by I. T. Lucas
“How powerful is the pure-bloods' compulsion ability?” Kian asked.
“Jade is the most powerful. The females usually are.”
Kian wondered if that was another reason for their matriarchal society. “What can she do?”
“She can control a herd, either of animals or humans.”
“Can she control the other pure-bloods?”
Emmett shook his head. “Not with compulsion. I don’t know how I got an ability that not even she who must be obeyed has.”
“What about the males?” Andrew asked. “How many humans can they compel at once?”
“It depends on the male. Everyone is different.”
Compulsion worked through sound waves and therefore was limited to those who could hear the compeller, but as Emmett had said, the Kra-ell bundled together all mind manipulation, calling everything compulsion.
“Can you compel humans with just a thought?” he asked. “Or do you need them to hear you?”
“I need to be heard. The pure-bloods can do that with a thought, but only when looking into their victims’ eyes. Sound is more effective.”
Stella chuckled. “Then I guess your bitch of a leader must have a really loud voice to be able to control a herd.”
Emmett blanched. “Please don’t use profanities when talking about her.”
“Bitch is not a cuss word.” Stella crossed her arms over her chest. “And from what Vrog told me, she deserves that and more. She thinks that all the males are her personal slaves.”
“She doesn’t think that. They are her slaves.”
66
Margaret
“You’re making good progress, Margaret.” The nurse put the tools of her trade back in her bag. “How is your pain level? Do you need more codeine?”
This was unexpected. The nurse at the hospital had told her that the small quantity the doctor had prescribed should be enough, and to switch to Motrin when she ran out. She’d explained that given the growing opioid problem, they were very careful with prescribing it.
Apparently, the medical staff working for Bowen’s organization was less stingy and dispersed them more easily.
Saying no was incredibly hard, and it required a resolve she wasn’t sure she had. Once again, she found herself with an uncertain future, worried and in pain. Taking the edge off was so damn tempting.
Margaret swallowed. “I’d better not.”
Gertrude pulled out a pill container from her bag. “Keep it for an emergency. If the pain is manageable, just don’t take them.” She put it on the coffee table and pushed to her feet. “I’ll come again in a week. In the meantime, keep doing the exercises I showed you.”
Margaret should have told the nurse to take the pills away, but she was too weak. Tearing her gaze from the container, she looked up at Gertrude. “Thank you. Would you like to stay for dinner? Bowen makes the best hamburgers.”
The nurse smiled. “I know, I’ve had them before, but I need to go.” She glanced out the window. “It’s getting late, and I’d rather be off the mountain by the time the sun sets.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Bowen offered.
When he came back, he regarded her with a frown. “If you wish, I can hide the pills from you.”
“That’s a good idea,” she whispered. “The pain is manageable.”
Snatching the container off the table, he disappeared into the kitchen, and Margaret did her best not to watch what he did with them.
He returned with a box of chocolates. “I heard that chocolate is not only healthy for you but it also contains compounds that stimulate endorphins.”
“Really?” She looked over the selection and chose one that looked particularly good. “What about all the sugar and fat? Aren’t they bad for you?”
Shrugging, he sat next to her, popped a piece into his mouth, and pulled out his phone. “We can check the facts. Hopefully, the positives outweigh the negatives because we have five pounds of chocolate to consume.”
Margaret laughed. “I think that we are already down to four.”
“Still.” He kept scrolling for a moment. “So here it is. Chocolate may lower cholesterol, reduce risk of heart attacks by up to fifty percent, and even prevent cancer.” He looked up at her and smiled victoriously. “Even with all the sugar and the fat it’s a much healthier alternative to codeine.”
Sitting so close and showing so much teeth he was just too much. Too handsome, too big, too muscular, and too kind. If she didn’t watch it, she was going to fall in love so hard she would not only lose herself but also get hurt. He wasn’t the type who would physically harm her, but his rejection would destroy her.
She was much older, not nearly as attractive, and she had cracks all over from when she’d been broken. Emmett had helped glue her back together, but a piece of china once broken could never look whole again.
It was such a depressing thought, one she didn’t allow herself to dwell on too often, but it was difficult when Bowen’s perfection was in such stark contrast to her imperfection.
In moments like that, the need to escape into the opioid haze was the strongest.
The devil’s hunting grounds were full of the weak and the broken.
“I’m sorry,” Bowen murmured. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Said what?”
He shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else. What do you want as a side dish with your burger?”
Bowen did that a lot, switching the conversation to safe topics like food, or movies, or music. He must have seen her cracks and was afraid that the slightest tremor would loosen the putty holding her together, and she would shatter again.
“You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me. I might have cracks all over, but it will take more than an uncomfortable conversation to break me.”
“I know that.” He took her hand, sending a shiver through her body that had nothing to do with fear. “Your cracks, as you call them, make you stronger, not weaker, and also more beautiful.”
Margaret snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re very sweet, Bowen, but I don’t need false flattery.” She sighed. “I deserve praise for the work I do because I put my heart and soul into it. I don’t deserve it for just surviving, and barely at that.”
She tried to pull her hand away, but he held on to it, gently yet firmly.
“Do you know the term wabi-sabi?”
She shook her head.
“Wabi is the beauty of asymmetric and unbalanced items. Sabi celebrates the passage of time and impermanence. Unlike Westerners, the Japanese appreciate imperfection because it encapsulates the transient nature of existence, which is full of suffering and damage. The more fragile, broken, and humble an object is, the more it is appreciated. That’s why when a piece of pottery is cracked, they repair it with beautiful lacquer to showcase it instead of hiding it.”
Margaret stifled a wince.
Bowen was a warrior, not a philosopher, and she appreciated his fumbling attempt to put a nice spin on her imperfections by using Eastern esthetics that didn’t apply to people. But it only made her feel worse.
She’d hope he didn’t notice the extent of her damage, but he was more insightful than she’d given him credit for.
“Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but I’m not an object, and it doesn’t work the same for human beings.”
“I believe it does.” He looked into her eyes. “The difference with people is that they can choose. Pain and suffering turn some bitter and resentful, while teaching others the importance of kindness. To understand the suffering of others and be willing to offer a helping hand, most need to experience it first. Have you noticed that the nicest people are those whose lives haven’t been easy?”
“I’ve never thought of it like that, but you are right.” She smiled sadly. “It’s like a club of survivors. We get each other.”
“Precisely.” He smiled brightly. “Do you understand now why you are more beautiful to me with your lacquer-filled cracks than wi
thout?”
He thought that she was beautiful?
Perhaps on the inside. He surely didn’t think of her as beautiful on the outside because she wasn’t.
Forcing a smile, Margaret pulled her hand out of his and reached for the crutches. “I’d like a salad with my hamburger.” He wasn’t the only one who could change the topic of conversation when things got uncomfortable. “And this time, I’m going to make it.”
67
Kian
“Thanks for coming.” Kian shook Turner’s hand.
“Frankly, I was curious to meet the infamous Emmett Haderech in person.” Turner put his briefcase on the conference table and pulled out a chair. “And since the keep is only a few minutes away from my office, I figured I’d stop by. Where is everyone?”
“Andrew and the brothers are getting stuff from the vending machines. Stella and Richard left when we took a break.”
He had told Turner about Stella’s confession, and as usual, the guy had reacted to it as if Kian had told him that it would be raining the next day.
No emotion.
Imagining Turner’s calm and ordered mind, Kian was envious. He could do with a little less stress and emotional upheaval.
One day he’d been envisioning alien invasion, the next he’d thought that Emmett had invented the story after participating in a Perfect Match experience, and then Stella had come forward, and it was back to alien invasion and colonization, just with a little less conviction.
As Turner and William had both pointed out, nothing had happened over the last century, so there was no reason to expect that something would in the immediate future.
They had to find the Kra-ell and figure out how many of them had settled on Earth and why.
Vrog’s name hadn’t evoked any emotion from Emmett, which could mean that Vlad’s sire had used a fake name or that he was from a different community.
Thankfully, Stella had been relatively calm and collected throughout the meeting, and when she’d started to get emotional, Kian had decided to take a break from the interrogation and had sent her and Richard home.
The next item on his agenda was getting Emmett to disclose his people’s last known location, and things could turn too intense for Stella to witness.
“Did you learn anything new?” Turner asked.
“A pure-blood has a dark triangle on the tip of the tongue that makes the tongue look as if it is forked. Their eye color is usually black, but it changes according to emotions and exposure to light. They can thrall, but only one person at a time, and all of them can use compulsion with varying levels of ability. The leader can control an entire herd with her voice alone.”
Turner arched a blond brow. “A herd?”
“Emmett’s words, not mine. I think that they regard humans as just a little more advanced than animals.”
“Can they shroud?”
Kian nodded. “But since their thralling ability is limited, I assume their shrouding is as well. They can only manipulate one human mind at a time. Also, their females are stronger compellers than their males.”
“Is that how they control them?”
“That’s what I thought as well, but Emmett said they can’t use compulsion on one another. He’s the anomaly.”
“Interesting.” Turner rubbed his forefinger over his chin. “Perhaps his human mother was a Dormant, which enhanced his ability.”
“If she was, then there should be a lot of them in China. We suspect Mey and Jin’s mother was a Dormant as well.”
Turner’s pale blue eyes leveled on Kian’s. “I wonder if there is an affinity between the Kra-ell and us. Eleanor reported feeling an unnatural attraction to Emmett. Did he say anything about her?”
Kian grimaced. “He told her that her blood smelled delicious and that it energized him like no other.”
“I need to talk to her again. If what she felt was affinity, that would help explain the improbable odds of Stella meeting Vrog, and two of the other male Kra-ell hooking up with Dormants.” Turner let out a breath. “Otherwise, I would have to conclude that the Fates had something to do with it, and you know how I feel about that.”
Leaning back, Kian crossed his arms over his chest. “If a skeptic like me was turned into a believer, someday you might be as well.”
“I doubt it. Besides, why would the Fates do that?”
“Who knows? They play a very long game even in immortal terms.” Kian unfolded his arms and leaned forward. “Whatever it is, though, it probably has something to do with love. The Fates seem to be all about matchmaking.”
“Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match…” Anandur pranced into the office, singing the song from Fiddler on the Roof in a high-pitched voice. “Find me a find, catch me a catch.” He put a paper bag full of sandwiches on the conference table and continued twirling around while holding the two sides of his jacket out as if it was a skirt. “Matchmaker, Matchmaker, look through your book, and make me a perfect match.”
68
Leon
Leon stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his wet body, and opened the bathroom door. He’d taken no more than two minutes, but during that short time, his anxiety had managed to reach explosive levels.
Listening to the monitors for a long moment, he let out a relieved breath. Anastasia was still sleeping, but no alarms had sounded, and everything was exactly the same as before.
With Julian monitoring her vitals from his office, Leon had nothing to fear, but his anxiety wasn’t rational. The only way he could stay calm was to be right next to her.
After toweling off quickly, he pulled on fresh clothes and returned to his post on the chair next to her bed.
A few minutes later a soft knock sounded at the door, and he pushed to his feet to open the way.
“Hi.” Eleanor pulled him into her arms for a quick hug. “How are you holding up?”
“He’s fine.” Peter walked in with two bags filled with takeout boxes. “Let’s eat.” He looked around the small room. “We need one more chair.”
“I’ll get it.” Eleanor left and came back a moment later with a chair. “We can use the rolling table. Is the height adjustable?”
“It is.” Leon rolled it over. “Thanks for coming and bringing me food. I can’t look at another sandwich.”
“Ella is here.” Eleanor sat down. “I asked them to join us, but they had other plans.” She smiled. “Julian locked his office door.”
Peter started taking out boxes. “We can leave some for them.” He winked. “They’ll be hungry after they are done playing.”
Leon wasn’t happy about the doctor getting distracted, but the guy was mated, and he hadn’t gone home since admitting Anastasia to the clinic.
Leon took a bowl of pho and started slurping noodles. “It’s delicious.”
Eleanor snorted. “You’re hungry. We should have ordered takeout from Bluebird’s. Yesterday, we took Bowen and Margaret there, and everyone enjoyed the food.” She opened another container and looked inside. “Those two are in denial, pretending like they don’t feel the spark between them.”
“You’ve noticed.” Leon paused stuffing his mouth for a moment. “Bowen is being smart about it. Margaret can’t be just a casual hookup, and he can’t offer her anything more.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” Eleanor pulled a wrap out of the box. “She and Anastasia became best friends very quickly, and given their age and background differences, that’s unusual. Who knows? Maybe there is an affinity between Dormants. Vivian and Josh were drawn to each other like magnets. I didn’t understand it at the time, but it makes sense since both of them were Dormants.”
“You were around Dormants in the government program,” Peter said. “And you didn’t befriend any of them. Not for real, anyway.”
“I was a different person back then.” Eleanor put the half-eaten wrap on a paper napkin. “I was closed off, suspicious, angry.”
Peter chuckled. “And now you’re not?”
As a long moment of awkward silence stretched between them, Peter shifted his eyes to Anastasia. “I hoped that the appetizing smells would wake her up.”
“Julian says that she needs to shut off nonessential functions so her body can focus on the transition.” Leon glanced at the monitor equipment displays. “He’s not worried, and I try not to be.”
“Right.” Peter pulled a wrap from the box Eleanor had opened. “I guess I should start looking for a new place.” He lifted his eyes to Eleanor. “Do you want to be my roommate?”
“You want me to move in with you?”
He shrugged. “Do you want to stay with Magnus and Vivian?”
“God, no. I’m dying to get out of there. Especially since they live in the new phase where all the ex-Doomers are. I don’t want to accidentally bump into Greggory. Do you think Kian will approve? I just wish that there were vacancies in the old part of the village.”
“I can solve the problem for you,” Leon said. “I don’t mind the ex-Doomers. Anastasia and I can move into a new house in phase two, and you can move in with Peter once I leave. Our place is in the old part.” He looked at Anastasia and smiled. “I actually prefer to move into a brand new house. A new beginning and all that.”
“What smells so good?” came a soft murmur from the bed.
In his rush to get up, Leon nearly knocked the rolling cart over.
“You’re awake.”
“I’m hungry. And who or what are ex-Doomers?”
Leon laughed. “Always with the multiple questions.” He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.” She smiled. “My appetite is back.”
Eleanor pushed to her feet. “We should leave you two alone.”
“No, stay.” Anastasia lifted her hand. “Finish your dinner and tell me all about the ex-Doomer and who’s Greggory, and why you don’t want to bump into him.” She shifted her eyes to Leon. “If we move into the ex-Doomers' neighborhood, I need to know who to avoid.”