Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel

by Gwen Mitchell

  “And?”

  “And you’re lying on my bed contemplating sex and birth control.” He grinned. It was a good look on him.

  “I was just wondering.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  Julian pushed my arms down. “Don’t pout. I’m not making fun of you.”

  Could have fooled me.

  He took my hand and pressed it between his warm palms and leaned closer, brushing the sides of our bodies together. “We do have sex.”

  My temperature spiked, and just the pressure of him so close made my baggy, borrowed clothes feel constricting.

  “Very good sex.” His teasing smile turned the corner and slammed into wicked territory.

  Red Alert!

  I was sure he was teasing me then, but when I met his eyes, there wasn’t a sliver of humor in them. The heat there, however, sent a shock wave of awareness through my body, making every hair stand on end.

  “After we get everything cleared with the Cloak, I could show you,” he said in a low whisper.

  That answered that question. Julian was interested in me too. He just didn’t want to crush on a chick who might be forbidden. Or due for execution. I couldn’t blame him for that. But he must have thought things looked promising, or he wouldn’t have put himself on the line now. He thought there was something for us beyond the warden/prisoner bit. I couldn’t deny I hoped so too. My body hummed with the knowledge that I could have him if I wanted. It made everything else I faced seem almost worth it, more thrilling and enticing, rather than just plain scary. And I couldn’t help it — the thrilling part turned me on.

  God, I am so mixed up.

  I pulled on a sultry smile and leaned a little closer. He opened his mouth a fraction, and we were sharing the same warm, moist breath.

  “In your dreams, Jules,” I breathed against his lips.

  “How did you know?” he said, then kissed me.

  It was everything a first kiss should be — sweet, tender, unrushed. His mouth slipped over mine as if they were meant to fit together. It wasn’t full of the ferocious passion I’d always sought, but carried a promise of so much more. His kiss was a smoldering fire, still hot, still dangerous. He held my face in his calloused hands, but he was so gentle, as if I were something precious. He drank from my lips, savoring every drop. I forgot where I was. I had never been kissed like that. Ever. He hadn’t even used his tongue, and I was ready to melt into a puddle.

  “Wow.” I gripped his wrists to keep him from pulling away. “Please tell me you can duplicate that.”

  My nerve endings thrummed like a crystal bell resonating from the blow of that kiss. It was way, way, way too good. And that was very bad.

  So much for keeping your head.

  “I think I could do even better.” Julian didn’t seem immune either. He blinked slowly, as if still replaying it in his head or considering kissing me again. I wanted him to.

  His fingers slipped away with a final caress of my cheek. The purplish tinge surrounded around him again, though I knew better than to mention it this time. Parts of my body were tightening and heating up with desire, much more intense than usual. Julian definitely hit my “go” buttons in a way they’d never been pushed before.

  He cleared his throat. “But we have to deal with Derek first.”

  “Right.” I stood up. Distance. I needed space to re-boot my brain. I could feel Julian’s gaze lingering on me as I crossed the room. I finally understood what the prickling feeling in the back of my skull was. I felt it whenever a particular type of Julian’s attention focused on me. He was right — being an Undead, or a psychic, or both did have perks. Foreplay had been skyrocketed into a whole other dimension.

  You’re not getting involved, remember?

  Who was I kidding? I wanted to get on with the sentencing so I could spend more time with my Undead Knight and find out how high that fire could really blaze.

  Derek arrived at twelve a.m. sharp. I lingered in the kitchen while Julian talked to him first. Anxiety fizzled in the pit of my stomach. Julian seemed unconcerned about our visitor, but that didn’t give me much comfort. Julian appeared unfazed by anything short of the apocalypse. I flipped through his copy of The Code and tried to ignore the murmur of their voices. It reminded me of times when my mother would meet with work colleagues and I was supposed to make myself invisible. Only, I doubt they had been talking about whether to let me live, or what to do with me. That was a lot harder to ignore.

  My host came to collect me a half hour later, his expression stern but otherwise unreadable. He didn’t touch me familiarly or show any hint of feeling. My senses went buzzing into overdrive when we entered the living room. Tension webbed the room with dizzying slashes of color I didn’t know how to interpret.

  Derek stood as I came in, not out of manners, but out of caution. His aura was a thick smoky grey with stripes of white and crimson. The color scheme made me instinctively uneasy. I took an instant disliking to him. From the look on his face, it was mutual. So much for playing off his sympathies.

  Bummer.

  “Miss Moore.” He held out one of his meaty arms, directing me to sit as I approached. His voice was oddly nasal for a man so large. He filled nearly half of Julian’s small living room, an imposing white-haired bulk, with dead, grey eyes that made my steps falter. His scent was worse: an oiliness covered up by too much cheap aftershave.

  I took a deep breath and held it as I sat down across from him. I tried to close the part of my mind picking up a vibe of ill intent from Derek as he towered over me like an albino gorilla. Alarm bells were going off in the back of my head, but I kept my composure.

  “Derek Mueller, Knight of the Cloak, rank four.” He shoved a leather wallet in my face. I leaned forward and noted his official-looking ID, which listed his name, rank, base, and a transformation date of April 2, 1932. I glanced from the badge to him, hiding my surprise behind a mask of bland politeness usually reserved for fund-raisers and family reunions. He didn’t seem a day over thirty. I made a note to ask to see Julian’s ID later, and leaned back, crossing my legs. Derek’s aura was slowly fading out of my vision. I let out a thankful sigh. The in-put overload was very distracting. Hopefully once things were cleared with the Cloak, I could look into a way to figure out how to control the other half of my heightened awareness.

  “Julian has told me what he knows about your situation, but I’d like to clear up a few things.” Derek sat in the chair across from me, which whined under his bulk. His clipped words held trace of something European, and even without super-senses, it was easy to pick up on the undercurrent of aggression.

  I fixed an obliging smile on my face, waiting for him to go on. Just get this over with, then I could focus on getting my life put back together. Or at least starting a new one.

  I checked the corner of my vision and found Julian leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, outside of the conversation but still present. The affirmation of Julian’s interest had made the possibility of a future seem more real. Would he stick around as I found my own way? After his duties were over? I hoped so. I wanted to see if the potential I felt was something more than desperation and Stockholm syndrome.

  Derek flipped through his official-looking pocket-sized notebook. “You were turned by your boyfriend at a public bar Thursday night. Is that correct?”

  “My ex-boyfriend.”

  Derek paused, fixing me with his steely glare.

  I rocked my foot back and forth. I’d seen enough cop shows to know not to elaborate — just answer the questions.

  His lip curled as he looked back at his notes. “And you made your transformation last night, in your dormitory?”

  I sighed. This was going to take a while. “That’s right.”

  “Did you have any contact with Cody before then?”

  I frowned at him. “Yes, he called me, before I…died.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he was in trouble and leaving town.” I shifted in my seat and studi
ed a small tear in the leather armrest. Did Julian really have to hear about my loser ex-boyfriend dumping me?

  “Do you know where he is now?”

  I looked up too quickly to disguise my surprise, then gave Julian a questioning glance.

  “Miss Moore?” Derek’s voice pitched lower, though he still sounded like he had cotton stuffed up his sinuses.

  I shook my head. “No. I thought…Julian told me he probably went to the Cloak with his Sponsor.”

  Stupid, Cody—really stupid. I sure can pick ‘em.

  “We’ll get back to that. Let’s talk about your transformation.” Derek sounded pleased with himself, and I really didn’t like that. “You caused the building to catch fire?”

  “Uh…no.” I sat up straighter. “I took the vial Julian gave me and passed out, but I had a nightmare. I woke up in an earthquake. At least, it felt like an earthquake. The earthquake set off the fire alarm and the sprinklers. I didn’t know there was a fire.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. The more I talked, the less convinced Derek seemed. But I was telling the truth, damn it! I looked over at Julian, who gave me the barest of headshakes and then stared at Derek, his face utterly blank.

  “Julian reported that when he approached you after the fire, you threw him across an alley.” Derek’s cool gaze was calculating, with a flare of something else—anticipation?—that made my skin crawl.

  “I didn’t throw him. I felt him coming and I just…” I waved my hands in the air.

  Derek leaned away, reaching behind his back for something. I sighed and glued my hands to my sides. He didn’t seem reassured.

  “I just put my hands out to block him, and he…flew away.”

  Though if I knew how to do it, I might be tempted to send you for a spin.

  “Did you inherit the telekinesis from your mother, or your father, or both?” he asked conversationally, writing something down.

  “I don’t know,” I bit off in reply. “My father, I assume. My mother is totally normal as far as I know.”

  “Have you used your powers since?”

  I looked down at my lap, wondering if reading auras counted. Either way, Derek seemed hell-bent on not believing me, even if I told the truth. Something in my gut told me I couldn’t trust him either way. “No.”

  “Have you been contacted by any members of the Grigori? Even telepathically?”

  I shook my head and squirmed as he scribbled away. They could do that? After a long pause, I looked up to find Derek staring at me with the creepy dead eyes. I gulped, but didn’t cower as he probably expected me to.

  “Miss Moore, I’d like you to come with me now.” He flipped his notebook closed and tucked it away.

  “What?” I caught Julian moving in my peripheral vision, but Derek demanded all of my attention. He gripped my upper arm and yanked me to my feet. “But I didn’t do anything!”

  He lowered his rough-hewn face until it hovered only a few inches away from mine. His breath smelled like a slaughterhouse floor and it was hard not to cringe away. “Don’t even think about trying anything with me. I won’t be charmed out of killing you if it comes to that.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Julian was suddenly at my side, staring daggers at Derek. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

  Derek sneered. He took a step toward the door, pulling me with him. “My orders were to assess if she was an immediate threat, and if so, to eliminate her. If not, to detain her and take her back to base.”

  Julian’s arm shot forward, lighting fast, and grabbed Derek’s wrist. Our arms crossed in a three-way stalemate. Both of their auras came roiling to the surface, a clash of crimson and black so vivid I couldn’t make out their faces. I had to shut my eyes until it passed.

  “You’re not taking her anywhere.” Julian said that in the same tone of voice you would tell someone the sky is blue — plain, simple fact.

  “You know the punishment for disobeying orders. I have to follow mine. Yours are to stay out of the way. She’s a spy, and she’s already compromised your judgment.”

  “I am not a spy!” I tried to yank my arm away. Derek’s fingers dug into my flesh like the jaws of a bear-trap. Struggling only made it more painful. I turned to Julian, my eyes pleading. He believed me. Right?

  Julian met my gaze for a fraction of a second, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He spoke to Derek, not to me. “If they want her brought in, I’ll do it myself.”

  Just great. It didn’t matter who did it, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to go back to their base. From the sounds of it, the Cloak would question me, maybe torture me for information I didn’t have, and eventually kill me. They didn’t care if Derek killed me now. If Julian would still hand me over to them, it meant he didn’t either. My heart dissolved and sank to my toes with that thought.

  Unwelcome everywhere, safe nowhere.

  “Your orders are to stay here.” Derek stared at Julian, squeezing my arm harder.

  My whimper of pain went ignored. Normally, I hate it when people talk about me like I’m not there, but just then, I was hoping they would both forget about me and I could sneak out the back while they settled their disagreement. Invisible sounded good.

  A gun appeared in front of me, pointed at Derek’s face.

  “You think that’s going to stop me?”

  “Let go of her,” Julian said through gritted teeth. A menacing click came from the gun.

  Derek’s grip on my arm slipped away.

  “Alex, get back. Whatever happens, stay out of this.”

  More than happy to follow Julian’s instructions, I backpedaled onto and over the sofa and crouched behind it as I watched the two of them locked in a silent staring competition. Derek’s fingers twitched, but Julian’s arm stayed stock-still.

  “You know I won’t leave her without a fight.” Derek straightened his shoulders so he took up even more space.

  Julian’s smile was grim. He didn’t move a muscle. “I’d be happy to oblige.”

  “Why are you willing to risk everything for a stinking psychic?” Derek spat, looking at Julian like he was completely out of his mind.

  I happened to be wondering the same thing just then.

  “She’s an Undead under my protection.”

  “You can’t sponsor her.” The larger man shifted slightly, and Julian pressed the barrel of the gun to his forehead.

  “She’s innocent, and she doesn’t have anyone else.”

  “They’ll have your head for this.” Derek’s voice was calm, but from my position I saw a trail of sweat trickle down the side of his broad temple.

  Julian shrugged. “I’m sure you’d like to see that, but I would never give you the satisfaction.”

  Derek shook his head, his blunt features twisted in a grimace. “I always knew you were a traitor at heart.”

  The next part happened almost too fast for me to follow what was going on. Derek dodged away from Julian and spun more gracefully than someone his size should be able to. Julian anticipated and met him at the other side with an elbow to the ribs. They punched, kicked, blocked, and furniture tumbled. The small living room became a war arena. I huddled in my hiding place behind the couch, helpless to do anything but watch.

  Derek drew a long switchblade, and stood up as the two of them toppled over the TV armoire.

  A gunshot rang out.

  I laid on the floor holding my ears, choking on my panic.

  Julian cried out in pain. Two more shots fired. Tears sprang into my eyes. I crawled on my hands and knees to the end of the couch and peeked around the corner to see Derek getting up from the floor, covered in blood that oozed from several large gashes.

  Julian stayed down.

  “No.” I skittered away when Derek caught sight of me. He crossed the room in three long strides of his heavy-treaded boots. He loomed, a cloud of choking black rage bearing down on me.

  I screamed, throwing my arms up to protect myself as his massive fist swooped towards my hea
d in slow motion. The blow never landed.

  Derek flew backwards, slamming first into Julian, who had risen to his feet, and then through the wall behind them and into the kitchen.

  In those few seconds, two things happened: gunshots rang through the air in a steady staccato, and my vision went black.

  My consciousness slid into that other place, carried on a tidal wave of dark whispers. I clamped my hands to my head and yelled again, as loud as I could, but the current of demanding voices pressed on my psyche. The Grigori drowned out even the sound of my own voice. I screamed, blinded by tears, struggling to stay there and not be pulled away into the endless abyss with them. I never wanted to go back there.

  “Alex! Alex!” one familiar voice rang out over the din, close and clear among the hundreds of others. I focused on it, trying to block out everything else.

  Warm hands encircled my wrists. I blinked my eyes open to see Julian, glowing bright and golden as the sun, a beacon to fight back the darkness.

  “Alex,” he said again, and I heard only him. The light around him faded as the room came back into focus. The voices slowly drained away.

  “Oh God!” I collapsed against him.

  “Oomph!” he grunted as we fell onto a pile of books with him on the bottom, and hissed in pain as I pressed a hand to his side to push myself up.

  “Sorry,” I eased off of him more gently and helped him sit up. His shirt was soaked through with blood. I couldn’t tell how much of it was his.

  I started to lift it up to take a look, but he stopped me with one hand, still holding the gun in the other.

  “I’ll be fine.” He glanced over his shoulder at the hole where his wall used to be, and the pile of rubble beyond. Derek lay there somewhere. Julian groaned, but stood without my help. “What part of stay out of this did you not understand?”

  I sank back on my knees and laughed, just as more tears spilled out of my eyes. “I thought you were dead.” I wiped my face, and then added, “for real.”

  My hands shook, and I was pretty sure my legs were too weak to stand on, so I didn’t try.