“Where do you think?” Light green eyes flickered her way. “Miss Davenport.”
She swallowed, unnerved by that knowing gaze. He knew about her exam because he’d taken her to Doctor Patel. “Agent Stark.”
Tom glanced between them. “You two know each other?”
She wiped her clammy palms against her black pants. “Yeah, he was my polygrapher.”
Skepticism deepened the creases in Tom’s brow. “I didn’t know you moonlighted as a polygrapher, Stark.”
“Only when requested,” he replied, walking away.
Stas frowned after him. “If he’s not a polygrapher, then what does he do?” Could he have been involved in her poisoning somehow?
“You don’t want to know,” Tom replied. He took an abrupt turn down another corridor void of surveillance and stopped at a door a few feet down, knocking twice. It cracked open, just enough for Doctor Fitzgerald to see them.
Tom cocked his head toward her. “I told you she was fine.” Flat words accompanied by a somewhat hostile stance.
Well, that’s new. Every time the two men interacted, she caught only respect and admiration. However, the Tom standing beside her now radiated fury.
What gives?
“Thank God,” Doctor Fitzgerald said, his relief palpable. “I just need to finish up this conversation, Stas. But I’m looking forward to catching up with you.”
“Me, too,” she lied, forcing a smile.
“Take her to my office” was all he said to Tom before shutting the door.
Wow. Okay. Definitely some tension here.
“It’ll be my pleasure,” Tom gritted out, his gaze narrowed at the letters etched into the wood.
A-7.
Stas wondered what they meant and whom Doctor Fitzgerald might be talking to in the room. Whoever it was, Tom didn’t seem to approve.
He stalked off down the hall—still white with no cameras—and opened a door at the end of it. “He means his office down here,” Tom explained.
Does that mean the computer Mateo needs is in here? she wondered, entering the reasonably sized space. An oversized oak desk took up a quarter of the space with a collection of chairs around it—two in front, one behind—and a table for four sat in the corner.
Two computer monitors.
One laptop between them.
That had to be what Mateo needed.
Tom palmed the back of his neck, noticing her inspection. “Yeah, it’s not as swanky as the one upstairs, but no one really sees this one except the Sentinels.”
“You mean the humanitarian military personnel who are not actually conducting humanitarian missions?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm, particularly after seeing the army waiting underground for intruders.
What are they guarding in this area that requires that much firepower?
“There are still humanitarian missions, Stas. We’ve saved people from some pretty fucked-up situations. If you thought the Arcadia was bad, you should see some of the other Ichorian dens.” He looked pointedly at her neck. “As you obviously know, they require blood to stay alive. Most of them call it a curse, but there are some who luxuriate in it more than others.” Disdain tainted his tone.
“You don’t seem to like them very much.”
“I detest them.”
After what she saw during the Conclave, she could understand why.
Tom sat in one of the chairs across from Dr. Fitzgerald’s desk and waved at her to take the other, putting her closer to the laptop. Mateo said he needed the card within a foot of it. She estimated the current distance at just over two.
“What all did Issac tell you about the immortal world?” Tom asked, tucking his hands behind his head in a way that accentuated the strength in his arms.
“He explained the difference between Hydraians and Ichorians. And he mentioned the Blood Laws.” As well as a lot of other shit she couldn’t repeat.
“I assume he didn’t paint the CRF in the kindest light.”
“Not exactly, no.”
He smirked. “Yeah. They don’t care much for our technology.”
“Why’s that?” The immortals had mentioned something about it being beyond human invention, meaning the CRF had employed supernatural means of some sort.
“Because we develop instruments that can kill them.” He brought up his ankle to rest on his opposite knee. “They’re immortals with psychic gifts. All we have—as humans—is our strength and agility and, now, weapons.”
Except you’re a fledgling, she thought. And not exactly human.
Doctor Fitzgerald chose that moment to enter, a towel in his hands as if he’d just been drying them off. “Do you mind giving us a few minutes, Tom? I’d like to speak with Stas privately.”
A chill settled across the room, Tom frozen for too long a moment as he glowered at his father. Doctor Fitzgerald returned the look with a steely gaze of his own, his dominance filling the office with an almost ominous air.
Stas wasn’t so sure she wanted Tom to leave. Not with this version of her mentor in the room.
“Yes, sir,” Tom said, standing. He left with a not-so-subtle slam of the door.
Um… This was not the father-son duo she knew.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you here, Stas.” Instead of taking the chair behind the desk, Doctor Fitzgerald leaned against it with his legs crossed at the ankles a few inches from her. His nearness didn’t normally bother her, but it did today. She felt caged between him and the wall, like he feared she might run.
Do I have a reason to?
Dressed in black slacks and a pale blue dress shirt, he resembled the Doctor Fitzgerald she respected and adored. He even had the same genuine smile.
Why did he suddenly feel like a stranger to her?
“Tom tells me you had an eventful weekend,” he continued, his soft brown eyes falling to the mark on her neck.
“That’s one way to describe it.” She preferred intimidating or paralyzing to eventful. “Honestly, I would rather get to the point and talk about the Sentinel program.”
I want to talk about you.
And I also need to figure out how to place this card close enough to your laptop.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve always enjoyed your directness, Stas.” He pushed off the desk, walked around it, and settled into his chair. Lacing his long fingers together on the desk, he leaned forward.
“The CRF still does everything you’ve been told; it just also does a little more. There’s a humanitarian wing that caters to those in need, helps with search and rescue missions, and delivers aid. That’s all true. What the general public isn’t aware of is we also have an elite group of Sentinels who dabble in supernatural affairs. Tom, as you now know, belongs to the latter. From your expression, I gather Issac already told you all of this?”
“He did.”
“I see.” He narrowed his gaze. “Did he also mention his involvement in your medical exam?”
Uh… “What?” How much does he know? About my reaction to the Nizari venom? Does that mean he did try to poison me? Ice drizzled through her veins. Oh, I never should have come here. I never—
“Hmm, I can see he didn’t.” Doctor Fitzgerald typed something into his keyboard and switched on one of his monitors. What appeared to be an interrogation video displayed across the screen. “After what you told me Friday night, Agent Stark and I had a long chat with Anita Patel. Needless to say, we learned who gave her the directive to administer the vaccinations.” His gaze snagged hers for a moment, his lips tightening. “I’m sorry, Stas, but you’re not going to like this.”
She sat forward to better see the video. He hit Play.
Doctor Patel appeared in her lab coat, sitting across the table from two suit-clad men. Agent Stark appeared to be bored, while Doctor Fitzgerald wore a hostile expression—similar to the one he just gave his son.
“You recently administered a medical exam to Astasiya Caroline Davenport,” Doctor Fitzgerald said, giv
ing the dates and details of her security interview. They went over a few documents before he reached the heart of the matter. “You gave Miss Davenport inoculations meant only for paramilitary personnel when her file clearly indicated civilian. Further, it appears you dispensed vaccines that are not part of our paramilitary exam protocols. Nizari poison, if the surveillance feeds outside of the exam room are correct. Do you deny any of this?”
Apathy painted the woman’s features in harsh shades, her lack of concern evident. “No.”
Stark’s expression remained unchanged, his gaze steady. “Who gave you the Nizari poison, Anita?”
“The man who hired me to give it to her.”
“And who hired you?” he asked in the same monotone from Stas’s polygraph. The man took stoic to a whole new level.
“Issac Wakefield.” The answer was clear and concise and sent a shock down Stas’s spine.
What?
No.
That wasn’t possible.
He saved her.
Unless…
Unless saving her was the point. To poison her and then rescue her. To give her a reason to be wary of the organization he intended to get revenge against while simultaneously instilling a deep-rooted trust in him as her savior. An ingenious plan that had “Issac Wakefield” written all over it. She was a pawn to him, at least in the beginning. He would have had no problem toying with her life, and even admitted he might one day get her killed.
The video continued to play and she pretended to watch, her mind spinning with possibilities and adamant denials.
A brilliant plan, maybe, but Issac wouldn’t do that to her. Never once did he insinuate it could be anyone other than the CRF who tried to poison her.
But the video was incriminating.
And he had been there when she arrived that afternoon. The Tuesday night date had been his idea as well. An odd choice.
Did he set it all up?
She recalled Doctor Fitzgerald’s concern when she mentioned the shots after her medical exam. His shock was believable. That was not a man who ordered her assassination. She wondered at the time if Doctor Patel worked on her own and somehow knew about her fledgling status. Because Issac told her?
No. He wouldn’t do that to me.
This had to be a scheme, a way to turn her against Issac. The man who dropped her off today was not someone who wished her ill will; he’d even advocated against all of this. He wanted her safe. Protected. His.
It may have been a charade in the beginning, but not anymore.
He cared about her.
And she cared about him.
“You asked me to trust you, Aya. Now it’s your turn to do the same.” His words from the car played through her thoughts, vibrating in her heart.
She couldn’t fail him now.
He didn’t do this.
“I’m sorry,” Doctor Fitzgerald murmured. “Are you familiar with Nizari poison and why it’s used?”
Her spine tingled.
The rune.
Someone nearby was using an Ichorian gift.
Was it Doctor Fitzgerald? She’d never asked Issac what he could do.
She frowned. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that? I’m still a bit, uh, well, shocked.”
He smiled gently. “Of course, dear. I understand. It’s all a bit harsh to hear, and I’m very sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
I just bet you are, she thought back at him. Oh, he sounded genuine enough. Even looked apologetic. A master manipulator, the man behind the mask. Who are you really?
“I asked, ‘Are you familiar with Nizari poison and why it’s used?’ ”
More tingling.
She cleared her throat, focusing. Instinct told her to lie. “Uh, no, I’m not familiar with it.”
“It’s used to kill Ichorian offspring. Permanently. My guess is Issac wanted to test your mortality. When you didn’t react, he knew you were human and therefore a viable candidate for him to pursue.”
“Viable candidate?” she repeated, her brow furrowing. What the fuck is he talking about?
“Yes. I think he intends to turn you.” His gaze went to her neck again. “After he’s done reaping the benefits of your mortality, anyway.” A deliberately cold statement that made her shiver. He couldn’t be more wrong on that assessment. Not that she could correct him. “He doesn’t have any female progeny yet. It seems you’ve caught his fancy. He must sense something unusual about you that will benefit him.”
“You seem to know a lot about him,” she noted, uneasy with the turn in conversation. Issac told her his attentions would intrigue Doctor Fitzgerald, but now her mentor wanted to know more about why the renowned billionaire Ichorian had chosen her. She did not want to go down that path of speculation.
“I do. I’ve never seen him so interested in a woman. It’s made me wonder if perhaps his interest is also tied to your employment, or maybe your relationship with me. Any ideas?”
She pretended to consider and shrugged. “He hasn’t mentioned anything.” But it’s fascinating that you would make that assumption. And also somewhat incriminating.
“Interesting.” He scratched his chin in a thoughtful manner. “You know, we’ve never had a female Sentinel. This could be a unique opportunity. As you’re already aware of the world, it’s an obvious next step. Of course, if you prefer to continue working in marketing, that’s perfectly acceptable. The pay won’t be as good, or the benefits, really, but I’ll understand.”
Wait… “Are you offering me a job?” Because that was not at all what she expected from this conversation. Hell, she still hadn’t even called Human Resources back.
“It’s a win-win in my book. You learn more about the supernatural world, we keep you safe and train you how to defend yourself, and we groom our first female Sentinel. Of course, I’m just thinking on my feet here. I would have to run it by the team first.”
Okay, uh, what? “But I’m not military.”
“No, but you’re young and in decent shape. Stark or Tom will handle the rest. It’ll be a lot of hard work and long hours. You would also have to end whatever you have going on with Issac, though I doubt that’ll be much of an issue after what I revealed today.”
And that’s the catch, what he desired. To take her away from Issac. “How—”
The door flew open with a bang. Tom stood just outside, his face contorted in rage.
“I need a minute with you. Now.” The words were spoken through clenched teeth and directed at his father.
Doctor Fitzgerald sighed, standing. “Stas, will you excuse me? My son seems to have lost his manners.”
By the look on Tom’s face, those were the wrong words to say. What the hell had gotten into him? He looked ready to commit murder. And is that blood on his hand?
“Yeah, sure,” she murmured at the closing door.
What the fuck? Tom hadn’t even looked at her. She wasn’t used to seeing him angry, let alone disheveled.
The screen of the computer was still facing her with Doctor Patel’s face frozen in a smile that made her stomach churn.
She nearly turned the screen off again when it dawned on her that she was alone in Doctor Fitzgerald’s office.
The card. She stood and pretended to stretch while searching for any signs of surveillance. There weren’t any, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something obscure observing her.
Plucking the card from her pocket, she pretended to read the contact details and the note on the back. Then, acting as though she was annoyed, she flicked the card onto the desk, sending it across the space toward Doctor Fitzgerald’s laptop.
Anyone watching would assume the item offended her.
And after that video, they’d know why. Because it had Issac’s name and handwriting on it.
With a feigned huff, she stared up at the ceiling.
What the hell had set Tom off? she wondered. Clearly, there was something going on here.
She glanced at the still-closed door. Were they havi
ng a conversation in the hall? She stepped casually closer, hearing nothing.
Hmm.
Maybe she could open it and say she needed to use the restroom? Give her a chance to wander with the camera on her chest?
Seemed practical enough.
She cracked open the door, prepared to voice her excuse, except the hallway was vacant.
With a frown, she stepped into the corridor. No sign of life. Silent. But the entryway to the room Doctor Fitzgerald had occupied earlier was slightly ajar.
Had they ventured in there?
She could just wander and knock, right? Voice her excuse politely?
On impulse, or perhaps due to a moment of stupidity, she crept forward.
Curiosity killed the cat, her helpful conscious reminded.
Good thing I’m not a fucking cat.
She stopped outside the room, listening for voices. Nothing. Weird. Where did they go? Stas took a step, when a soft humming caught her attention, the sound hypnotizing.
“Do it again, Mommy!”
Her mother’s laugh tickled the air around her as she reappeared, joy radiating in her features. “Oh, my darling, you are truly my little angel.”
“Teasing our daughter again?” Daddy came up behind Mommy and wrapped her in his arms, his lips against her neck.
Astasiya scrunched up her nose. “Gross.”
He chuckled. “One day, little angel, you may disagree.”
Her mother snorted. “Are you kidding? You’ll kill anyone who touches her.”
“Well, that’s true,” he agreed, nuzzling her.
“Mist again,” Astasiya said, pleading with her mom. “Please. Please mist again!”
Her mother smiled and disappeared, the sound of wings humming through the air as she fluttered her invisible feathers.
A tear rolled down Stas’s cheek at the vivid memory, one she’d forgotten for nearly twenty years. Was it real? Did that actually happen? Or was it a dream?
That whisper of a sound drew her gaze back to the room, the soft purr forcing her forward.
She pushed open the door to find a woman crumpled in the corner, her face hidden beneath a curtain of brown hair.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 153