by Shéa MacLeod
Tommy shrugged. "At least in part. Your father threatened to go public. Somebody made sure he didn't."
I wanted to know everything Tommy knew about my father, but he shut his mouth and the door on the subject. All I could do was concentrate on the present. For now.
"You're telling me the Supernatural Regulatory Agency, the very agency I more or less work for, is creating vamps with souls and sending them after me?"
"Not what I said."
I repressed a groan. Tommy was being his usual cryptic self. I shot the old man a glare.
"I saw that." His eyes twinkled, and I swear he was laughing inside.
"Okay, you want to play, I'll play," I said. "If the SRA isn't doing it, someone else is." Hello, Captain Obvious.
Tommy didn't respond. I wasn't surprised. He tended to do that when someone was being unusually thick.
"So, if the SRA isn't using the technology they created, and Trevor is under the impression they're still trying to figure it out, then the likelihood is the technology is no longer in their possession. They're not trying to figure out how to create it, but how to duplicate it."
Tommy nodded.
"But someone out there obviously does have the technology, which means it's highly likely they stole it from the SRA. So the question is: who has the soul vamp technology now? Does the SRA know about them? And how did they steal it in the first place?"
"That's more than one question."
"And yet all the answers are important," I shot back.
That made him smile. "Indeed. The most important question is the one which, when answered, will also answer all the others."
Oh, gods, he was getting all philosophical on me. Still, what he said rang true. "Who has the tech now?"
Tommy pulled onto a side road leading off the main highway. It was frighteningly narrow and riddled with potholes. I knew from my last visit the asphalt would eventually turn into a gravel road, which would then turn into a narrow dirt track before finally petering out in front of Tommy's cabin. As we bounced along, the hula girl gyrated so hard I was sure she'd snap right off the dashboard.
"I can't answer that," Tommy finally said. "Only you know the answer."
I snorted. "If I knew the answer, I wouldn't be asking."
The sigh he heaved spoke volumes about his opinion of my intelligence at the moment. "Who do you know who would be clever enough to steal technology like that, well-connected enough to find a place to use it, and evil enough to send the results gunning for you?"
"Quite frankly, a couple people come to mind." A grim thought struck me. "But only one of them had access to the SRA thirty years ago." My gaze caught Tommy's. My blood ran cold. "Alister Jones has it."
Chapter 13
"Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you." Tommy peered at me over his bowl of venison stew as though daring me to bare my soul.
I swished my spoon through the thick, brown goop. Tommy was inordinately fond of stews, and while they looked tragic, they tasted heavenly. Unfortunately, I wasn't very hungry. The trip had exhausted me. Every bone in my body ached, and the proximity to djinn lands was making the Air power inside me itchy, which in turn was getting the Darkness riled up.
"What do you mean?" When in doubt, play dumb.
Tommy chewed thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving mine. He didn't say a word. Just waited. Awkward.
I let out a sigh. "Well, on top of the soul vamp thing, Brent Darroch escaped from jail. That's not good."
Tommy said nothing. He simply tore a hunk of bread off the homemade artisan loaf in the middle of the table, swiped it through some stew, and popped it in his mouth.
"And, uh, there's that whole price on my head thing. Kind of stressful having vampire bounty hunters on your ass. I'm usually the one hunting them."
Silence. Nothing like a joke that's fallen flat on its face.
"My powers are a little... unpredictable lately," I admitted.
Tommy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He was waiting. Waiting for me to say it.
My throat felt thick and tight, and I was half afraid I might do something embarrassing. Like cry. I was clenching my spoon so hard my knuckles turned white. I carefully placed it on the table and forced my muscles to relax. I was only partially successful.
"It's Inigo."
Tommy nodded as though he'd been waiting for me to get to the point. He took another bite of stew and motioned for me to continue.
I wasn't sure how to tell him everything without sharing secrets that weren't mine to tell. "You know his brother, Drago, took him back to dragon lands."
Tommy ripped off another hunk of bread and swirled it through his stew. Still giving me the silent treatment. It was becoming irritating.
"Well, the dragons have a... method for healing. They say they can heal Inigo. Maybe." I tried to swallow past the increasingly large lump in my throat.
"That's good."
"Not really," I said. "Drago said it could take years. Like hundreds of years."
"Ah."
"I'll be dead," I wailed.
"That's a bit dramatic."
Dramatic? Was he mental? I stared at him. Finally I managed to choke out, "You have no idea what I'm going through."
"I'm sure you're right," Tommy said. Was that sarcasm in his tone? Seriously?
"What? So you know what it's like to have the person you love stuck in a century-long coma?" The snark was back.
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as he eyed me. "Nope. But I know what it's like to have the person you love die. Lots of people know how that feels. Think you got some kind of monopoly on heartbreak?"
I suddenly felt ashamed. I'd been so busy wallowing in my own misery, I'd been acting like a spoiled little brat. Still, the pain was real, and I was having a hard time dealing with it. At least death was final. This was... something else.
"What's the real problem?" Tommy's tone was softer this time. Sympathetic. It made me want to break down and blubber like a baby.
"The real problem is I don't know what to do. He could wake up tomorrow, or he could wake up never. Or I could be an old woman when he wakes up. I could spend my whole life waiting."
Tommy was quiet so long, I thought he'd gone back to the silent treatment. Finally he said, "Lots of people spend their lives waiting. You wouldn't be the first. You won't be the last. The woman I know you to be would wait forever without batting an eyelash. This is not what upsets you."
"No," I admitted. How did I say this without sounding like a lunatic? "Inigo came to me. In a dream. He told me it would be a very long time before he woke." I stared down at my hands, clenched tightly in my lap. "He told me not to wait."
"Insistently, I gather."
I nodded. "The problem is, I don't know if this was a true dream, or if it was somebody messing with my mind. I don't know what to do." My voice cracked on the last word. I swiped angrily at the hot tears that spilled onto my cheeks.
Tommy leaned back in his chair, the wood squeaking in protest. He steepled his hands across his stomach and stared off into space. "It doesn't matter."
I stared at him. "What?"
"It doesn't matter if the dreams are real or not. It doesn't matter if Inigo wakes up during this millennium or not."
"I don't understand."
Tommy gave me a measured look. "It. Does. Not. Matter." And then he sat there, waiting, as if I would suddenly say something clever.
My mind was an utter blank. Then something sparked, turning my misery to hope. "It doesn't matter because I decide. It's not up to Kabita or Jack or even Inigo. I decide whether I want to wait. Or not." There was just one problem. I didn't think I could make that decision right now. On the one hand, it seemed foolish to put my life on hold, waiting for him to wake up. On the other hand... how could I not wait?
"Don't worry so much," Tommy said, as if reading my mind. "When the time comes to decide, you'll know."
Wonderful. Cryptic Tommy strikes again.
Chap
ter 14
"This will cost you."
The words were as cold and hard as her perfect face: Morgana, Queen of the Sidhe, perched delicately on a coal-black throne. Her eyes were twin shards of ice as she eyed the man standing before her. She strummed blood-red fingernails on the arms of the throne. "Time travel requires a great deal of power."
Time travel? What the hell?
"Still, it must be done if we are to succeed," the man said, voice firm, unflinching before the Queen.
I couldn't see the speaker's face, but he was tall, well built, with broad shoulders. His distinguished gray hair was neatly trimmed and perfectly styled. Even his dark suit shouted "expensive." We're talking Saville Row expensive.
Every one of my senses screamed at me. I knew this man. But he wouldn't turn around. He wouldn't let me see him.
I figured this was the throne room of Morgana's palace in the Other World, but I couldn't make out much. Everything was fuzzy and indistinct, as though I looked through a fogged windshield. The only things I could see clearly were the queen and the man who stood before her. I was unable to move or shift the perspective. I was an observer, plain and simple.
Morgana sighed. "I suppose you are correct, if we are to set the necessary events in motion." She slowly rose from her throne, the embodiment of fluid grace. Her nearly sheer gown shifted and swirled around her body, revealing a curve here, a hint of shadow there. Strawberry blonde curls fell over her breasts just so, hiding secrets from heated eyes. The queen was a master manipulator, and it was clear her audience of one did not remain unmoved.
"You are ready then, my queen?" There was a thickness to his voice that betrayed arousal. What an idiot. Did he honestly think the Queen of the Sidhe would give him the time of day? I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
"When am I not?" Morgana smiled as she moved toward him, hips swaying seductively. Her lush lips parted to reveal that tiny gap between her front teeth.
It was not a question, and her visitor did not provide an answer. Instead, he held out his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. The familiarity of the gesture sent shivers down my spine. Yes, I definitely knew him. I just couldn't place him.
The queen took his arm with her right hand. With her left, she gave a languid wave. The air in front of them began to shimmer as a circle formed from nothing. It grew more solid until it was a rippling silver disc suspended in midair. Then the two of them stepped through and disappeared.
"What the hell?" I spoke aloud, or thought I did, but no sound came out. I tried to move toward the disc, but my feet were anchored in place. Right, I was just an observer.
I was about to issue a few choice albeit silent cuss words when suddenly the world tipped and tilted so fast, I thought I might tumble off. When it righted itself, I was no longer in the throne room. Instead I was in a darkened bedroom, an ordinary place where two girls slept peacefully.
A shimmering disc formed next to the bed, and two dark forms stepped through: the queen and her visitor. Dread lodged in my stomach.
Letting go of her escort's arm, the queen leaned over the bed. She glanced from one girl to the next before choosing the one with the light-colored hair. Placing her hands on either side of the girl's face, the queen closed her eyes. I could feel Morgana as she began to draw power from the Other Side. A lot of power. She was about to do something big.
My jaw dropped as she sank her fingers through the girl's skull and into her brain. I tried to say something, but nothing came out. Again, I was rooted to the floor in silence, a mere observer to the horror.
Morgana swirled her fingers around in the sleeping girl's brain like she was stirring a pot of soup. The girl moved uneasily and let out a little moan of pain. Slowly Morgana withdrew her fingers. As she did, she pulled out a tiny, shimmering gold thread from the sleeping girl's brain. At least, that's what it looked like.
Morgana handed the thread to the man whose face I still couldn't make out. "These are the memories you wish to erase."
The man stared at the delicate thread cupped in his palm. Then he closed his fist around it and crushed it. It fell from his fingers in a trickle of blackened dust.
Morgana gave the man a wry smile. "I shall replace them with that which we discussed."
The man said nothing, simply nodded. Once again, Morgana reached into the girl's head, stirring her fingers slowly. This time when she pulled them out, no threads came with them, but her fingers shimmered silver in the moonlight.
"It is done."
The man offered Morgana his arm again and they exited the way they'd come, through the disc, clearly a portal between the human world and the Other World. It closed behind them, leaving me standing in the girls' bedroom.
As if their passing had broken some kind of spell, I was suddenly able to move. I hurried to the bed, squatting down to get a good look at the blond girl's face. What I saw made me gasp.
* * *
I woke to sunlight streaming through the window. It was much brighter than I was used to. Portland mornings were often on the gray and gloomy side this time of year. Central Oregon mornings were a whole different animal. With a grunt, I pulled the blankets over my head to block out the light. Didn't Tommy believe in curtains?
The rich scent of coffee tickled my nose. I could hear Tommy banging around in the kitchen. A glance at my cellphone told me it was way too freaking early in the morning, but there was no way I was getting back to sleep.
Last night's conversation was still fresh in my mind, but I wasn't quite ready to face it yet. Tommy had said I'd know when I was ready. Today was not that day. Instead, I replayed my dream. Yeah, Cordy told me I couldn't always trust them, but this had all the hallmarks of one of my Atlantean-influenced dreams.
I fingered the amulet around my neck. Yes, this had definitely been a true dream. A dream of the past. That was why I couldn't change anything; it had already happened.
I sat up abruptly, ignoring the slight dizziness as my body tried to deal with the whole being awake thing. The blonde girl from my dream had been Jade Vincent. Much younger, much more innocent, and a hell of a lot happier, but definitely Jade.
Morgana had taken memories from her. Of what, I had no idea, but I imagined they must be good ones, happy ones. The kind of memories that gave a person solid ground under her feet. Morgana had replaced those memories with what? The only reason the Fairy Queen would expend that kind of power on a nobody girl was so she could use it to her advantage. Whatever memories she'd implanted in Jade's mind had been used to manipulate the poor girl. Who she was, what she'd done, was based on a lie.
Rage infused me. Morgana and her sidekick or partner or whoever had traveled back in time and turned an innocent girl into a psychotic killer. Of that I had no doubt. And now I knew who I'd seen in the Other World with the Fairy Queen.
Alister Jones. I was sure of it. Who else could it be?
I slipped from bed, jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. That bastard had a lot to answer for. Clearly, he was in cahoots with Morgana. Obviously, he must need her help for his plans for world domination. Though what he could possibly offer her was beyond me.
And why was Jade so damned important? I'd felt the kind of power Morgana had used to get them through the portal into the past and fix Jade's memories. It was a lot, even for the Fairy Queen. Why? Why would she do all this? What did she have to gain?
Morgana was definitely up to something that went far beyond her tiff with me and her hatred of the djinn.
I shook my head. It was way too early for any sort of logical thinking. Not that logic was much use where Morgana was involved. What I needed now was a very large cup of Tommy's coffee.
I threw on a pair of sweats and headed down the hall toward the kitchen. If Tommy was going to make coffee for me every morning, I might just move in permanently.
Chapter 15
"Again." Tommy thumped his walking stick on the ground.
"Seriously?" My whole body ached and my brain felt like it was stu
ffed with cotton. "You're killing me. This is cruel and unusual punishment. I'm pretty sure there's a law against that."
His weathered face remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed. "Again."
I'd been at Tommy's for almost a week, and every single day we'd done the same thing: practice. And not just physical stuff, though there'd been plenty of that. Tommy claimed it was his version of physical therapy. The real practice, though, was the power drills. As in my very special, super-duper Atlantean powers. Since Air was the newest power, we worked on that the most. It was exhausting.
"I can't, Tommy. I'm tired." I winced at the slight whine in my voice. I was no sissy, but I was reaching the end of my rope. My powers had a mind of their own.
"You're tired because you fight against yourself," Tommy snapped. "You are tired because you allow your emotions to affect your powers, and right now your emotions are out of control. Stop wallowing in self-pity and control will follow. Now, again."
Clearly I'd get no sympathy from Tommy. I sighed, glancing around the flat plain of sage brush, rock, and a few spring grasses struggling to survive. Nope. Nobody to save me from the torture. I closed my eyes to focus on summoning the air again.
"Open."
My eyes flew open. "What?"
He shook his head at me like I was some kind of idiot. "You gonna close your eyes in the middle of a fight?" he asked, thumping his stick again. "Or when a demon's charging at you? I don't think so. Again. Eyes open."
What I really wanted to do was throw something at him. Preferably something sharp and pointy. Instead, I did what he told me.
It was a struggle, focusing on the powers inside me without closing my eyes. The Darkness and Fire were right there, eager to get out and play. They'd been frighteningly easy to work with, or at least they'd been easy to let out. Not so easy to rein in. But it was the Air I wanted. Typically, it was doing its own thing, unconcerned with cooperation. Tommy said it was my emotions causing the problem, but it seemed par for the course to me.