My fingers flexed at my sides, the leathery skin pulling taut. Where was she going with this?
“You were an inspiration to me…”
A snarl vibrated from my chest. “You’re kissing ass again.”
She shook her head quickly. “I mean it. Being at the estate like that—it confirmed for me that everything you’d said about your family was true. They really had tortured you. Heck, while I was captured, Markus even talked about some of the things he’d watched your father and uncle do to you.” She swallowed hard. I raised my eyebrows impatiently.
“I barely survived what Markus and his guards did to me. But you, you not only walked away—you joined the Network to keep them from doing it to other people. I respect you, Magnolia. You have to know that.”
OK, I wasn’t nearly the humanitarian she was making me out to be. Hell, if Thirteen hadn’t been the one Markus had captured, no way I would have returned to the estate just to rescue her and some other agents. But her sincerity rang true. I didn’t sense any feelings of guilt or disloyalty from her—only anxiety mixed with varying degrees of fear.
“What I know is that you are a liar.” She cringed as if I’d slapped her. “All this time you’ve been blocking your thoughts from me, I left you alone about it because Heather thought you wanted to be my friend. But I can’t trust someone if I can’t see inside them. It never occurred to me that you were betraying not only me but the entire Network. God, Cordele. Working with my brother? How could you even do that?”
Her lower lip quivered. The tears in her eyes weren’t from the lingering pain of my mindsweep. After a moment, she swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “I’ve never betrayed my team or my mission. I’m the most dedicated agent Thirteen has. You can trust me.”
“Bullshit! I saw your memories. I saw you curled up with Malcolm. God, I don’t even want to think about all the Network information you’ve passed on to him.”
“I never passed on anything! Not about our team and certainly not about you. I would never betray our mission like that. Malcolm has been helping me. He’s the one passing information on to me.”
Jesus Christ, she really believed that. It was plain as day all over her mind. She truly believed she’d found the perfect inside informant in my brother. And Thirteen had thought I was naive when it came to relationship shit.
She pushed herself to standing, holding herself up on unsteady legs. With a swipe of her hand, she pushed the snow and tears from her face. “Think about it, Magnolia. Everything your father and uncles did to you—the torture, the degradation. You had to escape the only home you’ve ever known just to get away from the daily persecution. Malcolm is the same way. He’s just not as strong as you are. He has to fight them in secret. If he ever tried to escape—”
“Wait. What?”
“Your brother Malcolm.” She took a deep breath to steel herself. “You were right. I have met with him. Not at the estate,” she said quickly, “but at secured locations.” She sighed. “He found me right after that whole thing with Markus. While the FBI questioned your father and uncles, he snuck out and went to the hospital to see if any of Markus’s prisoners had survived. Your family knew we were all with the Network, and Malcolm figured this was his best chance to get in with us, to help stop your family. He saw me leave the hospital and followed me home. When he surprised me on the front steps of my house, at first I was terrified. I knew who he was, and I tried to shoot him right then and there. But then we looked into each other’s eyes, and it was just…” Her voice turned dreamy, and I wanted to vomit.
Yeah, I bet everything changed the moment she’d looked into his eyes. His mental manipulation powers weren’t nearly as strong as mine or Uncle Max’s. He had to look his victims in the eyes to turn their minds to his will.
“He’s the one who gave me the formula to develop the truth serum we use,” she continued eagerly. “He’s the one who got us the invitations to the gala. He wants out of your family as much as you did, but he can’t escape the way you did. He can’t fake his death and run away. His father and the senator would come looking for him. They need him, Magnolia.”
My chest burned, and I realized I’d stopped breathing. This was so bad. The lies she was remembering him telling her, the stories she believed so completely. Oh God. Malcolm had completely scrambled her logic.
“Cordele, listen to me very carefully.” My eyes were still red, and my hands were still claws, but maybe if I kept the sincerity in my voice, she’d see past all that and actually hear me. “You are the smartest person on our team, and I need you to use that big brain of yours to understand what I am saying. Cordele, Malcolm has used his powers on you. He’s lied to you. He has never helped you or anyone else. Ever. Whatever information he’s passed on to you, he did with his own agenda.”
She shook her head. “No, Magnolia, you’re wrong. I know him now. I know what he’s been through. He hates your family as much as you do for what they did to you and him.”
“They never did anything to him!” And if her mind wasn’t totally twisted right now, she’d remember that.
Cordele flinched again. I took a deep breath. “Cordele, Malcolm has never been tortured a day in his life. He tortured me. And I’m not talking about him just sitting there and watching while Father did his thing—I can see that’s what you’re thinking right now. He participated, Cordele, in nearly all the stuff that Father did to me. Hell, he’d seek me out so he could hurt me on his own.”
Still she shook her head. In her thoughts she replayed all the tales he’d told her: how Father had forced him to watch my punishments, how he himself had been used in Father’s experiments, cut and beaten. I tasted blood as my teeth fought to turn into fangs.
“Lies!” I hissed. Cordele pulled out her gun. Holding it in both hands, she aimed it at the ground in front of me. Fortunately, I was too pissed off to care. “Father never laid a hand on that bastard. Never bled him, never beat him. Nothing. If Father had even attempted to do half the shit to him that was done to me, Malcolm would have been dead years ago. Instead, Malcolm cut me and gutted me—and the prick got off on it! My God, you are not this fucking stupid. He’s the one who killed me, for Christ’s sake!”
“Apparently not.”
The clear satisfaction in his deep voice came from behind me and froze me in place. Motherfucker. I’d been so wrapped up in my shock and anger at Cordele that I hadn’t even felt his energy in the air. But I felt it now. Cold, arrogant, calculating. This was the reason my powers were acting up right now. Malcolm was here.
Son of a bitch.
CHAPTER 35
Slowly I turned. Cordele and I had moved farther into the yard than I’d realized. Malcolm stood right in front of the porch steps, a good twenty feet away from me. My breath caught as a slew of memories crashed into me: the cracking laughter of an adolescent as Father showed him how to bind me with chains in the old horse barn; his tireless whining at dinners, while I hid motionless behind the draperies, begging to be given a chance to bleed me on his own; the sick, endless games of hide-and-seek where his lust-filled thoughts always preceded his painful gropes.
It had been over a year since he and Markus decapitated me and buried me under Uncle Mallroy’s shed. Weak-ass morons had had to shoot me in the back with a tranq dart to get me down. Neither was powerful enough to take me out on his own. Standing before me now, the bastard was more handsome than ever. Taller than me by a good couple of inches, dark-blond hair waving in the snowy breeze. Polo cologne wafted all around him, so thick I had to swallow back my gag reflex. Thick eyebrows over deep-set eyes, a jaw so similar to Father’s it should be broken on principle. Only his nose disrupted an otherwise flawless set of features—I’d shattered his face too many times defending myself for it to have been set perfectly.
Malcolm’s thoughts were churning. A raw smugness warred with a remembered hesitancy. My family thought I was dead and that he had killed me. He’d seen vague images of a Network agent with supernatural
powers when he intruded on Cordele’s thoughts—a flash of hair, a shot of speed—but nothing concrete about who I really was. She’d protected my identity, after all, just like she said.
So then why wasn’t he surprised to see me?
My eyes flared, and my claws curled. He took a step back. His thoughts narrowed with a steady stream of Ohshitohshitohshitohshit! I smiled. Of all my family, only Markus had ever seen my beastly transformation, and that was right before I’d ripped out his throat. Malcolm, the piece of shit, should be scared.
His fear only lasted a moment, though, before he masked it with that arrogant look I knew so well. He tugged on his heavy black trench coat and squared his shoulders.
“Magnolia,” he said with an annoying air of satisfaction. “I knew it was you. When we found Markus in that barn, his throat shredded like that, I knew it had to be you. No matter what Uncle Max said about not sensing your powers anymore.”
He raked his gaze over me, and my stomach clenched in revulsion. How many times had he scanned me like that, his thoughts eager to start touching me?
“I have to admit, though,” he continued, “this new look isn’t the most attractive I’ve seen you.”
I hissed, my teeth straining. Malcolm flinched before he could help it, then forced himself to stand his ground. A new calculation gleamed in his eyes. Still alive and with more powers. Father’s going to shit himself.
Before I knew what I was doing, I picked up Cordele’s car with my mind and threw it at him. A few feet away, Cordele screamed. Malcolm stepped out of the way, using the same supernatural speed I had. But when he did, the car hit the ground hard, skidding in the snow, straight toward Cordele. She’d inched her way to the side of the yard, moving toward the house.
Shit! I diverted the car into a small tree to keep it from crashing into her.
“Temper, temper, Magnolia.” I felt the chill of Malcolm’s power slide along my thoughts. “You don’t want to hurt our lovely Cordele, do you?” he purred. “Your teammate? Your friend?” He twisted his mouth in a way that told me just how little he really thought of her. “And you don’t really want to kill me either. Not when I’m here to help you.”
A whip of power slashed across his chest, tearing a nice, satisfying hole through his cashmere sweater. He countered instantly; a smack of power slapped across my face, leaving my cheek throbbing. Shit! I’d forgotten how much stronger he was than Markus. I balled my clawed hands and forced myself not to attack. I needed Cordele out of there. Malcolm and I were going to battle it out—right here, right now. If she hung around while we went at it, there was no way she’d get away without being hurt.
With a not-so-subtle push, I directed her thoughts. Get in her banged-up car and leave. Drive to Thirteen, head to Charles and Marie’s, whatever—just go.
She didn’t move. I pushed again.
Nothing.
As if sensing what I was doing, Malcolm smiled. You can’t touch her mind, his thoughts slithered through my head. She’s mine now.
I tried again. Sure enough, there was a block there. I could read her thoughts but not direct them. Damn it! How did he do that?
“Cordele,” I growled out. My teeth were painful to speak around now. “You have to get out of here.”
She stood several feet away, gun in hand, watching as Malcolm and I squared off. At my words, she moved quickly. But not to her newly dented car. She moved to stand directly in front of Malcolm, blocking him from me.
“You have to listen to us, Magnolia,” she pleaded. “Malcolm isn’t the same person you remember him to be.”
The utter adoration that I’d seen in her memories was back. It was as if the brainy Network agent I’d known for the past year was gone.
“Jesus Christ, Malcolm, what have you done to her?”
From inside the farmhouse, the shrill sound of Alannah Myles’s “Black Velvet” rang out. I’d just customized the song as Theo’s ringer in my cell phone yesterday. Instantly a surge of warmth shot through me, swelling my power like a pulse. Malcolm’s eyes went wide. I slammed down my mental walls, but the flashed thought of my connection to Theo had been too strong in my mind.
Malcolm moved behind Cordele, snaking his arm around her waist. The new calculation shining in his eyes made me want to scream.
“It’s not what I’ve done to her, Magnolia. It’s what she’s done to me. We have a connection, you see, Cordele and I. She strengthens me, gives me purpose. Surely you can understand that, can’t you?”
How dare he make up a lie based on what I had with Theo! A hard growl erupted from my chest. Cordele’s mind swirled. She remembered image after image of me and Theo: the noticeable strength that Theo now had as a result of our being closer; the energy that had poured over the entire team that first time we’d been reunited after my return. Did she give that same power to Malcolm? The very idea of it had her snuggling into him, holding his arms around her.
Malcolm smiled at me, content that his lie had sealed her even closer to his side.
Fuck! Now how was I going to kill him without hurting her?
“He knows what your father and uncle are doing, Magnolia,” Cordele pleaded. “He wants to help us stop them.”
Over her shoulder, Malcolm smirked. I ground my teeth and tasted blood as my fangs finally broke through. “God damn it, Cordele, wake up! It’s all a lie. You have no connection with him. He couldn’t care less about you. You have to leave before you get hurt.”
She held tighter to his arm. “Just listen. What your father and Senator Kelch are doing in Russia and those other countries has nothing to do with manufacturing facilities. They’re trying to grow their power—their real power, not just their political and economical foothold. This is so much more than what Thirteen and Jon think.”
Behind her Malcolm suddenly grew serious. “She’s right, Magnolia. This isn’t about Kelch Incorporated. This is about us.” In his mind I saw Father’s tools again. “You remember the tools, don’t you?”
I curled my lip. “Are you kidding me? You used one of Father’s blades to cut off my head!”
Cordele straightened. She hadn’t known that. Malcolm just waved it off. “I was a different person then.” She instantly calmed. Moron. “It’s the symbol on them that’s important, Magnolia. Do you have any idea what those tools are?”
Something inside me hesitated, and the man from my dreams flashed in my mind. “They came from Grandmother,” I said slowly. “She used them to punish Father, Uncle Max, and Uncle Mallroy when they were young. Then she gave them to Father to use on me before she died.”
Malcolm frowned. Whereas my ability to crawl through people’s minds had been there at birth, his had developed over time. He hadn’t gotten all the background stories that had played through Father’s head over the years. He’d never realized that Grandmother—the sick bitch that she was—had used the same torture tools on Father that he’d used on me. And to show just how twisted a fuck my older brother really was, he actually felt a twinge of jealousy that the tools hadn’t been used on him. Like he’d missed out on some family tradition or something.
“God, what the hell is wrong with you?”
He cleared his head and glared. “The point is: Where did Grandmother get them? They’re family heirlooms. They had to come from somewhere, and it sure as hell wasn’t her side of the family.” For a moment all arrogance fled Malcolm’s face. “I’m not enough for them anymore, Magnolia. They need more.”
It took me a minute, but I finally understood what he was saying. It was all about the bloodline, the way our powers grew stronger when we were near one another. Separate, Father and our uncles were each a force to be reckoned with, but when the three of them were together, they were virtually unstoppable. Father’s telekinesis jumped from car battery to nuclear power plant. Uncle Max’s telepathy could create an entire city of zombies if he wanted. Uncle Mallroy could shape-shift into anything—at least, I think he could; his powers were always hard to figure out. But whatever
their strongest ability, they needed the power of their family to keep themselves at their strongest. It was why Father had had children in the first place, and why he had experimented with other supernaturals. Like his Marlena.
Uncle Max had been completely against any of them procreating, terrified that they’d inadvertently create a child more powerful than even them. But Father’s need for more had ultimately won out.
Of course, in the end, Uncle Max had been right. I was more powerful than any of them combined. And according to Malcolm’s thoughts, when I died—or rather, escaped—their power levels had taken a bigger hit than they expected. And then I’d killed Markus. All that was left now was Malcolm. If what he said was true—and judging by the anger and fear pouring out of him, I had a feeling it was—his presence wasn’t providing enough juice to keep their power at the level they were used to. They wanted more.
I remembered facing off with Father during the gala, the eagerness he’d felt when he’d realized I could strengthen him. All those years of torturing me and trying to kill me—it had never occurred to them just how much the presence of my power had been affecting them.
My cell phone rang out again. The urge to run in there and hear Theo’s voice was nearly too tremendous to suppress. But I had other things to deal with at the moment.
“What does that have to do with the tools?” My voice was almost normal. My teeth had receded a bit. I curled my fists. Yep, still claws. Good.
“It’s what they’re doing in Bohlren and those other places,” Cordele explained. “They are looking for more of those tools because they think they will yield them more power.”
I cocked a brow at my brother. He rolled his eyes behind Cordele’s back. Father doesn’t think the tools will make them stronger, he whispered with his thoughts. He knows our power doesn’t come from inanimate objects. The man’s not an idiot. We’d have to disagree on that one. It’s the symbol. They’re searching for the maker of the tools.
A new fluttering began to brew inside me. Were they really thinking what I thought they were thinking?
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