Hidden Powers

by Tara Lain

  “Yeah, I am.”

  Carla frowned. “That’s why this whole bunch of crap from Evenride pisses me off. I mean, of all the people for him to accuse. Your grandfather! Jeez!”

  The waitress came with their burgers and refills on their colas. When she left, Dash asked, “What did this guy say about Mr. Vanessen?”

  She glanced at Jazz.

  Jazz shook his head. “Come on, Carla. There’s no point trying to hide it, right? I mean, I can’t fight what I don’t know.”

  “I don’t even like to repeat it.”

  “I think Jazz is right. Telling him isn’t like spreading rumors,” Dash added.

  She stared into her cola and whispered, “He says you’re all unholy devil worshippers.”

  “What?” Dash nearly spit out his cola.

  Jazz gazed at her, cold chills running up his spine. “We’re unholy devil worshippers?”

  Dash spread his arms. “Where the hell did he come up with that?”

  She shook her head, looking so guilty you’d have thought she made it up. “I guess I was so shocked when the words came out of his mouth, I didn’t know what to say. So I told him he was nuts. But I didn’t tell him not to send the proof he claims he has.”

  “Did he ever send his so-called proof?” Dash leaned forward, and Jazz tried not to look anxious.

  “No. I finally grew a pair and emailed him to take his proof and shove it where no man would want to go.” She smiled, all proud.

  Dash sat back. “It would have been good to know what he’s pushing as evidence.”

  She sighed. “I know, but I couldn’t live with myself another second if I kept stringing him on. I guess I wanted him to know that the Vanessens have friends, and I’m one of them.”

  Jazz leaned over, wrapped an elbow around her neck, and pulled her in for a forehead-to-forehead meetup. “Thanks, fam. You’re the best.” True, he would’ve liked to know what Evenride had on them, but Carla’s friendship meant more than anything.

  “I should have told him to fuck off sooner.”

  He wrapped a hand around the back of her head. “It’s okay. You uncovered what could be a real threat to my family. That’s valuable.”

  “What do you think this asshole has in mind?” Dash asked.

  Jazz leaned back and let out a long breath. “No idea. But it’s one more thing I need to figure out.”

  “We’ll help you, right, Dash?” Carla leaned forward, ready for action. Always.

  Dash nodded. “Is there any chance that without Carla’s help, Evenride may give the whole thing up?”

  Jazz shook his head. “I doubt it, although I guess it could happen. We can hope.” Besides, letting Dash and Carla get too close to Evenride might give them access to information Jazz would prefer they never saw. Depending on what Evenride had—pictures; testimonials?—it might take more denial than he could muster to make it go away.

  Damn. I need to know what that dude has.

  DASH AND Carla waved at the departing Prius and walked up the stairs of the governor’s mansion. She let them in with her key. Inside, the beautiful old home glowed in the soft light. “I really like this house,” Dash said.

  She smiled. “Yeah, we’re lucky to get to live here for a while. Want to get something from the kitchen?”

  “What do you have in mind, besides vanilla cola?” He grinned.

  “That’s a good place to start.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

  Dash was anxious to call Lys, but the chance to talk to Carla one-on-one and find out what else she knew or suspected couldn’t be passed up.

  Ten minutes later, they took frosty glasses of cola, some chips, and string cheese up to Carla’s room. She crawled on her bed and put her food on the bedside table. He took the comfy chair in the sitting area and sipped his drink.

  Carla chewed cheese. “So whaddya think, Dash Ex?”

  “About what specifically?” He was a lot more interested in what she thought.

  “This whole devil-worship bullcrap. I mean, seriously, I can see using an argument like that in some super-religious community or something. But to me and my family? It’s bizarre.”

  “I agree.” He took a bite of cheese to cover the need to say any more, then shoved a chip in after.

  She frowned. “The thing that worries me is….” She took a sip of cola, and he hung in suspension. That’s exactly what he wanted to know. “This dude can’t be so dumb he’d think the governor would be convinced by some obviously ridiculous claim and a couple hysterical idiots who agree,” she continued, then glanced up at Dash. “So I’d guess he must have some kind of evidence he believes is convincing to a normally intelligent person.”

  “That makes sense.” Totally.

  She pressed a palm against her cheek. “I know I should have waited to see what he had, but the whole thing was too upsetting, and I already felt like such a traitor to Jazz.”

  “You really like him.”

  “Yeah. He’s my best friend. Why, don’t you?” She raised her brows.

  “No, I mean, yes, I like him too. It wasn’t a question. Just an observation.”

  She leaned back against her headboard with her glass. “When he said he’d been keeping me out of trouble for years, he wasn’t kidding. I mean, I can be kind of reckless sometimes. Dumb reckless, you know. Jazz is more conservative than me, but really brave. He lets me have fun but keeps me out of trouble.” She shook her head. “I guess I better learn to be more cautious since we’ll both be in our own schools next year. Man, I’m gonna miss him.”

  “He’s a unique guy.”

  She glanced up. “Interesting choice of words.”

  He grinned. Just because she was funny and liked werewolf movies, he shouldn’t forget she was scary smart. “He’s kind of a nerd, but athletic and strong. Sometimes, he seems sort of shy, but I think he could lead an army if he had to.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I can go with that kind of unique.”

  “You must know his family well.”

  She shook her head. “Not so much. We mostly hang here at the mansion, even though the Vanessen estate is way bigger than this. But most of his brothers live at home I guess, so he always figures we’ll have more privacy here. Of course, I know Lindsey and his husband Seth pretty well. They’re big friends of my dad’s and actually helped rescue me when I got kidnapped years ago. That’s about the same time the Vanessens adopted Jazz and we became friends.”

  “Kidnapping must have been a bitch.”

  “No lie. I was scared, but I knew somebody was going to rescue me. I never doubted it.” She shrugged.

  Now for the million-dollar question. “Is there anything you can think of about the family that would lead this Evenride dude to think they’re”—he made air quotes—“of the devil?”

  She frowned in concentration, obviously taking the question seriously. “I’ll be honest. I’ve given this some thought since Evenride talked to me. All I can think of is that there are a bunch of gay men who all hang out together in the Vanessen home. Lindsey’s married to Seth, and they live at home. Jazz’s other brother, Winter, is also married to a man. They’re both FBI agents—go figure—and they live at the estate too.”

  And then I hear Jazz talk about Cole and Paris. I don’t know them well at all, but they’re part of the Harker and Marketo clans that are big families living in rural Connecticut. And yet I gather they often stay with the Vanessens at the estate. The only nongay couple in the house are Jazz’s mom and her husband. And there are the two older men, Jazz’s grandfather, Mr. Vanessen, and I guess the father of one of the husbands. I’ve never heard they’re a couple, but who knows what somebody else could think. I guess it is odd that there’s only one female in that whole group of men.” She let out a long sigh. “So I’m figuring it wouldn’t be all that hard for somebody with a solid homophobic streak and a double dose of paranoia to suspect all kinds of shit and shenanigans go on in that house.”

  Dash gazed at her. “Holy crap.
I never quite got all that.”

  “Yeah. I know. When you think about it from somebody else’s point of view, it looks suspicious.” She leaned forward. “So what are we going to do about Evenride? Should I try to get him to talk to me again?”

  Dash frowned. “He might let the whole story go if no one encourages him.”

  “Ya think?” She wrinkled her forehead.

  “At least if we let him make the next move, we can find out what his intentions are.”

  “I guess. But what if he goes underground and we don’t know what he’s doing?”

  “Then you can smoke him out.”

  That made her smile. “Okay, cool.” She swung her denim-covered legs off the side of the bed. “The game’s afoot.”

  Dash chuckled, but he had a pretty good idea this was no game.

  “We need to make sure we’re down for breakfast tomorrow morning so we can pump Daddy for information, see if he’s heard anything from Evenride or anyone else.”

  “Uh, delicately?”

  “I’ll let you lead the conversation, okay?” She grinned. “I’ve never been known for my subtlety.”

  He stood and gathered up his glass and plate. “We better turn in if we want to start extra early.”

  “Right. Sleep well.” She bounced on the bed. “I’ll text you if I think of anything else.”

  He gave her a big smile and closed her door after him. But the smile fell off his face as he powered toward his bedroom. As soon as he got inside, he set down the dishes and reached for his cell phone, then paused. So, all those people, those wolf creatures he saw together at the picnic, lived in the same house in one big… pack. There was no way around it. He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye socket. Carla mentioned Harker and Marketo. More “big Connecticut families.” Had they been at the picnic too? Could they all change into wolves?

  Lysandra had sent him to spy on Jazz Vanessen. He’d thought that was because Jazz appeared to be a human with magic power, as happened occasionally. But if she knew Jazz was a werewolf, why didn’t she tell Dash? Why didn’t she tell me werewolves exist? Is it a test? Is she waiting for me to tell her I know Jazz is a supernatural being?

  His phone rang in his hand.

  Crap. Lysandra was a master. His master. Masters could sense emotional turmoil in their protégés, and she’d often joked that Dash was always so calm, he never gave her any challenges. Now, not so much.

  He clicked. “Hi, Lys.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  A war raged in his head and chest—a war between duty, training, and some strangely expanding affection, not just for Jazz, but also for Carla, the reality of their friendship, and the family love that seemed to saturate their lives. Just feeling it filled him with desire.

  “Dash?” She sounded concerned and edgy.

  He walked to his closet, put her on speaker, and began to undress. “Someone’s got information designed to prove that the Vanessens are unholy devil worshippers.”

  He expected her to sound shocked. Instead she didn’t say anything for several seconds.

  He stripped to his skin, pulled on his sleep pants, and waited.

  “What proof do they have?” she finally said. Funny she didn’t ask what they meant.

  “I don’t know yet. The man who’s making these claims offered the information to Carla. She turned him down.”

  “Does Jasper know about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “What has he said?”

  “Not much. There’s more going on here, but I haven’t gotten the whole story yet.”

  “Devil worshippers?”

  “Yes. He claims Jazz’s family is not what they seem and a danger to the community.”

  “Oh? Do you think it could have anything to do with business? Maybe this man is paving the way toward a takeover? Character assassination is common in cases like that.”

  Dash barked a laugh. “Casper Vanessen could be Beelzebub himself, and as long as he’s making money for his stockholders, nobody’s going to give a damn.”

  “How delightfully cynical of you.”

  “This is about something else, Lys. I can’t see anyone going to the governor’s family to try to undermine the Vanessen companies. They’re too big and too rich. No, this has to be about community standing, stuff like that.”

  “Blackmail?”

  “Possibly.” He measured his words. “Carla pointed out that the Vanessens have a bunch of gay men all living in the same house with one woman.”

  “Ha! That could cause a boatload of rumors.”

  “Yes, but they don’t hide it, so I’m not sure where the blackmail comes in.”

  They both quit talking.

  Finally, he asked, “Lys, what are the Vanessens hiding?”

  She might have sucked in a breath. He wasn’t sure. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” she finally said.

  So, she wasn’t going to tell him. Maybe she honestly didn’t know that most of the Vanessens were humans who became wolves. If she didn’t, why in hell wasn’t he telling her?

  There was a simple answer, and he said it out loud. “Most important, what does all this have to do with Jazz?”

  “And by extension, with us?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the boy like?” She sounded almost warm, affectionate.

  He smiled to himself. “Smart. Funny. Not telling the whole truth.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.” He chuckled. “But then neither am I.”

  Her voice cooled. “Just remember, Dash, it’s not your job to tell him the truth.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He made sure his voice was sufficiently subservient. Of course, that didn’t take much acting. Training was training.

  “I’m sorry this has proven to be such a questionable situation. I was hoping you’d have some fun this summer.”

  For an instant, the feel of Jazz’s hot erection under his hand tingled through his nerves. He squelched it fast in case she picked up his feelings. “It’s all right. I live to serve.”

  “Yes, well, keep me apprised.”

  “I will. Good night, Mistress.”

  “Good night, Dash.”

  He clicked off and stared into the mirror. He might live to serve, but he sure as hell had broken his vows of truth. Strike two.

  Chapter Eighteen

  HOW LONG am I going to withhold what I know about Jazz?

  Answer: As long as it takes to find out who the biggest threat to Jazz Vanessen actually is—this dude Evenride and whoever’s behind him, or Lysandra, the Magicouncil, and by extension, me.

  With a sigh, Dash brushed his teeth, then walked into his bedroom, grabbed his laptop from the desk, and sprawled on the bed. He looked up werewolves. Over the next fifteen minutes, he found out more than he’d counted on. There had been a werewolf craze at the same time as the witch trials. Some people, mostly males, unlike the so-called witches, confessed to being werewolves. Different societies in places like Ghana and the Iberian Peninsula had always had powerful werewolf traditions. But not one of his sources suggested werewolves were real and having picnics in Connecticut.

  He closed his laptop. He’d love to believe he’d dreamed the whole thing, or that he hadn’t seen what he’d seen.

  He might have swallowed that theory if he didn’t already know that there were far stranger things in existence than most humans believed.

  Pushing the laptop aside, he slithered off the bed again and approached the pile of books he kept stacked on the edge of the desk. Hide in plain sight, as they say.

  From the stack of mostly school texts, he removed a tome called Advanced Botanical Studies and carried it back to the bed. Sitting against the headboard with the book propped on his knees, he took a long slow breath, placed his hands on the hardbound cover, and felt the tingle of energy flow from his fingers. It prickled like electricity, but he knew it to be magnetic. The art on the cover shifted from the dullest beige and brown to glowing gold, magenta, and b
rilliant blue. From the swirl of color emerged the words Mystikos Radiance. Touching his initiate’s handbook gave him a thrill.

  Pointing a single finger down toward the book, he was tempted to ask for werewolves, but that might be a simple human term.

  “What superordinary creatures exist?”

  The shot of energy from his finger actually hurt as bones vibrated, the cover of the book flew open, and pages enthusiastically began to turn on their own.

  The rustle of paper sounded musical. Finally it settled on a right-hand page crammed with small black words that said…

  The magical community stands as the bearer of power in the earthly world. Any rise of other power is a threat to that preeminence and must be at least carefully watched, if not eliminated. All bearers of magical power are entrusted with responsibility for vigilance against the rise of such power….

  Yeah, yada, yada. He’d read that page a thousand times. He could recite it from memory. Every student knew it was meant to refer to humans like Jazz who appeared to have naturally arising magic that could represent a threat to Dash’s kind. In fact, it was this catechism Lys had invoked when she told Dash he needed to spy on Jazz.

  He stared at the book. “Not my question.”

  Okay, let’s be more direct. He closed the book and stared at the cover, suspending his finger above it. “Are there werewolves in the earthly world?”

  His finger spun on its own, and one final page in the book flipped. Dash held his breath as he looked down at a two-page spread bordered in gold. In the middle of the right hand page, scripted, dimensional, illuminated letters spelled What do you think?

  Dash stared at the page, suspended between laughing and crying. Just what he needed. A mystical textbook with a sense of humor.

  DASH SIPPED his coffee and tried to ignore Carla’s significant glances. The girl wasn’t subtle.

  “Daddy, has Karl Evenride been in touch with you?” She glared at Dash.

  He glared back.

  The governor looked out from behind the pile of morning briefing papers a member of his staff had brought over earlier. He seemed to be trying to focus his eyes on Carla. “What?”