by T. G. Ayer
I gave her a happy grin and gestured to the sofa. “Yes. The boy. Baz. He needs you.”
Chloe went straight to him, and placed her pale hand on his dark arm. “Right, young man. All you need to do is relax. I can feel the tension and fear in you. You don’t have to be afraid of anyone here. We are all here to help you.”
When Baz glanced at Cassie, I stifled a snort.
“Yes,” I said, keeping my features neutral. “Even Cassie.”
His gaze flicked from Cassie’s weak but encouraging smile, to my face, and then up to Chloe’s. I’d bet the older woman’s kinder features were much more attractive than either of ours. Poor kid had been through far too much.
His shoulders sank into the cheap satin pillows beneath him, as if an invisible layer of tension had weighed him down for all this time and had only now been lifted.
Chloe crouched down, her hand stroking his shoulder inches from his ravaged neck. “How do you feel?”
He nodded and his teeth glinted white against his dark skin. A soft smile if it were possible to ignore the sharp point of his canines.
“Tell us about yourself.” Chloe continued to stroke. “That way we can get you the best kind of help.”
“I’m from London.” He said it a little defensively, his well-educated accent becoming more pronounced. “Born and bred.”
And I understood. People of color didn’t fit that well into the general idea of a highly educated Londoner. You’d think more along the lines of white. But for me, born-and-bred was enough.
When nobody challenged his claim, not even the only other Brit in the room, he said, “I went to Eton, studied programming. But I f— . . . I mean I was stupid. This guy got in touch with me on a programming forum. Wanted some sort of complicated code. We met. And yeah, now, I’m here.”
“Was it the demon we killed?” I asked softly.
“You killed him?” He seemed to want confirmation even though I’d already told him the demon was dead.
“Yes. You don’t have to worry about them anymore.” I focused my attention on him. “How long were you in the house?” I didn’t want to ask him how long he’d been beneath the floor.
His mouth twisted. “About two months. They took me there when I refused to write their program. I heard them say that once they turned me, I’d have no choice.”
“Did you write it?”
He shook his head. “You killed him and the others will find the place empty when they get back.”
Cassie was already hurrying out of the room, phone in hand, to let Sentinel know that more vamp-demons were expected at the house.
“What was it they wanted you to do?” I asked softly, hoping he had the energy to keep talking. Judging by the gray undertone of his dark caramel skin, I didn’t think he’d last much longer. And neither did Chloe. She gave me a stern glance.
Baz cleared his throat. “Hack into MI6.”
The silence in the room pierced my ears.
“Why?” asked Chloe, now too intrigued to stop him.
“A terrorist,” Baz said “One of their own. He was in trouble with MI6 and on their kill-list. He wanted off.”
I’d bet he did. “Did you give them anything?”
He grinned. “Just a program that keeps going into an endless loop. They’ll figure it out eventually but for now they will think it’s working.”
“Clever,” said Chloe as she got to her feet. “Now, I think it’s time you got some sleep. When you’re rested, you can shower and change. In the meantime, we’ll find a healer for that wound and see if we can also find someone to remove some of the virus.”
“Remove it?” I asked, as Baz rested his head back on the sofa. Our questioning was taking a toll on him.
Chloe lifted a shoulder. “Only some of it. One of our skilled healers would be able to suck it out of his system, but he’d still have the virus in his bloodstream. He’d have to have regular visits as it builds up, but it will enable him to live a fairly normal life.”
I blew out a sigh of relief just as Cassie entered the room.
“It’s been fun ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “But duty calls.” Storm and Chloe nodded at her. Baz lifted his head from the pillow. “And you,” she told him sternly, “behave yourself. Don’t make me come back here to sort you out.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said with a weak smile.
It didn’t take anyone long to see through Cassie. All bluster, but just a big marshmallow inside.
She looked at me, giving her comms a tap. “Do you have a minute, Kai?”
As Larsson appeared, I said, “Sure.” I gave the small group a wave. “Take me home. I need a shower.”
Cassie nodded, took my outstretched hand, and we melted away into the ether.
Chapter 6
THE SHOWER IN GRANDMA IVY’S en-suite was running when Larsson dropped Cassie and me in my living room.
I felt a rush of anticipation as I dropped my backpack beside the kitchen counter and headed to the sink. Seeing Grams when she came home, however brief her stay, was something I looked forward to and our teatimes were a pleasure I couldn’t miss.
Even if we had company.
Things had been crazy for the last few weeks, so nuts that I’d barely noticed the absence of Cat, our pet feline. The last time I’d seen her was before I’d been thrown into the wraith world and found out my Mom was still alive. After that shock to my system I’d barely had time to think about mundane stuff like cats who have the habit of running off for weeks on end.
It’s true when they say that dogs have owners but cats have staff.
I spent a few moments diligently scrubbing remnants of the demon’s blood from my fingers before grabbing the kettle and filling it for tea.
“Ivy,” Cassie said, giving the closed bedroom door a glance. She knew Grandma Ivy Odel pretty well. “Tell her I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat. Sentinel wants me back at the vamp’s hovel, overseeing this op.”
She kept her backpack firmly on her shoulders and gave me a twist of a smile. “Have you thought any more about Sentinel’s offer?”
I glanced up as I switched the kettle on. “I’ve given it a thought or two.”
How was I supposed to turn her down? The Supreme High Council’s offer to join the Elite Corps was much more enticing than anything Sentinel or Omega could offer. But it would remain confidential until I confirmed my decision.
Cassie sighed.
“Why?” Although Cassie was a new friend she’d already gotten pretty close to me, and I suspected it was purely because I missed Tara’s comforting presence so much. With my Fae bestie gone off to Ailuros-knew-where, I felt a bit on the lonely side.
Cassie pursed her lips and then slid onto a stool and faced me. “Look, I am probably not supposed to tell you this, but the offer won’t be on the table forever.”
I didn’t say a word, just pulled cups and saucers from the cupboard above the counter and laid them out. My pointed finger at the cups got a ‘no’ from Cassie.
“You’re special,” she continued. “We all know that, but even for the Ni’amh, offers don’t stay offered when you keep refusing.”
I stiffened. “So you know?”
She shrugged. “Most agents who need to know, know. I was tasked with looking after an agent who we’d once thought was the Ni’amh.”
“My mother.”
Without missing a beat, she continued. “And when we discovered the interpretation of the prophecy was wrong and indicated you, we went with it.”
“And now?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“And now that we know that you are not the only savior, we’ve planned accordingly.”
I smiled faintly. “Good to know.”
Somehow I’d felt dethroned when Grams had confirmed the prophecy’s interpretation had been slightly skewed. Although, if I were honest, I much preferred to be part of a team than to carry such responsibility alone. If the shit hit the fan it would be nice to have company in my shame.
> “There are a few people on the upper rungs who—” she hesitated, “—disagree with this offer.”
Disagree. Pulling out of my thoughts, I grabbed a knife from the top drawer and selected bread, butter, and cheese from the fridge. “Like Paulson?” I grinned as I buttered a slice of bread.
Cassie made a rude sound. “Paulson is ruled by his male parts. When he calms down he’ll realize he would have probably made the same decision you did.”
I hiked my eyebrows. “I thought you guys played by Sentinel’s rules?” I just couldn’t picture Spy-Man-Paulson doing something nice. Or even something for someone other than himself.
She shook her head, her blonde hair glinting as it danced around her shoulders. “We do. For the most part. But Sentinel doesn’t insist we do things that are wrong, illegal, or against our moral code. If you were on the payroll you would have still been able to make that final choice to save Baz.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
This was sounding a heckuva lot better than Omega, especially since I was still reeling from the discovery of their underground facility. How could I possibly come to terms with the knowledge that Omega had been holding and experimenting on my mom?
“Do you have any information on their facility?” I asked her.
“Irreparably linked to Omega,” she said. “They’re dicking us around right now, but the Supreme High Council wants to get to the bottom of it. Omega is guilty. Once the charges are formalized the whole organization is in trouble.”
I thought of Logan, of Saleem, and my stomach tightened, the buttered bread forgotten. “Not all their agents are guilty of wrongdoing.”
Cassie nodded. “The High Council knows that. They aren’t just going to arbitrarily label people as guilty. They would first require proof. And as for the teams on the ground, they’re just the worker bees. The council wants the queens.”
The kettle whistled. I switched it off barely registering the noise. My mind remained fixed on my two friends who’d get vaporized when the whole Omega thing blew.
I sighed. “Who knows what else they’ve been doing that they’re currently scrambling to sweep under the floorboards.”
“You have no idea what Omega is suspected of,” Cassie said sadly. “The list of offenses is longer than my arm.”
“Then find the evidence and make it stick,” I said. “To the guilty. Just be careful how you do it, Cassie. Too many innocent people are likely to get hurt.”
She got to her feet and reached for her bag. “I can vouch for Sentinel. Their heart’s in the right place. And you should trust them. I do.”
“So . . . you think I should say yes?”
“Of course.” She winked. “Join the family business.”
I nodded wondering if Mom would consider rejoining her old team. It would make sense if they were offering her her old job back—especially after what she’d been through. If I were in her place I’d be chomping at the bit to slide a knife across Omega’s collective jugular right now.
“Right,” she said. “That’s me. Now I’ve really got to get my arse moving.” She sketched a salute as Larsson appeared. This time he smiled before they faded into nothing.
I stared at the empty air, hoping at least some part of my heart would tell me what to do.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew I’d refused Sentinel because it wasn’t Omega. Omega meant Logan, and any other choice would have conflicted with our relationship no matter how either of us tried to avoid it.
But Sentinel and my family had a long history, so joining their ranks would mean I’d be following in my family’s footsteps.
I shook my head and reached for the can of English Breakfast tea leaves. No. Omega was under investigation. Sentinel was doing the investigating. Now wasn’t the time to take a position with Sentinel. The last thing I needed was to be tasked with tossing Logan and his friend out on their butts.
The Elite Corps was looking better every day.
I grinned as I spooned tea into the teapot and covered it with boiling water.
Butts or arses, everyone’s behinds were on the line.
Chapter 7
I’D JUST PLACED THE TEACUPS on the dining table when Grams exited the bedroom, her pale skin pink from the heat of the shower and her white-blonde hair curling at her temples. The fact she was wearing her gray sweatpants and hoodie was a comfort. It meant she was home for the evening.
“Kailin, dear.” She reached out and pulled me close and into a tight squeeze. Grams was a hugger and I didn’t mind at all. “You look tired,” she said against my cheek.
I nodded as I disengaged from her arms and reached for the bread and cheese. Setting the plate on the table, I made a face. “Sorry. I didn’t have anything else in the fridge for dinner. Been in Scotland.”
Grams laughed, her face brightening as she shook her head at me. “You forget, I have my spies.”
I snorted and pushed the sugar bowl toward her. “Of course, you do.”
“Was that Cassandra?” she asked as I handed her a spoon.
“Perceptive of you.”
“She has a particular way of forming her vowels and consonants.”
Yeah, that and the fact that Grams’ panther nose worked just as well as mine.
I rolled my eyes. “Gee, Grams. Speak straight. I’m not old enough for old-people-speak.”
“Watch it, young lady,” She gave me a mock glare and then lifted her cup to blow lightly on the steaming surface. She took a sip. “This is good. Hits the spot.”
It certainly did. I drank deeply, enjoying the sweet warmth as it slid down my throat. All that time in England and not a drop of tea to drink.
Then again, was Scotland part of England?
I frowned, then sat back noticing that my fingers were still gritty with vamp residue. “I need to be clean. Demon blood gets into all the wrong cracks and crevices.”
I felt a little guilty gulping down the food, but the longer I sat there the more time I spent wondering if I was giving off any kind of demon stink.
When Grams sniffed the air and twitched her nose, I grunted, swallowed the last of my tea in one long gulp and stalked off to my room.
Her snickering followed me all the way into my bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later I padded out of the bathroom in bare feet. I was clean. My hair was clean. I was wearing my ‘at home relaxing’ sweatpants and hoodie. Could the night get any better?
I looked up and stopped in my tracks. No. But apparently the night could get worse.
Gram was busy running a pale pink lipstick over her lips as she peered into the mirror we’d hung on the wall behind our front door. No longer in her comfortable clothes, she was dressed in a dark green skirt suit. A pair of black heels sat neatly beside the door.
“What . . .” I trailed off as Corin Odel, dressed in a dark gray suit, rose from the sofa with an equally dark look on his face.
“It wasn’t me, Dad.”
The words fell out of my mouth, but when a smile broke through the shadows in my father’s eyes I was glad of my inability to hold my tongue.
I went to him, received his hug, gave him mine. “What’s wrong?”
“Get dressed.”
Not a night at home then. “Don’t tell me . . . Walker High Council meeting.”
“I raised a smart girl,” he murmured as his phone beeped. “So proud.”
That earned him one of my dark glares but as he was busy swiping his screen and answering his phone it was totally wasted.
I spun on my heel and headed back to my room to change. A few minutes later I returned wearing a deep burgundy skirt suit, carrying black pumps in one hand and running the fingers of my free hand through the mess that was my hair.
As black as Mom’s, it was as unruly as hers if I didn’t blow dry it into some semblance of decency first. Having left it to dry while I’d dressed, it now stuck out like a mane around my face as though I were more lion than panther.
When I rea
ched the table, I held onto the edge for balance as I slipped my shoes on. Then I bent and grabbed my satchel.
“You are not taking that old thing to a meeting of the High Council,” Grams said in a voice of ice and iron.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course not Grandmother. I’m just about to get my purse.”
Total lie.
“Good save,” Dad murmured from the sofa.
“You’re not helping,” I snapped and returned to my room for a more acceptable carrier-of-useless-stuff.
There was no time to fix my hair. The Walker High Council wouldn’t care anyway. I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
Chapter 8
I DON’T KNOW WHICH UNSETTLED me more—attending a Walker High Council meeting, or actually setting foot in Justin Lake’s home again. Memories of the last time I’d been in the place gave me the shivers. The word ‘tense’ didn’t come close to describing it.
Tonight, however, Justin, the blond Cougar Alpha, who also happened to be both Iain’s brother-in-law, and my teenage crush, was too busy herding people around, and met my gaze for only a few seconds as Grams and I entered the room. He didn’t need more time though. His golden eyes bore into mine and conveyed a thesaurus of emotions. None of them meant ‘happy’.
I sucked in a breath and sent him a short smile, trying not to remember his kiss, or his marriage proposal. He acknowledged my greeting with a nod of his blond head, then hurried over to my father who was standing stony-faced beside my brother Iain. They were an impressive pair, all wide shoulders, and white blond hair. Justin murmured something in Dad’s ear. A moment later both Dad and Justin had disappeared into the crowd while Iain took a seat at the back.
Tonight was certainly different from the last meeting. Instead of a small number of Alphas, today the room overflowed with spouses and the immediate families of Alphas from all over the North American continent.
