at all costs.
Marton leaned back again. “I see your point,” he conceded. “It is perhaps best that we keep that information to our clan.” Marton glanced over at Franchesca, apparently looking to see how she was taking the news. She looked stormy. Marton sighed and took Franchesca’s hand. “We mustn’t let our egos get involved, Franchesca. We share the trait of wanting to be the best. But we still need Bree to get to Daniel. You were wrong to try to kill her.”
Marton’s voice was soft, as was his caress of Franchesca’s hand, yet Leander’s skin crawled as he spoke. He knew that tone. Marton was building up to a rage. Leander saw a succession of expressions cross Franchesca’s face. He could read from her tells that she planned on lying to Marton. “I was aiming for Kevin Whitman, not Bree. And I got him, too. The bastard hit me.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Marton said, voice almost a whisper, green eyes narrowed. Leander saw his hand tighten on Franchesca’s. “You were aiming for Bree. I read it in your face.”
“I hate her!” Franchesca burst out passionately. “She and her demon nearly killed me before. And she interfered with us tonight, you know she did!”
Leander’s stomach muscles tightened with tension as Marton teetered on the edge of what could be a truly spectacular outburst. He knew Marton beat on Franchesca at times, knew it was part of the twisted attraction between them. The woman really seemed to ask for it, seemed to want it, even though he knew she fought back. Leander knew he wasn’t a good person, but at least he wasn’t into that kind of sick dynamic.
Thankfully, Marton didn’t go there. The anger on his face shifted toward reluctant amusement. “My little hellcat,” he said, shaking Franchesca’s hand. “What am I to do with you? Do you require a leash? Must I keep that close a control of you? Can’t I trust you in such a simple assignment?”
Franchesca writhed closer to Marton, twining an ankle with his and leaning forward to whisper into his ear. Unfortunately, she wasn’t so quiet that Leander could avoid hearing her say, “I might enjoy a leash.”
Leander had to fight not to grimace in disgust. Really, did he have to be subjected to this? It wasn’t that he was averse to a little bondage. But there was something else, something worse in Franchesca’s tone and in Marton’s response to it. Marton released her hand and put his own on the leg that was draped over his. Leander saw him squeeze Franchesca’s leg hard enough to make her gasp, likely hard enough to bruise.
“Jesus Christ, get a room, would you?” Leander exclaimed.
Marton shot him an amused look. “How you manage to be such a prude with your history amazes me.”
It was a low blow, and meant as one. Marton was well aware of the prostitution Leander had engaged in as a street kid. It wasn’t like Leander had enjoyed it. But he smothered his reaction to Marton’s words. It wouldn’t do for Marton to think he’d got to him too much. “If we could get back to the subject that actually involves me, I’d appreciate it,” he countered.
Marton released Franchesca’s leg and considered Leander. “I usually let you work jobs your way, but this time is different. I know it’s a risk to pursue Bree more forcefully, but if we don’t get the information on Thorvaldson’s hiding spell soon, it will decrease our chances of success. There are people we need to put into place now in order to get the political payoff later. These things take time to set up. Now is when potential candidates are looking at staffing if they win. They’re getting more serious about assembling their teams. You know the Ecclesias has their own people in place, screening everyone to whom they can get access.”
Leander had to admit that he hadn’t given that much thought to why Marton was in such a hurry. He probably was guilty of not caring about the master plan, but Marton was right in reminding him that he did care about Marton’s place in the world.
The other Keltoi in the L.A. clan didn’t like Leander. He didn’t really mind except for the fact that he’d be out of a cushy, interesting and lucrative career if Marton were ever deposed. Not that he thought that was too likely.
But still, he tried to bend his mind to the problem at hand, as Marton was asking him to do. He considered his options, and Marton kept quiet as he did so. He went through ideas, possible roles, like flipping through a rolodex. Should he play the smitten lover, nervous and fearful of rejection? Or would a little more distance draw her in, make her feel safer? On the other hand, she seemed to respond to displays of vulnerability. What about the concerned friend, worried he hadn’t heard from her? He finally decided on the later, with a tiny peppering of nervous potential lover. And, once he bent his mind to it, he realized that his best move would be to show up at her door at a time she was likely to be home. It might freak her out, make her feel pursued in a way that shut her down. On the other hand, their chemistry might kick in once she saw him. He could already picture what he would say, how he would play it.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay, I can see a way to push things along a little,” he admitted. “It’s definitely a risk, and if I had more time, it would be smarter to make this kind of move later on. But I hear you on the timeline issue. I’ll go see Bree tomorrow. If it doesn’t scare her off, if she responds how I want her to, my guess is I can get some good information out of her then, and probably get everything we need in another meeting or two.”
“You mean if you get her into bed,” Marton said wryly.
Leander smiled in return. “Precisely. You know, sometimes I love my job.” That one was a jab at Franchesca. He was a little disappointed he didn’t get more of a rise out of her. She seemed focused on Marton now. Probably wise on her part.
“I did want to let you know about another development. As Bree was present tonight, she’ll likely tell you about it. We had some manifestation of untethered demon forms. There were some high level demons visible to all and sundry.”
Leander found to his surprise that he was shocked at the news. Not much shocked him anymore, but this did. He was glad Marton had told him so he could control his response if Bree mentioned it. “How did people react?”
“Total panic,” Marton replied, looking speculative. “It was an accident, of course. So many demons were called that the Demon Masters present couldn’t control all of them. People were killed. And while I would never have chosen for it to happen, I have to admit I’m interested to see how this plays in the press. I’m sure they’ll be cries of hoaxes and mass hallucination, but it occurs to me there could be benefit in creating more in the way of religious or superstitious tension in the population.”
“How do you think the other clans will respond to this?”
Marton shrugged, and his mouth twitched into a grim smile. “They won’t like it, of course. There will be complaints. But I think my position is strong enough to withstand the uproar. And besides, you know there’s always been that faction in the Keltoi that thinks we should openly display our power. It should please them.”
Leander was definitely not a part of that faction. His whole existence was dependent on the need for stealth, on the secret structure of powered society. And he couldn’t help the stir of dread at the idea of how the average person would react to knowledge of powered. He was one of those who firmly believed people would be so frightened they would persecute powered right out of existence. Sure, powered had means to fight back, but there were far more normals than powered, and they had the armies. Better to stay on the fringes of society, milking the normals of their cash. “Well, I’m sure you know how to play it,” Leander responded.
Marton reached out and squeezed Franchesca’s leg again, this time in a signal to leave. “I think we’re done here. Do call and let me know how it goes with Bree tomorrow. I want more regular updates moving forward.”
Leander nodded agreement, and got up to see Marton and Franchesca to the door. “Enjoy your little date tomorrow,” Franc
hesca said in parting, her sarcastic tone clearly communicating how unlikely she thought that prospect.
“Oh, I will,” Leander answered back with a brilliant smile. He closed the door on the pair with a relieved sigh. Man, was he earning his money tonight. Dealing with two basically criminally insane people was no picnic.
He was fond of Marton, owed him everything, but had no illusions about the man. He was wildly dangerous, and while not demon burned like Franchesca, in most cases, he lacked a true conscience. Leander knew he shared this trait, but he was insightful enough to know that about himself. He didn’t think Marton was.
As he moved into his kitchen to scrounge his cupboards for a snack, he reflected that Marton saw himself as a visionary leader, and a smart political animal. He felt justified in his actions, thought he was serving a higher purpose for the benefit of his clan and the Keltoi in general. But in the end, all his maneuverings were really about benefitting himself, as was basically true for all people. Marton was just more ruthless than most in pursuing his agenda.
As Leander leaned against the cold edge of his granite kitchen counter, munching on a bag of pita chips, he told himself none of that mattered. He would focus on his assignment, and as he’d told Franchesca, it was one he was truly enjoying. There had turned out to be more challenge, more complications than he’d anticipated. While part of him was annoyed at being pushed by Marton, it raised the stakes, which made things more interesting.
And he wasn’t unmoved by the idea that, if he was successful, he’d be curled up in bed with Bree Jenkins by this time tomorrow night, hopefully after a mutually satisfying sexual romp, complete with revealing pillow talk. He had a feeling that Bree would be passionate in bed, once her feelings were engaged. And he imagined he might be able to show her a thing or two she hadn’t encountered before. He wondered if the intimacy of sex might enhance her reader attunement. He still thought she might be enough of a high power Reader to read him at least a little, given the right circumstances. It added to the risk in an enticing way. Now that he was fully engaged again in the chase, he was definitely looking forward to tomorrow.
When Bree woke up in her own bed, afternoon sunlight slanting in the windows, and Hanroi tromping on her hair, it took her a moment to register where she was. She still felt groggy from her lack of sleep last night. She’d managed to get maybe an hour’s rest in the ICU waiting room, but had been woken up by first Dion, then Daniel coming to. Dion had left shortly thereafter, as he had another night shift coming up and needed to go home and get some sleep. She and Daniel had stayed on, along with Sophie, Bruce and Steve, until they got word that Kevin’s vital signs had improved and his doctor was cautiously optimistic about his recovery. Kevin had been conscious briefly as Bree and Daniel said their goodbyes. He’d seemed confused and weak, but he’d had a smile for them.
She and Daniel had both been quiet on the drive home, partly out of exhaustion, and partly out of unresolved tension. When he got out of her car, Bree had finally given into the tears that had been threatening for hours and cried all the way home.
She got dressed in her yoga gear and did a good half hour of yoga, followed by a half hour of meditation, before making herself a late dinner. She called Steve to get another update on Kevin, and was relieved to hear he was looking better and that they were talking about removing the breathing tube tomorrow morning. Steve sounded tired but far more hopeful. Their friends Hank and Georgia were taking a turn at the hospital with him, and Bree felt good about him not being alone.
She cleaned up her dinner dishes, let Hanroi out for his last evening ramble, and wandered into the living room, unsure what to do next. The calm engendered by the yoga and meditation were wearing off. She was feeling melancholy and a little fragile. She had just reached listlessly for a book when she heard a knock at her door.
Involuntarily, the hope that it was Daniel sprang first to mind. She hurried to the door and looked out the peephole to find Leander Rayne standing on her doorstep. She was flustered at the sight of him. She’d been avoiding calling him back. She considered for a minute pretending not to be home, but decided that was cowardly. She was done with being a coward. So she dismissed the ward on the door and opened it.
“Hey, I was over at Bruce’s store and thought I’d stop by. I heard about your friend being hurt. I hope you don’t mind, Bruce gave me your address,” Leander said with a sheepish smile.
Did he now? Bree thought with some speculation. What was Bruce up to? “It’s okay, come on in,” Bree told him, stepping back to let him in. She pointed out the hooks in the hall for him to hang his coat, and said over her shoulder as she led him into her living room, “Can I get you anything? Water? A beer? Some tea?”
“Tea sounds nice.”
“Why don’t you come on in to the kitchen then while I get it ready.” Leander followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as she filled the kettle and got out some mugs. It felt strange to have him there, in her space. He looked gorgeous as usual, red hair clean and shining, his teal button down shirt bringing out his blue-green eyes brilliantly, and a tentative smile conveying a certain nervous vulnerability at odds with his confident posture.
He got the conversational ball rolling by saying, “I like your place. It’s got that feeling of someplace you can really be comfortable, like someone who bakes cookies lives here.”
Bree laughed. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be me. I’m not much of a baker. And frankly, not that much of a cook either.”
“Well, I noticed you have a nice garden as I was coming through your yard. So I guess you’re not a complete failure in the domestic arts.”
Bree laughed again, and Leander smiled in response, eyes crinkling. Almost in spite of herself, she felt her mood lifting. “Not a complete failure,” she agreed.
“And you’ve got a bit of flair for decorating,” he went on. “Kind of shabby chic meets hippie chick. But in a good way.”
“Well, damn me with faint praise,” she replied.
“Hey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was genuine admiration!” Leander protested.
They were interrupted by the tea kettle whistle. Bree took it off the burner and offered Leander his choice of herbal or black tea. He chose Irish Breakfast while she went for Earl Grey. She put the tea bags in the mugs and poured on the hot water, then handed Leander his cup. “I do have some cookies here somewhere. Not home baked or anything. Molasses ginger cookies. Interested?”
“Always,” Leander replied. So she got down the cookies, put a few on a plate, a carried it, along with her own mug of tea, into the dining room. Leander sat down to her left. He dipped his tea bag up and down in his mug as he said, “I really was so sorry to hear about your friend Kevin. I remember him from Bruce and Sophie’s party. He seemed like a great guy. What’s the word on how he’s doing?”
“Better. As long as there aren’t any other medical complications that crop up, they’re pretty sure he’ll make it.”
“Well, that’s good news then. I take it you were at the protest down at Westlake last night. I wish you’d called me in on it. I would have liked to help.”
There was something in Leander’s voice that made Bree want to read him to check how sincere he was about that, but she reminded herself it would do no good. “I guess I felt like I dragged you into something last time that you didn’t really want to be involved with,” she admitted.
“Oh, it’s not that I want to be involved, not really,” Leander assured her with a grin. “Who in their right mind would? But somehow, you put me to shame by throwing yourself in the middle of it. You make me feel like I should do something, like maybe I can do something to help.”
Bree reflected for a moment on the irony of the fact that she appeared to be having the effect on Leander that Daniel had on her. When she didn’t answer immediately, Leander went on. “Besides, I don’t like the idea of you being in that much danger. You’ve got some good skills, don’t get me wrong. I think yo
u’re a better battle Caster than I am. But I saw how dangerous things can get, and if you’re going to go in, you need good Warding. That much, I can do.”
“Kevin did brilliantly, you know, before he got shot,” Bree told him. “Warding is his only talent, but he’s got it in spades.”
“Where was Daniel in all this? I’d think as a former Keeper, he’d be one of the first ones called in on a situation like that.”
Bree had become enough at ease during their conversation that she found herself replying honestly, at least to a degree. “Daniel wasn’t well, he couldn’t come.”
“Is Daniel a Demon Master too?” Leander asked with evident curiosity. Bree was completely ambushed by the question. Here she’d nearly seduced the man to keep him from asking it before, only to have him come out with it when she was completely unprepared. And damned if her face didn’t give her away, as she knew it would with such a direct question. She was such a crappy liar.
“He is, isn’t he? I had a feeling he was,” Leander said with what sounded like satisfaction. “One thing I’m good at is sniffing out dark energy. I thought he read as a little demon burned. And to be honest, I guessed that was why you were doing the demon research together. But what I don’t get is how he managed to make Keeper. How on earth has he kept this hidden all these years?”
“Leander, I can’t tell you that,” Bree replied, trying to control her panic. “That’s Daniel’s business.”
Leander had been taking a sip of his tea as she responded, but he put down his cup and leaned toward her over the table, expression serious. “Bree, you’ve asked me to trust that you’re using what Demon Master ability you have for good purposes. I’ve agreed not to turn you over the Ecclesias at this point. But you also promised to tell me more. I’m in an awkward position here. I want to do the right thing. I’m inclined to trust you, but to be perfectly honest, I’m less inclined to trust Daniel. There’s something off about that guy.”
“Funny, he says the same thing about you,” Bree replied with some heat.
