Foolishness and going through the motions, all for nothing. It was only power that counted, the power ordinary men could buy with money and wield with personality and the kind of ancient power that he, as a warlock, claimed and commanded as his birthright.
Gregor would remain here only until he found the man—or men—he sought. He’d rather have the two of them, although one would be enough. Then he’d find his sons and discover where to find the woman—Diana Reynolds—who’d come from the other place, to cradle the latents’ seed within her body and birth a new and powerful breed of warlocks. He’d known only her name and that she was in this city.
His mirror hadn’t even shown him her image. That, too, was less information than he’d had about the previous two triads. No, that fact had nothing to do with diminishing power. It had only to do with the prophecy itself. Of course, success would be more challenging to obtain in this final stage. That was as it should be. There must be no doubt, in the end, that Gregor Fortuna deserved the prize he would call his own when he did succeed.
Gregor turned his thoughts back to the woman. He might make her his prisoner and use her for the same purpose as those Latents intended to use her. The history wasn’t clear on what the difference could be between a woman of the old realm and one of this world. Wasn’t a vessel, a vessel? But there must be some reason the prophecy called for three women to come here, from there. Unless the women were simply the steppingstones for the unification itself. Creatures of one world supplanted into another, allowing a gate to open?
Yes, that must be it. It was too bad his youngest sons hadn’t let him know more about the woman. The other two women, he’d had a fair bit of information on them right from the beginning. This one, he’d only been able to discern her name from the mirror. He knew his powers were stronger than ever. He refused to even consider otherwise. Gregor decided that, if there had been anything of importance to know about Diana Reynolds, his mirror would have revealed it to him.
The sound of footsteps alerted him just moments before Parsons himself carried in the coffee tray. Under normal circumstances, Gregor wouldn’t deign to even meet with the man. Amazing the firm is as successful as it is with such a man as this in charge. Gregor mentally shrugged. It could very well be that William Weymouth, the other partner, was more of a proper executive.
“Here you go, Mr. Fortuna. I’ve sent a text out to one of my top executives. Today is actually his first day of vacation, but he immediately agreed to come in and meet with you. He’s a near genius at designing a campaign that fits a client’s needs. He has almost a magic touch.” Parsons looked somewhat abashed. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but he really is my best go-to man.”
“Excellent.” Gregor took a moment to prepare his coffee. He supposed he should have called ahead sooner than the day before. His decision to step in, to do what it was he’d asked of his sons, had been impulsive. But it had been the right decision. He decided to fish, just a little, to see if the dolt across the table from him even knew anything about him and his firm.
“Reaching out to you was my eldest son’s, Vincente’s, idea. He’d planned to get in touch with you, but…” Gregor pulled out his somber face, the one he’d worn for affect when it had been announced his eldest had died.
“I’d heard about the passing of your sons—all four of them, wasn’t it? An unbelievable tragedy, sir. Please, accept my most heartfelt condolences.”
Gregor nodded then donned the expression of long-suffering that had served him well these last few weeks. “Life often gives us many tragic turns. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you know this. A man can do nothing but accept the cards he is dealt.”
Gregor paid no mind to the frown on Parsons’ face. He was growing impatient. He wanted this meeting to get underway. He wanted to know if this man who had almost a magic touch with his clients was indeed the latent he sought. The more he thought on it, the more convinced he was it was true. If any man had power, even if it was only slight, he would use it to advance himself.
He focused on Parsons. “I do not need to meet with anyone but your top man.”
“You know,” Parsons said, “I won’t waste your time. I’ll just bring in Logan, my top man, and we can get right to work.”
“Excellent idea.”
Gregor took a sip of his coffee while Parsons took care of changing the meeting. Despite his impatience, he was able to pass the time with Parsons in idle chitchat. Even so, he’d turned his senses up. Then came that moment when he sensed…he tilted his head to the side. Ah, there it was a wisp, a tiny wisp of power. It was there and then gone, as he would expect it to be for one who’d not yet fully come into his own. Latent power was just that, asleep and waiting to be awakened, set aflame, and then, finally, ascend to full power.
A few moments later, the door opened, and a young man entered. He stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him.
Gregor sensed an awareness in him. With a thought, he froze Parsons. Then he got to his feet.
“I am Gregor Fortuna.”
“I know who you are. And I know why you’re here.” He flicked a glance at his boss then met Gregor’s gaze. “I would ask only that we take this…meeting…someplace else, to spare the innocent.”
Gregor had no desire to cause an uproar here in this city so far from his base. “Your consideration for collateral damage will be your downfall. However, it suits my needs as well. And I know the perfect place for this, as you called it, meeting.”
He waved his hand to vanish the coffee. Then he looked at Parsons. “You will have no memory of me or the events that occurred after my arrival. All record of your texts and calls are erased.”
In the next moment Gregor and the latent were in the Cave of the Ancients, a place Fortuna had discovered years before. He felt certain this place, more than any other, amplified his power. Not that he needed that, but it had occurred to him that this would be a fitting place for him to receive his greatest reward yet.
End the prophecy, and who knew what power would then become his, including the ultimate prize?
He focused on the young man, who no longer appeared to be as latent as moments before. The cave must be strengthening him, too.
“You haven’t even asked who I am.”
The man didn’t even look worried! Gregor would soon abuse him of his misconceived confidence. Another fool, and this one soon to be his, as well.
“I don’t care who you are.”
“You should. My name is Logan Firth—and I will be your downfall.”
Chapter 8
“I wonder who the client was that had Logan scrambling to his car the moment we arrived back here.”
Diana’s thoughts had been wandering since Logan had closed the penthouse door a few minutes before. Cameron’s question brought her attention back to the moment. “I don’t know, but it must have been someone important.” He’d promised, as he’d grabbed his keys and then kissed her, that he’d be right back after a short meeting with a client Cedric wanted him to meet.
But something seemed off. Wouldn’t he have told them? Or was that just her?
“It doesn’t bother you that whoever it was asked for him and not you, too?”
Could that be it? Unable to lie, she answered him. “It does, a bit. But I seem to be having trouble summoning the feelings of resentment I tried to foster before…well, before.” She walked over to Cameron. “It occurs to me that this is a good time for us to get to know each other better. Don’t you think?” She wondered if he thought that was silly, considering all she’d learned already of their previous lives and the intimacy they’d already shared.
But that was us then, not us now. Diana considered herself a woman of her times. She didn’t think—belief in destiny and forever mating aside—that she was bound to these two men simply because they’d shared a past, of sorts.
“That sounds like a plan, actually.” He held out his hand, and she took it. He led her over to the recliner, sat down, an
d pulled her onto his lap.
“It’s been a long time since I played ‘getting to know you.’ Like Logan, once I knew your name, and that it was just a matter of time before we met, other women ceased to exist for me.”
“I already told you it was the same for me. Once I came to this world, and knew that mates were in my future, I didn’t even consider dating.” She shook her head, and her laughter felt good. “To be honest with you, there was so much for me to learn here, dating would have been a complication. The only man I ever met that I had to work hard to resist was Logan.”
“So already we can say that we, all three of us, share one exceptional trait between us—fidelity.”
“Yes, I guess we do.”
“I was born in Scotland, of two Irish-born parents.” Diana heard the smile in his voice. “When I was four, my parents immigrated to America. I know from Da, as I barely remember the trip, that they were determined to make the best life for me they could. My parents both used their magic, but not openly and not all the time. They taught me about my own power before I came into it. How to find it within, how to form a bond with it, and most important, they taught me how to respect it. I can recall my mother telling me the magic within me would be my best friend until I found my soul brother. Looking back, I think she knew I was destined to be mated, a co-husband, to a woman of our kind.”
“Precognition to one degree or another is a common talent among the Gifted, so it must be so for the descendants of the Chosen, as well. It would be the same with some of the Scorned.” Diana felt herself fully relax on Cameron’s lap and in his arms. “It’s never been one of my talents, but one of my fathers—Desmond—is very gifted in that area.” Diana sighed. “I never could get away with anything when I was a child, unless he let me.”
“I always believed my father, Alistair, was precognitive, even though I can’t give you an example of one time when he’d shared anything of the sort with me. He’s never said if he knew my mam was going to die, but I have my own theory that he did.”
Diana sensed that this was an area that was an emotional quagmire for Cameron. He was still hurting over the loss of his mother, and though it had never been her habit to offer comfort except to her sisters, she felt a deep need to comfort him now. “Even if he did know, there would have been nothing he could do to stop it. You know that, right?”
The tension in his body beneath her told her he didn’t really accept that at all. Here was one area where she had an advantage over the men. While their magic was well developed, it didn’t have the depth of context to it that hers did. Growing up in the homeland, certain precepts were common knowledge. “It’s why, for the most part, those of us who may be precognitive can’t see our own futures. Destiny is, and, yes, it’s determined in part and at some point by our choices. But at its core, it can’t be cheated or denied.”
Cameron exhaled. “I know you’re right, in here.” Cameron tapped his head. “I’ve tried to see our future and haven’t been able to. As you say, I likely won’t be able to.” He ran his hand up and down her arm, and she stayed quiet, allowed him the privacy of his thoughts. “My mam died when I was eight, and for the next several years after that, Da and I roamed about. He was—still is—a professor of history, and for a while, he only took positions as guest lecturer at colleges and universities all over the country. It wasn’t until he married Cynthia that I understood he’d been looking for her.”
“That’s why you believe he knew of your mother’s impending death. Because he appeared to be searching for a specific mate?”
Cameron was quiet for a long moment. “That’s it, exactly. Not to mention that I’d been raised with a healthy belief that magic could achieve almost anything.”
“You should ask him about it, Cameron. I would suggest to you that, if he knew who she was, he’d have been a guest lecturer only at one college, the one closest to her. There’s probably a side to the story you don’t even know exists.”
“You’re right, darlin’. Maybe I will ask him about it since you’ve suggested it. I didn’t before because I was afraid of the answer.” He pulled her closer and placed a sweet kiss on her head. “I guess I’m not afraid anymore. I have you, and Logan. Yes, I know we’re not a done deal, but we’re connected, the three of us. I already feel as if we’re a family. You, and he—you both ground me.”
They felt it at the same instant. A sense of shock, a sense of groundlessness…and then the faint, faint impressions from being in mind space with someone very far away.
Cameron clutched her hand tight as the scene opened up before them. She could smell a mustiness, feel a chill, as if they were deep underground in a cavern that hadn’t had fresh air in centuries. On the wall of the cave, two scones flickered, their firelight weak against the all-prevailing blackness.
An old man, his face twisted in rage and hatred, stood before them, and although Diana knew he couldn’t see her or Cameron, it felt as if he was peering into their very souls. He was talking, but they couldn’t hear him. Both she and Cameron pressed closer. And then a barrier went up between them and the scene, and she realized in a heartbeat what had happened. Logan had sensed their presence there with him and even now sought to protect them.
Facing Logan was Gregor Fortuna, and Diana knew the old man intended to kill him.
* * * *
Maybe I miscalculated.
Logan knew, as soon as Parsons called him that morning, exactly who it was he’d be meeting with in the boardroom because his boss had told him. It was all he could do to keep that bit of information away from his brother and his woman.
Fortuna was bold. He’d give him that. The moment Logan understood the bastard was right there with Cedric, he became determined to do all he could to protect his boss, his colleagues, and, especially, to keep the knowledge of what was about to happen away from Cam and Diana.
As he’d approached the office building, he gave himself over, body and soul, to the reality that Diana was his mate. He didn’t know if claiming her, mentally, would stand in the long term, but it was the only thing he could think to do in the moment.
Gregor Fortuna was not only much more powerful than his sons. The power within him was different than any Logan had ever seen. It didn’t glow or shimmer like the magic of his parents. It didn’t show emanations that looked very much like the vibrancy of life and the promise of growth, like Diana’s and Cameron’s.
Fortuna’s magic was contained, finite, and pulsed heavily within a gray mass so dark it was nearly black.
“Why here?” Logan’s first instinct was to stall. The cave they were standing in had a malignant feel to it, as if it had seen many evils committed over the centuries and that evil had soaked into the walls.
Not my thought. Logan sensed other power here—several echoes of old magic that had been burned into the rock surrounding them and another presence, one he couldn’t quite define. Needing to keep his mind off that presence in case Fortuna decided to look into his thoughts, he conjured another image. He imagined himself as a gladiator facing an opponent in an arena filled with unseen spectators.
“When I defeat you and harvest your power for myself, this cave—the Cave of the Ancients—will amplify that power, making me even more formidable than I already am. Prepare to die, latent.”
Did we think the man had bastardized history? Fortuna’s words told Logan all he really needed to know about the man, and the knowledge sure as hell wasn’t comforting.
Gregor Fortuna was bat-shit crazy.
“Ah! So this must be the cave you’ve been living in all this time if you believe that bullshit.” Logan did his best not to let his fear, or the level of his own power, show. “I have to tell you, Fortuna, you have some weird-ass ideas that have nothing at all to do with reality.”
“Enough of this! You insult me when I was kind enough to answer your question? It’s time for you, and the Prophecy, to die!”
Logan focused on Fortuna’s eyes and saw the moment he began to act. Th
ough he detected no discernible change in the level of the man’s power, he braced himself.
Gregor brought his hands up as if he were about to conduct an orchestra and then thrust them forward.
Oh shit. Logan felt the swell of magic headed his way and had no time to think. He brought his power up, shielding himself, and was still knocked off his feet. He rolled on the rock-strewn floor, coming to rest against a wall. It felt like stinging nettles covered his flesh. He recognized the sensation as an aftermath of a magical attack as well as being gouged at by the sharp-edged rocks he’d rolled over, tiny rocks strewn across the floor of the cave.
Gregor’s eyes widened. “You are no latent!”
“I told you your ideas were fantasy.” Logan didn’t want to waste time talking. He centered his power and looked to Fortuna, waiting for the man’s next move.
Gregor began the same hand motion. Logan punched out, a swift, focused jab of power aimed at the man’s face. Fortuna grunted, forced back several paces from the strength of Logan’s attack. His head had snapped to the side as well, and when he straightened, Logan saw a trickle of blood appear, dripping down from his lip.
Fortuna wiped at the blood, and Logan could feel his outrage that he’d been hurt. Logan also felt his brother and his woman on the edge of his consciousness. He immediately raised a wall of protection between them and him, lest Fortuna learn about them and their power. Once this bastard saw the signature of their magic, he could find them, and Logan was determined that would never happen.
Using his hands separately, Gregor Fortuna mimicked throwing knives at Logan. His shield sent most of them off, and the sound of metal hitting rock rang throughout the cavern. One or two got through, and it was all Logan could do not to scream in pain. The sharp, burning-hot shards tore at his clothes and the skin beneath.
The Gifted 3: Passions Ascended (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 8