Hidden Powers

by Tara Lain

  “Better go see what she wants, dear,” Lindsey whispered.

  Jazz nodded and walked toward the oncoming pair. “Mrs. Marketo.”

  “Dear, I wanted you to meet our cousin from New York. This is Baldwyn.” She beamed and sort of pushed the male forward. He looked embarrassed but let himself be nudged.

  Jazz smiled. Baldwyn? Seriously? The male was very cute, if you liked tall, sort of slim weres with glasses and a shock of auburn hair that fell across his forehead. He had to be past his first shift but was also on the slender side. He looked to be around Jazz’s age. Encouraging.

  “Hi. I’m Wyn.”

  Much better than Baldwyn. Jazz extended a hand. “Jazz.”

  The contact tingled through Jazz’s arm and into his brain. The guy might look geeky, but he was more powerful than the average male. Also smart. Not as smart as BeBop or maybe Carla, but up there. Interesting. Most males his age didn’t have much more going on in their minds besides food and females.

  Trixie backed away, like she had introduced two champion dogs and was waiting to see what they’d do. “Bye.” She turned and walked toward her camp.

  Jazz snorted.

  “Yes. Sorry. Trixie and Merced found out I’m bisexual and decided you and I had to meet.” Wyn stared at his sneakers.

  “Seriously? They’re matchmaking males now? Gods.”

  “They say there’s no such thing as a gay werewolf, but when all their alpha-class weres turn out to be homosexual, they change their tune pretty fast,” Wyn said.

  “I’ve gotten used to it.” Jazz smiled. “Are you visiting for the summer?”

  “Yes. I live in New York, but I really enjoy studying, and my father wanted me to, uh, take some summer courses locally, so he sent me to stay with his cousins.”

  “Are you going to Yale?”

  Wyn nodded.

  “What are you studying?”

  “Molecular biophysics.”

  Holy cow. “There are lots of good schools in New York.” The guy smelled like he wasn’t quite telling the truth. At least not all of it.

  “Yes, but few as good as Yale. Plus, my father wanted me to have some experience outside our pack.” He cleared his throat. “Quite a race you ran.”

  “Thanks. Look, I’ve got to get over to my family. They’re waiting to feed me. You’re welcome to join us.”

  Wyn glanced toward the van with a neutral expression, but his scent got a tiny bit sharper. “I need to get back, but if I go to the Marketos and tell them I didn’t ask you out for coffee or something, I’ll probably get banned from the pack.”

  Jazz cocked his head. “Now you can say you asked.”

  “Do you want to?” The scent of a half-truth got stronger.

  “I guess the real question is, do you?”

  He crossed his nice arms again. “Sure. How about tomorrow?”

  “Can’t. I have plans.”

  “How about Thursday night? We could catch dinner.”

  Jazz shifted from one foot to another. He didn’t want to insult the Marketos, but then there was Dash. Dash. He’d spent the day trying not to think of him. Jazz took a slow breath. The sad fact existed that Jazz was the last unattached alpha werewolf in the Connecticut packs. If he could mate with another were, it would benefit everyone.

  Dash, on the other hand, was so damned human. Hell, mating with him might be impossible for Jazz, without killing him. “Sure. Okay. As long as I don’t actually have to catch it. Dinner, that is.” He grinned. “Give me your phone.” Wyn fished a smartphone from his tight jeans and gave it to Jazz, who typed in his number and handed it back. “Text me.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Bye.” Jazz turned and trotted toward the camp, where his brothers were staring at him, grinning.

  As Jazz approached, Lindsey said, “Well, dear heart. What was that all about?”

  Jazz shrugged. “Mrs. Marketo is trying to fix me up with her cousin.”

  Lindsey raised a brow. “You’re serious? Oh my.” He slapped hands against his face dramatically. “Does this mean there is such a thing as a gay werewolf? My stars and little fishes!”

  Jazz laughed. “He’s bi. Maybe they don’t count.”

  Lindsey raised an eyebrow. “So did she succeed? In fixing you up?”

  “We’ll probably have dinner or something. Wyn knows he’s being set up as much as I do.”

  “Don’t you like the guy? You certainly don’t have to go out with him, no matter whose cousin he is.”

  “Actually, he seemed pretty nice, although he’s holding something back.” He tapped his nose. “I can’t help noticing when some people tell lies. Others, I’m not as good.”

  Lindsey pressed a hand against his chest. “If we didn’t blessedly forget you can smell lies most of the time, we’d never say anything around you ever again.” He laughed.

  Jazz frowned and Lindsey grabbed his arm. “I’m kidding, darling. We have a simple solution. We just don’t lie to you.”

  Jazz dropped his head onto Lindsey’s shoulder for a second. “Thanks, bro.” He raised it again. “Anyway, I guess I’d be more enthusiastic about Wyn if I didn’t know the Marketos were trying to poach an alpha from our pack.”

  Lindsey sobered. “Yes. The fact is, one of our number may have to step up if the Connecticut packs are going to continue. But it certainly doesn’t have to be you.”

  “I know.” Jazz gripped the bridge of his nose. “Still, I’m the logical choice since all the rest of you are spoken for.”

  Lindsey’s full lips curved. “I got the impression you rather liked our lovely intern, Dash Mercury.”

  “He’s nice.” Jazz stared at his shoes.

  “More than nice, I think.”

  Jazz exhaled loudly. “Right. More than nice. He’s human. Just what the Connecticut packs don’t need—another werewolf/human match.”

  Silence.

  Jazz’s heart squeezed. “Oh God, Lindsey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m so sorry. I adore Seth. I would have fallen for him too. Please forgive me.”

  Lindsey flipped an exaggerated fist onto his hip. “Oh, you’d have fallen for him, huh? Should I be watching out for my brother?”

  Jazz laughed as he was supposed to and the tension dissipated. He shook his head. “Sorry, bro. I guess I feel a little railroaded by the other packs’ expectations, and you’re right. I like Dash. A lot.”

  Lindsey smiled and ruffled his hair. “Those humans do have their charms.”

  A MILE away in a grove of trees, Dash drew his finger away from his ear where he’d pressed it like a receiver. Exactly like a receiver. He smiled. He likes me. A lot. But a crease crept between his brows. Who is that other guy, and what does he want with Jazz? Who are these people?

  He dropped the binoculars and leaned against the tree. He hadn’t been able to get too close for fear of being detected. While he didn’t know precisely what these creatures were, he knew they weren’t human—or not all of them. The appearance of Casper and Lindsey Vanessen in this group had been pretty surprising. They seemed like people. Extraordinary people, but still human. The other two who’d been with Jazz were something else altogether. Dash couldn’t even reliably hear what they were saying. That was rare, and almost certainly supernatural.

  He stared through the binoculars again. All the beautiful, strange people were mostly eating, and man could they eat. They were putting away whole cows down there. Beautiful was also an understatement. In addition to the two huge men who’d interacted with Jazz so playfully, there was an older, pale-haired guy who must be related to the big one with platinum hair, and Lindsey for that matter, and a smaller, slender guy who was so smart-looking and handsome. He seemed to be important to the platinum-haired one. Then there was some big, curly-headed man who reeked of human power and must be Lindsey’s husband. Hell, there was even one woman in the whole group. Maybe she was Jazz’s mother. She was certainly loving and solicitous of Jazz, although she didn’t resemble him. Oddly, all the
men seemed to be gay couples.

  Dash took a breath, then glanced at his watch. He owed Lys a call. How much am I going to tell her? More important, how much hasn’t she told me?

  It was strange to even ask that question. She was his mentor, his teacher, and he usually told her everything. In fact, he was obliged to by tradition and his student contract. But somehow he had an idea that she knew more about this situation, these unusual beings, and about Jazz than she’d told him. Not that she owed him an explanation exactly, but he liked Jazz. A lot. And he liked Lindsey and Mr. Vanessen. Lysandra probably didn’t mean them harm, but maybe someone above her on the Magicouncil did.

  Still, if these creatures were what they appeared to be…. Holy crap! She’d told him to watch Jazz closely and report back, but she’d never told him exactly what to watch for. He’d asked, but she’d said she didn’t want to influence Dash’s observations. She just wanted his impression.

  That hadn’t seemed odd at the time. Now it did. Did she know exactly what she was looking for? If yes, what did she plan to do with that information? And why the fuck was he questioning his mentor at all?

  He hit the speed dial. Someone once asked him why he and Lys called each other on the phone rather than communicating by mind link. He’d told them Apple had better reception.

  “Hello, darling.” Lysandra’s voice always gave him a little thrill. It went with the territory. She was his master, one of the most powerful of their kind.

  “So I’m standing in the forest watching a group of people having a picnic or fair or something.” Dash chose the word people carefully.

  “Is Jazz with them?”

  “Yes. This appears to be the family event he spoke of when he blew off Carla and me for today.”

  “So a picnic?” She sounded inquisitive.

  “Yes. A bunch of families seem to have their own campsites. Vanessen’s is very high-end, of course. I think they’re having Brie and champagne.” That was true as far as it went.

  “Anything unusual?”

  Oh, Lys, what do you really want to hear? “Depends on how strange you consider foot races and throwing matches. I’m not that close. There are so many people around, I’m afraid I’ll be discovered. My presence here would be hard to explain.” A frown crept over his face. “I did get close enough to hear that one of the other families is trying to fix up Jazz with some nephew or something. They’re supposed to get together for dinner.”

  “Hmm. I don’t like that. When are you seeing him?”

  “Tomorrow. We’re supposed to go do something together.”

  “Good. Who could resist you, my darling?”

  “Many people, I’m sure.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Well, if you must, shall we say, use your wiles, by all means do.”

  “I’d prefer not to.”

  “Oh?” He could hear the smile in her voice. “You really like him.” It wasn’t phrased as a question. “So what else do you have to report?”

  His lips trembled, wanting to say more, but if she wasn’t going to bring it up, neither was he. Not yet. Not now. “Nothing, really. Do you have anything for me?”

  There was a noticeable pause. “No dear, nothing.”

  “All right. I’ll let you know how it’s going.”

  “Of course you will.” She laughed softly.

  He bit his tongue to force himself not to ask what she meant by that. Instead, he said brightly, “Talk soon.”

  “Umm. Okay. Sleep well.”

  He hung up. Holy crap. He’d lied to Lysandra. Yes, it was a sin of omission, but still a first.

  A huge first.

  A step on the path that didn’t lead to Arcantaria. Shit. That gave him cold chills. He wasn’t easily impressed, or amazed, or flabbergasted, but this had done it. He could justify to himself that revealing something of this magnitude should not be done over the phone. He could meet her mind to mind and transfer the images—but he wanted to think first.

  Either Lysandra was really in the dark about Jazz Vanessen, or she was hiding a Wikipedia’s worth of information from Dash. Why would she do that? How did it serve her?

  He pursed his lips and exhaled. Somehow he’d managed to not confess he’d seen Jazz Vanessen and others turn into wolves. Yes, wolves! Jazz Vanessen might be the source of the unexplained power surges. He might be someone with enough undeveloped power to manipulate the universe. Maybe. But one thing was for sure. He wasn’t human.

  Dash clicked his phone browser and typed in werewolf.

  NARDO WATCHED Jazz Vanessen gather his possessions, kiss his relatives goodbye, and walk to a limousine. One of Vanessen’s chauffeurs climbed into the driver’s seat and they took off toward Hartford. Interesting. The rest of them stayed around their campfire, eating and talking.

  He got closer. No one seemed to notice him, so emboldened, he approached their group quite closely. The beautiful, shy one with the golden eyes raised his head as if sniffing the air. He looked toward Nardo and frowned, but seemed to see nothing. Good.

  The human woman was quite lovely, and she seemed to be married to a werewolf. Amazing, but this whole Vanessen group was unusual. “How worried should I be about my son?” she asked. “The experiences he’s having—are they actually normal? Cole, tell me.”

  The shy one spoke softly. “They aren’t usual, but I can’t say if they’re normal. They might be. I’ve never had them. No one else I know has had them. But as we told him, all werewolves aren’t the same.”

  She frowned furiously. “But you don’t know of anyone else who’s had these weird things happen to them?”

  He shook his head.

  “Winter? Damon?”

  The one with the silver white mane and the older male with the similar hair both shook their handsome heads.

  Damn, he wished she’d be more specific about the experiences. Was the boy complaining to them? It sounded like it, but Nardo hadn’t been able to get close enough to hear clearly while Jazz was there—in case he’d been able to see what his relatives couldn’t.

  But if Jazz was different—if he was able to see the unseeable, know the unknowable—where did he come from? If he’d won that day’s race through more than werewolf power, the question was how?

  Who are you, Jazz Vanessen? I need to know.

  He walked among the other groups, catching scraps of boring wolf conversation. Around a corner, he saw the alpha, Merced Marketo. For a moment Nardo paused, but like the others, Marketo stared right through him.

  Hmm. Marketo. Nardo had heard that very interesting conversation between the Marketo alpha and that human, Casper Vanessen. He walked into a stand of bushes, shifted to visible, and walked out the other side.

  Marketo looked up, and his eyes widened.

  Nardo approached Marketo with a smile. “Alpha Marketo, how nice to see you.”

  “Alpha Nardo, am I right?” He smiled. “I’ve heard you speak, but I’ve never had the pleasure. I’m honored. I had no idea you attended the New England Packarama.”

  “I don’t normally. Traveling and all that. But I decided to drop in this year.”

  “Our gain. Will you join my pack for some food?”

  “Thank you, no. I have to leave soon. I do want to discuss something with you, however—”

  “Me?” He smiled delightedly. Fool.

  “Yes, but it’s a delicate situation because I, quite accidentally, overheard a part of a conversation you had with, uh, the human man, Vanessen.”

  “You did?” He frowned.

  “Uh, yes. I was walking back from the outhouses and heard you talking. I didn’t want to intrude, so I paused. You were saying something about owning Vanessen stock.”

  “Yes.”

  “I happen to be an investor myself.” Or I soon will be. “I thought there might be an occasion when we could vote our block of stock if we ever had a similar agenda. For the good of werewolves and all that.”

  “Oh.” For a minute Marketo looked blank, and then he
seemed to understand and tried to hold back a smile.

  Right, asshole. Think about it.

  “Yes, I can see a potential advantage in an arrangement like that,” Marketo said.

  “Good.” Nardo handed him a card. “Contact me if such an occasion arises.”

  “Yes, I will. Thank you.” He tucked the card in his pocket.

  Nardo walked away. Smiling.

  Chapter Sixteen

  JAZZ KEPT sucking in air to quiet the hammering of his heart as he drove up to the governor’s mansion. His pulse was in overdrive, partly because of the awkwardness between him and Carla, and partly because he already had goose bumps at the thought of seeing Dash. I wish I was free to fall for the guy. He snorted. Instead of being in free fall over him.

  Unfortunately, he and Dash didn’t add up. The Vanessen pack was on shaky ground. The other packs had left them alone because Vanessen was rich and the pack, though small, was powerful. But now the Harkers and Marketos wanted something big-time, and Jazz had the power to protect his pack. His family. They’d given him so much. What kind of crappy son would he be if he didn’t do whatever he could to protect them?

  At the entrance to the grounds, he gave his name and the gate opened. He drove around the circular drive and parked at the side of the house. Usually, Carla came bounding out to meet him. He held his breath.

  To his relief, the front door opened. Carla didn’t come running, but she did stand there and smile. He got out of the car and walked over. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” She started to look at him, then dropped her eyes to her feet. Well damn.

  He stopped. “Okay, enough. You’ve gotta tell me what I did or what’s wrong. You’re my friend. My best friend until recently. So if there’s a problem between us, I either have to try and fix it or go home and cry and find a new BFF. I can’t keep pretending there’s nothing wrong.”

  Carla burst into tears.

  Well, that wasn’t what I expected. Sobbing human females aren’t really my specialty. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Carla. It didn’t feel quite as awkward as he’d expected, so he tightened his hold and let her snuffle into the collar of his blue polo shirt. But this was odd—Carla never cried.