To Marian, the rest of the ride seemed to take forever. She changed Richard’s bandage, sealing the second stack of sterile pads down with medical tape. It still turned red but far slower. She thought that was good.
Richard said he would heal and she would have to believe that.
If she’d had any doubt before that Richard was what he said he was, she didn’t anymore. A normal person would have bled to death.
When she was finished changing the bandages, her hands were caked in dried blood. Ugh. It was just as well she didn’t have a problem with blood, like her sister. Jen nearly fainted every time she had a blood test. It was a wonder she had been able to give birth without fainting. Though Jen claimed she hadn’t looked, only pushed. Her sister would get a kick out of this, except for the blood. Jen liked adventure. I might too, Marian thought, if I could ever choose my own.
The van took a sharp turn once they were out of the Lincoln Tunnel. She wrapped her arms around Richard to keep from being thrown to the side.
“Nice,” Richard muttered.
Bad enough he kept calling her angel. She didn’t want to be infatuated with him. He was a client, for one. It was hard, however, not to feel something when he spoke in that sexy rasp and he kissed her cheek. She pressed her palm against the bandage, just to keep the pressure on.
“How you doing back there?” Montoya asked.
“Okay,” she answered.
“How is he?”
“I’m not a doctor. The bleeding’s slowed. That’s all I know.”
“Sorry about all this. I didn’t mean to get you involved.”
“You two acted like enemies before someone started shooting at us. Are you going to hurt him at this Phoenix Institute?” Are you going to hurt me?
“You’re not the enemy.” Montoya answered her unspoken question first. “Like I said, no worries. We’ll get you back home safe soon.”
“And what about Richard?”
“I’m not in the habit of letting people bleed to death if I can help it. Neither is Firefly. But it’s not safe to take someone like Richard anywhere else.”
“Firefly? Who’s he?”
“Alec Farley, the head of the Phoenix Institute.”
They took an exit off the highway. Bergen County, she noticed. Well, better than Paterson or Passaic.
“How do I know you’ll take care of him? All I know is that this Alec Farley sent you out to spy on me.”
“He sent me out to spy on Genet, not you. Alec’s job is making sure guys like your Richard don’t mess with people’s lives. To him, people are pawns.”
“Richard’s paying me a considerable sum for a job I do well. If that’s a pawn, I’ll take it.” What the hell was she in the middle of?
Montoya only grunted.
“What about the person shooting at us? What did they want?”
“No idea yet who that was or what they wanted yet. When I do, I’ll let you know.”
“Great,” she snapped. He was miffed. So was she. Except she wasn’t sure if she was angrier with Montoya or the person shooting at him or her grandfather for putting her in this mess.
However, she was certain she wasn’t angry with Richard.
“I’m curious to meet your Firefly,” Richard said, opening his eyes. She’d thought he was asleep.
“He’s kinda anxious to meet you too, Genet,” Montoya said with a growl.
“Why do you hate my client?” Did everyone but her know what was going on?
“His brother was behind some really bad shit.”
“They killed my brother,” Richard said.
“He deserved it.”
“And that means I deserve to die as well? Do you always try to kill the families of those who attacked you?”
He didn’t, Marian noted, sound the least bit scared. What other immortal tricks did he have besides self-healing?
“If you share your brother’s attitude about how to treat people, then we’re gonna have a long discussion. It won’t be pretty.”
“I look forward to it,” Richard said.
Marian shook her head. This was making her more confused. She lowered her voice. “Richard, why did Montoya call his boss Firefly?”
“Farley is a telekinetic and firestarter. He makes the flames dance.”
“Oh.” Someone else with powers? “Is Montoya a psychic too?”
“Nope, not psychic,” Montoya said.
“Montoya works for Farley. Tell your boss I disapproved of my brother’s methods. And that we might have some interests in common.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“Really? Then why am I bleeding in the back seat of your van after taking a bullet meant for you?”
Montoya didn’t answer.
“So what does the Phoenix Institute do besides send you to follow people around and kill immortals?” she asked Montoya.
But Richard answered instead.
“The institute is ostensibly a place given to the study of those with extraordinary abilities so individuals who possess them can use them responsibly. Do I have that right, Montoya?”
“Yeah, Genet.”
“Perhaps that’s true. Or perhaps Farley is busy gathering all the telepaths, telekinetics and other psychics of the world together for some other purpose. Such as manipulating those with no defense against him.”
“Fuck you,” Montoya said.
“Power was Richard Lansing’s goal. Why not the same for his heir?”
“Who’s this Lansing and what was he to Alec Farley?” Marian said.
“Lansing was the founder of the place. He raised Farley. Lansing is gone now but Farley’s lover is a telepath. They’re a team well suited to manipulate others.” Richard directed his last sentence at Montoya.
“Lansing is dead, and Beth is the last person who would control someone. Besides, your brother worked with Lansing on his last project. It was Alec and Beth who shut that down. So what does that make you?”
“The person who took a bullet for you. And I’m not my brother nor did I work with him on that operation. Or with Lansing. Ever.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will.”
“Okay, so what is the actual goal of the Phoenix Institute? Was Richard right?” Marian asked.
“Alec wants to help those with psychic abilities learn how to use them safely,” Montoya repeated. “He worries if people aren’t properly trained, their lives will be messed up.”
That’s a really good idea, Marian decided, if that’s what this Farley really wanted. A firestarter and a telepath? Wow. She’d known about the family gift long before she started manifesting the signs of the phantom power. What would she have thought if she had no knowledge that her gift was real?
Terrified, most likely, especially when various body parts had turned immaterial without warning. She hated a lot of things about her power, mostly connected to her grandfather, but she wasn’t scared of it, and she knew damn well how to use it.
Montoya tapped the steering wheel. “I’m sorry to bring you with him, Miss Doyle. We’re not kidnappers. We just need to talk to Genet.”
“And if I pose a threat?” Richard raised an eyebrow.
“You’re done.”
“Forgive me if your threats mean nothing, coming as they are from someone who already needed rescuing today.”
“Oh, it’s not me you have to worry about.”
Under other circumstances, Marian would like meeting a firestarter and a telepath. But not if they wanted to kill her.
She stared out the window as they turned off the highway onto a suburban road. Getting caught by customs had been her worst fear before today. She should have quit as she’d intended, at the party last weekend.
Oh, hell, stop complaining, Marian. You love that Richard keeps calling you angel in a voice that makes you swoon. What was she, fifteen again when it came to this guy, ready to go weak in the knees? Apparently.
But when she was fifteen, she hadn’t dared show her power to anyone. Her grandfather’s insistence on using it just for family gain had changed her perception of her gift as a true gift and instead as something to be ashamed of.
Richard made it feel like it was part of her.
She looked down at her bloodstained hands. This Phoenix Institute wasn’t even the worst of all this. There was somebody out there who had shot Richard.
“So do you expect me to pick a side?” she asked Montoya.
“Looks like you already did.”
“Because I helped bandage a man who was shot saving your life?” Of course, maybe Montoya had noticed her clinging to Richard.
Richard squeezed her hand.
“Last time we dealt with this guy’s brother, he was specializing in medical experiments and kidnapping pregnant women.”
“Why?” she asked.
“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. His 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?”
“I want to speak to the man who killed my brother. You’re not him.” Richard turned toward the door, putting his back to Alec, dismissing him. “That one is.”
Marian blinked.
There was a man standing next to Daz Montoya. Marian had no idea if he’d been in the room all along or slipped in behind them while she was focused on Alec and Beth. It was as if he were a ghost too.
But, no, Richard had obviously noticed him enter.
The new arrival bared his teeth. “I drove a sword through your brother. He wanted to take my wife and child from me. And I would be happy to do the same to you to protect what’s mine.”
Marian wished she could sink into Richard’s shadow. This man terrified her, as Montoya, Alec and Beth had not. He felt so…intent and dark. He spoke of a wife and child but showed no warmth.
He never took his eyes from Richard.
“Edward underestimated you,” Richard said. “I won’t.”
His opponent shrugged, echoing Richard’s gesture from before. The man shifted his gaze to Marian, and she wished to be a phantom so he’d see right through her rather than sizing her up for slaughter.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the man said.
“She’s under my protection,” Richard said.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Dad! Enough. Leave her be,” Beth said. “I told you to stay away from this. You’re too close to it.”
“I’ve the right to be here.”
“Did you just call him Dad?” The question came out before Marian could stop herself. This man was her father? He looked like he was in his late 20s, not much older than Beth.
“Philip Drake—the man currently threatening me with a dire end—is Beth Nakamora’s father, though not by blood,” Richard said. “Did you get what you wanted out of that, Ms. Nakamora? Could you read my thoughts and intentions toward your father?”
Beth glared at him. “This wasn’t a setup.”
“What do you mean about getting what she wanted?” Marian asked. Everyone seemed to be talking in a strange, foreign tongue where they referred to events everyone knew about but her. She’d felt powerful all her life in crisis situations because she had an edge. Now, these people’s abilities dwarfed hers.
She was no longer unique. Or alone. But she was definitely without an edge.
“Beth Nakamora has been reading our minds to discover our true intentions, Marian. I imagine she picked up quite an earful during the exchange between me and her father.”
“She’s doing what?” Marian backed up even more, almost banging against the kitchen counter. Beth had said she couldn’t read her in the hallway.
Unless the telepathy worked because they were closer now. But, wait, if Beth could read Richard, she could read his memory of their conversation in the bathroom. Beth would know about the phantom power. Or maybe not. Beth said in the hallway that Richard might know ways to avoid a telepath.
Marian wanted to go phantom and get away from this right now. Here she’d been wary of the firestarter and Drake the scary guy, and it was the tiny woman she should’ve been worried about.
“You’re scaring her,” Richard said in a low voice. He turned and grabbed Farley by the shirt. “Stop your woman. Stop it now.”
“Get your hands off me,” Alec said through gritted teeth.
Farley remained still, but one of his hands started glowing. The cuffs of Richard’s sweatshirt started to smoke.
“Call off your woman,” Richard said.
“Get your hands off me,” Alec said again.
Flames licked the collar of the T-shirt.
“Dear God,” Marian said out loud. She knew one way to stop Alec, but no, she never wanted to do that. Ever. “Please, stop. I’m fine.” Don’t make me resort to that.
Richard and Alec stared at each other, a clash of the gods. Some unspoken communication passed between them, and the flames receded, leaving ash from the burned cuffs to waft to the floor.
Richard let Farley go and stepped back. Farley’s hand stopped glowing. Richard gathered himself, assuming the royal personage he’d used on her grandfather.
“I’m not Edward, for which you all should be grateful,” Richard said. “If it had been me who died and Edward was left to avenge me, there would be blood and battle between all of us until no one survived.”
“Instead he took a bullet for your friend,” Marian said.
“Perhaps they think I planned that, Marian.”
“You didn’t plan that,” Beth said.
“And now I’ve passed your test. Lovely. I’m charmed.”
“Can you blame us for treating you like an enemy?” Alec asked.
“I expected to be treated like the enemy. So nice to have you all live down to expectations. Perhaps I should judge Drake by his family too, as he’s doing to me. His biological father was Richard Lansing, after all. Shall Drake pay for Lansing’s sins?”
“That man was never my father,” Drake snapped.
“He was blood to you, as Edward was to me. But you behave differently. Perhaps it’s the same for me.”
“I get your point. Let’s start over,” Alec said.
“Start over?” Marian pointed at Drake. Did the man ever blink? That was eerie. “Are you kidding? He’d be happy to start that war of fire and blood.”
Drake shifted his full attention to her.
Ack.
“Philip,” Beth cautioned. “Dad. Leave her alone. Richard was right. We’re scaring her.”
Drake relaxed his shoulders. Somehow, his face changed and he looked smaller and less dangerous.
“We don’t know that they’re not the enemy, Beth; we only that they’re not an imminent threat.”
“Interesting, as I was just making the same assessment,” Richard said. “All the more reason to settle down and negotiate.”
“Negotiate what?” Drake asked.
“A truce.”
“So that means you’ll talk about this supposed immortal Court, the mess your brother made and your role in helping Lansing originally set up this place as the Resource?” Alec asked.
Richard shrugged. “Have your woman pull it from my head, if you wish. It’ll be faster.”
“Stop calling her ‘my woman’.” Alec rolled his eyes. “I don’t own Beth, any more than you own Marian Doyle.”
“Did you own Lansing, Genet?” Drake asked.
“Once, a long time ago, Lansing was part of the Court. Edward was his handler and his patron because he discovered Lansing on a trip to London about one hundred and fifty years ago. Lansing was one of the youngest of us, and it was hoped he could help us evolve for the future. So many still had a medieval mindset, Edward among them. Alas, Lansing turned out to be far too secretive and power hungry for my Queen’s taste. She banished him.”
“You mean you couldn’t control Lansing,” Drake said.
“We could’ve controlled him by killing him,” Richard said. “He always feared that.”
“Why didn’t you?” Drake asked.
“Edward thought that was a waste of talent. When you live hundreds of years, patience is a given. There was no reason to kill Lansing. We had time to wait and see if he could change.”
“So you just let him loose on people?” Drake growled.
“Yes,” Richard snapped.
Marian decided that sounded like a very sore subject with her prince.
Richard took a deep breath and resumed the tale. “When Lansing resurfaced as the owner of this facility, Edward watched him and waited, hoping for that change. But by then, Lansing was mentally unstable, as happens with some of us. Edward was contemplating action to resolve this when Lansing was killed.” He flicked a hand at Alec. “In battle, supposedly. You would know more about that than I.”
Richard believed Alec had killed his own foster father?
“I didn’t kill Lansing,” Alec said. “He died saving me.”
“Interesting. Perhaps my brother was right in that there was hope for him.”
“There was no hope for Richard Lansing,” Drake said, all the menace back in his voice.
“You said your court watched Lansing. You must have known I was brought here as a baby. You knew what he was. Yet you left me in his hands,” Alec said.
This definitely didn’t seem anything like negotiating a truce. More like an exchange of grievances.
“Firestarters are extremely dangerous to themselves and those around them,” Richard said slowly, obviously picking his words carefully. “Very few survive until adulthood, and many that do tend to be not right in the head. They grow in love with their fire and forget how it harms others.”
Richard sighed. “The Court thought the safest solution for everyone was to let Lansing deal with you and see if his methods solved the usual problems.” Richard pursed his lips, as if tasting something unpleasant. “The Court kept watching to make sure you were safe. Lansing must have done something right despite his imbalance, for you’re well trained in your use of fire, and he saved your life at the end.”
“Locking me away wasn’t right,” Alec said, but his voice wavered, as if he had mixed feelings about Lansing. “And Lansing’s plans for some sort of world domination were insane. You have to know that.”
For the first time, Richard avoided looking at Alec.
“Richard Genet didn’t agree with his court’s leaving you with Lansing, Alec,” Beth said.
How the hell did she know, Marian thought. Oh. Telepath.
“Yes. I disagreed with Edward and the Court on the matter,” Richard said.
Marian stepped up and put her hand on Richard’s forearm. Not evil, she thought. Richard was exactly who she thought him to be. The least she could do was show him support.
“Alec, he fought his brother and the Court over you,” Beth added. “He wanted to take you and train you himself, without obligation.”
Richard’s face was stone. He clenched his fists. Even when being shot at, he hadn’t lost his temper. But now he was actually vibrating with emotion. Marian curled her hand tighter around his arm.
Richard clasped her hand.
“I was ordered to stand down from Lansing by my Queen. I followed that order. It was the last order from her that I ever followed.”
An exile? But Marian’s grandfather had been convinced Richard came from the Court, and Richard himself said he was on the errand to find Rasputin’s DNA for them. Something had brought him back.
“So why are you here, then?” Drake said, asking the question Marian wanted to ask.
Richard shrugged. “A good friend asked me to complete a task for him.”
Alec reached out a hand and a water bottle rose off the counter in the other side of the room and flew into his open palm.
Silence reigned as the he drank down the bottle. When he finished, Alec stared at Richard.
“You could’ve been my foster father instead of Lansing.”
“Many things could have been, with different choices. I’ve learned not to dwell on centuries of might have beens. Or, as my current friends would say, the waves break the way they’re meant to break.”
Alec and Drake exchanged a look. All Marian’s years of remaining quiet under her grandfather’s blistering lectures felt like the easiest thing in the world next to remaining silent among these people, especially with the threat of violence still potent.
“You said Lansing was mentally unstable and that madness was sometimes a side effect of immortality,” Alec finally said to Richard. “What did you mean?”
“Madness was not the word I used. I said instability. Immortality warps thinking. It’s not only the loss of friends and family members who die a normal death, but the loss of whole worlds that no longer exist. My London is gone forever. So is my Aquitaine. The world begins to feel unreal, as if a dream. Sometimes there is an overwhelming desire to control it to prevent the inevitable. Need for control drove Lansing.” Richard focused on Drake. “Something for you to look forward to, yes, as the years pass?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Drake said. “We may yet get that war where no one survives.”
That sounded like a threat and a joke all at once. Was there something human under that scary exterior?
“Richard?” Beth stepped forward and reached her hand out to him. “Was your brother unstable?”
“Many of us lose the ability to think in shades of gray, Edward among them.” He studied Beth as he’d studied Marian in her office earlier. “The Court needs something and they make it happen, regardless of consequences. People who lead normal lives begin to seem unimportant in comparison. Edward’s mindset was that the Court mattered and nothing else did. I left because I disagreed with that reasoning.”
“Are you unstable?” Beth asked.
“Of course he’s not!” Marian said before Richard could answer.
He smiled and squeezed her hand before he stepped away from her.
“You’re the one in my head, Beth Nakamora. You tell me what’s inside it.”
Richard smiled at Beth the same way he’d smiled at Marian after he’d kissed her hand in the park, the smile that made her weak in the knees. Marian felt strangely deflated. And then she almost laughed, because here she was in a roomful of people with abilities similar to hers who talked about starting a war and what she felt most this second was jealousy instead of sheer terror.
“Show me what happened to my brother,” Richard ordered. “And you will have the answers you seek.”
“She can do that?” Marian asked. “How?”
“I can telepathically send him the memories of those around Edward in his last minutes.” Beth looked at Drake. “With your permission, Dad?”
Drake nodded. “Show him.”
Richard nodded as well. “Yes, show me. I have to know.”