Betrayed by Blood: The Shelton Family Legacy : 1

by L. A. McGinnis

  “Pretty good for a kid. Now describe my magical abilities.” My eyes slid nervously over the other occupants of the car. Completely oblivious. “Go on,” she urged softly. “None of them are paying a bit of attention.”

  “Fine,” I bit off, uncomfortable at delving into something I felt was private. “You’re a Prometheus, most likely a level five or higher, if last night’s stunt is any indication. But there’s something else… my guess is you also have some Hyperion tendencies as well, going by the explosion.”

  “Good guess, kiddo.” The nickname made me cringe. “But you’re wrong.” She dismissed me with a wave. “Close, but no cigar as they say in the carnival biz.”

  “Enlighten me, then,” I urged, when she leaned back with a self-satisfied grin. “What am I wrong about?”

  “You know perfectly well Elementals only have one power,” she said innocently, waggling those plucked eyebrows at me for effect.

  “I’ll trust my own eyes, thank you very much. And that explosion… You can blather all you want about manipulating elements, or whatever, but it’s a lie.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “My gut,” I told her flatly. “My gut tells me what I saw was a combination of different kinds of magic, and you are lying your ass off right now. Look, I don’t care what deep, dark secret you’re hiding, or why you started this little game in the first place, but one thing I know for sure. I’m not wrong about this.”

  Even the train squealing to a stop didn’t break our eye contact, but the ten people who stepped between us to get off did. Wondering what that whole thing had been about, I stepped off the car, vaguely relieved my feet were back on terra firma. I’d never liked the subway, nor putting my life in someone else’s hands, and trains were both.

  The Flatiron Building was such a New York icon that it had an entire district—a rich one at that—named after it. Once called a folly, the imposing gray tower held court over Fifth Avenue the way a rich dowager holds court at an afternoon tea. With panache and authority. Even at over a hundred and fifty years old, the oddly shaped structure was elegant, the off-center silhouette taking up most of the sky.

  Dawson didn’t pause as we circled around to the back. “We’ll have to bypass security and take the freight elevator up.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Because I’m a goddamn genius, that’s why. I swear, nothing makes you happy, does it?”

  “Chocolate, cake, and ice cream, a good cup of coffee, a million dollars, my car not getting blown up.” I ticked off the top entries on my happiness list as I glowered at Dawson. “There are plenty of things that makes me happy. I’m just not looking at one of them.” I gestured toward the building looming over us. “But by all means, tell me how great you are while you show me where we’re going.”

  My early-morning-lack-of-good-coffee snarkiness made the long, silent elevator ride especially awkward. Still, I could only be blamed for so much. She’d totally started it.

  The elevator dumped us out onto a pedestrian, concrete-and-steel dock, devoid of anything except a stack of boxes and one lone security guard. “I have an appointment,” Dawson crooned, brushing her hair back with theatrical aplomb, while I offered an apologetic smile. Hopefully it clearly said, I am not with her.

  To my surprise, the guard just waved us on, to a set of plain black doors that were guarded by the kind of security system I only dreamed about. “Is that a Vanguard Securities DNA sensor?” I leaned in to inspect it. “Oh my God, it is. Your friend must be hooked up. Lincoln had a few samples of Vanguard tech, but nothing like this.”

  Maybe I should have known what I was walking into, given the smirk on Dawson’s face as she swung the door open. On the other hand, I was distracted by expensive, shiny objects, so perhaps I could be forgiven for my temporary lapse. Inside, set off against plain gray walls and a commanding view of the city, a man turned in his chair to watch us approach, his face settling into a scowl. Somehow, my feet kept moving, even while my heart crashed painfully against my chest.

  Gabriel Vanguard was everything the glossy magazines promised.

  And so much more.

  In addition to his Adonis-like looks, there was an aura of power around him that no photograph could ever capture. Even with his shirtsleeves casually rolled up, even with a few days of dark stubble on his jaw, he was devastating, both in looks and sheer intensity of personality. Just being within twenty feet of him made my stomach do weird things, and he hadn’t even opened his mouth.

  Gabriel Vanguard’s hair was inky black, his cheekbones high, and his mouth soft. Or at least, I assumed it was as I deliberately took my time surveilling his office, equally determined to put off looking directly at him for as long as possible.

  Vanguard was also a man who had everything.

  More than everything, I thought, surveying the spectacular Manhattan view from his wide bank of windows. Like all rich men, he probably wanted more. Gabriel owned Vanguard Technologies, was the tech world’s current golden boy, and was getting bigger by the day. He had an expensive car collection and appeared on talk shows and the financial news. A rich, trust-fund baby, with a silver-spoon life and a bright future. Except…

  I took stock of the space as Dawson clasped the man’s hand, exchanging quiet greetings and air kisses. She paused, then patted his arm reassuringly as he threw me another scowl, clearly not happy I was here. Well, join the freaking club.

  For a super-rich guy, Vanguard’s work space was stripped down, so bare it appeared utilitarian. No frills, no decorations, and no one else was here except the guard posted outside. This was a place to work, a blank slate with a god’s view, and for a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be this lucky. To have the world at your fingertips.

  “Andy?” Dawson motioned me over. “This is Gabriel Vanguard.”

  As he unfurled to his six-foot-plus height, I met him straight on with a half-smile plastered on my hopefully serene face and extended my hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Hopefully not from Dawson.”

  The woman in question waggled her eyebrows emphatically.

  The second Gabriel took my hand, the contact was like a punch to the gut. Power coursed from him to me, power I felt physically, and I didn’t like it, not one bit. Control, and therefore power, was something I preferred to keep in my court. But there was no denying what I felt, and I had to admit Vanguard was mesmerizing.

  “No, definitely not from Dawson.” I smiled, despite myself, letting my hand slide out of his. “Magazine articles, talk shows, those sorts of things.” Keeping it vague, I let Dawson explain what I needed as I wandered to the nearest window, and the stone ledge was cold beneath my hands as I leaned in to look out. Willing my heart to slow down, I took a series of calming breaths, reminding myself there hadn’t so much as a glimmer of recognition in Gabriel’s face.

  I was safe. He didn’t know who I was.

  First meetings are always a test, in some way. Meeting Gabriel Vanguard—and fuck Dawson for not giving me a head’s up—had been a test in more ways than one, and apparently, I’d passed with flying colors.

  In my previous New York life, before my parents tried to kill me, I’d actually known Gabriel. He’d grown from a skinny kid with thick glasses to—I stole another furtive glance—probably the most handsome man in the world. My heart did a weird little pitty-pat thing again before I shut it down.

  Detailed blueprints littered the table beside me, all of them covered with the same meticulous handwriting.

  “Let me clean this up.” Gabriel hurried over to the table, blocking my view of the documents in the process. “Daws explained what you need. It’ll only take a moment, then we can use this space to process your ID and paperwork.” His tone was gruff, resentful. Put out at having to do this.

  And paranoid, which made sense, given his growing stature in the tech world.

  “I don’t usually allow strangers into my personal
space,” he said, cold mistrust written all over his face. “Please don’t touch anything.”

  “I just wanted to see the view,” I murmured softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the city.” When his eyes flew to mine, then narrowed in suspicion, I realized my mistake. “I’ve really only done the touristy things, like the Empire State Building and Central Park. Times Square, Statue of Liberty.” Hoping to throw him off the scent, I continued to blather like I’d never blathered before.

  “Today we rode on a subway. And Brooklyn is lovely this time of year.” For fuck’s sake, shut up Miranda. When had I ever suffered from mouth vomit like this before? He wasn’t even that handsome. I was here to pick up the keys to my new life and get the hell out of dodge. That’s it.

  “For a second…” Gabriel’s gaze focused on me with the intensity of the laser on a long-range rifle. When his head tilted, his black hair covered one eye, making him look like a pirate. “For just a second, I imagined I might have…” He reared back, then ran a hand through his glossy mane. I didn’t dare breathe until he shook his head, clearly embarrassed. “You know what, never mind, it’s stupid.”

  “Do you happen to have a phone charger?” I redirected, waving my dead phone in his face. “I’m out of juice, and need to check messages.” Or threats, one never knew.

  Gabriel indicated a flat spot on the table, and the second I set my phone down, the charging light came on. “Brand new tech, works with any device, anywhere. Charges in about two minutes.”

  “Sweet. So how long will it take for you to create my new identity?” I asked briskly. “I’d like to get moving. I’ve already wasted enough time as it is.”

  “An hour, tops,” he murmured, looking over to Dawson, who yawned, her bright red mouth parting like a lion’s. “I’ll set you up with a false identity—background, education, skills—one that will hold up under scrutiny, even the government’s. In other words, it’s solid and will carry you for the rest of your life.”

  I nodded. The rest of my life, however long that might be, sounded daunting. Lincoln had done this same thing for me, after making a similar promise, and look how that whole thing turned out. Pushing down the swell of self-pity, I watched Gabriel finish cleaning up and then retreat, his going-away view just as nice as his coming view.

  Making IDs was still an arduous process. It involved penetrating layers of security, falsifying records, laying a fake historical trail that no one could unravel. As with all things, the longer it took, the better the end result. I’d found more than one murderer behind a mild-mannered, used car salesman façade. Shit, one guy had owned a pet shop and spent his days selling puppies to kids.

  He’d killed eight people with an axe.

  Go figure.

  One thing I couldn’t deny; it was a joy to watch Gabriel work. Flipping open a laptop as thin as an old-style magazine, he broke through the Department of HHS in less than a minute. Set me up a new profile in another department, complete with a picture that looked kind of sort of like me, including a new birthdate that was dangerously close to my real one.

  “Elemental or Norm?” Gabriel asked absently, not even looking up from his screen. “Makes a big difference in what ID number you end up with.”

  “Norm,” I answered automatically. No way I was getting tagged as an Elemental right out of the gate. Behind me, Dawson made a disapproving sound. Whatever. To each their own. Pretty soon she’d be tsking all by herself.

  “Education?”

  “High school,” I lied. “I was on the track team,” I added, suddenly anxious to craft the perfect teenage experience. “The honor role. And in school plays.” I thought I heard Dawson chuckle but was busy watching Gabriel’s elegant hands dance over the keyboard.

  “Anything else?”

  I thought about adding cheerleader and prom queen, but those were just passing fancies. “I took Latin and was on the chess team.” Dawson groaned so loudly I couldn’t ignore her.

  “What? I speak Latin and I play chess.”

  Gabriel’s lips twitched.

  “So, suck it, twinkle toes. At least let me have a good childhood, you owe me that.”

  “Why would she owe you that?” Gabriel echoed, never breaking stride, his hands a blur.

  “Because she blew my car up, that’s why.” And Lincoln sent me here on a wild goose chase, and now I’m exactly where I shouldn’t be, talking to someone I shouldn’t be talking to. “All I want is to get this over with and get out of this city.”

  “Est nostrum in intimo gratus moments ut focus debet videre lucem,” Gabriel quietly quoted from his side of the room.

  Even quieter, I responded, “In omnibus, quod est super eo miraculo.”

  “Not many people speak Latin,” Gabriel observed, his eyes fixed on the screen, but his fingers still. I practically felt his suspicion, it was so intense. “Fewer can quote the philosophers.”

  “I had the very best teacher there was.” Not a stretch, when you consider Lincoln’s expertise in pretentious stuff. He’d insisted I learn it all—Latin, some Greek, all the classic literature. I might be a little light on home economics and math, but I could go big in literacy and wasn’t afraid to show it.

  “Back to my new identity.” I hesitated, then asked anyway. “Can you print me out a PI license? I was certified in Washington state. It’s my livelihood, and I’d like to continue doing it.”

  “Hunting down cheaters and low-level criminals. Now that sounds glamorous.” I detected a note of disdain behind Gabriel’s casual observation. So he didn’t trust me, and he looked down on my profession.

  “Actually, it’s not glamourous at all, it’s just what I do. Speaking of jobs, are you about done?”

  “Almost. City you were born in.”

  “Portland,” I lied, figuring it was as good as any. Bennett wouldn’t be able to find me, not if Gabriel was as good at this as he was at everything else. Something told me he was. I’ll bet he’s good at everything. My hormones roared at the thought, damn them.

  “We’ll say New York,” he said, fingers flying once more. “Bigger population, easy to hide you.”

  “Oh no, not New York. How about Los Angeles? Or Chicago?”

  “One is too midwestern, and the other is too glitzy. Something tells me you wouldn’t pass. No…” His knowing gaze gave me a thorough once-over. “You seem like a New York girl to me, and now…” He finished with a flourish. “You are. I’ll print your hard credentials, and you’ll be on your way. Any idea where?”

  “Not a one. I’m sure there are plenty of cities I’d find tolerable.”

  Dawson elbowed me aside. “While he’s printing up your new, enhanced identity, I have a business proposal of my own. Do you mind waiting outside? It’s delicate.”

  In my world, delicate usually meant illegal, so I gave the two miscreants their space. The guard was still on duty, albeit armed with a ham sandwich, and my stomach growled in response. “Are there any street vendors out this early?”

  “Hot dogs and bagels, I think,” he said as he munched away. I swear I could hardly hear him over my stomach. I went back to the black doors, but they were locked tight. Fine. With luck, Dawson wouldn’t even know I’d left, because how long could it take for me to snag a dog and coke?

  “Can you tell Mrs. Hall and Mr. Vanguard I went out to get lunch? I don’t know how long she’ll be, and I’m starving.” Another placid nod, another bite of the white-bread sandwich his wife probably made him this morning.

  I had fifty dollars left in my pocket and intended to buy enough hotdogs to satiate me. Or bagels, I wasn’t picky. I shut my magic down, compacting it into a tight, undetectable ball while I took the elevator down.

  Fifth Avenue was as it always was. Busy, stinking of diesel, and chaotic as hell.

  It smelled, strangely enough, like home, and like home, someone was cooking. The smell of hotdogs wafted above the city’s stench, calling to me with their siren’s song. Waiting in line, I patted at my pockets and realiz
ed I didn’t have my phone. It was still charging up in Gabriel’s office. Well, I reasoned, I’d have to take the elevator back up to fetch it. My faith in Dawson remembering to bring it down was slim.

  I took a step forward toward the bright umbrellas, the promise of greasy, forbidden treats making my mouth water. I heard a commotion, but like everyone else, I completely ignored it. Then someone rammed into me from behind, my back screaming in protest, my knees buckling as they hit me like a linebacker.

  Turning to give them hell, I’d barely opened my mouth when a gun barrel dug deep into my stomach. He looked like one of the military asswipes who’d burned my house down. On his neck, in clear sight, was the Darkwing logo—a set of outspread black wings with a grinning skull in the middle.

  “You and me?” He growled from behind reflective sunglasses, “We’re gonna have a little chat.”

  15

  The other thing Lincoln had taught me was to leverage every single situation to my benefit. In his defense, he was way better at teaching Latin than hand-to-hand and always advised using my head, instead of my fists.

  Instead, I’d taken to fighting like a duck to water.

  There was just something about punching the crap out of something, usually not an actual person, that calmed me down, and I’d kept in practice.

  In addition, my fire was already shivering down my arms, ready to burst out of me like a sweaty panic attack. No doubt this guy would escalate things, going by his bad-cop-bad-cop approach to this abduction. Better to roast him now, before he figured out what I was.

  Still, I marched along like a good little Elemental, ever-mindful of the press of the muzzle into the small of my back. That bad boy would most definitely leave a mark. Fucker. My stomach growled in protest. I never even got my hotdog, and I’d been so close.

  “Want to tell me what this is about?” I asked, as we turned a corner. I put a little extra tremble in my voice, figuring he’d expect it. I didn’t get an answer, but we were heading right back to the service entrance of the Flatiron. With any luck, Dawson would be waiting, although I was hard-pressed to see how she could help. Maybe she could blow him up like my car. At the last minute, we course-corrected and landed in an adjoining alley between the sheer sides of two buildings.