Aleron kept quiet in disbelief. He didn’t dare say, Hell yes. Bring back the Tribunal. Justice belongs to the people, not a party of one. Such a remark would guarantee him chargrilled skin.
“Another thing.” Seanair turned the glass on its coaster with his fingertips. “She can’t protect herself, and you can’t sense her, so you need to be on 24/7. I’ve not grasped the logic of why Mother Nature doesn’t alert us to the absence of a power seed until a child’s twelfth birthday. Duds should be announced at birth so families have options. How a weak link polluted my bloodline I’ll never know, but she is mine, and I protect what’s mine.”
He’d forgotten the woman was Passive. If he’d been born without power, he’d be the world’s biggest flaming asshole. Goddess help him. The woman had to be a total raging bitch, but her status further explained the marriage. Seanair’s granddaughter was a genetic gold mine. Not an ounce of power except for the supercharged babies she’d produce. Poor girl.
Still, the Russians? Some lines he wouldn’t even approach, much less cross.
Seanair took two stacks of hundreds from the desk drawer and slid them toward Aleron.
“Your ticket’s already booked. The flight leaves in three hours.” Seanair tossed back the last of his whisky.
“Her name is Elspeth?” Aleron stood in the doorway and tried not to scorch the money clenched in his hand. He’d have to be nice to a Lennox.
He didn’t do nice. He did death.
“Yes, but you will call her Miss Lennox. Handle the situation however you see fit, but make sure she’s out and about. I have a message to send. Are we clear?”
Hell yeah, he’d handle the situation. He could be cordial for a month.
“Yes, sir.”
He grabbed his duffel on the way out the front door, strode down the steps and out the gate, the metal clanging shut behind him. Fire energy flooded him, blowing and burning inside him like someone had cranked open a gas line and tossed a match. A breeze teased across his face, and the truth smacked him so hard he nearly stumbled.
He had to get Seanair’s granddaughter to the altar.
Altars were in chapels.
Chapels were sacred spaces where the use of power in the presence of the Goddess was considered an abomination. Seanair had committed the ultimate sin before, right in front of Aleron, but he would never commit such sacrilege in the midst of hundreds of Naturas attending a wedding.
The truth struck him twice. A miracle, maybe, this lightning bolt in his brain vivid and white-hot. No wonder the Goddess had talked to him all those years ago instead of striking Seanair down. Aleron saw now, understood he’d been…chosen.
The Goddess was charging him with taking Seanair out.
The plan cemented in his brain. His energy crackled over his skin like static.
After more than a decade, he’d found the weak link. The way in. The one shot to exact both his and the Goddess’s revenge.
Elspeth Lennox.
The poor Passive who had no idea how much her world was about to tilt.
Hell’s Kitchen, New York City
Elspeth stared at the signature line, her fingers poised to type, her heart sure to stop. Lightning flashed, followed by a clap of thunder. Shadows moved over her desk and the rest of her office as the storm lit up the night sky. Her gaze shifted to her business-card holder, and the thought occurred she soon wouldn’t have to worry about refilling it. Or arranging any more introductions. Or negotiating marital mergers between powerful families. In the years since she’d graduated from NYU, she’d helped arrange hundreds of Natura marriages.
So why was she hesitating on her own?
There were worse things than marrying a Russian prince.
She looked at her computer screen and the document awaiting her signature.
Contract of Marriage.
Everything slowed. Her breath. The air. Time. The words death warrant whispered in her mind. Or maybe that’s what dying dreams did as they fizzled. A last struggle for reality. A final plea. Then…gone.
Their treatment’s the only one that works. Do it. Sign it. Buy him time.
The truth killed the last of her hesitation. The tripowered disease claimed most of its victims soon after their power arrived on their twenty-fourth birthday. Not Lach. He’d somehow made it past thirty, and she wasn’t giving up on her big brother.
The Russians’ treatment was his last hope, and it was something money couldn’t buy. They wanted a trade: her for the treatment. Take it or leave it. She’d presumed her grandfather would have given the Russians the royal middle finger, as Seanair Lennox took shit from no one. The fact he’d granted King Mikhail’s demand had given her pause, but then, her grandfather considered her to be worth less than nothing, so maybe the cost of the treatment wasn’t all that exorbitant after all.
Another flash and a second crack of thunder rattled the glass in the turn-of-the-century building, too close this time. She swiveled her desk chair and took in the show of forked light. Tonight, the sky’s drama wasn’t natural. Goddess, what Air element families were feuding now and why?
Knowing her grandfather’s people would address the situation, she forced her gaze to her favorite picture. The photographer had caught the closed-eyed smiles of her parents on the dance floor. One of her mother’s hands rested on her father’s shoulder, the other clasped in his. The side of her face was close to her father’s neck, her nose right below his ear.
Two people she couldn’t remember, whose fairy tale had ended in brake failure and a tree when she was two. She wondered what it’d be like to do a father-daughter dance with the man who shared her vivid green eyes and dark hair. What would a man who’d married his college sweetheart say about her arranged marriage? What would he tell her as they stood together behind closed chapel doors, the aisle and guests waiting on the other side?
Would he be proud of her for trying to save Lach? Would he admire her sacrifice? Or would he tell her she didn’t have to go through with the wedding, say he’d protect her, love her, no matter what?
What would a father’s love feel like?
Her grandfather’s came with terms.
She returned to the keyboard, typed Elspeth Andrea Lennox, and plunked the enter key with her pinkie. Before she could stall any longer, she emailed the contract.
Her gaze went out of focus. Numbness settled over her, heavy and dense like the thunderclouds. Shouldn’t she should feel something? Six weeks of negotiating was done. She’d checked off the top task on her to-do list. Buy Lach time.
With herself.
At least I’m not marrying Karl, she consoled herself. Or any of the other conniving charmers who’d tried to slither their way into her life and her bed.
“I’m doing the right thing.” Her words earned a head turn from one of her guards stationed in the hallway outside the open door.
Maybe marrying the Russian would get her some damn privacy, or at least a little control over her security detail, her schedule, her life. Her low, bitter laugh earned her a second glance. Who was she kidding? Her superpower was making superpowered babies, and her status as a Passive had landed her this marital gig. Well, that and her last name. Every Natura wanted to sidle up to a Lennox.
Still, she couldn’t shake that she’d been traded like an athlete, her all-star sport…incubating heirs.
It didn’t make sense to dwell. The deed was done. Still, there was a tiny squeal deep inside, a yelp of yearning for so much more than her “at least” life.
For one moment, she let herself imagine her dream husband and the true love she’d longed for, a love her parents had supposedly shared. Her groom would be tall, with dark hair and eyes, and Goddess bless, he’d be a Fire. There was something about men of that element. Their intensity. Their drive. Fires could be a tad…focused. Passionate. Even though she wouldn’t actually be able to feel a Fire’s elemental touch, when she considered the idea of a rest-of-her-life lover, the thought of being the sole focus of a Fire’s sizzli
ng scrutiny stoked her in places too long untended.
“Hey. Need to talk for a sec.” Egan, assistant extraordinaire to both her and her cousin Ross, strode in and shut her office door.
“What’s up?” She dug deep for a smile, letting the idea of true love go as quickly as her emailed contract.
Egan put a finger to his lips, heading straight for her desk, his expression dark with concern. “Is your cell dead?”
Ah, crap. She picked up her phone, certain she’d missed some dating debacle. Or maybe someone had died. In addition to the dating app, she also maintained a database of Natura births and deaths for Kindred, one of her grandfather’s companies. As the continent leader of North America and the Fire Magnus, Seanair demanded meticulous recordkeeping and a smooth online experience to support his pledge to all Naturas of full transparency. She loved her grandfather, but she also knew that promise was a load of crap. Kindred was his way of keeping tabs on his people.
“I needed a half hour of privacy and forgot to turn off airplane mode. The contract’s signed and sent, so your daily emails from the Russians should slow.” She eyed the warlock her cousin had hired as their secret weapon for all things administrative. “You and Ross can start wedding planning.”
“Later. Pick up line one.” His gaze cut to the landline phone on her desk. “Kazumi’s on hold. Says it’s urgent.”
She jerked the receiver from its cradle and punched the button. “Zum? Sorry, I—”
“Listen,” came a voice so low that she plugged a finger in her other ear. “Ditch your guards. Come get me in your car. Don’t text until you’re at the corner of 27th and 10th. Hurry.”
The line went dead.
An ominous sense of doom closed her throat. Kazumi Fukada feared nothing. Even with her power only eight months old, nothing held back the petite Water.
She reconnected her cell phone. Three unanswered calls. Twelve missed texts. All from Zum. Shit.
“I need a favor.” Her gaze locked with Egan’s. “A big one.”
“Granter of wishes.” He looked over his shoulder toward the door, then back at her. “Lay it on me.”
“Get the guards away so I can sneak out.” She kept her voice low, thankful Naturas didn’t have advanced hearing.
His expression crumpled. “Ross will kill me.”
“No, he won’t. You make him look good with my grandfather. That’s lifelong job security.”
“I need to keep said job. Night school’s not cheap.”
“Zum’s in trouble, so her security detail must not be with her.” Her heart echoed her worry, its beats frantic.
“Then, definitely no.”
“She wouldn’t ask me to come unless it’s a true emergency. She must need me because no one can sense me.”
One perk of having no power? No element signature for other Naturas to read. Which was why her guards were posted at all entrances and exits or within sight distance.
Gotta protect the poor, powerless Passive.
She stood and braced her hands on the desk, giving him the glare that had worked on her brothers for years. “I’ll owe you one. No matter what it is. You need something from me? Consider it done.”
He stepped closer to the desk. “If anything happens to you, I’m a dead man.”
“I close my office door all the time to work. The guards won’t even know I’m gone. I just need a distraction.”
Egan scowled. “Fine. Give me two minutes to burst the hot water line to the coffeemaker.”
“Thank you.”
He gave her a nod and left, saying something in the hall to the guards about wanting coffee. Goddess, Egan was awesome. She had no clue why most Naturas treated the coven classes like dirt. With lower Gamma- and Delta-level power, witches and warlocks had no innate energy, but they could call their given element through incantation. Still, the Alphas and Betas viewed the coven classes as little more than rechargeable element batteries with short shelf lives and not “real” Naturas.
She slipped off her heels beneath the desk and swapped them for the tennis shoes she kept for rainy days. From the top drawer, she pulled out her car’s key fob and slid it into one pocket. Took her license from her wallet and stashed it in her bra, along with her phone. At the door, she turned the dial on the wall, increasing the in-house music’s volume. Realizing a guard might open the door to check on her while she was gone, she hurried back to her desk and took a new pack of gum out of the center drawer. If she got busted when she returned, she could say she’d been visiting the vending machine three floors down.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Slip out. Get Zum. Slink back.
No problem.
A shout sounded. The scramble of feet and commotion filtered from the kitchen. She put her hand on the knob. Now or never.
She poked her head out the door, looked both ways, and sidestepped into the hallway. Tiptoed past Ross’s office. The main conference room. Supply closet.
Hello, fire escape.
She winced at the snick of the push bar, but crept into the concrete stairwell and ensured a silent escape. Round and round she went. One flight of stairs. Two. She cut through the human travel agency three floors down and took its direct elevator to the parking garage. A strange sensation came over her, her instincts sharp and prickly.
At this time of night, she could get to the meeting spot in five minutes if luck and the traffic lights held.
She started the Mini Cooper and cranked up the heat, hauled ass out of the garage, and zipped the turbocharged car up Ninth Avenue. Her hands shook. MIA blasted from the speakers, singing about borders. Goddess, if Lach was her rock, Zum was the riptide in her sedate life. She loved her best friend like a sister—a sister who courted trouble a little too often. She pulled up behind a taxi, its exhaust swirling gray in the frigid January air.
Come on, light. Turn. Green.
The cars around her moved, and she gunned it, zigging around the taxi, zagging in front of a bus, and making record time to 25th Street. She hooked a right on 10th, blasted through a yellow light, and screeched to a hard stop at the curb in front of a fire hydrant.
She fished her phone from her bra and typed.
Here
She tried not to worry as she waited for a response. The phone chimed, and she fumbled to keep from dropping it.
1 Sec
She leaned forward, glancing through the windshield down the sidewalk. Was Zum at the McKittrick Hotel? A short figure dressed in black sweats and a hoodie jogged toward the car. She unlocked her doors seconds before Zum plopped into the passenger seat.
“Go!” A hand with black-painted fingernails tap-tapped the dashboard.
She pulled from the curb, the tires squealing as she got ahead of oncoming traffic.
“What the hell, Zum? Are you okay?”
Goddess, being powerless sucked. She couldn’t sense Zum’s element or assess if she was hurt.
“I’m fine. Head to the pier.” Zum pushed back the hood, revealing her hair was slicked back into a sprig ponytail. “I don’t think they fully sensed me, but a beady-eyed bat-faced witch knew something was amiss. I felt her skank power skulking around, and that’s not me slinging racist BS. That’s me saying that power was not divine. It was dark and dirty, and it scared the fuck out of me.”
Elspeth looked from the road and caught the swirl in Zum’s blue eyes. If her bestie couldn’t keep her Water contained, she was truly frazzled.
“Keep talking, or I’m pulling over.” She caught the shake of Zum’s hands.
“I ditched my guards so I could spy on my mom at a meeting with the New York covens.”
Goddess on the subway. WHAT?
She gripped the wheel tighter, the leather wrap creaking beneath her hands. “Do you have a death wish?”
“No, and I’m never crashing another coven sit-down. Every detail of that meeting was orchestrated to send a message, right down to the location. Gallow Green—a rooftop bar named after an ex
ecution site for witches.” She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. “Serious shit’s coming. I feel it.”
“Define ‘serious shit.’” She stopped at a light.
“I need a minute, or the inside of your car’s going to get washed.”
She cut a quick glance at Zum and pulled forward as she considered what she knew about the class divide.
Naturas and witches didn’t mix. Period. Her cousin Ross hiring Egan without her grandfather knowing had been a major coup. Ross had vetted the young warlock over a month before hiring him, and if perfection did exist in administrative assistants, Egan was it. Although, maybe her grandfather did know about Egan and was letting them think he didn’t.
Zum placed her hands on the dash and blew out a long breath. “I think there’s going to be a war. Seanair’s ignored the covens’ existence for too long, and my mom tried a secret mediation. It didn’t go well.”
“How the hell did you prevent your mom from detecting you?” As the global Water Magnus, Zum’s mom wasn’t a Water. She was the Water.
“Black-market witch charm.”
Of. Course.
She pulled into the Pier 66 parking lot and, since it was eight p.m., easily snagged a space.
Killing the engine, she shifted in her seat. “Are you sure you’re okay? If I can see your power, then humans can, too, and we can’t chalk up those swirly blue eyes to contact lenses.”
“I’m good. I just haven’t used that much power before, not even close. I need to regen, and—” She took Elspeth’s hand and squeezed. “Goddess, now I know why they harp in Natura 101 about not letting your element levels get too low. I need to have sex for a solid week.”
Zum hooked up on the regular to stay at the top of her element game. She must have let her energy drain dangerously low. Her heart pounded as she tried to remember the Natura 101 classes from boarding school. In addition to normal classes, she’d been allowed to attend the early training so she’d know the basics and could raise Natura children. Even at beginner level, the instructors had been clear. If a Natura’s innate power levels dipped too low, they died.
The Call of Fire: A Natura Elementals Novel Page 2