His Fire and Air in damn fine form, he sucked in a fortifying breath and walked into the study, straight toward the long desk. A massive tome, its edges yellow and frayed, lay open. Seanair didn’t look up as he guided his finger along a line of text that was more symbols than words.
“Come in, Aleron.”
He waited for a smartass thought bubble to pop into his head. It didn’t, so he stood behind the two chairs in front of the desk, his hands loose at his sides. He glanced around, the décor giving off the country-club feel of the Savannah house, but the bits and baubles were meant to distract, to fool people into thinking the Lennox tartan draped over the oversized chairs by the fireplace was a blanket, not a symbol of power.
The solid wall of books? Look how learned I am. An educated man could never do such horrible things. The crossed swords mounted over the mantel on a gold plate? History, heritage, honor. Rows of silver, framed pictures marching down the walls? See what a beloved family man I am?
All lies. Or, maybe he’d once been a benevolent ruler.
Maybe…not.
Seanair maintained his power play, studying the worn pages as if he were alone. Aleron would let him play his games one last time.
Moving to the wall of family pictures, he bent closer to study the one that caught his eye. Seanair held a little girl in each arm, the dark-haired child with moss-green eyes obviously Elspeth. She looked to be about five, holding a stuffed purple pig in one hand, her head tipped to rest against Seanair’s. The sweet grin on her little face exuded utter happiness at being held by her grandpa. Flora had to be the older, towheaded one who had a sunshine smile and the same I-love-Granddaddy posture. Even Seanair’s expression was pure proud grandpa, the anger and bitterness missing from his eyes.
Where the hell had that man gone?
Seanair cleared his throat. “It’s too bad I can’t kill you.”
The desk chair creaked.
“Give it a shot.” Aleron met the other man’s gaze full-on. “You might not find it so easy this time. I don’t stand before you as someone who loves and trusts you enough to come in exposed and vulnerable, like my father did.”
Might as well start with honesty, since shit was about to get real. Without waiting for permission, he took a seat in one of the visitor chairs.
Seanair sat with his legs crossed, his expression pleasant, like he had all damn day, but a cauldron of fury stirred in his gaze, ripe with the need to call him to heel. “You called the meeting.”
“I did.” Out of the frying pan… “I’m here to resign my position at Elite One so that I can coordinate Elspeth’s security detail, effective immediately. I intend to pick and train twelve additional guards, three of each element, to work rotating shifts. Each one must have worked in ultra-Elite units for at least a decade. Twenty-four seven, she’ll have a full complement, as it’s only a matter of time before that Astrux makes a play for her again. It’s been following us around like a hound dog on a blood trail. Reports came in from Montauk this morning about a fog that won’t lift.”
Seanair stared down his nose, probably pissed Aleron had worn jeans instead of dress slacks with his usual black sweater. “Such dedication. Most others would be impressed, I’m sure, but my question is who’s protecting whom?”
There he was. The a-hole in his five-thousand-dollar cashmere.
He bit his cheek and banked his response. Game time was over, but he wouldn’t assume anything in the presence of this man.
Normally, Seanair moved on when his victim didn’t bite, but now he practically snarled at Aleron’s lack of response.
“You’re here about protecting her, and yet you sit there coated in her energy, like a pig rolling in shit.”
He kept his face neutral. He’d made sure to tuck her energy safely away before he’d gotten out of the car. If Seanair sensed her energy, the only possible reason was she’d sealed him before he left. How? Better still, why couldn’t he feel it?
He’d promised himself he’d keep his wits and his mouth in check. He checked his watch.
Five minutes. Not exactly a record.
Time to play a card from Seanair’s deck and deflect. “Why did you really agree to send her to Russia?”
“Careful now, son. She’s none of your business, and you’re not a Lennox.”
Nope. No posturing today.
“She’s my only business. There’s no Fire stronger to protect her, and now I have an Air sidekick.” He let his fuck-you smile fly. “Which means I get read in on need-to-know matters from now on. Which families have already been in contact about her? I didn’t ask Command, as I know you’re keeping the details close on this one.” He primed his power, letting his Air out enough so Seanair would sense the equality of their energies. “I won’t allow you to trade her like a baseball card.”
Fury simmered, low and tight, in his gut. The need to take Elspeth far away from this tyrant fogged his better judgment. He almost missed the sensation. Peroxide bubbles on skin. He chanced a look around, noting Seanair either hadn’t noticed or acknowledged the energy.
“That fetid Earth has been gone for days now. It wasn’t strong enough to stick around.” Seanair dismissed the situation as if a fleck of dirt had caused the citywide rift in elemental energy. “Isidora says the problems aren’t caused by an Astrux, and she’d know.”
Isidora? Since when did Seanair consult with the Antarctica president? He didn’t trust the woman who hunted down improperly released Natura elements and basically ruled an ice island of misfit spirits.
“About your coming in here and ordering me around.” Seanair narrowed his ice-blue eyes and steepled his fingers, pointing them like a gun. “You know, my Egyptian’s not as good as it used to be, and I have this old tome.” He nodded at the thick, weathered book. “I wondered who I could summon to help me with translation. Then it came to me.” He tapped his temple. “Did you know your brother Emeric speaks ten ancient languages and seven modern ones?”
Aleron froze, tamping down the brutal rise of energy before he could lash out.
“It would be…unwise to threaten my family.” His voice was low, his tone ice, but Fire revved inside him, his Air fueling the flames. Twelve-year-old Emeric’s face flashed before him, the last image he had of his brother.
Seanair shook his head. “The problem with young people today is they don’t think. They forget their weak spot—or, in your case, spots.”
Unease clawed up his neck. He’d written off his heightened awareness as a reaction to entering this viper’s den. But he realized now that there was something in the room with him besides the cobra behind the desk.
It watched. Listened. Waited.
He cast out his power, canvassing the walls, hunting for secret doors and hiding places.
“I’ve spent twelve years in Elite One, training to kill you, and let’s be candid. I probably could.” He threw out the threat, hoping to elicit a reaction from the invisible spy skittering along the edges of the room, hoping it would reveal itself if it perceived that the danger to Seanair had increased.
“So do it.”
Shit.
“No,” he countered, disturbed his plan caused little more than a staticky read on the infiltrator.
“So brave.”
“In another circumstance, I would, but I don’t want to be like you.” He stood to his full height. “Striking down your best friend in cold blood. Threatening my family. Those are pages from your playbook.” He held the old man’s eyes with the ferocity of his new determination. “My father loved you. He always defended you, no matter what you did. Told my brothers and me we were to respect you and do what you asked.” He bent far enough to brace his hands on the desk so he could lean in. “I’ve given you twelve years. You’re not getting any more.”
“Or you’ll what? Kill me? Yes, yes, you already said that.”
Goddess, could he be more out of touch?
“Do you think people like having you as their continent president? I can assur
e you, all Fires hate you as Magnus. That cuff never belonged to you, but you’ve continued to wear it and degrade the element. They’re not showing you respect, Seanair. They’re biding time until you can be toppled.”
“I don’t concern myself with people’s opinions of me. They want stability, a safe place to live to do their jobs and commune with their elements, and I provide that. They may not like my methods, but they adore the peace I keep. No leader is appreciated in their own time. History will be my vindication.”
Elspeth’s cloak of protection warmed around him, reminding him to keep his eye on the ball. None of this was about Seanair. It was about Elspeth, whose first act as a powered Natura had been to envelop Rob Costa in the mightiest mother of all powers, cocooning him in grace and peace. With her first display of her gifts, she’d proven herself worthier than the man before him had ever been in his entire lifetime.
“Once she’s fully up to speed, Elspeth will overthrow you, which for you will be a fate worse than death. She cares for people. I’ve already seen it. You thought to teach her a lesson by sending her to Costa’s immolation, but all she came away with was empathy and determination. She’ll find a way to cure Lach, return honor to this family, and she’ll heal our people.” He leaned in a few inches more. “Why would I want to kill you? Then you would miss the torture of watching our people turn their backs on you.”
Seanair folded his arms and settled back in his chair. “Until such time as your pathetic threat comes to pass, I’m still in charge, which means I control this continent and all the families on it. A French Air dynasty has a more promising treatment than the Russians, so it was a good thing those plans fell apart, leaving me able to give Elspeth to their eldest son in exchange for the data.”
“You disgusting son of a bitch.”
“Not bitch, my boy. My bloodline is unrivaled, which means Elspeth’s is, too, and it’s precisely why she’ll never be yours. Another thing you’ve forgotten is how to count, so I’ll remind you she has four elements and has to recharge all of them. She’ll need an Earth or a Water tender.” He tilted his head and held up one, two, three fingers as if counting off. “I guess that’ll shift you to second string. Have fun on the bench.”
His hand shook. Fire blew through him in full torching fury.
“Apologize. Right now. You will not speak of her that way.”
Ignore him. She’s his favorite, and he can’t admit he’s wrong.
He jerked around at the sound of the woman’s voice. Shit. He searched the room. Nothing good ever followed that Goddess-forsaken voice.
“Did you hear that?” He scanned, flung a swath of Fire, cycled a funnel of Air.
“Hear what?”
“The woman from the chapel.” Memories of that dreadful day erupted and nearly brought him to his knees.
“You can hear Mathair?”
Wait. Seanair could hear her too?
“I heard the same voice the day my father died.”
“Interesting.” Seanair shifted in his chair and put a finger to his chin. “Mathair’s the Oracle for the Fire cuff. I heard her the first time right after Elspeth’s twelfth birthday. Her voice sustains me, although I have no idea why she’d deem you worthy.” He waved a get-out-of-here hand. “Go. Form your security team. She won’t need them for long, and you’ll be crawling back to me for a job—and to save your brothers. Those twins are the rowdiest Fires.” Seanair stood and strode toward the fireplace, throwing out a hand.
A blast of flame flew up the chimney. Satisfaction oozed thick and warm inside Aleron. He had gotten to the old bastard.
It’s time. Take care of my granddaughter.
He wrenched around.
Four sharp hisses pierced the air.
His side stung. Burned. He looked down at the dark spot growing on his sweater. The hell? Fuck, it hurt.
A grunt sounded. Seanair arched, his eyes wide as he fell forward.
Training kicked in.
Pain later.
Observe. Assess. Act.
Deep-orange flames fanned over the floor. His Air fogged the room in a funnel cloud. He jerked around, searched for foreign elements, the Astrux, any explanation. Nothing. No energy but his own. His mind sharpened. His body numbed.
Seanair slid to the floor. A red stain spread across his dove-gray sweater, the spot blooming and shiny. Blood ran down the side of his neck.
“Hey! Get in here!” Where the hell was the front-door cavalry?
He threw up a fence. Blazing Fire. Cyclonic Air. He fell to his knees beside Seanair and saw that his skin was sallow, horror bright in his eyes.
“It stopped working. The potion.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “I’m sick, and they know it.”
Sick? And who was they? Seanair answered to no one except—
Death.
The answer dawned. That’s why he’d wanted Elspeth to marry the Russian. Not to help Lach.
No way. No fucking way.
“You have the tripowered disease?”
Glassy blue eyes slid to his, and his body coiled with pain. “Yes. My power slipped. Your father…I lost control.”
Aleron sat down hard, his energy faltering despite his concentration. “Who knows?”
“A priestess.” The lines in Seanair’s face deepened with agony. “She did this.” His hand flopped toward the fireplace. “Human bullets. Trickery.”
“Let’s get you on your side, and I’ll assess the wounds.” He shook off his confusion and helped Seanair turn, grasping the gray sweater at the back and ripping it clean up the middle.
Goddess bless. Two exit holes. Another wound at his neck.
A calm came over him. He pulled at his own sweater, checked his wound. Hole in the fabric. Blood still trickling. Why didn’t he hurt more?
He pulled out his cell phone, thumbed the screen. Black. No power.
Something flashed. A loud pop sounded, and the ceiling lights went out.
“They’re here,” Seanair ground out. “Listen.”
He cast out his power. Didn’t sense shit.
“I need to call someone.” He sat back on his haunches and spotted the landline phone on the desk.
“I’m sorry…about your father.” Seanair gasped. “They want the cuff. I appoint…you, Aleron Jacques Foussé, as emissary.” He fell to his back, a haze dulling his eyes. “Aleron?” Seanair reached blindly.
“I’m here.” He took the old man’s hand.
“Watch the witches.” His harsh breaths softened and slowed, and his eyes fixed on something over Aleron’s shoulder. “My Mathair,” came on a long breath.
Two thin circles, red and white, glowed around Seanair’s irises, then extinguished.
“Seanair. Seanair!” Aleron collapsed backward, landing hard on his ass.
The red sphere he’d seen many times squeezed through the bullet hole in Seanair’s chest. Floating softly like a balloon, the bubble hovered for a moment, the remaining Fire energy rising from the deathly still body. Centered over Seanair’s heart, the glowing mass lingered, waiting to be returned to its source.
The sacred words flowed automatically from the recesses of Aleron’s mind.
“Goddess, reclaim Your Fire, Your Air from Your child, Seanair Lennox. Freed by death, let the bounty of his energy enrich those who would ripen Your creation. Blessed be, Mother Nature, Creator of Elements.”
The freed energy pulsed and shot into the fireplace, a single, roaring flame extinguishing into thick, black smoke. A crisp crackling drew Aleron’s gaze to the window, the middle pane now a distorted mass of cracks.
He covered his head with his hands. Air never went easily. Immense pressure filled the room. The glass panes flexed toward the desk. Reversed. He leaned forward, covering Seanair and ducking his head as the deafening shatter of the panes sprayed shards from wall to wall.
Play dead, Mathair commanded.
He gently closed Seanair’s eyes and rested the man’s hands beside his body. Air left his lungs like they’d b
een stepped on. Pain he’d been forcing into the recesses of his mind screamed to the forefront, demanding he look down.
His sweater was soaked. Warm. Sticky. The stain on the fabric growing.
Play. Dead. Now.
A force shoved him flat against the rug. Heavy footfalls sounded in the hallway.
He closed his eyes as the door opened.
“I couldn’t have planned this better. I’m gonna finish that asshole. He always considered himself better than the rest of us.”
“No, don’t. We can’t risk your energy being detected on him. It would ruin the whole plan. They’d know we were in on the hit.”
Aleron’s heart skipped. The two Fires with the sticky, sooty energy signatures.
A pair of feet stopped at his head, but the voice he heard was wrong. Distorted. Or maybe that was the dizziness. He couldn’t think. He longed for sleep.
“Where is it?”
The snarl in the second man’s voice brought him back to attention.
“It’s not on him? Why would the old bastard take it off?”
Beneath Aleron’s sleeve, a band tightened midway up his forearm. The Fire cuff.
“Is there a safe in here?”
“How the hell should I know? We got two minutes until the Airs return from sweeping the grounds. We need to go.”
“Got an idea. Let’s make it appear we took the cuff and send the others back later to search with a location charm. The old man’s dead. That was the goal. Cut his hand off at the wrist and put the knife on Foussé. That’ll have Elite One suspecting the Nexus is behind the hit. That bitch has to want all four cuffs.”
Aleron floated, drifted, heard a whack.
“You got your damn trophy, and it’ll bring a mint on the black market. If you’re going to get your kick in, get it while I grab the book, and let’s go.”
A sharp pain pierced his skull, and the world went black.
The knock at the door jarred Elspeth more than the text had from the pet-sitting service contacting her about Lach’s dog. She opened the door and smiled at the poor young woman struggling to maintain eye contact while nervously ignoring the four guards.
The Call of Fire: A Natura Elementals Novel Page 28