Circle of Dreams (The Quytel Series Book 1)

by Jane S. Morrissey

  Bri whirled, hands on her hips and an expression of utter shock on her face. “Why would you say something like that?”

  “It’s true.” He met her angry glare. He could offer no explanation that would make any sense to her.

  “You don’t seem happy about it,” she protested. “You don’t even know me.”

  The woman was right to be suspicious. Smart. “You have good instincts,” he agreed.

  Irritation made her jaw tic, and he knew there was something wrong with him when he thought it was cute.

  “You can’t walk in and say you would die to protect me.”

  Two more feet, and they would be nose to nose. He stepped closer. “I didn’t just walk in here. I may not be happy about it. I’m in your life for the foreseeable future, and you have my protection whether you want it or not.”

  He was close enough to see the flecks of gold in the depths of her green eyes before she turned away, face flushed.

  Mack stood and drew Cole’s attention away from Bri. “I’ll be on guard out front,” he announced with a nod to Jonah. Crossing to Bri, he pulled her into a gentle hug and kissed the top of her head. “Keep an open mind,” he told her quietly.

  When Mack left, Jonah gestured for Bri to return to the table. She continued to stand and crossed her arms over her chest. The stubborn set to her jaw was a small act of rebellion, and Cole read it as the protest it was.

  Jonah’s expression remained unreadable. “Bri, there is much I need to share with both of you—”

  “Mack gave me the highlights,” she interrupted.

  “Have you ever heard of the Quytel?” He switched gears abruptly, directing the question at Cole.

  Cole felt the weight of the information about to be presented to him in the prickle of tension on his skin. Jonah’s power brushed against his in warning.

  “Mr. Courtland.” He gestured for Cole to have a seat at the table across from him.

  Eying the spot warily, Cole pulled out the chair farther from the table, determined to be able to move fast if necessary.

  Jonah piled eggs and French toast on a plate and leaned over to savor the smell. “Delicious. Mack has always been a wonderful cook. Bri, you should really eat something,” he insisted.

  She gestured wearily. “I’m not hungry.”

  The color had drained out of her already pale complexion. She seemed more fragile, standing there defensively, watching her father eat. Waiting, as Cole was, for the explanation that would bring a few more of the pieces of the puzzle together.

  Jonah took a long drink of orange juice and then sat back. “The Quytel have been responsible for the protection and policing of paranormal and psychic power on earth since the beginning of time,” he began.

  “What psychic abilities do the Quytel possess?” Cole asked.

  Jonah paused, clearly not interested in being questioned. “There are fourteen Quytel in a Circle and seven Circles on earth. Each Circle is linked together energetically, and all possess basic telekinesis and telepathy, a rich understanding of spells, and the ability to cloak their presence from humans.”

  “Magic and spells?” Cole interrupted.

  With a pointed look indicating he wasn’t totally at ease with the situation, Jonah continued. “Within each Circle there are three Seekers, three Judges, and seven Warriors, each with additional abilities serving the function of those roles. Our life span is much longer than a normal human.”

  “Immortal?” Cole asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Nearly.” Jonah tipped his head in a gesture similar to the one his daughter favored. “Although after a time we can, and most do, request divestiture of their duties. Some choose to live out the remainder of their lives in peace, and others ask for a swift end. Although rare, there have been instances when a Quytel goes rogue. Our lives are ones of service and that much destruction over the centuries can eat away at the soul, even if the mission is a worthy one.”

  “And Mack?” he pressed, soaking up the information like a sponge.

  “Mack is one of the oldest Warriors in my Circle and under my command,” Jonah replied. “He has lived for six hundred and eighty-four years.”

  Cole’s mind raced with possibilities. Could a Quytel Warrior be behind the psychic murders his team had been investigating?

  “We don’t believe a rogue Warrior is responsible for the deaths you’ve been investigating.” Jonah savored another bite of French toast.

  Cole grimaced. It was dicey with the man able to read his mind. He resisted the urge to glance at Bri, but felt her presence. He found her distinctive scent of jasmine and lavender oddly comforting.

  Jonah’s mouth tightened. Clearly there was nothing Cole could hide from the man.

  “Fundamentally the Quytel are charged with keeping the peace among psychics and maintaining the balance of power on earth. The case both of you are investigating is complicated.” He glanced at his daughter who stood statue-still several feet from the table. “Every year, a number of children are born with psychic potential. Not all those children grow into their powers, and those who do not we call latents. Their power is available and, if needed, can be triggered. Only a specific number of psychics can exist at full power at any given time. If there are too few or too many it destabilizes the cosmic balance of the planet.”

  “That sounds unlikely,” Cole objected skeptically, rubbing the stubble on his chin and trying to wrap his mind around what he was hearing.

  Jonah leaned back in his chair, unconcerned. “Yet true nonetheless. If too many psychics are triggered, we’ve found mysterious, accidental deaths occur to bring the numbers down. And if there are too few, latents are triggered. There is always a natural rebalancing.” His gaze rested on Bri, and a shadow chased across his face, clouding the sharp blue of his eyes.

  The implication raised Cole’s hackles. Bri caught it too and her large green eyes appeared unusually bright.

  Cole pulled his chair in closer to the table. “Got it. Go on.”

  Lines of strain appeared at the corners of her father’s eyes and downturned mouth. Bri had that odd sensation again, the one where she understood the words he spoke but had no context to put them in. He had something big to tell them. The reporter in her knew when a story was about to be blown wide open. She could feel it in her bones—this story would be a sensational tale with herself as the star. And Jonah would not let Cole walk out of here with all this information if he didn’t have a plan to secure his loyalty or some way to ensure they would keep his secrets.

  “As you both know, someone has created a way to drain the life force and power from psychics,” he began, locking his eyes on hers. They burned a bright blue, so intense it was impossible for her to turn away. “They are also targeting latents who are being triggered without any knowledge about what they are or what they’re capable of. As children we are able to adapt to and integrate our powers. We’re often born into families where psychic abilities have existed for generations. Most often psychics find mentors, either a parent or someone else, who connects them with their ability and guides their use and development. This is not true for latents who are triggered as adults.”

  His gaze flicked from Bri to Cole. “We’ve seen this create confusion and crises of identity. More importantly, their gifts are unstable. They are capable of doing great damage, which means they risk exposing all of us. Our Seekers have been searching for them tirelessly, and I have teams out in the field now bringing in those we can detect before they’re destroyed.”

  Jonah pushed away from the table and stood, a dark cloud dulling his expression as he crossed the distance to her, reaching out to caress her cheek in another uncharacteristic display of affection.

  Fighting the urge to pull away, she swallowed hard.

  “Bri, I believe you’re in serious danger.”


  Considering she was already on the run, the news wasn’t totally unexpected. He suddenly looked young to her, more like her brother than a father. Why had she never really noticed that before?

  Jonah cupped her chin. “There’s much you don’t know about yourself—”

  A fission of fear skated down her spine. She spun from his reach and walked to the window. She couldn’t look at him right now. How could he have kept all of this from her? And why didn’t he trust her enough to let her into this part of his life?

  “Your mother had tremendous psychic power. She was an unprecedented talent in her time.” The words echoed quietly behind her.

  Bri stopped breathing for a flicker, and she turned slowly toward him. The woman from her dream had been her mother—a psychic with tremendous power. The bottom dropped out of her stomach.

  If possible, Jonah’s stone cold expression flattened, sharper and more intense than she’d ever seen it.

  “And my father?” she insisted.

  He frowned, his displeasure clear. “He had no power.”

  Bri closed her eyes. Jonah never talked about her parents. Why now? She gathered whatever internal strength she had left for what was to come. Her heart thundered loudly in her ears, and she knew her life would never be the same.

  “Bri, you’re a latent psychic.” She could have sworn she heard an inflection of pride in the statement. “I fear with this recent activity your powers could be triggered at any moment.”

  A vague ringing in her ears nearly drowned out his voice. She must have misheard him. She couldn’t be a latent. She would know if she had psychic abilities. Wouldn’t she? Why had he kept this from her?

  “The talent I believe you have is highly prized and dangerous in the wrong hands. I can only assume the people after you wanted to acquire you for that purpose. I need you to stay safe and out of the way while we deal with this. Mack will be here to protect you and additional Warriors are on their way.” Jonah turned to Cole. “You are in this now too, and she will need your protection as well.”

  Bri faced the window, away from her father. Hands in the back pockets of her favorite cords, she stared out at the high peaks surrounding the house. Her mind refused to process what Jonah had told her, what it meant for her life—she was psychic, or could be, and her powers would be unstable and dangerous.

  Mack appeared in the doorway. “You’ve told them, I see.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You knew about me?”

  A flash of regret darkened his face, and he gave her a brief nod. The sharp edge of his secret cut deep, another betrayal wrapped up in duty and loyalty.

  “He had this on him, Jonah.” Mack handed him Cole’s sketch. The inky lines highlighted a radiantly beautiful face with long hair swirling around a body glowing with power.

  Jonah examined it carefully, lightly tracing the woman’s features. Folding the paper almost reverently, he placed it in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. In the next instant, his entire demeanor changed, any hint of sadness or concern swept away on a wave of power. The room crackled with it.

  “What is it?” Bri asked.

  Jonah’s ice-blue gaze rested on her for a moment, troubled. He shifted his attention to Cole. “Protect her,” was all he said, and with a brief nod to Mack, he left.

  The front door closed softly behind him with a finality settling like a cold chill in her heart.

  Chapter 10

  Bri wrapped her arms around herself and walked back over to the window. The cheery kitchen tiles mocked her. The breakfast Mack had prepared for them sat uneaten on abandoned plates. Her stomach twisted into knots as too many questions rioted chaotically in her brain. Uppermost was what kind of power she possessed and why it was so dangerous.

  Cole came up behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. She turned and gazed into his silver-gray eyes. They seemed to reflect equal amounts of sorrow and calm determination.

  Suddenly the man she’d met under such bizarre circumstances, and knew next to nothing about, had become her anchor in the storm.

  She flicked a glance over at Mack, standing tall and proud inside the kitchen door. “He never did say what terrible psychic ability I might have. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Two slow steps brought Mack to her side, and she resisted the urge to step away from him.

  “It will only be terrible in the wrong hands, Bri,” he tried to reassure her. “Trust us to keep you safe and train you to use the gifts you have.”

  Deep sadness ate away at her. She had the devastating feeling this was only the beginning of Jonah’s secrets. He knew much more, especially about her mother. Damn him. She could never forgive him for this. Never.

  How does someone recover from this level of betrayal?

  “Why didn’t either of you tell me until now?” she snapped the question at Mack.

  “Jonah has his reasons, and he hasn’t shared them all with me. I trust him, Bri. I’ve known him for a long time.” Worry had etched lines across Mack’s brow, his eyes shadowed and dull.

  Dear as he was to her, she couldn’t mask her anger. It vibrated in her clipped words. “How did you know my mother?”

  He sighed, sliding his hand in the pockets of his jeans. “She was an amazing woman and a good friend, but Jonah needs to be the one to answer your questions about her.”

  “You know he won’t unless it suits his needs. You need to tell me, Mack,” she urged.

  “Just give Jonah . . .” Mack scrubbed his free hand over his face in uncharacteristic agitation. “Give him time.”

  She glared at him for a long moment, fighting tears. “All this time you knew her and never told me anything. When I would tell you about how I remembered my mother reading to me, when I would talk about my parents, how much they loved me and how much I missed them.” Anger seeped out in her accusation.

  Mack nodded, unflinching as he accepted her indictment. “I missed her too.”

  “And my father?” She tried not to choke on the question.

  “He was a good man,” he said quietly.

  A shooting pain hit her square in the chest, and she spun on a sharp inhale to stare out the window and gather herself. Somehow having Cole as a witness reassured her. She drew on his strength, solid and steady.

  “Who’s after her?” Cole demanded from behind, and she was thankful for the change in topic.

  “We’re fairly certain a mage named Anton is the mastermind in these attacks,” Mack replied.

  “A mage,” she muttered sarcastically. What next?

  “He’s evaded our justice for many years, and it seems he has returned—”

  Mack suddenly fell silent. Tension shot up in the room, and Bri turned, alarmed at how utterly still his body had become.

  “What’s going on?” Cole asked.

  “Bri, I need you to listen to me carefully.” Authority rang in Mack’s tone. “There are several well-armed psychics heading our way. We have about ten minutes before they’re here.”

  “What can I do?” Cole stepped forward.

  Mack surveyed the room with a frisson of power, gesturing for them to follow him. “This place is a fortress. You’ll be safe if you stay inside.”

  Cole grabbed his arm. “Where are your weapons? I can help.”

  Mack—no, the Warrior—hesitated for a moment. Finally he nodded, leading them through the long, wide hallway to the den at the back of the house.

  The room was dark with wooden paneling covering the walls and deep brown leather furniture. Mack crossed the room quickly and pushed the spines of two adjacent books on the top shelf. The high bookcase slid open to reveal a closet with a cache of neatly arranged weapons.

  “Help yourself,” he told Cole as he grabbed a semiaut
omatic rifle and several rounds of ammunition. He turned to Bri. “There’s a safe room behind this wall with access to—”

  “No.” Bri waved her hand impatiently. “I refuse to be hidden somewhere while the two of you fight. I can shoot a gun.”

  “You’ll be in the way if we have to worry about you,” Mack said patiently. “If I know you’re safe, I won’t worry.”

  Furious and afraid, she held her ground. “Give me a gun.” A mage was behind the attacks on her home and now people she cared about.

  They both looked at her skeptically. “We can protect you. Keep you safe,” Cole repeated.

  Feeling stubborn, she crossed her arms. “I won’t hide away. The more time we spend here arguing about it, the less time we have to prepare.”

  Mack handed her a rifle. “You remember how to use this?”

  “Let’s see how good your lessons were.” She grabbed the gun and checked the magazine to ensure it was loaded.

  “Stay in the house and away from the front windows,” he ordered. “Use the scope to track them and only take a shot you’re sure you’ll make. Don’t give away your position otherwise.”

  “Got it.” She clicked the safety off.

  Mack’s golden eyes, hard as diamonds, glittered. “If you sense any danger, the back wall of the panel in the den is also another access panel leading to the basement and through the wall to an escape route. It’s similar to the one we designed in your house. Provisions are down there too. Use it.”

  She nodded, trying to hide the sudden shaking of her hands.

  Cole crossed to her without hesitation and pulled her into a bear hug. “They want you, Bri. That means no heroics. Okay?”

  Cole was starting to admire Mack. The Quytel Warrior looked every bit the part—fierce, old world, and invincible with an energetic resonance palpable in the air.

  “We won’t let anything happen to you,” Mack assured Bri.