by Syrie James
Alec stepped out of his car, moved to the trunk, and opened his guitar case, to reveal his portable arsenal of weaponry. His hands brushed over the various blades and firearms, settling on a heavy tonfa stick. He’d spent his entire life killing members of the Fallen and had no wish to kill again, so a blunt weapon like this—basically a police officer’s baton—would still allow him to defend himself without lethal action.
Alec slammed his trunk with enough force to get the Fallen’s attention. What had the blonde called him? Lance? As he’d hoped, Lance’s head snapped in Alec’s direction.
“I don’t think she wants to go with you, Lance,” Alec commented as he strode calmly up to the couple, hiding his tonfa from view.
“Mind your own business, asshole,” Lance hissed. He had both of the woman’s arms in his grip now. She leaned against the car, apparently too drunk or under his spell to fight back anymore.
“Wish I could.” Alec gripped his weapon tightly as he closed the distance, waiting for his new adversary to strike.
And strike he did. Lance dropped his hold on the blonde, lashing out at Alec with a backhand. Alec brought the tonfa upward to block the Fallen’s attack, bone colliding with steel.
“Motherf—!” The guy yelped in pain and staggered backward, cradling his forearm.
The blonde was so drunk, she slowly sank down to the pavement. Alec needed to end this quickly, so she wouldn’t sustain further injury from a stray blow.
Without missing a beat, Alec spun the tonfa in his grip to club Lance over the back of the head. But this time he wasn’t fast enough. His adversary ducked out of the way, channeling the momentum into a spin kick straight to Alec’s chest.
Alec flew through the air, hitting the ground several feet away in the alley alongside the bar, his weapon clattering to the pavement outside his reach. He coughed, trying to catch his breath. Why was this guy so strong? His power was glamour-related, not superhuman strength.
“You people always underestimate us,” Lance chuckled, removing a small vial from his pocket. Unscrewing the lid, he took a quick swig. A few drops of a deep red liquid landed on his striped shirt as he swallowed and licked his lips, his eyes suddenly growing glassy and bloodshot. He pocketed the vial and stalked toward Alec.
What was that? Alec wondered.
Although Alec was fairly certain he had superior strength and speed, Lance now seemed unafraid of tussling with him.
Scrambling to his feet, Alec moved for the tonfa. But as he reached for it, to his shock, the tonfa suddenly transformed into a rearing, leopard-spotted snake, snapping its ferocious fangs. Alec withdrew his hand instinctively, heart pounding in alarm.
Damn it, he’s using glamours to mess with my head.
“Something wrong, Watcher?” Lance delivered a punch that made Alec see stars.
Alec smacked against the bar’s sidewall. Suddenly, the dirty stucco swirled, and eerie, hand-like shapes seemed to reach out and grab him. The ground shimmered, then became a blazing-hot fire that filled the air with smoke and made his eyes water. Alec set his jaw, wishing Claire were here to dispel the illusions. It’s all in your head, he tried to tell himself. It’s all in your head!
Then the Fallen was on him, delivering a barrage of inexplicably superhuman punches to Alec’s torso. He felt searing pain and a sharp, internal crack as a couple of ribs fractured. Alec’s agonized yelp was stifled when one of Lance’s hands closed around his throat.
Focus! Alec told himself, struggling against the iron grip around his neck. Every choking, haggard breath was a painful jab to his ribs. If he didn’t act fast, this would be the end.
His eyes glaring through the smoke, Alec reached out with his mind, wrapping mental fingers around the only thing he could be certain was real: the Fallen himself. Coiling up the mental energy like a spring, Alec let loose a telekinetic burst that flung his opponent into the stacked wooden palettes on the other side of the alley, hitting them so hard they splintered on impact.
All at once, the fire, the smoke, and the restraining hands were gone. Alec grabbed his tonfa—no longer a snake—and raised it at the ready, just in case Lance wasn’t out cold. But he just lay there, limp and still, his glamour gone and his true features revealed—an ugly, pockmarked face with pointed ears—proof that he was unconscious.
Alec turned his attention to the woman, hoisting her to her feet, wincing as agony lit up his rib cage. His injury didn’t worry him. He healed so quickly, he’d be a hundred percent in a couple of weeks. But it hurt like hell all the same. Alec did thank the Fates that Lance had only tagged his face once, so he wouldn’t have bruises to explain away.
The woman awakened from her stupor with a moan, looking up at Alec with confused, fearful eyes.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m trying to help you,” Alec said.
With a small shriek she pulled away, seized her purse from where it lay nearby, and ran off, heels clicking on the pavement as she disappeared into the darkness.
Alec heaved a frustrated sigh. Hopefully, she hadn’t gotten a good look at his face and wouldn’t report him to the cops. He glanced at Lance. He had to be moved, contained, so he couldn’t follow Alec if he awoke.
Alec extracted the guy from the broken palettes, dragged him to the back of the Lexus, and unlocked the trunk with his mind. He yanked the lid open, intending to toss the Fallen inside—then stopped short. To Alec’s surprise, the trunk was almost full.
It contained two large red coolers with the words blood products in transit and ucla medical center printed in white block letters on their lids.
What on earth is this guy up to? Alec had no time to figure it out. After that unfortunate display of powers, he couldn’t risk another moment out in public.
Retrieving both of the coolers for further investigation, Alec hefted the unconscious man inside the cleared space. When Lance came to, he could bang on the lid or call for help on his cell.
Just before he closed the trunk, Alec remembered the mysterious vial—the one whose contents had apparently imbued its user with, well, superhuman strength. Alec fished the vial out of Lance’s pocket. It had no label identifying what was inside.
Alec opened the vial. Its contents smelled like blood, and the splotches on Lance’s shirt seemed to confirm that. Why was a Fallen transporting large quantities of blood? And why did drinking some of it cause him to go all Hercules?
The door to the bar suddenly banged opened as three average-looking guys staggered out.
“I’m telling you, it sounded like a fight,” one of them slurred.
Alec slipped the vial in his own pocket, slammed the trunk shut, and ducked out of their sight.
“Looks like someone got their ass kicked,” another guy stuttered with a laugh.
Somehow Alec needed to transfer the coolers to his own trunk without these guys’ noticing. Peeking over the roof of Lance’s car, he stretched out his mind and rattled one of the dumpsters at the far end of the alley.
The three men jumped in surprise. “Is someone in there?” one guy shouted curiously. The others followed him toward the dumpster to investigate further.
Alec grabbed the coolers, carried them to his car, and stowed them in his trunk. From the black lockbox he always kept there, he grabbed a GPS tracking device—a remnant from his former job. Head down, Alec scurried back to Lance’s Lexus and attached the magnetic device to the inside of the bumper.
By the time the drunks were on their way back from the alley, Alec was behind the wheel of his Mustang and gunning his way out of the parking lot.
What the hell did I just stumble on? If what he’d just discovered was related to the Fallen as a whole—if blood was being stolen and transformed into some sort of enhancement drug—this could be huge.
Alec’s jaw set with determination. Watcher or not, he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—just let this one lie.
&nb
sp; fourteen
After her forty-eight-hour imprisonment, Claire’s heart leapt when she saw Alec at their locker. They’d been sharing it ever since Alec had accidentally mangled her assigned one at the beginning of the school year.
“Hey,” she said, wrapping her arms around him from behind.
Alec winced a little as he wiggled to loosen himself from her snare. “Hey.”
“You okay?” she asked, releasing him.
“Fine.” He turned to kiss her. “You just surprised me is all.”
“The Master Assassin didn’t sense I was coming? You’re getting rusty.”
“I’m not the psychic here.” Alec smiled. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind. What happened this weekend? Did you get to talk to Helena?”
“Not the way I’d planned.” Claire sighed. “Short version: We were right about my other power. I got desperate and tried to use it on my mom because she was pissed that I was late—”
“You’re kidding.”
“I know, I shouldn’t have, but I had no idea it would actually work! Which it did, by the way. I mean, holy shit! Helena busted me for it. Hence, grounded for the foreseeable future.”
“Shite, I’m sorry.” He glanced at her with a worried look. “Although I have to admit, I don’t actually know what grounding implies.”
Claire grabbed some books from her locker and stuffed them in her backpack. “It means no friends, no fun outside of school hours, and worst of all, no you.” Her heart caught at the thought. “Just straight home under lock and key. Mom took my phone and has stationed my laptop in the living room. Those messages I sent are the last ones I was able to sneak through.”
Alec’s expression was mixed. “I kind of get why she’s so angry. I mean, even I am worried at the thought of you burdened with this gift.”
His words almost took the wind out of her. “Burdened? By a gift?”
“It’s a lot to deal with,” Alec insisted, his tone serious. “But I trust you. And they should, too. A weekend of punishment would’ve been more than enough.”
“I’ll say. Instead, Helena’s threatened to be a psychic security camera wherever I go.”
“Bollocks.” Alec looked way more sympathetic now. “Thank God she wasn’t doing that the other night, when …”
“Actually, she was.” Claire shot him an apologetic grimace.
“Oh God.” Alec’s cheeks turned red. “Well, so much for privacy.”
“I wonder if she’s watching us right now.” Claire glanced skyward and pretended to look for a security camera, extending her middle finger. “Can you see this, Grandma?”
Alec’s laughter was drowned out by the ringing of the first bell, signaling five minutes before classes began.
“To be continued at lunch?” Claire closed their locker.
“We could whisper about it in Spanish class,” he joked, as they started walking toward the North Quad.
“Señora Gutierrez would give us EMD for not whispering in Spanish, and I’m not as fluent as you are in everything.”
He laughed again. “I recall enjoying serving early morning detention with you. Since date nights are out, it might be the only way for some alone-time.”
Claire sighed. “If I didn’t think it would cause my mom to break my legs, I’d take you up on it.”
It was all Claire could do to keep her mind on her bio quiz, even though she’d studied for it all weekend.
Being grounded was so frustrating. She needed quiet time with Alec, and that was not going to happen. And she desperately needed to talk to Erica about the whole Camelot thing.
Claire made her way to Concert Singers and took her seat in the music room. She called out to Erica, but either Erica didn’t see Claire’s wave, or she deliberately avoided looking in her direction, instead sitting on the far end of the soprano section and burying her nose in her music folder.
Claire couldn’t help feeling hurt. She had tried to reach Erica after the cast list was posted. Claire suddenly wondered if Erica might have called or texted her since her phone was confiscated and was feeling let down that Claire hadn’t replied. How was Claire supposed to let Erica know she’d been grounded if her friend wouldn’t talk to her?
Across the room, in the bass section, she spotted Brian glancing her way. From his expression, it was clear he’d witnessed what was going on. The only reply she could give to his sympathetic look was a shrug.
“So now she’s giving both of us the silent treatment,” Brian said later, as he and Claire exited the theater building and started up the main stairs toward the cafeteria.
“This whole thing sucks. It’s not like it’s my fault that I was cast as Guinevere.”
“Well, it kinda is,” Brian countered.
Claire stiffened. “What?”
“You didn’t have to try out.”
“I tried out to spend more time with Alec,” Claire replied defensively. “And with Erica.”
“Still. You know how much she wanted that part. You didn’t have to use your newfound singing power when you auditioned.”
“I can’t just turn it off, Brian. When I sing now, it just sort of … happens.”
“Okay, so, you could’ve said no to the part.”
Claire felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Say no?”
“Yeah. You could’ve told Ms. Donnelly that you don’t feel comfortable with such a big part first time out and let Erica have it.”
“But—” Claire began.
Brian held up a silencing hand and looked at her. “No one expects you to do that, CB. I’m just saying: Own up that you want the part. You’re excited to go from zero to hero.”
Claire heaved a sigh, embarrassed now. “Okay. You’re right. But it’s mostly that I’m excited about being up there with Alec.”
“And Neil?” Brian reminded her.
Claire shrugged. “That less so.”
“Either way, all of that’s cool. You aren’t entirely blameless, is all. Meanwhile, she’s mad at me for something that’s totally not my fault. I can’t help if I’m not into her like she wants.”
“True,” Claire acknowledged. “But you are kind of rubbing it in her face, going off and dating Kayla so soon after you turned her down.”
“I know, but I didn’t plan for it,” Brian cringed. “We’d chat about nerd stuff here and there and then … something just clicked.”
“Shitty timing.” Claire wanted to say more in defense of her best friend, but it was hard. Brian really was in a lose-lose situation here.
“When Erica doesn’t get her way,” Brian offered, “she gets dark and stormy for a while. We just have to weather this together. It’ll pass. Eventually.”
“Will it? In my case, I’m not so sure. I can’t make up with someone who won’t even look at me or talk to me.”
“So call her. A bitch session over morning coffee is her favorite thing.”
“You don’t understand. I tried calling and texting her on Friday. She ignored me. And that was my only chance. I got grounded on Saturday, and Mom has my phone.”
“Grounded? Why? What’d you do?”
By the time they reached the cafeteria, Claire had given Brian a brief summary of the date-night debacle and the fallout from using her newfound gift, leaving out the part about her grandmother’s warning to never use the power. That rule stung. She might need that power someday, like her dad had in the subway. She’d never learn how to use it if she didn’t test it once in a while, and she didn’t want any more people judging her about it.
“Mind control?” Brian stopped outside the cafeteria door, keeping his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Jeez Louise, you’ve gone all Emma Frost on us now.”
“Huh?”
“X-Men. Most of them have one power, but for some reason, she and Wolverine have two.”
“It’s not a surprise,” Claire whispered back. “Vincent predicted that because I’m a Halfblood, I’d have two abilities, just like other Grigori.”
“Right, ’cause you’re closer to the source than other Fallen, not hundredth or millionth generation.”
Claire nodded. “I’ve been wondering what my second gift would be, and now that I know, it’s kind of … overwhelming.”
“I think mind control is way more badass—and useful—than your other psychic thing.”
“Yeah, but it got me busted.”
“Only ’cause your grandma’s mojo is better than yours.”
“Whose mojo are we talking about?” Alec said as he joined them at the door.
“Claire just told me about her new gift,” Brian answered in a low voice.
“Ah.”
Shooting Claire a grin, Brian added, “Warning, CB: If you ever try it on me, I will annihilate you.”
“You’ll have to go through me,” interjected Alec.
“You’d have to find out I did it, first,” Claire responded devilishly. “If I did it right, you wouldn’t be able to tell.”
Alec and Brian exchanged a worried look at that. Claire held up her hands as if to say kidding! and pushed open the door to the cafeteria with a smile.
Ten minutes later, the three of them exited the cafeteria, their lunch trays loaded with barbecued chicken, slaw, and corn on the cob.
“Where should we go?” Alec asked.
“That’s right,” Claire teased. “‘The Table’ is the only home you’ve ever known here.”
“The best spots are all taken.” Brian’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh! Got an idea. Follow me.”
Brian led the way through an adjoining hallway, then outside along a paved path around the administration building.
Before she could question Brian about where they were going, Alec glanced at her, lowering his voice as they walked. “Hey, I never got to ask you this morning. How’d you get your new gift to work on your mom when it didn’t work on me?”
“Well for one thing, Helena said it might be a bit harder to mind trick a Grigori,” she responded quietly.