Talia arched a brow. “Really?”
“We have the same eyes,” Ava said. “And . . . I don’t know . . . I could feel a connection, somehow. Like with Emma.”
“You think she’s one of the Twelve?”
“I’d almost bet money on it.”
Talia reached for her coffee cup and took a long sip. “This should be interesting.”
“You have no idea,” Ava replied with a sigh. “I better get back before Caleb wakes up. I’m sure Gideon’s going to want a debrief. We’ll bring Sophie by after.”
“I’ll be here.”
Ava paused halfway out the door. “Thanks, Talia. Really.”
“Just doing my job,” she said lightly and grinned. “But you’re welcome. Keep me posted, okay?”
Ava nodded and headed back toward her quarters at a jog, stopping long enough to swallow a couple of the pain pills dry and take a deep breath before yanking the door open and walking inside.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Caleb stepped out of the shadows. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t even sensed him nearby. “You scared me to death!” she said, hoping he’d believe that was the cause of her racing heartbeat.
“Where have you been?” he asked, looking over her shoulder as if he’d find the answer entering behind her.
She’d learned partial truths were better than lies. “I woke up early and went to see Talia.”
Caleb stiffened, concern evident on his face as he reached out to cup his palm around her neck. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, yes. I’m fine,” she said, feeling him reach out with his gift. It was second nature now, the mingling of their power. “Just . . . after last night, I wanted to check things out, and I let her know about Sophie.”
Ahh, truth. Much safer ground.
He nodded. “Probably a good idea. Speaking of which, Gideon wants to see us.”
“Should I get her?”
Caleb leaned down, kissed her softly, and looked into her eyes, searching for . . . something.
Ava forced herself to hold his gaze.
He kissed her again. “Let her sleep, I think. I’m sure yesterday took a lot out of her. Gideon wants our report first, anyway. He sent me to find you.”
“Sorry,” she said as they turned to walk down the hall toward Gideon’s office. “I didn’t think anyone would be up for a while.”
“I don’t think Gideon ever sleeps,” Caleb said wryly.
He was huddled over his computer when they walked in, and if the dark shadows under the Guardian leader’s eyes were any indication, it didn’t look like it. He leaned back and waved at the chairs across from his desk in invitation. “Balaam led them west and lost them near the border to Montana. He’s circling south a bit to make sure, but he should be back in a day or so.”
“That’s good,” Caleb said. “Don’t know what we would have done without him.”
Gideon rocked back in his chair. “So tell me about Sophie. How’s she doing?”
“As well as you’d expect. Better, actually,” Caleb said. “She’s a cryogenic, although her gift is highly unstable at the moment.”
“We can help with that.”
Caleb shot Ava a glance. “That’s not all.”
“Oh?” He looked between them, waiting with his fingers tented against his lips.
“I . . . we,” Ava clarified, “think she may be like me.”
Gideon sat up, alert. “Full-blooded Race? Or do you mea—”
“I mean, like me. I think she’s one of the Twelve. I think she’s my sister.”
“I appreciate you taking the time to see me.” The demure comment felt foreign on Tiernan’s tongue, but it was the way things were done. If anyone had told him a few months ago he’d be acting as an ambassador to the Council, he’d have told them they were crazy.
But desperate times and all that.
He was doing what he had to do, and in this case, it meant coming to Kaeden Cross with hat in hand, so to speak.
“I only have a few minutes,” the Council member told him, waving toward a chair before taking a seat behind his desk, his golden gaze watching expectantly.
For a moment, Tiernan entertained the idea that they could almost pass for twins—both tall, muscled, and shaved bald—if not for the scar marring Tiernan’s face and his blue and green eyes. “Rafe told you why I’m here?”
Kaeden nodded and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach. “An alliance with the Guardians. Not an easy feat to accomplish.”
“Yeah, well. That’s an understatement.”
Kaeden’s lips quirked. “Who do you have so far?”
The Protector let out a heavy breath. “As you know, Rafe supports the alliance. Naomi will go along with whatever the majority decides. Andreas is . . . thinking about it.”
“And Madeleine?”
“I won’t need Madeleine if I can get you and Andreas.”
Kaeden laughed, loud and full. “Oh, Protector, when did you become such a politician?”
Tiernan asked himself the same question on a daily basis. Hourly. Sometimes more.
“Borré and the Rogues pose a real threat,” he said instead of replying. “The Council will need all the help it can get if it’s going to defeat them.”
“The Rogues have never been much of an issue before.”
“Not one at a time. Not when they weren’t organized. Not before the Twelve.” At Kaeden’s stoic silence, Tiernan rolled his eyes. “I know the Council is aware, at least to some extent, of what’s going on. The fact of the matter is, the Twelve are powerful—more than you or me or any Race before, I’d hazard to say.” He recalled the destruction Ava had wreaked on the Guardians’ training field. “You know they’ve set their sights on the Council.” It was a guess, but when Kaeden’s stare broke, Tiernan knew he’d guessed right.
Kaeden stood and turned toward the window. “I’m with you,” he said quietly. “But I won’t cross Madeleine.”
Tiernan grunted in frustration, and Kaeden turned to face him, smirking.
“You need it to be unanimous, Protector. For something like this, there can be no dissention. Take my word on it.”
Tiernan knew he was right. “She’s going to be difficult. You know how she feels about the Guardians.”
“She’ll listen to reason. It will simply take some convincing.” He glanced sidelong at Tiernan. “You might want to get on her good side.”
Tiernan laughed humorlessly. That was easier said than done, but he knew the Council member was right. Madeleine was the key to everything. And it was up to Tiernan to win her over.
God help us all.
Chapter 3
Caleb leaned against the wall of the examination room, watching Ava as she talked with Sophie and held her hand for reassurance. Talia was running the blood sample she’d taken, and they, along with Gideon, were waiting, even though they were pretty sure what it would show. Ava was sure, at least, and Caleb tended to trust her judgment.
Well, for the most part.
He reached out for her through the bond, a trickle of familiar relief going through him when their gifts merged.
She looked at him with a small smile, obviously feeling it as well.
He smiled back, wishing he could shift her away someplace quiet. Someplace private. Someplace where they didn’t have to think about the Rogues or the Twelve or conspiracies that put the world in danger.
Someday. When this is all over.
Talia clicked a few keys on her computer and turned to Sophie. “You probably should see this,” she said. “But perhaps you’d prefer the others lea—”
“Hold on a second.” Gideon took a step forward, scowling.
“Rogue plot or no, this woman has a right to privacy, and I will not reveal her medical information without her consent.”
Silence hung heavy in the room until Sophie said quietly, “It’s all right.” She took a deep breath. “This is . . . I get that this is bigger than me
.”
“You’re sure?”
Sophie exchanged a long look with Ava, who squeezed her hand and nodded. “Yeah. Lay it on me.”
Talia’s lips lifted slightly. “All right, then. Well, to put it simply, Ava was right. You are sisters. Well, half sisters anyway.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “Really? Are you sure?”
“As sure as we can be.” Talia rose gracefully from her chair and crossed to them. “Without getting too technical about it, the tests show the two of you share a parent. And, from what we understand, it’s your father.”
“Our father.” Sophie stared at her and Ava’s clasped hands, her voice a stunned whisper. “We’re sisters?”
Caleb cleared his throat. “Well, I’m afraid there’s a bit more to it than that.”
Ava glanced at him nervously before turning back to Sophie. “It’s kind of complicated.”
Sophie shook her head with a wry snort. “More complicated than a tribe of superhuman beings living in secret and hunting down any half humans they may come across, only to come up against other superhuman beings who want to protect those half humans?”
Shocked silence filled the room followed by a burst of laughter.
“Okay, good point,” Ava said, still half giggling. “But yeah. It’s even more complicated than that.”
Sophie took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and ran a hand over her hair. The curls bounced back instantly, refusing to be tamed. “Well, this sounds like a bit of a story,” she said, sucking on her tongue with a loud pop. “And I think I’ll need to hear it on a full stomach. What do you all do for breakfast around here?” She looked at Gideon expectantly, and he blinked at her in surprise before a slow smile lit his face.
“I think we can rustle up something,” he said.
They left Talia’s and headed toward the common area. They loaded up plates in the kitchen, and Caleb had to smile at the way Gideon cleared the room with a look as they took their seats.
Ava sat next to Caleb and leaned in for a moment, and he sighed softly at her warmth—both from her body and the gift curling through him.
Sophie chewed on her toast and looked around the table, waiting.
Caleb had expected Gideon to take the lead, but his father deferred to Ava with a nod.
Ava started a little but took the bull by the horns. “Okay, then. So we’ve told you about the Race and the Council,” she said. “But there’s another group of Race, called the Rogues.”
“Rogues.”
“Yeah.” Ava took a deep breath. “They’re Race who don’t really want to live by the rules, see? They do their own thing, chase after power and pleasure, and pretty much mow over whoever gets in their way.”
Gideon leaned forward, elbows propped on either side of his plate. “In the past, they’ve always been a nuisance, easily dealt with by the Protectors,” he said. “Since they are, essentially, selfish, they worked alone and were therefore quickly contained.”
“But what does this have to do with me?” Sophie asked, pushing away her plate.
Caleb felt for her. He’d kind of lost his appetite, too.
“A group of them have banded together,” Ava explained. “They want to overthrow the Council and seize power. Their leader is a man named Elias Borré.” She watched Sophie carefully. “Borré is our biological father.”
Sophie collapsed back in her seat. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. Whoa. But there’s more,” Ava said, licking her lips. “Borré is a scientist, some kind of genetic genius, or something, and he set out to create these super Race soldiers—genetically engineered to be even more powerful. He took the best of the Race and he bred them to be even more.” She watched Sophie, and they all waited for what Ava said to sink in.
They didn’t have to wait long.
“You mean . . .” Sophie lifted a finger to point at Ava then herself.
“Yeah,” Ava replied. “He made us to—as cliché as it sounds—take over the world.”
“Holy—” Sophie rubbed her hands over her face. “So . . . he’s crazy?”
Gideon snorted. “Well, that’s up for debate, but sanity aside, Borré is very, very smart. And very dangerous.”
“But we’re here,” she said, flicking a glance at Ava. “We’re not going to help him.”
“There are more of us,” Ava said. “Twelve, all together.”
“How many does he have with him?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Gideon replied, frustration leaking into his voice. “We’re behind the eight ball on this one. We know Borré’s general plan but no specifics. We don’t know when or how, or who the rest of the Twelve are. We lucked out in finding you.”
Sophie leaned forward on the table and rubbed at her temples. “I can’t believe this.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Ava said, touching her arm. “I was you a few months ago.”
“And I was normal a few months ago.” Sophie continued to massage her temples. “I had a job. I was going to college. Next thing I know, I’m causing hailstorms and freezing the pipes in my bathroom.”
Caleb sat up, exchanging a look with his father. “Any idea what caused it? I mean, can you pinpoint something that may have jumpstarted your gift?”
Sophie shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I didn’t hit my head or anything. I was on the phone with my mom and we got into an argument, and before I knew what was happening, there was ice on the windows.”
“Your mom?” Ava asked. “Were you adopted?”
“Foster mom,” Sophie explained. “The last of many. I was a bit of a problem child. Why?”
Ava sighed. “They put me with adoptive parents, human parents, and they blocked my Race gifts. It makes sense they’d do the same with you.”
“But my gifts aren’t blocked. At least not anymore.”
Gideon leaned back in his chair, assuming his familiar position with his fingers tented in front of his lips. “You’re older than Ava. Emma, too. It’s possible that the block is simply wearing down. Maybe yours wasn’t as strong, or it could have weakened with time.”
“There’s something I don’t get. I live alone. Why wouldn’t this Borré have come for me before now? If he’s collecting these . . .” She waved a hand.
“The Twelve,” Ava said.
“Creative.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “If he’s collecting the Twelve, why not take me?”
“Maybe he lost you,” Ava replied. “If you’ve been shuffled around in foster homes, maybe he lost track of you.”
“Or maybe he has his own reasons,” Caleb said. “Like Gideon said, we don’t know what’s going through Borré’s mind right now.”
Sophie stood up and rubbed at the back of her neck as she walked across the room. After a moment, she turned to face them. “So Ava and I share a father. And we were bred to help him with this plan?”
Gideon nodded.
“And this, this . . . Emma, she’s one of his kids, too?”
“They all are,” Ava said with a wince. “Borré’s the father of all the Twelve. But we all have different mothers.”
Sophie froze, and when she looked at Ava, her eyes were wide with shock, or maybe fear. “Not all,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Caleb asked.
Her lip trembled and Ava took her hand. “It’s okay, you can trust us,” she said.
“I haven’t seen him in years,” Sophie said quickly. “We were separated when we were little.”
“Who?” Gideon’s voice cut through the rising tension.
She replied as if in a daze, her words low and running together. “They wanted a little boy, but two kids were too much—”
“Hold on a second,” Gideon said. “What are you talking about?”
Sophie blinked and focused once again on the Guardian leader. “Isaiah,” she said. “And if having the same father means I’m part of the Twelve, then he is, too.”
“Holy crap,” Ava murmured. “You mean—”
“Yeah. Isaiah.
He’s my baby brother.”
Elias Borré sipped his double espresso, wincing at the bitter taste as he checked his watch one more time. He frowned.
Unacceptable.
Being late was something he wouldn’t ordinarily tolerate, but given the venue—the young couple in the corner, a businessman tapping at his laptop, the bored barista leaning on the counter playing some game on his phone—there was little he could do.
No, it would be too much work to deal with Emma’s tardiness here. Too much to clean up, and Elias really hadn’t the time nor the inclination to deal with it. So he’d let it slide.
He checked his watch again.
I’ll give her ten minutes.
He rarely met his people in public, preferring to stay on the more private estate on the edge of town, but once in a while, he needed a double espresso or a pain au chocolat. The coffee shop in the middle of downtown Kalispell, Montana, created a fair rendition of his favorite pastry. The coffee wasn’t bad either.
For peasants.
Elias shook his head and sighed. Perhaps he was losing his taste for the finer things. He hated the idea of it, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was where he needed to be.
For the moment.
He fought the urge to rub at his eyes. The contacts irritated him, and he seldom wore them, but out in the world it was best not to stick out. He had to admit that he was looking forward to the day when his people could lose the contacts and lift the Veils for good. When they could step out of the shadows and take their rightful place.
Elias sensed her halfway down the block and took another sip of his espresso, schooling his expression into one of cool disappointment. Emma needed a firm hand, they all did, but his daughter was eager to please. It was a benefit, but also made her careless, on occasion.
The girl in question burst through the door, eyes frantic as they settled on him. She took a deep breath and dropped her gaze as she approached. “I’m sorry I’m late, Father,” she said, her voice a quiet tremble. “Traffic was—”
“Excuses, Emma?” he said reproachfully. “Really?”
She swallowed, head dipping in acknowledgment of the reprimand. “I’m sorry, Father.”
The MORE Trilogy Page 51