Blood Laws

by Lexi C. Foss

  “Would you have believed me, Stas?”

  She considered for a long moment. “Probably not.” An interesting and unexpected lie. He knew without a shadow of a doubt she would have believed Thomas, her unique talent proof enough that the supernatural exists.

  “He’s told you about the CRF, right?” Thomas asked. “What we do?”

  Issac held his breath, unsure of how she would respond to that. Although he mentioned Jonathan was unaware of his knowledge, that didn’t mean she would keep quiet about it. A complication he never considered because he didn’t expect Thomas to show up on his doorstep unannounced.

  She shrugged. “No, not exactly. But some things were implied.”

  “Did he mention that we hunt down rogue supernaturals who are causing issues in the mortal world?”

  Issac suppressed a snort. That was the mantra Jonathan instilled in the Sentinels, and it appeared his son believed it. Interesting.

  “He mentioned that the humanitarian wing isn’t so much about providing humanitarian aid, yes,” Aya replied.

  “Is that why you’re hiding here? You’re afraid we’ll hurt you for finding out?”

  “Will you?”

  “Of course not. You know me better than that.”

  She was quiet for a moment, chewing that delectable lower lip while she considered. It made him want to end this conversation and take her back to his room where he could nibble on her in private. Despite her implied willingness, he held back last night because he didn’t need to feed. Strange, considering the little blood he took from her Saturday night was the only sustenance he had in the last few weeks. He should be famished, but was operating at full strength.

  “Maybe,” she said after a beat. “But you’ve known about this for how long without telling me?”

  “You weren’t cleared to know, Stas.”

  “So sending me to a club cleared me?”

  “Well no, but it was a discreet way of telling you.”

  “Yeah? And did you factor me meeting Osiris in that brilliant idea?” The fist against Issac’s lower back was vibrating with anger. His little complication was losing her temper. If she growled, he would have no choice but to carry her back to the bedroom.

  Brown eyes jumped to his. “She met Osiris?”

  “Oh, she more than met him, Thomas. She intrigued him. Why do you think she’s here?”

  “Shit.” He grabbed the back of his neck and cursed a blue streak. “You have to let me take her, Wakefield. She’ll be safer at headquarters and you know it.”

  Laughable, but he refrained from stating the obvious. “I don’t need to let you do anything.” He shifted focus to the beautiful woman beside him. “It’s not my choice.” He would never make that decision for her despite instinct demanding he slam the door in Thomas’s face and drag her back to his room where it was safe.

  She glanced up at him. “It’s an option?”

  “Yes, but it takes you back to the city.” Where it would be unsafe.

  She tugged that lip between her teeth again, brow furrowing. “How would the CRF keep me safe from Osiris?”

  “We have wards and other security protocols that will keep him out.” That was interesting information. He wasn’t aware there were wards that deterred Ichorians. He would have to mention it to Lucian.

  “So I would have to live there?”

  “Not necessarily.” A vague answer. Thomas was withholding something. How curious. What protective magic was the good doctor dabbling in that the Sentinel didn’t want known?

  “How about you come back with me and I explain how we can protect you? It’s the least I can do for getting you in this mess. Then, if you aren’t interested, I’ll drive you back here myself.” It was a heartfelt promise, one Issac trusted about as much as he trusted Balthazar not to try to seduce Astasiya. Zilch.

  “You expect me to trust that?”

  Excellent rhetorical question, love.

  “I expect you to trust me. How well do you know him, anyway? You really think he’ll help you before he helps himself? A man who comes from a long line of fallen angels?”

  “I prefer demon.” He brushed the knuckles of his free hand against his shirt before glancing down at them with a bored expression. “But whatever works.”

  “Has he explained why he drinks blood yet? A curse from the Gods, right, Wakefield?”

  “Is that why you stopped by, Thomas? For a history lesson?”

  “Stop.” Astasiya’s fingers were wrapped around his shirt as if to hold him back. Given the glare he was receiving from the Sentinel, it was the other guy she should be trying to tame. He was at ease with his arm slung across her shoulders.

  “If I go with you, you tell me everything. If I don’t like it, I get to leave,” she said, reiterating Thomas’s false promise. He nodded in confirmation. “And does your dad know you’re here?”

  “No, but he knows about the club. And yeah, he’s pissed at me.” That evoked a smile from her. Small, but a smile. It seemed to relieve Thomas and did the opposite to him. “Come on, Stas, you know me. Give me a chance to make this right.”

  She was quiet for far too long. A knot formed in his gut at where this was heading. “All right. I’ll go with you.” Minx. Either she was testing the limits of this decision or she was up to something.

  “Is he allowed to wait inside?” she asked, her wary gaze meeting his.

  He shrugged. “If he leaves his weapons outside, sure.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  Issac grinned at the Sentinel. “Then you’re not welcome in my home.”

  Aya’s eyes rolled heavenward. “Fine. If you want to stay here and continue whatever the hell this is, go for it. I’m going to go get ready.”

  “Just a heads up, three of the Elders are upstairs playing in the armory. I strongly suggest you refrain from trying anything, but please feel free to ignore me.” Thomas’s wide eyes were as entertaining as they were refreshing. He so hoped the man would call his bluff. Jayson could be very creative with knives.

  “You just admitted there are Hydraians in your house,” Astasiya murmured after closing the door.

  “I did.” Jonathan already knew he consorted with Hydraians, not that he could prove it.

  She frowned at him. “You’re not afraid Osiris will find out?”

  He opened the patio door for her. “No, I’m not.” He murmured in her ear as she passed, making her shiver. “What are you up to, little blonde of mine?”

  She cast a glance over her shoulder at him. “First exclusivity, now possession? Who are you and what have you done with the infamous playboy Issac Wakefield?” He tapped her behind for that one, causing her to jump. “Did you just spank me?”

  Ignoring her adorable frown, he rephrased. “Why are you going with him? I don’t care what he says, the CRF isn’t safe.” Neither was the city. There was always the chance Osiris wouldn’t bother looking into her, but he wouldn’t bet her life on it.

  She didn’t answer until they were in the pool house. “I need to know what you’re telling me is true.” Her voice was soft, her gaze softer. “I need to see it, Issac.”

  “Thomas admitting the CRF isn’t a humanitarian agency wasn’t enough?”

  “No, that part I accept. It’s the rest.” She hid behind closed eyelids, blowing out a breath. “He’s my mentor.”

  Ah. He understood now. “You don’t believe Jonathan murdered my sister.” All the joy and playfulness he felt was gone in an instant. “How exactly do you intend to gather proof?” Because he couldn’t let her waltz in there and ask the man. He may have decided her life was worth more than his revenge, but that didn’t mean his plans were on hold. He still planned to make Jonathan pay for what he did, and that required him to remain ignorant.

  “Relax. I’m not going to ask him about it. I just, I need to see him. I can’t explain it, but I need this.” Her green gaze was genuine, pricking at his heart. “You said it was my decision.”

  Making the de
cision on her own wasn’t what she wanted. “You’re asking me to trust you.”

  “I am.”

  There were only a handful of people he ever trusted and two of them were dead. She had every reason to turn against him. His high-handedness with her life being first among those reasons. But a fragile part of him, one he didn’t know existed until he met her, already trusted her. It was the same part of him that cared for her. “What about Osiris?”

  “He scares the shit out of me, but I can’t let fear drive my decisions.” Spoken like the strong woman he knew her to be. One of the many traits he admired about her. “I’m not stupid. I know going with Luc is my safest option, but I’m not ready yet.”

  He wasn’t ready for her to go yet either. He also understood her drive to gather all the facts. Instead of replying, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Every foreign emotion and unspoken thought poured from his mouth to hers. She returned it, her tongue whispering words against his and accepting the implied promise between them. Whatever this was, it was young and vulnerable, but it could grow into something powerful with trust. He would begin by trusting her now. “Come back to me, my Aya.”

  Her lashes fluttered open. “You’re trusting me?”

  He smiled against her lips. “Yes.”

  She returned the smile. “Thank you. Tell Luc I’m sorry.”

  “He’ll understand, love. Do what you need to do.” It killed him to say it, but grounding her would be wrong. Astasiya was born to fly.

  20

  Truth and Deception

  This was a bad idea.

  That was her mantra today. The words were a mental shout when she walked into the CRF headquarters with Tom at her side. The flags hanging above her usually acted as a warm welcome, but today they served as a warning. Especially the creepy black flag in the middle, one she always noticed but tried to ignore. The white cross etched into the middle with the words Memento Mori beneath it served as a bad omen. Remember that you have to die.

  That’s comforting.

  Tom handed her a temporary badge from the security desk. She pinned it to her purple sundress and followed him through the metal detector. Her purse was in the trunk of his car in the underground parking garage. No personal belongings were allowed underground.

  They didn’t talk much on the drive, not about anything relevant, anyway. The only important comment he made was in regards to Lizzie. She didn’t know anything about the supernatural world and it needed to stay that way. They were in agreement on that point.

  Her skin crawled as they stepped into the underground cavern of endless white hallways. The sensation of wrongness crept over her. It was similar to how she felt on her way to the Conclave, except her demon wasn’t here to keep her safe this time.

  She couldn’t believe he let her go. The worry was evident in his gaze as he watched her get into Tom’s car, but he didn’t try to stop her. He cared about her, and not only that, he respected her decision even if it was the worst one she ever made. But she meant what she told him. She needed this. Without confirmation, a part of her would always suspect he was lying to her and she couldn’t let that insecurity build between them. It would destroy them.

  They took a different path from her last visit down here, one that led them through a room of armed military men. Their heavy artillery made the breakfast she and Tom grabbed turn over in her stomach.

  “You’re breaking protocol, Fitzgerald,” one of them said as they passed.

  “Bite me, Hawthorne.” He swiped his badge against another door to lead her away from the hostile guards.

  “They seem friendly,” she muttered as he took a left down a dimly lit hallway. No cameras this way. Not a good thing to notice when already nervous.

  “They’re assholes.” He kept moving, his boots shuffling against the white tile until a familiar blond turned the corner with a raised eyebrow. “Where is he?”

  “Where do you think?” the man replied, those eerie green eyes on her. “Miss Davenport.”She swallowed, unnerved by that knowing gaze. “Agent Stark.”

  Tom gave them a skeptical look. “You two know each other?”

  “Yeah, he was my polygrapher.” He also introduced her to the medical examiner who nearly killed her. To say her memories of the man weren’t fond ones would be an understatement.

  The skepticism in Tom’s features deepened. “I didn’t know you moonlighted as a polygrapher.”

  “Only when requested,” was all he said as he continued on his way. She frowned after him. He wasn’t a polygrapher? An interesting detail he failed to mention during her security interview.

  “If he’s not a polygrapher, what does he do?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Tom took an abrupt turn down another corridor void of surveillance and stopped at a door a few feet down, knocking twice. It cracked open and Dr. Fitzgerald poked his head out. Tom cocked his head towards her. Dr. Fitzgerald’s expression radiated relief when he realized she was standing in the hallway.

  “Thank God. I just need to finish up this conversation. Can you take her to my office?” Although it was phrased as a request, it sounded more like a directive. Tom wasn’t kidding about his father being mad at him.

  “Of course.” Tom’s shoulders were rigid as he led her away. Something about that room unnerved him. She wondered what Dr. Fitzgerald was doing in there. The way he popped his head out instead of opening the door all the way was unlike him.

  “He means his office down here,” Tom explained as he opened a door down the hall from the mysterious room. “It’s not as swanky as the one upstairs, but no one really sees this one except the Sentinels.”

  “You mean the humanitarian military personnel who are not actually conducting humanitarian missions?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm.

  “They’re still humanitarian missions, Stas. We’ve saved people from some pretty fucked up situations. If you thought the Arcadia was bad, you should see some of the other Ichorian dens. I’m sure Issac explained that he has to drink human blood regularly to stay alive, right? Most of them call it a curse, but there are some that luxuriate in it more than others.” His deep timbre was tainted with disdain.

  “You don’t seem to like them very much.”

  “I detest them.”

  After what she saw during the Conclave, she could understand why. It seemed Issac was an anomaly amongst his kind, unless he was putting on an act for her. To what purpose? He had no reason to hide his true nature from her, and she saw how close he was with the Hydraians. They adored him. That wasn’t an act.

  Tom sat in one of the chairs across from Dr. Fitzgerald’s desk and waved at her to take the other. This office wasn’t as large or as hospitable as his office upstairs, but it was a decent size. There were no personal touches on the plain white walls and there were only a few objects on the desk beside his computer monitor. She doubted he used this space much.

  “What about Hydraians?” she wondered. He focused so much on Ichorians, but never once mentioned the other supernatural species.

  Curiosity met her question. “Did he really have three Elders upstairs?”

  “Uh, I have no idea what that means.” A boldface lie. She wasn’t sure why she said it. Perhaps because he didn’t answer her question, or because she felt the need to protect Issac. You’re way down that rabbit hole, darling.

  “They’re the oldest of the Hydraian race and they very rarely leave Hydria, let alone in groups.” Issac had said something similar. Good to have confirmation that it was true, not that she doubted him. “I should have known he was lying. Anyway, we don’t do much with Hydraians. They tend to be more low key and keep to themselves. There are a few with,” he bobbed from side to side, as if searching for the right term, “peculiar habits. Those we deal with, but mostly it’s the Ichorians. Hydraians are rarer, too, since there are an estimated two to three hundred left in existence. The Ichorians did a good job of wiping them out.”

  Dr. Fi
tzgerald walked in with a towel, drying his hands. “Do you mind giving us a few minutes, Tom? I’d like to speak with Stas privately.”

  There was an underlying air of hostility between the two men. It thickened the air and raised the hair along the back of her neck. Tom’s hands tightened on the armrests and his spine went rigid. He was less tense when he spoke about the Ichorians earlier. He nodded once at his father and stalked from the room. This was not the father-son combo she was used to.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you here,” Dr. Fitzgerald said after Tom shut the door. Instead of taking the chair behind the desk, he leaned against it with his legs crossed at the ankles a few inches from her. His nearness didn’t normally bother her, but it did today. She felt caged between him and the wall, like he was afraid she might run. Do I have a reason to?

  Dressed in black slacks and a pale blue dress shirt, he resembled the Dr. Fitzgerald she knew and adored. He even had the same genuine smile. This wasn’t a man who would hurt her. Was the feeling of imprisonment all in her head?

  “Tom tells me you had an eventful weekend.” Those soft brown eyes fell to the mark on her neck. It wasn’t as noticeable as it was two nights ago, but it wasn’t one hundred percent healed either.

  “That’s one way to describe it.” She preferred terrifying to eventful. “Honestly, I would rather get to the point and talk about the Sentinel program.” She wasn’t in the mood to rehash her weekend. She was here to learn more about his project, more about him.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve always enjoyed your directness.” He pushed off the desk, walked around it, and settled into his chair. Lacing long fingers together on the desk, he leaned forward.

  “The CRF still does everything you’ve been told, it just also does a little more. There is a humanitarian wing that caters to those in need, helps with search and rescue missions and delivers aid. That’s all true. What the general public isn’t aware of is we also have an elite group of Sentinels who dabble in supernatural affairs. Tom, as you now know, belongs to the latter. From your expression, I gather Issac already told you all of this?”