Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  “I do,” Issac agreed, releasing her. Finally. “Are you off to have a swim?”

  “Balthazar challenged us to a round of water volleyball.” She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she stood, cocking a model-worthy hip at the man in question.

  “I merely suggested a friendly game,” he murmured, his arm still around Anya. “The girls took it as a challenge. Luc, you in?”

  “I’ll have to pass for this round,” Luc replied, disappointment evident in his tone. “Are Jay and Alik playing?”

  A snort from the doorway had him looking over his shoulder at a man in a leather jacket and jeans—the attire far from appropriate for the hot summer day. “Why the fuck would I play volleyball?”

  “Because it’s fun?” Clara suggested.

  The athletically lean male folded his arms and gave her the kind of smolder that could silence the room. “Fun would be driving to the city and slaughtering some Ichorians.”

  Clara shivered. “Always so dark.”

  Yes, that was an apt description. Lethal energy radiated from the man, one Stas didn’t recognize as having joined them for dinner last night. Another Ichorian? Or a Hydraian?

  “Alik,” Balthazar said. “Meet Stas. Stas, this is Alik. He likes to brood more than socialize.”

  “And you all wonder why?” the male—Alik—replied, pushing off the doorway. “I’ll be out patrolling with Jeremy. At least he understands the value of silence.”

  Nice to meet you, too, Stas thought at his back.

  “Don’t take it personally, sweetheart.” Balthazar gave her a soft smile. “Alik isn’t a fan of being this close to Ichorian territory, and he’s feeling protective.”

  “He’s an Elder,” Issac added. “One of the four I mentioned as the oldest of Hydraians. Balthazar, Lucian, Alik, and Jayson.”

  “Present,” a new voice said as another godlike male joined the room clad in a swimsuit. “I thought we were playing a game in the pool?”

  “We are, but we stopped to chat while waiting on you.” Balthazar gave him a grin. “Ready to strip some women?”

  “Always.”

  “I thought you said this was a friendly game.” Anya batted her eyes demurely.

  “Of strip water volleyball, yes.” Balthazar smiled, his dimples making his face even more breathtaking.

  Yep. Totally giving in to the angel myth because how else is this much beauty in a room possible?

  “Then why the hell are we still standing here? I can’t wait to make you parade around the deck naked.” Anya gave him a little push that earned her a laugh.

  “If all you want is a show, just ask,” he said, heading toward the door.

  The newcomer smirked. “Like B needs a reason to lose his clothes.”

  “Right back at you, Jay. Now, let’s teach the girls a lesson.” Balthazar opened the back door, leading Anya and the one called Jay—which Stas assumed was short for Jayson—outside.

  “It’s like Hydria just exploded in my dining room,” Issac remarked.

  “You miss it,” Clara accused, winking at him. “Admit it.”

  “Never.”

  “Liar.” She blew him a kiss and flounced over to the exit. “Oh, and this new emotion? You wear it well. I like it.” Her gaze rose to Stas. “Thank you for brightening his aura. I hope to know you better soon.”

  She disappeared before Stas could fathom a reply. Which probably would have been… Huh?

  “Clara’s an empath,” Issac explained.

  “And bubbly,” Eliza muttered. “Like, overly bubbly.” She visibly shuddered.

  Stas grinned. Now, this woman? Yeah, this woman Stas could see herself befriending in a heartbeat.

  “Right, shall we move this discussion to the living area?” Issac suggested. “I believe Aidan has a few matters to discuss, and there’s something I want to show you both.” He squeezed her shoulder with the words, his intention clear.

  My birthmark.

  Which he thought was a rune.

  Why the hell would I have a rune on my back?

  Luc’s eyebrows rose. “I’m intrigued.”

  “I thought you might be,” Issac murmured, his lips tilting.

  Had he just shown Luc a glimpse of it with his mind? The way the Elder’s green eyes focused on her, she suspected he did.

  Both men stood, Issac holding his hand out for Stas. “Aya?”

  “Can I have a minute with Eliza first?” she asked, hoping he would allow it.

  He didn’t hesitate. “Of course, love. We’ll be in the other room.” He gave her shoulder another squeeze before leaving with Luc at his side. “It’s a rune, isn’t it?”

  “Show me a more detailed view,” the Hydraian King replied.

  “When we’re all together, I will.” Issac’s words drifted down the hall. “I want Aya to hear the results.”

  She smiled, pleased that he wanted her involved.

  Then she remembered their bet.

  Right. He wanted to win, and to gloat if he did. Devious demon.

  “Stas or Aya?” Eliza asked, tilting her head to the side.

  “Stas,” she confirmed. “Eliza, right?”

  The woman nodded. “You were there, weren’t you?”

  “At the Conclave?”

  Another nod.

  “Unfortunately.” Stas almost felt ashamed, not that she could have changed fate. “I’m sorry about what was done to you.”

  Her nostrils flared, anger flashing through her features. “Don’t fucking pity me.”

  “No, I know. I mean, I’m not…” She trailed off because, yeah, she had felt bad for her. And yes, that was tied to pity. I need to start this over. “Okay, you’re right. It’s just…” No, not a good route. “Have they been, uh, nice to you? The Ichorians, I mean.”

  A note of understanding cooled her expression, but the irritation still lurked in her dark gaze. “You want to know if you can trust them.”

  “Sort of. I don’t know. It’s all been a bit overwhelming.” An understatement. She looked at the ceiling and then back at Eliza. “Did they tell you I’m a fledgling?”

  “Yeah, they mentioned it. Apparently, we’re pretty rare.”

  Stas blinked. “We?”

  The other woman stared at her. “Uh, yes. We. I’m a fledgling, too. Didn’t you know that?”

  “I thought Sierra said you weren’t one? That the idiot who accused you was just an inexperienced asshat?”

  Eliza’s lips curled. “ ‘Inexperienced asshat,’ not a bad description.” Then her smile faltered, a memory haunting her eyes as she dropped them to the table.

  Stas saw it then, the broken woman hiding behind a charade of bravery—a coping mechanism for whatever had happened to her. Which was why pity infuriated her, because she had to be perceived as strong.

  Stas understood that, had experienced something similar when her parents died.

  This world had been cruel to them both.

  “So you’re a fledgling,” Stas mused, trying to bring Eliza back to their conversation. “Are you able to do anything special now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, do you have any gifts?”

  Eliza lifted her focus from the table, her mouth curling down at the edges. “No. Luc said they won’t present themselves until I become a Hydraian.”

  Oh. Stas had hoped she might know what it’s like to hide a gift in the mortal world for years. Alas, it seemed Stas was still alone on that front. “So how do they know you’re a fledgling?” she wondered out loud.

  “Aidan had someone—one of Luc’s Hydraians—test my bloodline somehow. I guess she has a similar gift to the woman from the, uh, Conclave. The one who could sense immortal genetics or whatever.” Eliza twisted her lips to the side. “You don’t think they’d lie about it, do you?” Her eyebrows rose. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “I don’t think they’d lie,” Stas interjected. “But I understand why you might not believe them.” Because she felt the s
ame way.

  A moment passed between them, a mutual respect.

  They were one and the same.

  Yet completely different.

  “They’ve treated me very kindly,” Eliza said after a long moment. “As soon as we left that night, Aidan gave me his jacket. They allowed me to shower. Gave me clothes.” Her gaze fell again. “They held me while…”

  While I cried, Stas inferred, her heart breaking for the woman.

  She swallowed the reaction, hiding it, not wanting Eliza to sense her pity again.

  “You’re very strong,” Stas whispered, emphasizing the other emotion flourishing inside her. Admiration. “Stronger than most women I know.” She reached across the table to squeeze her hands, but Eliza quickly pulled back, her aversion to touch evident.

  Of course. Stas should have expected that.

  “Maybe we should go see what they’re discussing,” Eliza said, standing, her limbs quivering. “Make sure they’re not talking about us.”

  “Sure,” Stas agreed, recognizing a wall when she saw one.

  Eliza wanted space.

  Stas comprehended that need better than most.

  She pushed away from the table and joined her in the hallway, careful to keep physical distance between them.

  “Stas?” Eliza whispered, pausing on the threshold. Her midnight irises lifted, a glimmer of respect shining in their depths. “Thank you.”

  24

  A Financial Trail

  Issac held his arm out for Astasiya as she entered. He sat on the love seat across from Aidan, Lucian, and Mateo.

  “Such a good pet,” Tristan mused from the recliner in the corner as Astasiya joined Issac. “Coming when the master calls her.”

  Astasiya stiffened, her sharp gaze going to Issac’s asshole of a best friend. “Excuse me?”

  “Ah, but she speaks.” Tristan tsked. “Such a pity, Issac. I prefer them silent.”

  “Then it’s a good thing she’s not yours,” Issac returned, a hint of censure in his voice. One his progeny ignored.

  “Not my type, I’m afraid.” He eyed Eliza, who had chosen a chair against the wall, her legs tucked beneath her.

  Hmm, yes, Tristan preferred submissive females, the kind who fancied pain over pleasure. He wasn’t gentle by any measure of the imagination, and while Issac might enjoy dominance in the bedroom, hurting a lover didn’t appeal to him.

  “The feeling is mutual,” Astasiya replied, distaste clear in her tone.

  “Such disrespect.” Tristan pressed a palm to his chest, feigning an affronted look. “This one is certainly a downgrade, Issac. Especially considering your usual fare.”

  “Careful,” Issac warned, his arm tightening around Astasiya.

  “When have you ever known me to mince words?” Tristan tossed back. “Just stating a clear observation.”

  “You’re just sour over losing your wingman,” Nadia said from the stairs. Ash and Jacque were behind her, all three of them dressed in swimwear. Balthazar must have requested more players for his shenanigans outside.

  “No, I’m trying to understand how he could find this option more attractive than Clara, who was literally made for him.” So callous. So nonchalant. But the devious twinkle in Tristan’s gaze demonstrated his intention to hurt, and the gasp at his side said the verbal barb was translated and received.

  “That’s enough,” Issac stated, done with this ridiculous banter. “Either fuck off or shut your goddamn mouth.” He would deal with his disgruntled progeny later, the fuckwit. “Aidan, Mateo, what did you find on Owen?”

  The energy in the room shifted, Tristan’s shock at having been dismissed evident in the way he didn’t retort or move. Nadia, Ash, and Jacque quietly slipped down the hallway toward the pool.

  “As you know, Eliza is in fact a fledgling,” Aidan started, reiterating the topic they’d been discussing before Astasiya and Eliza joined them. “Which I found curious since Sierra claimed her not to be one during the Conclave.”

  “Making it a good thing Osiris never asked for clarification during the trial,” Issac added. Because the mind readers would have caught on to the lie.

  “Indeed,” Aidan agreed. “But it was strange, right? Why would she lie? So I tasked Mateo with finding out more about Sierra and her ties to Owen. What he found was, well, fascinating.”

  Mateo slid a tablet across the coffee table, the screen displaying some sort of legal document—a deed. Issac lifted the item, reading through the details as Mateo said, “The bar Sierra worked at was owned by Owen. He purchased it over twenty years ago.”

  “What?” Astasiya asked, joining Issac in reviewing the documents. “Why?”

  “While a fascinating question in and of itself, there’s something even more pressing. How?” Aidan asked. “Owen was too young to have amassed the wealth required to purchase a property in Manhattan, so how did he acquire it?”

  Issac flipped the tab, seeing the answer as Mateo voiced it. “A shell corporation,” his progeny said. “Called Gabriel.”

  As someone well versed in setting up such organizations, Issac had never heard of this one. “Who owns it?”

  “I don’t know.” Those three words were rare, particularly in regard to Mateo’s ability to find every detail known to man in cyberspace.

  “As in you’ve never heard of him, or you can’t find him?” Issac asked.

  “The latter. Whoever set it up is one of the best I’ve ever seen. The work reminds me of a previous mystery.”

  “Jonathan,” Issac translated. “We’ve always wondered how he acquired the funds to create the CRF,” he added for Astasiya’s benefit. “Whoever granted him the funds is a ghost. Mateo can’t find any trace of the benefactor.”

  “Yes, only mentions of him in certain CRF project files,” Mateo muttered, his frustration over this particular puzzle evident. “And this new corporation, Gabriel, has the same feel. No bank accounts, no names, not even a place. Almost as if it exists in space.”

  “How is that possible?” Astasiya asked.

  “Great fucking question,” Mateo replied, running his fingers through his short blond hair. “There’s always a trail. Always.”

  “Mateo harbors a gift for technology that goes beyond the standard hacker and into the supernatural,” Issac explained softly as he passed the tablet back to Mateo. “He manages most of my accounts as a result. He’s well versed in moving properties and money around, creating identities, and so forth. But for him to not be able to trace a lead speaks of divine intervention.”

  “Another immortal,” she replied.

  “Yes, exactly.” He shifted his attention to Aidan. “This suggests a link between Owen and Jonathan.”

  “It does,” he agreed. “Which provides a potential motive if a working arrangement between them went sour.”

  “What I have trouble grasping is a purpose for their partnership,” Lucian said, his expression artfully blank. Hearing that one of his Hydraians may have been working with the infamous CRF CEO had to hurt.

  “I can’t find anything in the CRF files that addresses that point,” Mateo said, his eyebrows drawing downward. “But there’s a part of his servers I can’t seem to reach.”

  That was news to Issac. “Since when?”

  “I imagine it’s always been the case,” he replied. “I discovered the wall when searching for information on the Nizari poison last week. The medical research side was easy, most of the researchers leaving a multitude of back doors for me to pass through. But there’s a vault deep inside that I can’t access with my psychic abilities.”

  “Similar to the ghost trail,” Issac replied, drumming his fingers against his knee. “Is there any way around it?”

  “Not without going inside the CRF, which we can’t do for obvious reasons.”

  Issac nodded. “The runes.”

  Jonathan had somehow crafted a layer of magic to secure the perimeter. Ichorians and Hydraians would be defenseless inside, stripped of their powers, and essentially
mortal. Issac had seen the markings outside, etched into the stone pillars adorning the iron gates. They circled the property. And bore similar notations to the design against Astasiya’s lower back.

  “That reminds me,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her ear. “May I show them now, love?”

  She blinked at him, her eyes holding a myriad of questions. “My birthmark?”

  He nodded.

  “I… If you think it’s relevant.” A touch of incredulity lined her words. “I mean, I doubt it’s related.”

  “I beg to differ.” It all seemed very much connected. Owen befriending Astasiya. Her roommate-pairing with Elizabeth during their freshman year. Obtaining employment at the CRF. “There are a lot of links, Aya.”

  She studied him for a long moment, her uncertainty melting to concern. “You think Owen befriended me on purpose.”

  “It’s starting to sound that way, yes.”

  “Okay, but that implies the CRF knows about me, that Jonathan knows I’m a fledgling.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Then why wait until the security exam to test the theory?” she asked. “Why go through all the hassle of a six-year friendship?” She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t feel right. Owen… He was one of my best friends. I knew him.”

  “Except you didn’t know he was a Hydraian,” Issac pointed out softly, rubbing her upper arm as he secured his hold around her. “It’s possibly a coincidence—Owen having a similar financial supporter capable of hiding his tracks, like the CRF does—but it all feels too close, too purposeful. Even Elizabeth being your roommate is a bit contrived considering her ties to the CRF.”

  “Lizzie?” Astasiya pulled back, angling her body toward him. “Now you think Lizzie befriended me on purpose, too?” The squeak at the end of her voice pierced his heart. He hadn’t meant to upset her. Again.

  “Your friendship with Elizabeth is too heartfelt to be fake,” he said quickly. “I’m suggesting that someone may have coordinated your living arrangements, that your pairing as roommates may not have been fate so much as designed.”

  “When did you meet Owen?” Lucian asked before she could reply. “Was it after you met Lizzie Watkins?”