by Nancy Gideon
“So what were these dreams about?”
She grew cautious. “They were warnings. About things that hadn’t happened yet.”
“You were seeing the future?”
“Things that could happen. Sometimes they were messages about things I was supposed to do. If I didn’t do them, the messages would get stronger and stronger, more and more clear. And the headaches would start.”
“Is that what happened in the alley that night? When you dropped your knife? What were you supposed to do, Nica? What did you see?”
She looked him squarely in the eyes and told him. He never blinked. She didn’t, however, tell him of the other vision—of the child he was carrying on his shoulders, a child she was now sure was theirs.
“Where do these dreams come from?” he demanded, more shaken now.
“Ahh, the big question. That’s what I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know why I was different, why Father Furness knew something about me but wouldn’t tell me. He knew I was different. If he’d told me the truth—”
“You would have trusted him,” Silas concluded.
And her life would have turned out completely different. Perhaps.
“I had to have the knowledge, MacCreedy. I had to know.”
He nodded.
So she followed the dictates of her vision to Chicago. She was met at the train by a friendly couple who took her home, fed her, and bought her clothes. They talked to her about a community where she could belong and be cared for, where she could learn and excel beyond her wildest imaginings. Where she could hone her talents and never be afraid again. She could control her own destiny.
“They said all the right things. And I believed them.”
“They lied to you.”
A wry smile. “Not exactly. But they didn’t tell me the truth, either. That where I’d be going was like another prison, that I’d have to fight and earn every privilege, where freedom was the reward of the very, very few. So I fought and I learned and I was determined to be one of the very, very few.
“So here I am, MacCreedy, on the cusp of that freedom. And all I have to do to earn it, is kill someone I’ve grown to respect and care about.”
Twenty-one
Over the course of the afternoon, into a second bottle of wine, Nica told him everything she knew, which altogether wasn’t much.
She’d been an excellent student, one of the top five. She was a merciless combatant and a clever tactician, rising through the ranks to become the only female in her class, because she could do something none of the others could. She could change shape.
She was careful never to do it around any others. She’d only release enough of the beast to give her strength equal to that of the males. She thought she was smart enough to keep her talent hidden, but she hadn’t known what the last step of her training involved.
They called it mental conditioning. Like the others, she thought it was some psychological mind game. She was seventeen, tough, lean, fierce, ready for anything that would allow her to gain the status required for independence.
“But it was really mind control,” Nica told him grimly. “Instead of granting freedom, they took away all hope of it. They use the dreams to manipulate us. It starts with a subliminal message, repeated images that get stronger and more frequent until they’re imprinted on the brain, until you can’t separate your will from theirs.”
“If you resist?”
“They hurt you.”
“Could they kill you?”
“I’ve seen it happen. They’re big on demonstrations. Watching someone’s mind explode is a powerful motivator for compliance. If you do what you’re told, the visions and the pain stop. If you don’t, those increase until you die or they take you over.”
A chill ran through MacCreedy. “What does that mean? What the hell did they do to you and the others?”
“Each of us was mentally linked to our own Controller. That Controller monitors our progress, relays information, directs our actions, and, if we’re nonresponsive, doles out punishment until we obey or bend.”
“Bend?”
“Let them assume control of our actions.”
“Have you ever—?”
“No. I refuse to surrender what little free will I have. Once you do, it’s easier for them to use you without your knowledge or consent, even though they’re not officially allowed to. They’re only supposed to guide you on specific missions and the rest of the time, stay out of your way.”
The tightness in her expression clued him. “But yours didn’t?”
“No. I was imprinted with a pissy little shit of a watchdog named Hawthorne. I’ve never seen him, but I can feel his dirty mind all over me. I imagine him whacking off in some dark room somewhere while he watches me undress. Our Controllers aren’t supposed to spy on our private moments, but my shadow has become a bit of a stalker.”
MacCreedy was very still, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “If he’s breaking the rules, isn’t there someone you can go to?”
“Supposedly—if Hawthorne didn’t have something to hold over my head to keep me in line.”
“He knows you can shape-change.”
“He does, but he’s an opportunistic bastard and doesn’t want to share that knowledge. He uses my skills to his advantage; my successes are his successes. That’s not what he holds over me, though. He knows where my friends are, Si. He knows what happened to them after we split up all those years ago. And he’ll harm them if I betray him.” Her voice shook slightly.
“Do you know that for certain, or could it be an empty threat?”
“A few years ago, I was angry enough to call his bluff. He showed me a man being eviscerated in the basement of an office building. I found the building. The police had just gotten there. He was a security guard.”
“How do you know—”
“He’d written a message to me in his own blood while he was dying. ‘Kiki, don’t trust the Shadows.’ Henry was a year younger than me. He had a scar on his left shoulder that I gave him during a training exercise. He was like my brother.” She turned away, struggling with her composure.
“This Hawthorne, can he hear us now?”
She shook her head. “I can block him most of the time, except when I sleep and—” She broke off.
“And?”
“He can’t usually surprise me. I can feel him getting close, like he’s breathing down my neck. I keep my guard up so he can’t sneak in.”
“Except?”
She met his intense stare. “A couple of times when I was with you.”
Nothing changed in his expression. “At Savoie’s and here, just a bit ago?”
“Yes.”
He exploded up off the couch, a coil of deadly tension. “So we’ve been having threesomes that I didn’t know about?”
She held his fierce glare without flinching. “Yes.”
He whirled away and strode into the kitchen.
Silence. Total, terrifying silence. She could only imagine what was going through his mind. The disgust, the repulsion, the fury. Now he would leave, and she would never see him again. She wouldn’t beg his forgiveness, how could she? She would have to let him go.
MacCreedy returned to the living room with a purposeful stride, his expression fierce, his eyes cool as glaciers. He crouched in front of her so their eyes were level as he said, slowly and with a deadly distinction, “I am going to find this man for you, and if he won’t let you go, I’m going to kill him horribly while you watch. We’re going to get you free of this mess.”
He kissed her so deep and hard, she was sure he could taste her heart as it rose up into her throat. When he leaned back to wipe her tears off her cheeks, he told her steadily, “I promise you this, Nica.”
“I want to have your children, MacCreedy,” she said fervently.
He just smiled slightly and stroked his hands through her hair. “We have to be very careful. He’s made a very big mistake in underestimating us
. Nobody fucks with our families.”
Nica’s tremulous smile gained ferocity from his. For the first time in years she felt a sense of camaraderie, and with it came relief and a wonderful thrill of power. She let him enfold her to his chest, reveling in the courageous beat of his heart and the press of his lips atop her head.
“I’ve got to go. But I don’t like leaving you here alone,” he said.
She melted. “You could come back tonight. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted to wake up to.”
A pause.
She’d forgotten. “Oh. You have guests.” She pushed back from him. “Go.”
“There are some things I have to resolve. I’ll call you.” He stood. “Lock up after me.”
Her gaze followed him down the hall. As he opened the door, she called, “MacCreedy?”
He looked back.
“I meant that about having your children.”
His grin flashed quick and wide. “I was hoping you did.” Then the door closed quietly behind him.
Smiling, Nica started for the door to lock it, her thoughts tender and optimistic.
And no match for the sudden pain that dropped her to her knees, or the dream that sucked her under. A dream of blood and death.
Three hours later, MacCreedy ran out of reasons to stay away from his apartment.
He’d checked in with Babineau then Caissie, who reported that her new furnishings looked fantastic but her decorator was still close-lipped. Amber had given him two names at the bar: Janie Webb and Tandy Barrett. He called the names in to Dovion to see if they matched the DNA profile.
As he stood on the steps outside his building, Silas gave in and reached for his phone.
No answer. Right to voice mail.
Maybe he should go check . . .
Silas reined in the impulse and trudged up the stairs.
Brigit was pacing his living room. Her usually polished appearance was showing signs of wear. Her fiery hair was held back in a simple clip from a pinched, makeup-free face. It softened his mood toward her, until she spoke.
“It’s about damned time. You could call, you know. Kendra just went out to pick up some food. We didn’t know when you’d be—” She broke off, her eyes flaming bright as she inhaled. “You bastard! How could you do this to her?”
“Bree—”
“I will not let you break her heart, not after all she’s been through. She can’t know—”
“She has to know.” He took her shoulders, squeezing to convince her of his sincerity. “Bree, I have to tell her.”
His sister went very still, looking alarmed as she searched his features. “Tell her what? You’ve loved her since we were children. This is how things were meant to be.”
“And I will always love her through the eyes of that child. Bree, I’m not fourteen anymore. Try to understand.”
“What’s to understand? You’re not thinking with your brain or your heart. Don’t throw everything away on a moment’s lust.”
“I want to spend the rest of my life with Nica, Bree.”
Brigit looked over his shoulder, her eyes widening in dismay, and Silas turned to see Kendra in the doorway.
Hurt, shock, betrayal, and grief filled her huge, welling eyes as she stared at him. The grocery bags dropped from slack fingers. A choking sound escaped her, then she bolted for the bedroom.
Brigit glared damnation at him, shoving him out of the way to go after her friend. The slam of the door closed a chapter in his life that he could never reopen, one of youth and hope and innocence.
Silas went to wait on the couch, while the muffled sounds of weeping teethed on his conscience. He didn’t look up when Brigit returned sometime later and sat on the arm of the couch next to him.
“I need to tell her how sorry I am,” he said. He needed to find some way to relieve the crushing guilt that sat on his heart like a boulder.
“Believe me, she doesn’t want to hear that right now. You can’t make it disappear with a few regretful sentiments. What did you think would happen after you pulled her security out from under her?”
His head hung low, his sturdy frame slumped. “I never planned to hurt her,” he said hoarsely. “I meant what I said last night. I wanted to make things work out. I tried to keep my promises, Bree. I really did.”
The tremor that shook his strong shoulders shocked Brigit even more than his outrageous choice. She’d never seen anything come close to breaking him down. Not when they were children and he was their ever-indulgent guardian. Not when he’d come racing up the stairs that night, face blanched of color, to take the two of them in his arms saying, “Don’t be afraid. I will never let anything harm you,” in the low, fierce voice of the man he’d become at that moment. Not when he’d gone to his knees with a stoic determination before monsters, pledging loyalty in order to protect them. He’d bent, but never broken—which told her how horrendously he suffered now. Part of her coldly said, Good. But another would do anything to ease that pain.
She laid her cheek against his hair as her arms went around him, and she told him softly, “You’re not the only eligible male in the world who’d make Kendra a good match.” She kissed his brow. “She’ll survive this. She’ll find another champion.”
He shook his head. “I tried to convince myself that it’d be enough. That I could take Kendra for my mate and live off the Terriots’ charity. But how could I do that when I’d be everything this brand of shame on my wrist says I am? A dog, a slave, a coward—eating tamely from the hands of those who killed our mother and father right in front of me.” His voice fractured. “Who made me fix the heads of our relatives on poles around their dinner table, so they could see through their dead eyes how far I’d fallen.”
Brigit had never known that. Appalled, she hugged him hard, her tone protectively angry. “You’re none of those things. If anything, they would have looked on you with pride. You refused to disavow our name and take that of Terriot, when it would have made things easier for you.”
He was silent for a long while. Then he put his hands over hers to squeeze lightly.
“Tina Babineau and her son are our family, too, Bree. She’s our sister—yet we were going to use her the same way the Terriots used our parents to try to get what they wanted. We should have welcomed them into our arms instead of selling them into slavery, just so we could have a greater taste of freedom. I don’t want to live that lie anymore.”
She swallowed down her fear. “What do you want?”
“I want what I’ve seen here—what I think Savoie is going to be able to do here in New Orleans. He has the kind of vision our father would have approved of. He’s offered me opportunities I want to grab onto.”
“Silas, he’ll get you killed.” Her voice trembled.
“I’ve been living on borrowed time for years, without really living. I’ve learned things in the last few days that have turned everything I believed upside down. I’m afraid I’ve trusted in the wrong things.”
“And the right things are the son of our enemy and this girlfriend of yours?”
“Yes.”
Brigit sat back, releasing him, fighting her panic. “So what happens to us, now that you have this new dream?”
He glanced up at her, his eyes so guileless and filled with hope that it wrung her heart. “You’ll stay here with me.”
Brigit gave his apartment a critical sweep. “Hmmmm, tempting, but not quite what I’m accustomed to. Here among the humans, with this lowly clan rabble to protect us? I think not.”
A slight smile. “You’re such a snob.”
“Once one lowers their standards, there’s no limit as to how far they can fall. And Uprights make me nervous.” She straightened, concealing her fear behind arrogance, knowing she could sway him if he saw through it. Knowing he would make any sacrifice to take care of her. So, she wouldn’t let him see her distress. She owed him that, because she loved him.
She gave an indignant sniff. “Besides, I don’t think Kendra and
I would feel comfortable sharing these rooms with your future mate.”
He suddenly frowned. There was something else troubling him. He asked, “Bree, do you have any talents that are . . . unique? Something you haven’t told me about?”
“Other than the ability to attract the worst kind of male?”
“I’m serious.”
She grew evasive. “A girl has to have her secrets.”
“This is important, Brigit. Are there things you can do that others can’t? Things beyond what normal Shifter females are capable of? Can you change shape?”
“What?” Her shock was genuine. “Of course not.” Then she placed her palm to his cheek. “I’m painfully ordinary.”
Silas knew she was lying to him. Irritation and concern made him want to both shake her and hold her close.
Then she asked, “Are you in love with that creature?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure it’s not just a physical thing?”
He crooked a smile at her. “It’s a soul thing. The kind you told me of when we were children. So you can say ‘I told you so’ now.”
Brigit shook her head, clearly mystified. “I don’t see the attraction. You have Kendra, who adores you, is beautiful, kind, well-bred, and would never give a moment’s grief. Yet you prefer that bold, rude, skinny bitch who thrives on making things unpleasant.”
Silas smiled, tenderness in his eyes. “She makes me feel alive, Bree. Kendra’s like a safe, peaceful place without distractions or complications where you can go to escape. It’s nice for a while, but I’d get restless there.” His eyes smoldered. “Nica is like a ride on a runaway train. Reckless, exciting, dangerous, and unexpectedly fun. Every second I’m with her makes my blood pound.”
He looked up at Brigit earnestly, needing her to understand. “She gets me, Bree. She laughs at me and calls me ‘Hero.’ I don’t have to be more than I am when I’m with her. What I am is enough. She makes me want to be selfish when we’re together. Does that make any sense?”
She heaved a huge sigh. “She makes you happy. Damn. I guess I’m going to have to tolerate her.”
“You can start by not calling her ‘that creature’ or ‘that bitch.’ ”