“Ava doesn’t have anything to do with it.” He leaned in, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “Hasn’t it ever irked you, Katherine? We’re the most powerful beings on this planet, and we’re relegated to . . . to chauffeur duties and babysitting. Doesn’t it seem like our time could be better spent elsewhere?”
Katherine stared at him, eyes wide with surprise at the underlying vehemence in his voice.
“We’re supposed to be Protectors. From whom? It seems a bit ridiculous, is all. Half-Breeds are some horrible threat? Or maybe the humans? I’m not sure I see it.”
“Caleb, what are you talking about?” Katherine whispered as she glanced over her shoulder, suddenly nervous. “You can’t say things like that.”
Caleb opened his mouth to respond, but after a moment, shook his head, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry. Ignore me,” he said. “I’m just tired. Need a few cubes and a good night’s sleep, I think.”
Katherine let out a quiet breath, all teasing gone. “That’s probably a good idea.”
He forced a smile. “Yeah . . . yeah. Forget I said anything. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Katherine replied. “You know I won’t mention it again.”
Caleb turned to leave, but stopped when she touched his arm.
“Be careful, Caleb. You of all people should know you don’t want to end up in the Council’s crosshairs.”
He nodded, but his jaw was tense, and he didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll see you later, Katherine.” She released him, and he walked away through the trees, a little embarrassed at his outburst.
It was true that he’d been feeling jerked around by the Council lately, but that was really nothing new. The Council had always operated on a need-to-know basis when it came to the Protectors, and he’d never had a problem with it before. Caleb had always taken his responsibilities as a Protector seriously, and even when working with the Guardians, only did so because he thought he was doing the right thing—for his people, as well as the humans and Half-Breeds. For a moment when talking with Katherine, however, he’d felt an unfamiliar irritation . . . a frustration with his role in Race society, and he wasn’t sure why.
He pulled a couple of R-cubes from his pocket and chewed them thoughtfully. He really wasn’t in the mood for walking. A quick shift home and some sleep, and everything would make more sense in the morning.
Ava flipped through her notes, but she could feel Lucy watching her—again—and didn’t need her Race senses to know something was on her mind. She looked up, only to have Lucy drop her eyes immediately to the book Ava knew she wasn’t really reading.
“What?” she asked.
Lucy blinked innocently. “Hmm?”
If she hadn’t known her so well, Ava might have bought it. “Don’t ‘hmm’ me,” Ava said, slapping her textbook shut and shoving her notes aside. “You’ve got something on your mind. Out with it.”
Lucy bit her lip, eyeing her roommate nervously. “It’s just . . . I’m not sure if I should say anything.”
“About?”
Lucy pushed her books aside and crossed the room to sit cross-legged next to Ava. After a moment, she reached out to squeeze Ava’s hand, a sad and almost pitying look on her face.
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out,” Ava said, forcing a laugh.
“Sorry.” Lucy winced, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she took a deep breath. “Okay, it’s about Caleb.”
Of all the things Ava had imagined, that wasn’t one of them. “What about Caleb?”
“How . . . serious are you guys?”
Ava wasn’t even certain how to answer that question. Sure, she knew how she felt about Caleb, and she was pretty sure she knew how he felt about her. But it was complicated. They seemed stalled in a way, especially after their recent conversation about the bond. Ava avoided thinking about it because part of her didn’t know what it meant, and part of her was worried about what it could mean.
“We’re pretty serious, I guess.”
“You guess?” Lucy squeezed her hand again.
Ava felt the urge to tell her everything. She couldn’t, of course. That would put Lucy’s life in danger, not to mention her own and probably Caleb’s as well. But she could talk to her about some of it. The normal stuff. The boy-girl stuff. Maybe if she left out all the supernatural, life-threatening parts. After all, Lucy was her best friend. And she did have more experience with guys than Ava did. A lot more.
“I love him,” she said quietly, the words foreign on her tongue, though she’d thought them plenty of times.
“Yeah, that part’s pretty obvious.” She scooted next to Ava and put her free arm around her shoulders. “And?”
“And . . . it’s good. It’s really good.” Ava said, not meeting her eyes.
“But?”
Ava glanced at her sidelong. “You sound like a Schoolhouse Rock song.” At Lucy’s blank look, she sang tunelessly, “Conjunction Junction, what’s your function? I swear, Luce, your childhood was sorely lacking.”
Lucy smiled but didn’t let her off the hook. “But?”
“But,” Ava said and sighed. “I’m just not sure where it’s going. He’s holding back.”
“How do you mean?”
Ava gave her a significant look, and Lucy gasped, her eyes widening as her mouth formed an astonished O.
“You mean you haven’t?”
Ava shook her head, her face hot.
“But you’ve been together for months!”
Ava shrugged. “We’re taking it slow.”
“Well, that’s . . . fine.” Lucy patted her hand. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with taking your time.”
“There’s not, right?”
“Of course not.” Lucy fidgeted a bit then exhaled heavily. Her words flowed out in a rush. “It’s just, I saw him—Caleb, I mean. Although who else would I be talking about, right?” She laughed nervously.
“And?” Ava wasn’t sure where this was going, but she had a feeling it wasn’t good.
“And he wasn’t alone.” The words came out in a final rush. “Hewaswithawoman.”
“What?”
“I mean, it doesn’t mean anything, right?” Lucy sounded as if she were set on high speed. She didn’t even pause for breath as the words rushed out of her mouth in a torrent. “They were only talking. And I don’t want to make it seem like a big deal, but I saw them, and I kind of waved, but he looked a little upset that I did—”
“Luce—”
“And she was gorgeous! I mean, no offense, you know I think you’re beautiful. You are beautiful, but she was gorgeous, and it just hit me as odd—”
“Lucy—”
“And I hated not saying anything to you, because we tell each other everything, right?”
“Lucy, slow down.” Ava shifted to face her on the bed, one leg tucked under her. “What woman?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know who she was. She’s tall and, like I said, gorgeous. Pale, but in a pretty way, not sickly, long straight black hair . . .”
Ava’s stomach flipped.
Katherine.
“And they seemed to be having this intense conversation. I mean, not like fighting, but . . . involved.”
Ava knew she had to tread carefully. “It’s okay, Luce. I know her.”
“You do?”
Ava nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. She and Caleb work together.”
“She’s a physics tutor?” Lucy looked skeptical.
Ava laughed. “No. He has another job.”
Doing what?
Ava feared she was painting herself into a corner. “Back home on school breaks, you know?”
“So what’s she doing here?”
What is she doing here?
“Oh, you know, she’s pretty new at it, and Caleb kind of works as a consultant when he’s away. They’re old friends, so he’s helping her out.” It sounded weak and full of holes, even t
o her. She held her breath, remembering the old adage that the simpler a lie, the better. If in doubt, shut up. She reached for her book, like the conversation was over.
“Are you . . .” Lucy ducked her head, trying to meet her eyes. “Are you sure that’s it? I mean, it didn’t look like a work conversation.”
Ava forced herself to meet Lucy’s gaze. “I’m sure. It’s nothing, Luce, really.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “ ’Cause you know I’ve totally got your back, right? If that witch was making the moves on your man . . .” She clenched her fists like a boxer. “I would take. Her. Out.”
Ava laughed. “I appreciate the thought,” she said. “But it’s really not necessary. Caleb and me, we’re good.”
“Well, the offer stands.” Lucy stood up and went back to her own bed, flopping down and still managing to be graceful about it. “You’d do the same for me, right?”
Ava grinned. “In a heartbeat.”
In a confinement facility in New Elysia, Elias Borré considered his surroundings with an indifferent air. It was nice, as prisons went; more like a small condo than a cell. The one-bedroom unit was comfortably furnished; the only thing lacking was anything that could be used as a weapon—like knives in the kitchen or mirrors in the bathroom.
He sat on the rather stiff sofa, watching the door, as he had for the past hour or so, too distracted to concentrate on reading any of the drivel lining the nearby bookshelf. He’d appeared briefly in front of the Council before being assigned his “quarters” and was scheduled for further questioning the following morning.
The Council had procedures, after all, and even Rogues were allowed time to rest. It was all so very civilized. He eyed the cameras they didn’t even bother to hide, wondering who was watching, and resisted the urge to make a crude gesture.
Borré felt the presence of another a few seconds before a quiet knock sounded at the door. It was irritating, since he was locked in—the knock only reinforced the illusion of privacy. It’s not as if he could stop anyone from coming in anyway. He didn’t bother getting up but remained on the couch as the door opened and the person he’d been expecting entered.
Borré glanced significantly at the cameras.
“Don’t worry,” his visitor said, taking a seat in a chair across from him. “They’ve been dealt with.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Borré didn’t pursue the point, instead relaxing back into the sofa cushions. “Have you heard from Sloan?” he asked.
“Foster’s back with the Michaels girl. Sloan and his men are keeping tabs on both of them.”
“His men?” Borré raised a brow. Sloan Bartok usually worked alone. He never needed anyone else.
His companion smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Simply ensuring all bases are covered. He knows how important this is.” He rubbed at his lower lip. “He asked about you.”
Borré nodded. “Yes, well, it’s difficult for him. We work so closely, and with this . . . development.” He waved a hand to indicate his surroundings. “He’s not used to it.” There was more to it, of course, but Borré did not feel compelled to reveal it.
“I don’t completely understand it, myself,” the visitor said. “Why allow yourself to be captured by the Protectors? I know it has to do with Foster—”
“Foster’s but a tool. A piece of the puzzle.”
“Don’t you think I deserve to see the whole picture?”
“You deserve,” Borré said with a pointed look, “the reward you will earn when this is all over.”
The man’s jaw tightened, but he nodded in acceptance. “What of the girl?”
Borré smiled. “Sloan knows what to do. The girl will come to us in time.” He stood, crossed to the window overlooking the city, and tapped on it with a knuckle—plastic, not glass.
Typical.
“Why not take her?”
Borré frowned in irritation. “Because getting her is not the point, old friend. No, she will join us of her own free will.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Borré smiled icily. “She will. They all do, eventually.”
Ava knew it was a dream, but it didn’t matter to her heart. It raced as she walked down the street through a dark neighborhood, a brisk wind cutting through her coat and whipping her hair around her face. She could see lights in one house centered in a cul-de-sac at the end of the street. She made her way toward it, stepping around a discarded basketball and a wayward Rollerblade.
A chill ran down her spine as she looked up at the modest two-story home, and she spun around, certain she wasn’t alone. She scanned the area but could hear nothing above the wind until a squeaky rattle drew her attention to a loose street sign, hanging crookedly from a single bolt.
152nd Court SE
Slowly, she turned again to face the house only to see a dark figure standing in the shadows near the front porch. Her senses tingled. He was Race.
“Hello?” she called, but the figure either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her.
The front door opened, and a man emerged, carrying a plastic garbage bag. He whistled lightly and headed for a pair of cans already sitting on the sidewalk. He turned to glance back at the house, and the dim light from the front door was enough for Ava to identify who he was: Officer Nick Simmons from the campus police department. The one who helped her when she was attacked by Tiernan all those months ago. Back when all her nightmares had centered around the Protector.
Ava’s breath quickened as the dark figure followed Officer Simmons, slipping silently through the yard. The illumination from the house didn’t seem to reach him, and he remained hidden in the shadows. Ava was unable to make out any details. He was a shrouded specter, the only glint of light from a blade clutched in his right hand.
She shouted out a warning to Officer Simmons, but he didn’t respond, continuing instead to the curb to deposit the trash into a can and smash it down with a slight grunt. He turned to go back to the house and came face-to-face with the mysterious pursuer. Officer Simmons opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gasp, his body clutching around what Ava knew was the knife.
“No!” she screamed, trying to run toward him—to help in some way—but her feet wouldn’t move. It was as though she was slogging through knee-deep mud, the ground sucking her in with every fruitless step.
Officer Simmons fell to the ground, blood spreading out in a sickening bloom across his shirt.
The attacker whirled around and was gone.
Officer Simmons gurgled, blood spurting from his mouth, and with his last breath, his head fell to the side, and his dead eyes latched on to her accusingly.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. And then she awoke, sweating and fighting for breath, with tears streaming down her face.
“Ava? You okay?” Lucy’s raspy voice drifted over from across the room.
Ava willed her heart to slow, forcing a note of calm into her voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” she whispered. Ava sat unmoving for several minutes, even as she gripped the sheets to ground herself, listening to Lucy shift under her covers until she was breathing steadily again.
Quietly, Ava slipped out of bed, grabbed her shoes and a coat, and headed out of the room. She couldn’t explain to Lucy where she was going or why, but she didn’t dare waste any time getting there. Pulling her hair into a haphazard ponytail, she raced down the stairs and out the back door, knowing Katherine would be waiting there. Instead of trying to avoid her, Ava ran right up to her.
Katherine raised a brow in surprise. “Good evening,” she said, taking in Ava’s disheveled state with a long, slow look. “Out for a little stroll, are we?”
“I need your help.” Ava knew she was wild-eyed and more than a little frantic. She hoped it would help her case. “There’s someone in danger. We have to protect him.” She reached out to tug at Katherine’s sleeve. “Do you have a car? No, of course you don’t. Why would you need a car?”
“Slow down,” Katheri
ne said calmly. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s no time. He could be there right now.” Ava scrubbed at her face. “Look, I’m going. Your job is to watch me. So you can either help or I guess follow me and hope I don’t get murdered.”
The corner of Katherine’s mouth lifted the tiniest bit. “Come on,” she said finally. “I’ll find us a car.”
They raced toward the edge of campus.
Well, Ava raced. For Katherine, it was more of a slow jog. Ava spared a minute to be aggravated yet again that she still wasn’t as fast as the rest of the Race.
Katherine scanned the cars parked along the side of the road, then moved toward a red Mustang convertible with the top down.
“We’re lucky it’s been an early spring,” she said as she hopped over the side into the driver’s seat. Even snow showers were not uncommon in early March in Missouri, but unseasonably warm temperatures had some people breaking out the short sleeves and, fortunately for them, putting the tops down. Katherine reached under the steering column to pull out a handful of wires.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Ava asked, opting to open the door instead of climbing over.
Katherine shot her a glare. “I was doing this before you were born.” The engine roared to life, and she let out a little squeal. “Sixty-six, Candy Apple Red Mustang convertible . . . a very good year.”
She wiggled her eyebrows, and Ava realized it was the first time she’d actually seen Katherine excited about anything. But now was not the time. “Head east,” she said as Katherine put the car in gear. “Toward Belmont Park.”
Katherine sped through town, and in a few minutes, they wound past the park to the neighborhood Ava now recognized from her dream. She watched the street signs, letting out a distressed sound when she spotted the crooked one identifying 152nd Court Southeast.
“Turn here,” she said quietly. “To the cul-de-sac at the end of the street. And be careful.”
To her surprise, Katherine didn’t have an indignant response to that. Instead, she slowed down a little and turned off the headlights, her superior sight more than enough to avoid any obstacles.
The MORE Trilogy Page 30