Blood Laws

by Lexi C. Foss

  “Of course.”

  “And he can’t know anything about you becoming a Sentinel. Can you keep that from him?”

  “I don’t see it being a problem. He knows I work for you, but he doesn’t seem to care.” Another boldface lie, but said without an ounce of guilt. Karma, meet Jonathan.

  “Then I agree with your terms, Stas. I’ll take care of everything.” He stood and held out his hand before thinking better of it and walking around his desk to pull her up into a hug. She returned it as best she could given the circumstances.

  “I’m proud of you.” He told her before letting her go. “I know it can’t be easy, not with everything you’ve seen over the last few weeks. And witnessing the Conclave had to hurt, especially as it would have reminded you of Owen. It’s the Ichorian way to slay by skinning, burning, and beheading. Terrible custom.”

  “Yeah.” She murmured to keep the conversation flowing, though inside she was turning over his words. How did he know what happened at the Conclave? And he said weeks, not days, like he knew she witnessed more than just the Conclave beheading over the weekend. Could be a simple word choice mistake, but she suspected it was more. He knew how Owen died and he was implying that she knew how Owen died. She did because she found him that morning, but only Issac knew that, and he erased the evidence. The only other person who could possibly know she was there was the person who sent her the text that morning from Owen’s cell phone. After he died.

  She assumed it was Ichorians who killed him after Osiris’s little performance at the Conclave. Now she wondered if it was staged to look like Ichorians when it was really someone else entirely. Someone like the man standing beside her.

  “Are you all right?”

  She was silent too long, lost in her thoughts. When she met his gaze again, she allowed him to see her pain and deflected the cause of it. “Sorry, it’s all still a little fresh.”

  A violent tremble rocked her, one that seemed to garner some sympathy from her new adversary. Tom said the CRF tended to leave Hydraians alone unless they caused trouble. Owen’s promiscuous habits may have broken a few male hearts, but he wasn’t a bad person. She knew that with every fiber of her being. He was killed for another purpose.

  The weekend before his death was the first time she mentioned him to Dr. Fitzgerald. She told him and Tom that Owen was going to be her date for graduation dinner. They both had laughed at the time and asked for more details about the man in her life. It was Lizzie who piped up to say he wasn’t really her boyfriend, just a close friend. At some point she gave a last name during the conversation. Less than a week later he was dead.

  She never even considered the coincidence, but it all made sense now. The text message sent for her to find the body. A test to see how she would react. Then the polygraph focused on supernatural terms. Another test to see how much she knew. The medical exam with Nizari poison to test her mortality. All of it was about Owen.

  Issac was wrong. It wasn’t his interest that piqued Dr. Fitzgerald’s curiosity, but her friendship with Owen. A Hydraian in a city of Ichorians befriended her of all people. After everything else, she knew that couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “You look very pale.” Dr. Fitzgerald was studying her a little too closely, his hand wrapped around her bicep to keep her from falling over.

  “Yeah, I was just thinking about Osiris,” she said, feigning a weak smile. “I’m defenseless against him.”

  His expression was one of deep understanding as he nodded. “Hmm, yes. Let’s go over some security protocols. You’re as good as hired anyway, and given the circumstances, I’ll make an exception. We’ll begin with the fire wards.”

  21

  The First Female Sentinel

  Issac paced his office. Astasiya should have called hours ago. He texted her when he got back into the city mid afternoon, hoping she would be almost finished with the CRF. He came here to distract himself from thoughts of her. It wasn’t working, as was evidenced by the hole he was wearing in the plush carpet.

  He stopped at the ceiling-to-floor windows and nursed his third glass of whiskey. It wasn’t strong enough. His assistant would need to order a higher proof next time. He rested his forearms against the window. Being on the top floor made everything look like ants beneath his feet. He finished his glass before busying himself with the weekly finance report his CFO delivered this afternoon. He was penning his approval when his cell phone rang. Her name went immediately to his heart.

  “Astasiya, thank God.” He didn’t care if she heard the worry there, as long as she was all right.

  “I’m outside.”

  He frowned. “Outside where?”

  “Your office building.”

  “Hold on.” He hung up and dialed security with an order to let her in and escort her up. Setting down the phone, he walked over to the elevator. He was the only executive on the floor at this late hour.

  It felt like hours passed while he waited for the doors to open. When they did, they revealed Astasiya in the same purple sundress from this morning. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail to expose her shoulders. He enfolded her in a hug. “Thank you, Bruce,” he said, dismissing the security guard.

  “Anytime, sir.” The tall man retreated into the elevator and left without another word.

  She shook against him, her face burying into his blue dress shirt. His jacket was in his office closet hanging next to his tie. He led her down the hall to his office and closed the door. She didn’t seem to notice the view or the spacious couch to the left, just stood in the middle, her gaze falling to the floor.

  “Talk to me, Aya.” She was rigid, her green eyes filled with a myriad of emotions.

  “I don’t know where to start.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, and closed her eyes. “I think Dr. Fitzgerald killed Owen.”

  “Why?” The kid was harmless. His psychometry gift was undeveloped and not offensive. There was no reason to kill him.

  Those beautiful lashes lifted to reveal a broken expression that burned a hole right through his chest. “Because he was friends with me.”

  “I’m not following, love.”

  “They murdered him to test me.” She went through the various ways they tested her, including Owen’s murder and her security clearance. In the end, it was a sound conclusion that left him begrudgingly admiring Jonathan. He was a crafty bastard.

  “But the only thing I don’t understand is why Owen befriended me. There has to be a reason. I don’t believe in coincidences anymore.”

  Neither did he. “Lucian didn’t know he was in the city. He only found out the night of his death. That’s why I was there that morning, as a favor to him.”

  “So Ichorians didn’t kill him?”

  “It was certainly staged to look that way, but Osiris knew nothing about it. That’s why he sent his lapdogs to investigate. If an Ichorian found Owen, his death would have been a public event like Sierra’s.”

  She sat on the couch, her hands in her lap. He moved in beside her, ready to hold her if needed.

  “If Luc didn’t send him, then he wasn’t there to recruit me.”

  “He never mentioned you or his living in the city to Lucian, so I would tend to agree.”

  “He moved there for me, Issac. I’m sure of it. We met on the second day of class during freshman year right after we both moved to New York. But I don’t know why.”

  He slipped his hand into one of hers and squeezed gently. “We’ll figure it out, love. Tell me what else happened today. You must have agreed to something if he let you go.”

  Her eyes told him he wasn’t going to like what was coming. “I agreed to become a Sentinel.”

  No. He didn’t like that one bit.

  “Before you say anything, let me finish.” It must have been pretty damn obvious how he felt about that news for her to follow up with that. Or maybe it was because he was squeezing her hand. He loosened his fingers and focused on drawing circles with his thumb instead.

  “Go
d, I don’t even know how to say this.” She looked on the verge of tears, biting her lower lip to keep from trembling. “He’s a monster, Issac. He hides behind this charming facade, but it’s all for show. I found proof of it and that’s why I agreed to his offer.”

  She let out a humorless laugh. This was her breaking. He thought she had broke down after her nightmare, but this was her truly falling apart. Her words were jumbling together and her body was trembling with the force of each thought. Dr. Fitzgerald had managed to tear down those strong walls of hers and send her into a pit of despair. It made him want to kill the man even more than he already did.

  “What did he do to you in there?” His words were a growl, fury spilling into each clearly annunciated word.

  “Oh no, not me. What he’s done to her. It was awful. I’ve never seen someone so broken. I’m so sorry, Issac. You’re going to blame yourself, but you can’t. Promise me you won’t.”

  She wasn’t making any sense. “What are you trying to tell me, Aya?”

  “Amelia.” Wide green eyes flashed to him. “Issac, I … I met her today.”

  His blood ran cold. Her hand no longer felt pliant or warm on his. He dropped it as if it burned, putting a few inches between them. “Why would you say that to me? What game are you playing?”

  “It’s not a game, though I told her you wouldn’t believe me. So I asked her to give me proof.”

  How he could go from wanting to console a woman to wanting to strangle her in so short a span of time was beyond him. “Yeah? And what did my dear dead sister say?”

  “She still dreams of blue butterflies every night.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath and stood. Absurd. It had to be a trick. A piece of information Jonathan somehow took from his sister before she died and gave to Astasiya to feed him now.

  “You don’t have to believe me, but she’s there, Issac. In a room in the basement. Near his office.” Her head fell into her hands. “I wanted to get her out, but I couldn’t. She has this weird collar on her neck and her ankle.” She fell silent as her shoulders shook.

  She was lying. His sister was inside an urn. The one he found Eli’s corpse holding all those years ago. Except what if she wasn’t? What if that vase held someone else’s ashes and this woman was telling him the truth? Could he afford to hope?

  “That’s why I agreed,” she whispered. “So I can help you get her out of there.”

  “Like hell you will. If she’s really in there, I’ll go get her right now.” He walked over to his desk and grabbed his phone. Tristan, Anya, and Nadia were all he needed. Between the four of them, they could wipe out the entire Sentinel team. If this was all a cruel joke, they deserved to die. If Amelia really was in there, they also deserved to die. Win-win scenario.

  He belatedly realized that Astasiya was yelling at him when she grabbed his shirt and demanded he drop the phone. He had her up against the wall with his hand over her mouth not a second later, and the other on her hip. Her eyes went wide. She might be persuasive, but he was stronger and significantly more experienced than her.

  “Not a smart move, fledgling,” he told her, furious that she dared unleash her power on him.

  Her hands wrapped around his wrists and she tugged. He lessened his hold just enough for her to get a word out. She used it to say, “Wards.” Frowning, he loosened his grip more. “Powerless,” she muttered. “Asshole,” was her final word as she glowered at him. He slid his hand to the wall beside her head, his opposite hand remaining on her hip.

  Her chest rose and fell on a shuddering breath. He hadn’t realized how hard he grabbed her, lost in his need to save Amelia. He really was an asshole, one who didn’t deserve the woman in front of him.

  “You can’t.” The raspy catch in her voice nearly broke him. “The security and wards—” He kissed her to stop her from trying to speak anymore. Here she was desperately trying to warn him off from making an emotional decision after he manhandled her in the worst way. Osiris skinning him alive would have hurt less.

  “I’m sorry.” A pitiful apology that meant nothing in the face of harming her.

  She placed her hands on his chest, one right over his heart. He thought she would push him away, something he more than deserved, but instead she curled her fingers in his shirt to keep him there.

  “You can’t go in there, Issac. You’ll die.” She took a deep, trembling breath. “But I can go in there and get her out.”

  There was a mixture of horror, dread, and a deep sadness radiating from her eyes. Her pulse was steady now that she caught her breath, but her limbs still shook with exhaustion. This was not a lying woman. This was his woman. The one he claimed to trust only hours before. The one he shared a fragile connection with that he nearly demolished over a few well-meaning words.

  “Amelia’s alive.”

  *

  She hated using her persuasion on him, but there wasn’t a choice. If he went to the CRF, he would die. He wouldn’t stand a chance against the security protocols Dr. Fitzgerald explained this evening. They had technology and wards the Ichorians didn’t know existed, at least according to Jonathan.

  Issac’s innate reaction scared her, but she understood it. She was an obstacle in his way. Once he had her up against the wall and realized what he was doing to her, he dropped her. The stark horror that filled his expression in the following minutes was apology enough, though the words were appreciated too.

  When he said, “Amelia’s alive,” that was the final apology she needed. He believed her. Maybe not at first, but he got there in the end, and that’s what mattered. She stared up into those dark blue, troubled eyes. Every emotion was on display in their depths as he muddled over what to say. Then the questions started. He wanted to know every detail about how she looked, her cell conditions, where she was being kept by the CRF, and every word she said.

  By the time the interrogation was finished, Stas was exhausted. Her legs threatened to give out underneath her. She had been standing too long in the same position.

  “Issac, I’m going to help you get her back,” she said with the utmost conviction. “And then we’re going to take down the CRF.” They were evil. Amelia and Owen were proof of that.

  “I can’t let you risk your life, Aya.” The hand beside her on the wall moved to cup her cheek before sliding down to gently brush her throat.

  “It’s not your decision, it’s mine. And it’s the only one to make.”

  His expression fired with unspoken rebellion, but she was his best option and he knew it.

  “I’ll go through the training so I can learn to defend myself. I’ll study their security protocols and the wards, then I’ll use all of that to take them down and get Amelia the hell out of there.” She wasn’t just doing it for him. Dr. Fitzgerald was right about one thing, it was a good opportunity to learn to defend herself. It also offered her a chance to seek vengeance for Owen. “I need to do this, Issac.”

  “Every day you’re in this city is a day Osiris might discover more about you.”

  “My gift puts a constant target on my back regardless of what path I choose.” She wanted to face the challenge head on, not run and hide. It was the only way to take charge of her life, create her own path and not let others run it for her. It was also the only way to stay with Issac, even if their relationship could only be short lived.

  He sighed against her lips, his lashes falling to fan those pronounced cheekbones. “So strong, my Aya,” he whispered, his mouth brushing hers. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

  She smiled softly, her fingers gliding up to caress his jaw. “Only if you put your hand over my mouth like that again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” She kissed him, letting him feel the weight of her understanding. When he emboldened the embrace, she pulled back. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Anything.”

  “It’s about the Nizari poison.”

  His brow furrowed. “What about it?”


  “Did …” She cleared her throat. She didn’t want to say the words out loud, but she had to. Otherwise they would linger in the back of her thoughts with the what ifs and she couldn’t let those accusations destroy their relationship. “Did you hire Dr. Patel to give it to me?”

  He gaped at her. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”

  “Dr. Fitzgerald showed me a video of her claiming you gave her the poison and told her to inject me with it.”

  His laugh was not what she expected. He pulled her over to the couch and sat with her astride his lap. His hands went to her hair, undoing the ponytail. “Well, that’s bloody brilliant on his part.” When she said nothing, he cupped her cheek and sighed. “No, Astasiya. I did not, and I’m slightly wounded you could think otherwise.”

  “I didn’t really, but I wanted confirmation. She was pretty convincing in that tape and it makes sense. Besides, if you wanted to turn me against the CRF, what better way than to claim they poisoned me, and then save me?”

  “Sure.” His eyes flashed. “One problem though, love. You almost died. How would that help me achieve anything?” His hand tightened in her hair. “I have nothing to gain by lying to you and everything to lose. You asked me to trust you and I did. Can you do the same?”

  “I already do.” She pressed her palm to his heart. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Issac.”

  His frown wasn’t what she expected in response. “Who asked the questions in the video?”

  “Agent Stark, why?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Bloody brilliant man.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You haven’t figured it out yet?” His lips curled with amusement, making her scowl. “Jonathan’s an Ichorian, darling. Hence our long history.”

  She started. “That’s why my birthmark flared.”

  “What?”

  “He asked me something about you, if you mentioned the CRF at all, I think, and the mark on my back bothered me. I wasn’t sure if it was coincidence, but … He’s an Ichorian. But he owns the CRF. Why?” Why would an Ichorian own a company hellbent on starting a paranormal war?