Ghost Phoenix

by Corrina Lawson

  “Some sort of plan to create a specific psychic power.”

  That was similar to the reason why Richard wanted to use Rasputin’s DNA, assuming they could find the body. But Rasputin was hardly in a position to object. What harm could that do him? And just because Richard’s brother had done something wrong, it didn’t mean Richard was doing something wrong. God forbid she should be held accountable for something her grandfather did.

  “Do you always divide your world into those with you and those against you, Daz Montoya?” Richard asked. His voice sounded nearly normal now.

  Montoya pulled up to a locked steel gate with barbed wired around the top. Past the gate, she could only make out the distant outline of a building with a tower in the center.

  “Alec Farley’s my friend and my teammate, Genet,” Montoya answered after he spoke to someone via a speaker at the gate. “I divide the world into those who want to help him and those who want to hurt him.”

  “I helped you,” Richard said.

  “Maybe.”

  “If I had died, would that have proved my intentions to you?”

  “You didn’t die,” Montoya said.

  “I know. Very inconvenient for you.”

  Montoya, Marian finally realized, was a bit scared of Richard. Or maybe wary was a better term for it.

  The gate swung open and they drove through.

  The lawn surrounding the Phoenix Institute buildings was lush and well kept. To the right, she caught a glimpse of rose bushes and a garden beyond them. The main building resembled a large hotel and conference center.

  Huh. She expected something far more sinister.

  She looked over at Richard to see what he thought, but his expression was unreadable. What kind of man faced the people responsible for his brother’s death with no expression?

  A dangerous one.

  Montoya parked next to a line of vans that looked exactly the same as the one he was driving.

  “Did you get a bulk discount?” she asked.

  Montoya smiled for the first time. “Something like that.”

  He stepped out of the vehicle to walk around to the passenger door on their side. Marian reached to open it. Richard clamped his hand around her wrist. “Let him,” he whispered. “And let him think I’m weaker than I am.”

  She nodded.

  Montoya slid open the door and offered his hand. She took it, thinking if Richard wanted to look weak and non-threatening, she could play along with that. Meek and helpless tended to work well for her at border crossings in Europe.

  “Thanks.” She looked down at her skirt, which was caked with blood, like her hands. She took a deep breath. Montoya noticed.

  “Look, whatever happens in there, I’ll make sure you’re okay,” Montoya said. “Don’t be scared.”

  “Too late.”

  Montoya grimaced. “Sorry.”

  Another protector? Montoya confused her as much as Richard did. First, he followed them, then he jumped to her rescue and now he vowed to take care of her. This whole situation was maddening.

  Don’t talk, she thought. She always babbled when she was scared. That would be especially bad now.

  Richard let Montoya help him out. He stumbled on his first step. She steadied him, and he draped his arm over her shoulders. Montoya offered to help them again, but Richard waved him off.

  As they walked to the entrance of the Phoenix Institute, Richard leaned heavily on her, part of his plan to seem weaker than he really was. And to stay close to me?

  Hah. Maybe she was overestimating her appeal to him.

  Being intrigued by her powers wasn’t the same as being intrigued by her. She drew in a deep breath. Shot or not, Richard smelled like sand and waves. Would he really teach her to surf?

  The lobby was circular and ringed by windows that let the sunlight stream in. The scents of jasmine and other spices hung in the air. Numerous planters with bonsai trees were set under the windows, soaking in the light.

  It seemed a happy place.

  The Phoenix Institute wasn’t trying to scare people. Or maybe they wanted to lull visitors into a false sense of security.

  Montoya led them down a short hallway, opened a door to a room and gestured for them to go inside. She did, with Richard still at her side.

  “There’s a bathroom to clean up and some clean shirts and sweats in the cabinets,” Montoya said. “Do you want the med techs to look you over?”

  Richard put a hand on the wall for added support. At least, that’s what it looked like. “No doctors needed. Thanks for the welcome.” He smiled.

  “You’re hard to figure out.” Daz shook his head and shut them in.

  “It’s probably locked,” Richard said.

  She sighed. “There’s no place to run, anyway.”

  The room was more living space than a conference room, complete with a kitchen area to the left of a living room with couches, chairs and a coffee table in the center. All the place lacked was a bedroom.

  She walked to the kitchen and began opening cabinets. The bottom one contained the promised clothes.

  “Is he going to confer with his people?” she asked Richard.

  “I assume.” Richard walked to her slowly, as if he still felt the effects of being shot. He leaned over her. “There are cameras watching us,” he whispered. “Be careful what you say.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I need to wash off my hands,” she said in a louder voice. “So do you.”

  And now she was back in the same situation as when she had been grabbed by the customs agents. Being watched.

  She scrubbed her hands thoroughly at the kitchen sink, staring as the water turned red. So much blood. She couldn’t get her fingernails clean.

  Richard leaned against the counter, watching her. When the water ran clear, she dried off her hands.

  “Want some help getting clean?” She’d no idea how weak he was. For all she knew, he was leaning against the counter to stay upright rather than stare at her.

  “Good idea,” he said quietly as she scrubbed his hands. “The running water will block our words.”

  She never thought of the water as cover. She didn’t tell him that. She also didn’t mention that touching his fingertips gave her an unexpected thrill. Or maybe it was his breath on her neck.

  Please don’t let her blush again.

  “What next?” she asked.

  “Go to the bathroom. On the other side of the wall is the hallway. Can you slip through and scout around to find out what’s happening?”

  “Yes.” Sneaking was what she did best. For someone unfamiliar with her power before this morning, he had good ideas on how to use it. “Is there a camera in the bathroom?”

  “No, not that I can see.”

  “Okay.”

  She grabbed a clean, dark T-shirt and sweats from the kitchen cabinet and ducked into the bathroom. She changed clothes, tossing her bloodied ones into the corner. Dry-cleaning might get the blood out. Not that she cared. She hated the damn pencil skirts.

  She pressed her ear against the far wall. No sounds. At least no one was talking directly on the other side. A quick peek should be safe enough.

  One deep breath, a little concentration and she was back to a full phantom. Even if she only stuck her head out, fully immaterial was better. Getting stuck halfway in and out of the wall, well, not good. Great-Aunt Eunice told the worst stories sometimes.

  At first, she only slipped her ear through the wall, cautious. She heard the voices clearly. Whew. If she’d gone all the way through, she’d have been caught.

  She recognized Montoya’s voice. There was another male voice and a woman’s as well.

  “Beth, do you get anything from them?” the unidentified man asked.

  “From Genet, I read pain and annoyance, plus some anger but no fear. H
is mind is dense and that makes it difficult to pick out specifics. He may have had dealings with telepaths before and knows how to protect himself from a full read.”

  The woman must be the telepath. Crap. So much for keeping any secrets.

  “And the woman, the antique expert?”

  “That’s the weirdest thing. I can’t read or get anything from her at all. She’s like a phantom. I can’t hold on to it.”

  Closer than they knew.

  “So she’s one of us? A psychic?” the man asked.

  One of us. That was the first time someone had ever included her as part of a group of people with special abilities.

  I thought I was alone, save for Great-Aunt Eunice.

  “I can’t say that for certain, Alec,” the telepath answered. “There are too many unknowns with telepathy. For all I know, she happens to have a natural immunity.”

  Alec. He must be Alec Farley. Montoya’s teammate and boss. The firestarter.

  “She and Genet seemed very cozy. I wouldn’t trust her,” Montoya said.

  Cozy. If you could call pulling a bullet out of someone else cozy.

  She poked her head completely out into the hallway, making sure to do so low on the wall. People tended to look at eye level, not down.

  Montoya and Alec had their backs to her. The woman, Beth, stood sideways, next to Alec.

  Whoa. Marian blinked. Tall, dark and with a great build. If the face matched, Alec would be as gorgeous as Richard.

  “Marian Doyle was freaked out by the shooting, though,” Montoya said. “She’s not a pro, or, if she is, she’s damn good at hiding it.”

  “And Genet really took the bullet for you?” Alec asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “It could be a trick.”

  “I know you’re paranoid after that mess with the alarm system, Alec, but that was real blood. He saved my life. Unless you think he’s twisted enough to take the bullet to get me to trust him.”

  “It’s possible. Lansing would’ve been sick enough to do it.”

  “Either way, we have a problem. Either it’s Genet and his people, or again, we have an unknown third party out there trying to kill us too.”

  “Not what we need, especially since we’re starting to do some good,” Alec said.

  Their conversation confirmed one thing. They weren’t behind the shooting or they’d be talking about that.

  “Genet didn’t object to being brought here. Maybe that’s what he wanted,” Beth said.

  Alec shook his head. “Daz is right. It’s not logical. Richard Genet’s people know where we are. If he wanted to talk to us, he could’ve just knocked at the front gate. I’d have let him in out of sheer curiosity. Instead, he came in with a bullet wound. Maybe this was exactly what it looked like, someone shooting at Daz and Genet helping him. Beth, can you read him more thoroughly once we’re in the same room together?”

  “I can try but I don’t know all the limits to my telepathy yet. Maybe he knows a way to beat it. Remember, he’s about six hundred years old. He may know tricks that we don’t.”

  Beth started to turn in her direction. Marian slipped back inside the bathroom, exhaled and returned to human form.

  What the hell had she been dragged into? No, not dragged. She had agreed to it.

  She looked down at the dried blood under her fingernails.

  “Angel?” Richard said from the other side of the door.

  She opened the door a crack. “Your hair is mussed, Angel.” She opened the door wider. He took one of her many curls between his fingers. “I like it better this way. Untamed.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. Flirting? Now? “Thank you. You look better too. The color’s back in your face.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be back to full strength by tonight, thanks to your removal of the bullet.” He leaned in close, his hand still caressing her curls. “What did you discover?” he whispered.

  She explained about the pair with Montoya. “They weren’t the ones behind the shooting. And they’re planning to talk to you first before deciding what to do.”

  “Stellar.” He kissed her cheek again. “I made coffee. Join me when you can.”

  After that kiss, her tongue was too thick to answer him. It was sheer physical attraction. Richard had enough…whatever it was to overwhelm any woman. And he likely knew it too, especially after six hundred years.

  But it was still damn powerful. She’d had his life in her hands.

  I finally did something morally right with this power.

  Marian didn’t know what to do with her bloodied clothes so she hung them on the towel rack. Belatedly, she realized she’d left her cell phone in her purse, which was in the van. Dumb, dumb, dumb. How could she call for help if needed? Her grandfather might completely disapprove of her, but he would move heaven and earth if someone else laid claim to her.

  Richard held out the promised mug of coffee. “I added cream. I hope you take it that way.”

  “Thanks.” She preferred skim milk, but cream would work, especially with the waiter so handsome and apparently now healthy. She saw the remains of his bandages in the trash.

  “Is that a good idea?”

  “I didn’t need them anymore.”

  Like her, he wore sweatpants, a T-shirt and a new hoodie, meaning he had stripped out here in the open, before the cameras. She wondered if there was footage of that. Quiet, she told herself. “Now what?”

  “We talk with our hosts. I assume they’ll show up at some point.”

  As if on cue, the door opened and Alec Farley walked in, with Montoya and Beth a step behind him.

  “Alec Farley, Beth Nakamora, this is Richard Genet and Marian Doyle.” Montoya shut the door behind him and stayed next to it, standing guard.

  The up-close look at Alec confirmed her initial impression. He practically vibrated with a sort of controlled energy, so much so he seemed to be throwing off literal sparks.

  She wondered if having a psychic ability also was connected to being hot as hell, because it sure worked for Alec and Richard. Beth was pretty too, the picture of calm self-assurance.

  Apparently, those with the phantom ability somehow missed that genetic gift.

  “Sorry about the shooting, Miss Doyle,” Alec said. “Daz was just supposed to follow your client. We didn’t think anyone would be in danger from simple surveillance.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  Whereas Richard gave nothing away in his expression, Alec was an open book, or he was good at faking friendliness because she liked him before he finished his sentence.

  Marian had often wished for more height than her own five-foot-six but she was taller than Beth by at least five inches. The woman stood very close to Alec, almost touching his waist.

  How did it feel to be paired with another psychic? Marian had wished many times in her life for a kindred spirit with psychic ability, but only as someone to talk to. She’d never dreamed about dating someone like her.

  What about Richard?

  He didn’t count. For one, he wasn’t her age. If she thought about it, he was far older than Great-Aunt Eunice.

  He didn’t look it.

  “Miss Doyle, you can leave anytime you want,” Farley said. “Daz can bring you back to your office, if you like, or your home, right now. This is our problem, not yours. You’re free to go.”

  “If I had wanted to be kept out of this, I’d have said so already.” She scowled. Now he sounded like her grandfather, trying to control her or dismissing her as unimportant.

  Or maybe she was oversensitive.

  “Your choice, then.” Alec looked at Richard. “How’s the bullet wound?”

  “Unpleasant but healing,” Richard said.

  “You are Edward P. Genet the Fifth’s brother?” Alec asked.

  Richard
crossed his arms over his chest. “Edward was my older brother, and his proper last name was Plantagenet, as is mine. As you already know.”

  “I thought you might attempt to deny it,” Alec said.

  “Why would I deny my brother?”

  “To protect yourself from us.”

  Richard shrugged.

  Alec hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “Your court was powerful enough to scare even Lansing.”

  Richard smiled, but it was not warm. “Lansing, your late, ah, foster father? Yes, he knew exactly the kind of danger we could pose to him.”

  Beth touched Farley’s arm. Some sort of signal, Marian thought. Were they exchanging thoughts?

  “Do your people know what kind of danger I can be to them?” Alec asked.

  “Since you killed my brother, you have their full attention.” He glanced over at Montoya, guarding the door. “As it appears I have your full attention, to judge by your setting a watcher on me.”

  “You said their attention when referring to the Court. Why not say our attention?” Beth asked, stepping out from Alec’s shadow. “Aren’t you part of the Court?”

  Again, Richard shrugged. “You have my full attention now. I dislike people referring to my brother as a corpse.” He glared at Montoya.

  Alec raised his hand. The temperature in the room grew warmer in a split second. Marian backed away from the concentrated blast of heat emanating from Alec.

  “You disappoint me, Farley.” Richard flexed his fist. “I thought we might actually have a conversation, not a battle.”

  Beth wrapped her hand around Alec’s forearm.

  “Conversation? Fine. Tell me what you and your Court want,” Alec said.

  “What I want? I set out this morning to engage Miss Doyle on a task for me. You’re the ones who interrupted that.”

  “But you’re here now,” Alec said.

  “That’s because I want your people to stop following me around. And for that to happen, we must settle unfinished business.”

  Richard stalked over to Alec until less than a foot separated them. Marian’s face flushed with heat, as if she were next to a roaring fire. Did the firestarter have any idea what he was doing?

  “What kind of unfinished business?”