Pressure descended unhappily upon her. She couldn’t want Jack this way. Couldn’t afford to pine for him and some elusive happily-ever-after. Her future, her dreams, they weren’t built around a reckless bad boy she just happened to have a taste for. They were built around far more important things, more important than a curiosity about where chemistry could lead. Jack sighed softly into her hair, and she squeezed her eyes shut trying to block out how good it was to have him next to her in what should have been a beautiful afterglow. Her breathing returned to normal, followed rapidly by a muscle-numbing fatigue. It was far preferable to give into that than to give into more maudlin thinking. Thinking that might make her reconsider a very carefully planned future. A future she was willing to do anything to create.
“Tired?” he said thickly.
“Mmmmm.” Tired. Conflicted. Confused.
He stared down at her, that silly, sexy smile of his in place. So many faces. So many moods. Could anyone ever know them all? Maybe not. But it might not be so bad finding out. Jack moved to her side, and she shifted to spoon against him. It was easier to drift into sensation and away from thought. To let sleep come. Rather than question decisions she knew she couldn’t undo. There was no room for exploring chemistry, no matter how thrilling, or how alluring. There was no room for Jack, she told herself as she drifted off into a fitful slumber.
Jack held her for a long time after her breathing regulated and sleep took her away. The lack of sleep, the burn of too much magic, the aftershock of titanic, orgasmic sex, and the enormity of what Raine brought out in him worked on him all at once. He was drugged-out and keyed-up at the same time, catching sparks off everything, unable to shake himself back into normalcy.
Edgy, he climbed out of bed. What the hell was he supposed to do when she took those Gods-damned oaths and left him standing in the cold? How was he supposed to just get on with life? Everything had changed. Fucking everything. Man, someone should have warned him, because if they had, revenge or not, he wouldn’t have touched this mission with a ten-foot pole. No. Make that twenty.
He tossed on a robe, and fired up the computer in the alcove. He was bone-weary, but he couldn’t sleep. Not with her in his head. Certainly not with two more artifacts to duplicate.
Jack signed into his email, and scanned them for the key players. Mostly it was the usual trash. Black market auction notices. Requests for all kinds of jobs. Towards the end, he found one from Butchy and opened it immediately.
Timeline off. Spencer boys in play for 15 months. Can’t locate girl’s birth certificate. Found a midwife says the mother was Suriana. Send more money.
Butchy was good, but pricey. Jack took a moment to transfer funds, then returned to his email and found one from the Spaniard.
Salazar had finally surfaced. He’d ignored every one of Jack’s calls, so Jack had stopped leaving messages. Jack opened Ramon’s email.
Weather is nice in Manhattan, but the crowds are oppressive. Too many tourists. Miss Venice. Might return. Call me at my mother’s place.—R
Here was bad, getting worse. The cryptic message meant someone had the Spaniard under tight surveillance. Mother’s place was a Gmail account, that once contacted, would soon result in a cryptic return message in code that would yield an untraceable cell. Not standard protocol for most ops in the Wardens, but always a standard if you ran with Ramon’s team.
He wrote out a bland, meaningless response, then returned to the email. Jack zipped through more noisy missives, while thoughts of naked Raine Spencer sleeping in his big four-post bed danced through his head. He’d deleted most everything and given himself another raging boner when the internal line on the desk phone rang.
He picked it up.
“Edward Spencer had chicken pox.”
Jack’s brain stopped short. Of all the things Havers could have said, that one was completely unexpected. “So what?”
“As an adult, Jack. About fourteen months before Raine was born.”
Timeline off. Spencer boys in play for fifteen months. Meaning they were in mortal status and under deep cover. Susceptible to disease. He glanced out at Raine, ensured she still slumbered, then softened his voice to an audible whisper. “Chicken pox in an adult can be fatal.”
“He almost died. Small private infirmary in the south of France had the records. One of my best sources dug them up. A kid came home from boarding school and triggered a minor epidemic in that region. There were a number of deaths. That’s why they kept the papers on it. Also seems to tie into an outbreak of what looks like lycanthrope. Must have been a rogue Werewolf in the region.”
“If an adult male gets the pox and survives, they’re usually left sterile.”
“I’m pretty sure he was. The other Spencer brother missed the party. Said he had pox as a child.”
His stomach tightened into a hard knot. “So Thaddius Archer is a viable father, then?”
“Nope. Same source confirmed Archer took steps to insure he wouldn’t have a successor. Guy was paranoid, used to rant that no offspring would come from his loins only to stab him in the back and steal his power.”
Well. That did fit for Archer’s kind of magical practitioner. Ceremonial Magicians were notoriously paranoid. The few that did slow down long enough to create offspring often found death at the hands of sons and daughters who were eager to take over the seat of power. The knot in his gut tightened as the logic strung together in his head. “If not Edward, and not Thadius, then who? Hugh? Are you telling me Hugh’s her father?”
Gods have mercy. That was beyond ugly.
“I’m telling you the facts. Edward couldn’t father children. Archer made certain he couldn’t. The Elven sorceress in residence was most likely her mother. And Jesus, Jack, Raine looks like a Spencer. That leaves Hugh.”
“Do you have a fax of the records?”
“Loaded and stored in the file.”
Anger began a slow boil in his blood. All those years, thinking that hard-ass Hugh was her uncle, and he turns out to be her father? Could it get any more fucked up? “I can’t believe this. Why?”
“My guess, Hugh Spencer is the only one who knows why. You want the truth, ask him. I’ve pretty much exhausted all sources.”
Jack expelled a hard breath. “Anything else?”
“All leads dried up on Caroline. She’s out there somewhere, but I can’t track her down. There are too many blanks in the archives, Jack. Holes everywhere, like someone’s been systematically purging records, dead-ending everything tied to you, Caroline’s murder, the Spencer brothers’ mission as mortals, and Raine’s birth.”
No coincidences. “Kerr.”
“The Druid?”
“Every single lead, no matter how dead, ties back to him. He’s the commonality they all share.” The radical thought gained credence as he talked. Seth and Loki were right. Jack hated to admit it. A part of him had figured the Gods were being overly imaginative, or running some kind of scam. But no, this time, they were legit. “Kerr’s the conspirator. Think, Havers. He’s in the perfect position to orchestrate all kinds of shifty crap. He’s crazy enough to do it, and patient enough to stretch it out over time.”
“You don’t have proof.”
“Not yet.” First, he had to tie the threads together. He might be able to trance out deep, see what he could dredge up to point him in the next direction, help him figure out Kerr’s ultimate stake in this game other than creating chaos and turmoil. That energy drain would mean he couldn’t dupe the artifacts until he had himself a break, or, he chugged a Carmot slurry. Given the toxicity, and danger in that, and the fact that he’d recently partaken, he figured that wasn’t a viable option. If he wanted to search on his own, without tapping Raine, everything else would need to take a back seat. At least for the next ten hours. “Thanks, Havers.”
Jack hung up, and stared into space, while the intel worked like acid on his gut. Finally, he came to a daunting conclusion. He didn’t care if Ramon was under watch, he needed info
rmation he bet the Spaniard had.
Jack typed out an email, to the MotherSalazar address. Ramon checked the Gmail account from remote, anonymous locations like internet cafes and shopping malls, minimizing the chance that it would be picked up. Using it like this was a last resort protocol. If anything in this world qualified as last-resort worthy, though, it was this.
Have three of four artifacts, need to drop them your way. But first, is Hugh Spencer Raine’s father? And, who else knows????? MJ
He sent it out before he could second-guess himself. Ramon knew all kinds of dirt on all kinds of people. He was the epicenter of the rumor mill. If there was a grain of truth to the absurd notion, Ramon could confirm.
And then what, Jack? You tell her? Rip her world apart?
Jack stood and gazed across the room at the sleeping woman. The woman he was coming to love. He couldn’t do this to her, not until he was absolutely certain. Once he was sure of the truth, though, he’d find a way to tell her. She had a right to know. Life should be based on truth, not lies.
Of course, she’d probably hate him forever. Turn on him, kick him out to the cold. No chance for him even if they managed to save the dimension, which was looking less and less likely each passing hour. He’d never get the opportunity to explore that chemistry, maybe even find a happily-ever-after.
Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t and damn it, like old times. Screw it, there had to be a way to work this all out without losing her completely. He needed time. If anyone could figure out the right angle to play, it was Mad Jack.
Raine woke in the middle of the night, tired and wired at the same time. Something bothered her. Nothing she could place a finger on. The energy in the house, maybe. It had changed. Gone from dormant and hushed to a frantic humming. She reached for the beads, and realized that Jack had taken them and neglected to replace them. Strange. She experienced none of the manic panic like the moment she’d awakened to this new state. The bed was empty. Jack was nowhere in sight. She placed a hand where he’d been and it was cold. The alcove glowed blue, so she wrapped the sheet around her and padded out to see if he was there.
The chair was empty and the computer was on with the screen saver active. The chair was still warm. Raine sat down and stared at the screen. Images filtered in and out of the back of her mind, freely moving, but not hampering her the way they usually did. She knew she should go back to bed, but the things Jack hid behind his passwords had a strange fascination for her. For a moment, she held her hand above the keyboard, hesitating as she weighed what she was about to do. She trusted him. She knew in her heart he wasn’t at the center of the conspiracy, but trust was no easy thing for her. The upbringing she had made her cautious, suspicious, unwilling to let anyone or anything too close.
The screen saver continued to drift lazily across the monitor. She followed it with her eyes, letting it take her into a gentle kind of trance. Numbers danced across her consciousness. The same sequence once, then twice. She hit Ctrl+Alt+Delete, bringing up the log-on entry box, and typed in the numeric string in both login and password. She hit enter before she could talk herself out of what she was going to do.
The system registered, and cleared.
Jack’s email took up the entire screen.
The most recent email was a reply from an address called MotherSalazar. It was a response to an earlier message titled simply “?”.
Her gut twisted. She so shouldn’t be doing this. But she couldn’t stop. Not now. It wasn’t hard to guess who MotherSalazar tracked back to.
Raine opened the email and read the response.
Yes. Only Hugh, and myself. I would not advise sharing this with anyone if you value your life.
Then, several skipped lines, followed by:
Keep the artifacts for now. I’ll contact when the heat dies down with a safe drop.
Ice chilled her blood.
She re-read the cryptic passage. Ramon had responded directly, without copying the previous message from Jack. But it was all too obvious what was going on. Exactly what her uncle predicted. Jack. Salazar. In league to secure the artifacts. There was no indication that they planned to return them to the Wardens. The plan had been to bring them in, all at once, to the council, with both Kerr and Salazar present.
No. Raine blinked hard, holding back tears that momentarily blurred her vision. There had to be another explanation.
She closed that email, opened the sent file, and found Jack’s original message.
She read the words. Then read them again.
The air fled her lungs. And the bottom dropped out of her world, throwing her into an endless, emotional free fall.
Have three of four artifacts, need to drop them your way. But first, is Hugh Spencer Raine’s father? And, who else knows????? MJ
Rage shred through anguish, burned away any sense of pain and betrayal, leaving her heart dead, and her mind crystal clear. She blinked back more tears, and shut down the email. Cold determination drove her next steps with quick, ruthless efficiency. Staying with the moment, she used it to tap into other surfacing visions, grasping threads, using them to direct her search of the records at her fingertips. Any guilt had vanished the moment she read that damning email. A cursory search of Jack’s files revealed his search for her origins, including others, exposing her pain to the world. There wasn’t much on the artifacts, though. In fact, it appeared as if at some recent point, he’d stopped paying attention to them and started focusing only on her.
She finished her search, ending with the faxed record of Edward Spencer and his time spent in a French Infirmary with chicken pox. A single tear splashed onto the keyboard. Raine opened the email again and marked MotherSalazar’s message as unread. She returned to the bedroom and dressed fast as visions rioted in the back of her mind. Rage was building to a pressure that wouldn’t be held back. All those years. Thinking her father was dead. And there he was. Living. Breathing. Right next to her. Calling himself her uncle.
She laced her sneakers, grabbed the rucksack with the two jars, and slipped quietly into the hall. Then there was Jack. Don’t-you-want-to-explore-the-chemistry Jack. At least he wasn’t acting out of character. She knew what he was going into this game. Hell, he’d even warned her. And she went on thinking what she wanted to think. What a mess. What a total, fucking mess.
Now came the hardest part. Did she follow through, and enact the protocol: take Jack out of play? She could. Surprise would be on her side. She could get close enough to him to employ the protocol. Her breath hitched in her throat as the potential unwound in her head. Sweat broke out across her brow.
Raine made it to his study where inside lay access to the lab. Light glowed softly from beneath the door. She wanted to go in and rip his heart out. Make him take the pain back. But she couldn’t. Any more than she could employ the protocol of sanctioned assassination. Three days ago, she’d have done it without an afterthought. But a lifetime of change had transpired in those days. Hugh clearly couldn’t be trusted, neither could Jack. The whole mission was a total con, everybody playing angles off the other. Raine was the only one she could trust which meant it was time to go off the grid, step outside the mission spec, and take control of the op.
Jack was correct on one count, she was not the follow-orders-blindly type. Probably not good knight material after all. She didn’t care. The past was done. Only the future mattered now. The one she should have paid attention to from the get-go.
She moved quick and ultimately reached the garage, where she found Manny bunked down beside his Harley.
“I need transport,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Quick. And quiet.”
Manny sat up. “Where?”
“Well talk about that when we hit the open road.”
He squinted suspiciously. “Jack know about this?”
“No. And I don’t want him to know.”
Another shrewd glance, and he got to his feet. “No. I bet you don’t. Lover’s quarrel, right? Don’t bother answering. I
know women. Seen that look before. It will cost you, double the usual. Jack will be pissed at me for a long time.”
Jack being pissed. How about Jack suffering? For an eternity, or two, maybe more. “Don’t worry. I can pay.”
Sneaking off the property wasn’t as easily done as said. In the end, they’d pretty much blown the gates, forcing Manny to open a rapid tunnel to get them to safety. Safety ended up being an all-night diner on the edge of Santa Fe. While Manny grabbed coffee to help wake himself more thoroughly, Raine slipped into the ladies’ room and splashed cold water on her face and tried to figure out what to do next.
She’d gone numb. Totally numb. The absence of anything other than the tight fury twisting at her guts terrified her. She had to plan. Stay clear headed.
Her cell rang, and without looking, she knew it was Jack.
She flipped it open. “Don’t bother talking. There’s nothing you can say. I’m going dark. I’m going to finish this op, and forget that you ever existed.”
She hung up before he could say another word.
The phone rang again.
Her blood pressure shot up high enough to stroke out. Chaos erupted through her system, racing like a wild beast, throwing her thoughts into turmoil. Nothing like a good, clean rage to push you into action.
She shut off the cell and reached for the door.
Her hand closed around the grimy knob, and a vision hit her head-on.
Kerr. A woman she recognized as Caroline. The same woman who should be dead. But wasn’t. They might as well have been standing next to her.
“I can’t read the Spencer girl anymore. Something is blocking me. I can’t get into her head, so I don’t know where she is. Where the artifacts are.”
ImmortalIllusions: The Eternity Covenant Book2 Page 27