INVISIBLE POWER BOOK TWO: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) Page 16

  Okay, I was getting mad, but anger was better than being gobsmacked and gutted. How dare the Council smear my name? Again. Unless I made a convenient scapegoat, already having a murder rap and conveniently being in the right country, at the right party, at the right time.

  “You don’t know do you?” Stone asked, nabbing my one hundred percent attention for his question and the soft tone it was said in. Stone didn’t do soft, it didn’t go with his whole killer, bad-ass personality.

  “Know what?” I glanced around, this time seeing averted gazes and uncomfortable silence. It was Bran who I ended up staring at, as if he was at the heart of whatever was going on. “What’s happening?” I insisted. “What should I know about the Council that I don’t?”

  Bran canted his head toward Ling Mai who answered, her voice as arid and lethal as dry ice against skin. ”You are telling us that you do not know your father is on the Council?”

  CHAPTER 41

  When I was a child I once went to the park with three of my brothers. Not Van, but Jake, Luke and Simon. There was a swing that looked like it could reach the sky and made me quake in my shoes just thinking about getting on it. Of course having shifter brothers they could scent my fear so ragged and dared me until I marched up to that old, silly swing and with a boost from Jake, plopped down on that rubber belt that was the seat.

  I felt like I’d conquered the world. Until Jake started pushing me forward. Higher and higher, my hands sweaty on the chain, my butt slipping and sliding with each rocket thrust into that summer sky, my heart in my throat. But I didn’t say anything. If I screamed I knew he’d push harder; shifter brothers were like that. I just closed my eyes and felt the sky rush down to me, the earth recede with each jerky shove.

  And then it happened. I clutched too tight, or slid too far, I don’t know what I’d done but I knew it was my fault when suddenly the rubber tethering me to earth twisted and I was upside down, my feet above my head, gripping on for dear life.

  I didn’t make a sound though I could hear my brothers’ shouts buzzing in my awareness. The sky and ground flip flopped and I knew, down to the marrow of my bones, that if I remained frozen I could survive. It was my only option.

  I felt exactly like that now. My world had tilted and if I just stayed still, so still even my breaths didn’t register, soon my world would right again, even as I knew it never would.

  You are telling us that you do not know your father is on the Council?

  My father couldn’t be on the Council. How’d I know that? Because if he was he’d have been present when the Council suppressed information that would have kept me out of prison. My dad would not have done that. He would not have let me face life behind metal bars.

  Would he?

  He’d lied to me. He’d said he’d always stand by me even as he knew what keeping quiet meant. He said good-bye to me at the prison gates, knowing he helped send me there.

  It was Kelly who popped up at my side, her hands on my arms, guiding me to a seat. She made small soothing sounds, the way you would to a terror-struck child. Or a rabid dog.

  “I’d say that was a you-didn’t-know answer,” Stone said, a little louder than he needed to, or maybe I was being hyper aware of noise, of motion, of everything right then.

  If my dad had let me be sent to prison for life then my world as I’d known it was based on a lie. I’d always believed he had my back, no matter what. He was the one who’d stayed and raised me when my mom high-tailed it away to greener pastures. The one who tried to find me a witch mentor to help me handle my magic talents. The one who had been by my side the whole terrible trial and sentencing, when people thought I’d killed a man in about as brutal and violent way as possible, instead of stopping a rogue Were who was trying to kill my brother.

  That was the pièce de résistance that had me sentenced for life. The crime scene photos that showed a man practically torn limb from limb. I was judged as a vicious, cold, and calculating murderess taking the life of an innocent human. When the truth was I’d sucked the Were’s own powers from him and turned them on him, just as I’d done in the street fight yesterday. I did to him what he’d been planning on doing to my brother.

  And my dad knew that.

  But the Council refused to let humans know that piece of information, as that would have revealed too much about preternaturals to the clueless human population.

  My father let that happen.

  I let that happen.

  I wanted to scream, to punch someone, something. Stupid, clueless me and I thought I was doing the right thing. The best thing for the sake of the greater good. Talk about an idiot throwing herself on the sword for beings who didn’t care at all about me. Including my father. Especially my father.

  “Alex.” It was Bran kneeling before me, so close all I could see was him. Dark hair ruffled, Celtic blue eyes very serious, the slashes of his cheekbones prominent as if he was clenching his jaw really tight. He grabbed my hands between his, rubbing them, which alerted me to the fact they were cold. Arctic ice cold. I was chilled all over, suddenly shaking. “Someone get me a brandy or bourbon,” he snarled.

  I heard movement in the background as I focused on Bran, using him to anchor me in place so I didn’t spiral away and then a hand appeared before me with a glass. Jaylene’s hand.

  He took the crystal and nudged the rim against my lips. “Drink this. Now.”

  How like Bran. Do this. Do that. Warlock arrogance. But right then he was right. I couldn’t think for myself. In a minute maybe, but not right then.

  I took a sip, felt the sear to my toes then shook my head. I didn’t want anything to make me more numb, I was so numb as it was I might never surface.

  Numbness was better than the hurt hiding just beneath it. Not deep beneath but like a sliver wedged just deep enough into your finger that every time you brushed against it your whole body flinched.

  Bran pulled me to my feet. I wasn’t a rag doll but he seemed to have his own agenda. So like him. And he was angry, so angry I could feel the heat roil off of him. He looked at Ling Mai who was hidden behind him somewhere. “This is how you treat your agents?”

  No one answered. Not that I blamed them. With the tone of his voice if he’d been a shifter or Were he’d already be changing into an angry beast.

  “Alex is coming with me,” he announced.

  “And you’re going where?” It was Stone who answered that challenge, stepping forward, his chin high, his stance aggressive. Alpha to Alpha. Great, just what I needed, more potential bloodshed. If they tore each other from limb to limb maybe I’d get two life sentences. Or the death penalty. The way the day was unfurling I’d put my money on the latter.

  Before I could speak Bran did. “We’re looking for the doctor. When we find him we’ll let you know.”

  “And if you don’t find him?” Ling Mai’s voice washed over me.

  “We will,” he said, and even I believed him. I who knew that wasn’t his real agenda.

  “And what about Alex?” Stone was pushing. I’d like to think it was for my sake, that whole team thing that everyone else seemed to conveniently forget when it was not working for them. But then he added, “The Council isn’t going to be too happy when they find out she was here but left.“

  Of course. When would I learn? No one cared if I lived or died, went to prison or remained free, was a part of the team or not, as long as I didn’t rock their boats. I wasn’t having a pity party as much as a buck-up-baby and get with the program. Maybe if I could tap into the rage bubbling inside me I could speak and move and act mostly human instead of the walking who kept trusting the wrong people; starting with my mother, my father and right up to here.

  “Screw the Council,” Bran bit back. The minute I got my stuffing back I’d thank him for that, even if I should be able to stand up for myself. Any time now.

  “I’m afraid that is not possible,” Ling Mai, ever the voice of calm reason cut in. “Miss Noziak is a member of this Agency and he
r actions, or disappearance, reflect upon the whole team.”

  “Then you can tell the Council I’ll have her in front of them by ten tomorrow.”

  And here I thought he’d been working on my behalf. Silly witch, how many lessons did I need to get that message through my head? I was on my own. If my mother abandoned me and my father did basically the same thing behind the closed doors of Council business, why should I expect Ling Mai or Bran to watch my back?

  I said nothing. No words, no protests, no scathing comments could ease past the chunk of anger choking me.

  Stone kept pushing. “We trust you to appear before the Council tomorrow because?”

  “Because that’s when I’m supposed to report to them myself.”

  Oh, yeah, I’d actually forgot about that for a few minutes.

  Bran pulled me toward the door, one hand wrapped about my arm which kept me upright. “You know how to contact me. How to get ahold of Alex if you need her, but it’d better be because you’ve found Vaverek, or a way to clear Alex’s name.”

  I shook myself loose of Bran’s hold as he opened the suite’s door and turned to look at my fellow team members. Kelly was quivering, half visible, half invisible, a sure sign of stress. Jaylene kept her body still, her expression the same as she glanced from me to Ling Mai and back. Mandy’s gaze was averted, not that I expected much from her. Stone was holding back Vaughn, which helped give some oomph to my spine. And Ling Mai looked as if everything was business as usual, and she hadn’t just blown my world apart.

  To think when I’d entered this room I was glad to see my teammates, the women I was coming to think of as friends.

  I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  CHAPTER 42

  Jeb sat beneath the Linden tree in Philippe’s garden, the scrap of paper directing him to the park earlier still gripped within his hands, his thumb idly rubbing back and forth, back and forth, as if touching the words would bring clarity.

  Pádraig was off executing Council business and Jeb was alone. Waiting. Looking for connections where he could see none. Yet.

  Why did Philippe have to die? Who benefitted? And who was behind Van’s initial disappearance and now his actions in the park? Actions that stirred the Council into a flurry of communication with one another, but to what end? If the warlock who had been with Alex was truly a threat, or implicated in what had happened to Philippe, or Van, the warlock should not have been allowed a stay from judgment. Unless he had contacts on the Council, which was becoming a stronger and stronger possibility.

  What was the warlock’s role in events? And how had he involved Alex?

  Jeb couldn’t ask such questions during the Council session earlier because they were not directly related to the reason this Bran was being examined and later, when Jeb sought the warlock out, he’d already disappeared.

  And the most disturbing question: why had Van attacked Jeb earlier? Shifters and Weres could go loco for many reasons; age, grief, the challenges of balancing both human and animal selves. It was why Weres and shifters banded in packs or clans, as mutual self-protection. If a particular shifter or Were looked as if they could no longer walk the tightrope required of their existence the pack leader was responsible for eliminating them.

  Jeb knew his Native American ancestors had resorted to a similar response during times of extreme stress for the tribe. If an individual threatened the tribe’s existence, if they could not contribute but had or might become a drain on limited resources, it had been deemed the best to expose the individual to the environment. Let them die so others could live. Sacrifice for the larger good.

  The larger non-human population could not let dangerous Weres and shifters walk off and die on their own. No, the Pack or Clann leader would either execute the individual himself, or call upon a designated slayer. One death for the salvation of the many.

  If turning loco is what had happened to Van, then Jeb was responsible for ending his son’s life.

  It was their way and they both knew it.

  But knowing and accepting were two sides of a honed sword’s blade, and this knowledge cut deep.

  He heard the footsteps approaching only because as a shifter he possessed acute sensory abilities. The sound was stealthy but not threatening. Not yet.

  Jeb turned a fraction so the man could slide into his view. Still he waited.

  “You are not surprised,” said the voice that held a hint of his Middle Eastern roots, but not the subservience of a butler anymore.

  “No.”

  The man Philippe called Zeid stepped before Jeb, looking taller and thinner than he had when playing the role of Philippe’s servant. The last afternoon light reflected off the darkness of his hair, the swarthiness of his skin, making him more sinister than he might be. Jeb hadn’t decided yet if the man was friend or foe.

  “You are not afraid of me?” Zeid asked, a frown creasing his face as if revaluating Jeb just as Jeb was doing to him.

  “Should I be?”

  “I am fae,” came the neutral response, that could be either threat or reprieve. Fae were among the most populous of the preternaturals and ranged from relatively harmless and beneficial types, the innocui; goat spirits, garden sprites, bee keepers; to the very powerful and dangerous, the pericui; dream masters, spirits of iron and metal, soul stealers.

  Jeb waited. When dealing with the fae, any fae, it was best to not provoke them or make rash judgments or actions. They tended to be very nervous beings and easily spooked.

  “I see that what I am does not surprise you either,” Zeid said, a smile now playing about his thin lips.

  “I think you’re only half fae.” Jeb made sure his tone did not condemn or hold a slur.

  “I have clearly underestimated you.” Zeid stepped back, crossing his arms and widening his stance as if he’d grown from the ground.

  As intrigued as Jeb might be to discover more of Zeid’s faeness, there were more pressing needs. He raised the paper in his hand. “You were the one who slipped this beneath my door.”

  Zeid nodded but said nothing. Jeb had often taken the same approach with his children, letting them come to their own conclusions to see how much they really knew or just thought they knew.

  Jeb glanced at the paper. “You warned me but did not give me enough to prevent what happened in the park.” It was a statement though enough of Jeb’s frustration must have coated the words for the fae to shake his head.

  “I am not a nymph to see into the future.” Zeid’s tone was sword sharp.

  “Then you too are wavering in the dark.” Jeb inclined his head, hearing what wasn’t being said. This fae did not know what was about to happen to Van ahead of time though he did know that Van was going to be at the park. Alex, too. At a different time and place Jeb knew how to approach the fae, with honeyed words and protocol. They were a proud race and once greatly admired and feared. But with worry clawing him, the words would not come. He hoped the fae understood his bluntness. “What is it you want of me?”

  “To know if you are stalwart and true.”

  Riddles. Jeb forced his shoulders to relax, his tone to a calmness he did not feel as he shadow danced with this one who held his own agenda.

  “I have been tested by time and by trial,” Jeb repeated the old words, the words of legend when one supplicated a liege lord. “I have sacrificed my heart more than once for the benefit of others over myself and those of my heart.”

  “Your wife?”

  Like a knife piercing the skin, Jeb accepted the cold slice of a pain he still felt though twenty years had passed since her betrayal. A blink of an eye to beings that lived for hundreds of years, and some longer.

  He nodded his head but kept his gaze on the fae as he added, “And my daughter.”

  That wound being more recent, dug deeper. But now was not the time for bitterness or regret. Not if he could save his two children.

  “And the Council?” Zeid asked, as if the question was of no consequence, which told Jeb it wa
s just the opposite.

  “What of the Council? If you know who I am and what I am then you should know what I can and can not reveal to anyone.”

  There were some lines drawn in sand and some in stone. This was one of the latter.

  Zeid seemed to contemplate something as he shook his head and unfolded his hands, sweeping into a half bow. “May I formally introduce myself. My name is Zeid Malatesta Asuar. Do you know the meaning of Asuar?”

  “I know only that it is of Egyptian origin. No more.”

  “Then you are more informed than most of your country men.” Zeid crossed over to brush a hand against the Linden tree as if seeing something far far away before he continued,“Asuar is a form of the sacred name of the god Osiris.”

  Jeb waited but his patience was wearing thin. If Zeid knew something or wanted Jeb’s help, then Jeb was willing to bide his time; time that was precious.

  Zeid continued, as if lecturing a new student. “Osiris brought civilization and spirituality to his people.” Zeid’s brow lifted as if to say and what do you think of that? But he continued, not waiting for an answer. “Osiris decreed laws to regulate the conduct of early men, which was desperately needed.”

  “And as a descendant of Osiris is this what you do now?”

  “My kind walks in the footsteps left by Osiris. We are the Dominatui.”

  “Dominators?”

  “The masters of rules.”

  “Not innocui or pericui?”

  “No. We came before the Council, to arbitrate and maintain the balance between fae with differing agendas.”

  As a Council member of long standing Jeb should have known of this group. Did others on the Council? And did it matter right now?

  It might have been the lengthening shadows across the lawn, the trauma of the last two days, but Jeb had not come to Paris for a lesson on Egyptian mythology. No matter how fascinating.