Embolden

by Syrie James

  “Now I feel doubly stupid, thank you,” Alec responded dryly.

  Before Claire could reply, her mom appeared with a sandwich and chips. “I’m just glad you’re safe, honey.”

  Claire grabbed the plate and tried not to inhale it all at once. While she was eating, Alec said, “Can we talk about the real problem here?”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “I hate to say it,” he went on, “but for once, I agree with Vincent. What happened today makes it crystal clear that the Fallen want Claire and will never stop trying to pull her into their web, even if they have to abduct her in broad daylight to do it.”

  “Indeed,” Helena commented.

  “The worst part is, none of us had any way of preventing it, or reaching her after it happened,” Lynn pointed out.

  “We can’t ever let them get to her again,” Alec insisted.

  “Hello?” Claire said through a mouthful of food. “Quit talking about me like I’m not here. And screw this ‘we’ stuff. If Celeste and her morons ever show up again, I don’t want to be some little damsel in need of rescue. I need to be able to handle it myself.”

  “That’s expecting a lot,” Alec mused.

  “Excuse me?” Claire bristled.

  Alec put up his hands defensively. “When they come for you, it’s in numbers. You can’t physically take on a pack of them.”

  “What if I learn some fighting techniques?”

  “Not a bad idea,” Alec admitted.

  “I could join my mom’s self-defense class.”

  “When would you have time?” Lynn said. “You have rehearsals every day after school and need evenings and weekends to do homework.”

  “Then I’ll drop the play.” Claire was determined. “Erica wants my part anyway.”

  “No need for anything that drastic,” Alec pointed out. “I can teach you a few things when and if you have a spare minute.”

  “Okay.” Claire smiled. This would finally give her some alone time again with Alec, where she could try to figure out if what Malcolm had said about him was true. Suddenly remembering something, she added: “Wait. Mom. Is that okay? Or am I still grounded?”

  Lynn shook her head. “Not anymore. In light of what happened today, I think we should all move forward. Alec, thank you for offering to step in and help.”

  Before Alec could reply, Helena sat up, removing the cloth from her forehead, and announced, “This is all very charming, and far be it from me to discourage anyone from improving their physical prowess. But we’re neglecting one of the most critical matters at hand: Claire’s ability to control minds.”

  Claire sighed. Despite her best efforts, the conversation was snowballing into criticism of her new power. But to Claire’s surprise, Helena’s next remarks were positive.

  “I admit, your gift of persuasion did indeed prove crucial today,” Helena continued. “In truth, it may be the greatest weapon you possess.”

  “What are you saying, Grandma?” Claire began, wanting so badly to tell everyone about the good she’d done so far with this new ability. “Are you giving me permission to—”

  “No!” Helena held up a hand to silence Claire. “All my reservations still stand. As I said before, it is a dangerous talent and must never be used unnecessarily. Even the most innocent experimentation can have unforeseen and unfortunate consequences. Since this is not a skill I possess, I could not help you to hone it even if I wanted to. Therefore, I forbid you to use it except in a life-or-death emergency, such as what happened this afternoon.”

  Claire settled back in her chair with a sigh. “So the rest of the time, I’m just supposed to pretend I don’t have this ability?”

  “Yes,” Helena insisted. “Let us focus our attention in another direction instead. Let’s find a way to use your other clairvoyance talents together with mine, in a way that is both more effective and is acceptable to you. So that I can still look out for you, but you will not feel you are being watched all the time.”

  “How are you going to do that, Grandma?”

  “Going forward,” Helena suggested, “I can keep a little corner of my mind open and available for you. When you want me to look in on you, I can teach you how to send me a signal, similar to the way I contacted you months ago when I was bedridden.”

  “Like my own personal wormhole into your mind?” Claire asked, intrigued.

  “An oversimplification, but yes.”

  “What if you’re not available to receive the signal?” Alec asked. “What if you’re meditating again, as you were today? It put you out of commission for a while.”

  “In future, I will not engage in deep meditation for such a lengthy period. Today’s efforts, however, did pay off.”

  “How?” Lynn asked.

  “Well. That is something I have been leading up to. I have interesting news to report.” Helena’s eyes glimmered as she sat forward, hands clasped. “I have been trying to locate traces of Tom’s new aura for the past two weeks. And I finally found something.”

  Claire’s heart quickened. “What?”

  “I saw him leaving a courthouse in Cleveland surrounded by reporters. His hair was red, but it was he.”

  “Could you tell when it happened?” Alec asked.

  “Not specifically. Based on peoples’ clothing, I presume it was a summer day. And from the cell-phone models I saw, I would guess it was four or five years ago.”

  “What he was doing in Cleveland?” Lynn murmured.

  “My guess is, he was with the Fallen,” Claire answered. “Malcolm confirmed today that Dad’s still in their custody.”

  “Damn,” said Helena quietly.

  “And they’re taking him to courthouses?” said Alec, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”

  “I do not know, but he had enough personal security to rival the Pope,” Helena put in.

  “To prove they have him, Malcolm had me take his hand for a moment. The two of them were somewhere in a limo, with a bodyguard next to my dad the whole time. Malcolm was thanking Dad for helping out with something, I don’t know what.”

  “Since L.A. is Malcolm’s territory, they were probably local,” Alec mused. “It sounds like they’re moving him around the country.”

  “But why?” Lynn asked. “If he has the power of persuasion, why doesn’t Tom just brainwash his captors and escape?”

  “He can’t,” Claire theorized. “I tried that on the people who kidnapped me today, but it didn’t work. They were all wearing some kind of special earbuds, similar to what we saw Vincent wearing in the subway station. Looks like the Fallen and Grigori have devised a filtering technology to protect their minds from brainwashing.”

  There was a pause as everyone took this in. “That explains a lot,” Helena nodded.

  “That would work for the people keeping him captive,” Alec commented. “But courtrooms are public. Helena, in your vision, did Tom ask anyone else for help?”

  “No.”

  “Did he look too afraid to talk?” Lynn asked.

  “He did not look afraid. If anything, he looked rather loopy.”

  “He was that way in my vision, too.” Claire’s heart hurt at the memory. “His eyes were blank. He looked like a zombie.”

  “Then he was drugged,” Alec said.

  Lynn looked horrified. “Do you think he’s been drugged every day they’ve had him, for the past sixteen years?”

  “It is possible,” Helena acknowledged.

  The chill of that thought filled the air.

  “Whatever they’re using him for,” Claire said finally, “if they keep moving him around, he could be anywhere by now. How can we ever find him?”

  No one volunteered an answer.

  twenty-one

  The clock ticked as they all stared at each other in silence.

  Alec cleared his throa
t.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to do it, Claire, but I promise you, we will find Tom,” he said. “In the meantime, why don’t we focus on what we can do now? We can start your training tomorrow.”

  “Why wait?” Claire sounded driven, like she was charged up with adrenaline. “There’s a gym in this complex, right? Let’s go! After the day I’ve had, there’s no way I can settle down or sleep until I know how to defend myself.”

  “It’ll take awhile to become proficient, honey,” Lynn interjected.

  “Proper self-defense comes from muscle memory and reflexes, which take time to develop,” Alec agreed.

  “Well, what am I supposed to do if someone tries to grab me again tomorrow morning?”

  “I have an idea,” Lynn offered. “Something you can use to beat back any potential attackers in a pinch. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  Two minutes later Lynn returned, carrying a small, black plastic handle, about nine inches long. Although Alec recognized it instantly, Claire looked confused—until Lynn whipped her hand downward, causing two feet of blackened, anodized steel to shoot out from the handle and lock in place with a snap.

  “Good Lord.” Helena shook her head.

  “Whoa! What’s that?” Claire asked.

  “A collapsible baton,” Lynn explained. “Personal protection in its simplest form, from a world teeming with paranormal crazies. I bought it months ago, after Vincent attacked us.”

  Claire took the weapon from her mother’s outstretched hand, admiring it. “Cool.”

  “They’re not strictly legal, but it made me feel better to have one in my purse. Now that I’ve had a few months to learn how to throw a punch, I think I can handle myself without it.”

  “Thanks, Mom. But how did you get this?”

  Lynn smiled. “Your father taught me a thing or two about acquiring things under the table. For safety.” Shifting her attention to Alec, she added in all seriousness, “As long as she keeps it out of sight, I know I’ll sleep better if she’s got that on her.”

  “See?” Claire turned to Alec. “My badass mom wants me combat-ready.”

  “Can you teach her?” Lynn asked.

  “Of course,” Alec said. “Let’s get started.”

  “Again.”

  Alec held his tonfa along his arm, ready to block Claire’s attack. She lunged with a combination of strikes he’d taught her. Effortlessly, Alec moved his own weapon to stop each attack.

  “You’re still telegraphing,” he told her. “Remember, keep your shoulders relaxed.”

  Alec glanced at the clock on the gym wall. It was almost 1 a.m. The baton might seem like a simple weapon, but there were many techniques he’d been able to show her to use it for maximum effect. They’d covered some footwork, basic parries, and attacks to arms and legs, as well as a few disengages, so she could avoid getting the baton tangled up in a fight.

  “It’s so weird,” Claire commented between hits. She looked tired but still determined. “If I’d been kidnapped a month ago, I’d be texting Brian and Erica all about it.” She retreated a few steps, catching her breath. “But all Brian thinks about these days is Kayla. And Erica won’t give me the time of day.”

  “Or me.” Wanting to keep her on her toes, Alec moved in with a strike toward her body, which Claire evaded and blocked with only a slight stumble. “It’s sad,” Alec added as they sparred. “But I feel a little uncomfortable being around either of them now.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Speaking of Erica. At rehearsal today, Ms. Donnelly had Erica fill in as Guinevere.”

  “Oh?” Claire glanced at him.

  “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. With everything going on—”

  “It’s okay, I get it. How’d she do?”

  “She was great, especially for being put on the spot like that.”

  “Of course she was.” Claire sighed, guilt in her voice. “That must’ve been crappy for Erica, filling in for a part she didn’t get.”

  “I wouldn’t know. She didn’t speak to me, except in character.”

  “Ms. Donnelly must be so pissed at me. I’ll email her tomorrow with some kind of excuse, so she won’t murder me on Monday.”

  “Too bad the ‘cousin Zach’ excuse won’t fly.”

  Claire laughed briefly as she paused, lowering her baton. “Yeah. Maybe I should just come clean about all of it: that a mob boss had me abducted to try to recruit me to the dark side.”

  “Don’t forget the part where one of his men Tasered you with his bare hands.”

  She laughed again, coming at Alec with what seemed like a basic maneuver. Then she surprised him by slipping her baton under his parry, slapping him lightly on his free arm.

  “Nice,” Alec complimented her. “But commit to your attack and don’t hold back. That should’ve hurt me.”

  “Got it.” She wiped her brow on her sleeve, resetting to the center of the room. Another thought seemed to occur to her. “By the way. I can’t believe you never told me the head of the L.A. Fallen was a vampire.”

  “That’s because there’s no such thing as vampires,” Alec quipped, readying himself for Claire’s next volley.

  “I’ll give Malcolm this. I get why he’s the one in charge. He’s incredibly charming. Even though he was having an off day.”

  “An ‘off’ day?” Alec repeated, blocking Claire’s blow.

  Claire backed up, darting him a hooded glance. “Apparently, someone’s been messing with his blood supply.” Without missing a beat, she lunged at him.

  What? The comment distracted Alec long enough for Claire to score a sharp blow to his thigh. He recoiled, winded.

  “You okay?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “Fine. That was a good one.” Alec held up a hand to signal that he needed to catch his breath as sudden worry knotted inside him. What did Claire mean by that remark? Did she suspect something about Alec’s recent nocturnal activities? No, no, that’s impossible. If she did, she’d say so. But the implication of her statement was illuminating. Malcolm’s blood supply. Is that what the stolen blood was for? If so, why had it been delivered to that warehouse and not to Malcolm directly?

  Claire padded over to her water bottle and took a gulp, her eyes on Alec, as if waiting to see what he’d say next.

  He briefly considered whether or not to come clean about what he’d discovered. Originally, he’d kept quiet so as not to worry Claire. Now, he realized, an admission could prove even more of a problem. She’d almost certainly insist on coming with him whenever he investigated, which would put her in even greater danger. No, he decided. He wouldn’t say anything yet. He hated lying to her, but it was better this way for now.

  “So … what were you saying before?” Alec tried to sound conversational. “Someone’s suicidal enough to interfere with Malcolm’s blood supply? How did that come up?”

  She stared at him for a long moment, her lips pursed. His response seemed to disappoint her. “I don’t know. I think he was trying to make me feel sorry for him.”

  “Part of the propaganda, huh?”

  With a look of annoyance, she closed the baton and slipped it into her waistband. “I think I’m done. Let’s call it.”

  Alec wearily pulled his Mustang into the parking lot of his apartment complex. His body had finally healed from the sting of Claire’s baton strike, but he still ached all over. When he reached his front door, he jerked to a halt.

  His door was hanging wide open. All of the locks and deadbolts had—incredibly—been reduced to misshapen lumps of metal. Only a fricking arc welder could do this kind of damage.

  Or, Alec realized, the paranormal ability to fry metal so hot, it melted.

  Javed?

  Quickly drawing his boot knife, Alec stepped inside and telekinetically flipped on the lights. What he discovered confir
med his worst fears.

  His place had been trashed. The couch he slept on was a mess of stuffing. Every cabinet door and kitchen drawer stood open, their contents scattered.

  Most upsetting of all: the big, metal storage locker where he’d kept his weapons was also standing open. Both doors had been completely bashed in—by the look of it, with bare hands.

  Rico’s?

  The cabinet, which he’d used most of his remaining Grigori funds to stockpile, was completely empty. Not a lockbox, blade, or gun in sight.

  Shite, Alec thought. If they came for Claire again, he would be defenseless.

  twenty-two

  Claire was so tired, she slept through the rest of Saturday.

  On Sunday, Alec called about coming over for an additional training session, but she told him she was too exhausted. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him.

  Sure, she hadn’t told him or Helena that she’d tried out her mind-control power a couple of times at school. But that was harmless, and for a good cause. Was Alec, meanwhile, actually involved in something dangerous—like stealing from and provoking the Fallen—and lying to her about it?

  Or was it Malcolm who was lying? He might have said all that stuff about Alec and stolen blood just to drive a wedge between her and Alec.

  Alec had seemed so convincingly innocent during their training session. But he’d also spent a lifetime deceiving others as part of his former job. How could she trust that he was being straight with her? The idea that he might be deliberately hiding something sucked.

  Things didn’t get any better on Monday.

  At rehearsal, after two weeks of learning song and dance numbers, they were scheduled to finally start blocking the scenes with dialogue. The scene where Guinevere first meets Arthur was up that afternoon. Despite all the paranormal crap going on in her life, and the fact that she wasn’t too happy with Alec at the moment, Claire had been looking forward to it. It was her first chance to share the stage with him, and it involved a cute case of mistaken identity.