Part 20 (1/2)
I let that happen.
I wanted to scream, to punch someone, something. Stupid, clueless me and I thought I was doing the right thing. The best thing for the sake of the greater good. Talk about an idiot throwing herself on the sword for beings who didn't care at all about me. Including my father. Especially my father.
”Alex.” It was Bran kneeling before me, so close all I could see was him. Dark hair ruffled, Celtic blue eyes very serious, the slashes of his cheekbones prominent as if he was clenching his jaw really tight. He grabbed my hands between his, rubbing them, which alerted me to the fact they were cold. Arctic ice cold. I was chilled all over, suddenly shaking. ”Someone get me a brandy or bourbon,” he snarled.
I heard movement in the background as I focused on Bran, using him to anchor me in place so I didn't spiral away and then a hand appeared before me with a gla.s.s. Jaylene's hand.
He took the crystal and nudged the rim against my lips. ”Drink this. Now.”
How like Bran. Do this. Do that. Warlock arrogance. But right then he was right. I couldn't think for myself. In a minute maybe, but not right then.
I took a sip, felt the sear to my toes then shook my head. I didn't want anything to make me more numb, I was so numb as it was I might never surface.
Numbness was better than the hurt hiding just beneath it. Not deep beneath but like a sliver wedged just deep enough into your finger that every time you brushed against it your whole body flinched.
Bran pulled me to my feet. I wasn't a rag doll but he seemed to have his own agenda. So like him. And he was angry, so angry I could feel the heat roil off of him. He looked at Ling Mai who was hidden behind him somewhere. ”This is how you treat your agents?”
No one answered. Not that I blamed them. With the tone of his voice if he'd been a s.h.i.+fter or Were he'd already be changing into an angry beast.
”Alex is coming with me,” he announced.
”And you're going where?” It was Stone who answered that challenge, stepping forward, his chin high, his stance aggressive. Alpha to Alpha. Great, just what I needed, more potential bloodshed. If they tore each other from limb to limb maybe I'd get two life sentences. Or the death penalty. The way the day was unfurling I'd put my money on the latter.
Before I could speak Bran did. ”We're looking for the doctor. When we find him we'll let you know.”
”And if you don't find him?” Ling Mai's voice washed over me.
”We will,” he said, and even I believed him. I who knew that wasn't his real agenda.
”And what about Alex?” Stone was pus.h.i.+ng. I'd like to think it was for my sake, that whole team thing that everyone else seemed to conveniently forget when it was not working for them. But then he added, ”The Council isn't going to be too happy when they find out she was here but left.”
Of course. When would I learn? No one cared if I lived or died, went to prison or remained free, was a part of the team or not, as long as I didn't rock their boats. I wasn't having a pity party as much as a buck-up-baby and get with the program. Maybe if I could tap into the rage bubbling inside me I could speak and move and act mostly human instead of the walking who kept trusting the wrong people; starting with my mother, my father and right up to here.
”Screw the Council,” Bran bit back. The minute I got my stuffing back I'd thank him for that, even if I should be able to stand up for myself. Any time now.
”I'm afraid that is not possible,” Ling Mai, ever the voice of calm reason cut in. ”Miss Noziak is a member of this Agency and her actions, or disappearance, reflect upon the whole team.”
”Then you can tell the Council I'll have her in front of them by ten tomorrow.”
And here I thought he'd been working on my behalf. Silly witch, how many lessons did I need to get that message through my head? I was on my own. If my mother abandoned me and my father did basically the same thing behind the closed doors of Council business, why should I expect Ling Mai or Bran to watch my back?
I said nothing. No words, no protests, no scathing comments could ease past the chunk of anger choking me.
Stone kept pus.h.i.+ng. ”We trust you to appear before the Council tomorrow because?”
”Because that's when I'm supposed to report to them myself.”
Oh, yeah, I'd actually forgot about that for a few minutes.
Bran pulled me toward the door, one hand wrapped about my arm which kept me upright. ”You know how to contact me. How to get ahold of Alex if you need her, but it'd better be because you've found Vaverek, or a way to clear Alex's name.”
I shook myself loose of Bran's hold as he opened the suite's door and turned to look at my fellow team members. Kelly was quivering, half visible, half invisible, a sure sign of stress. Jaylene kept her body still, her expression the same as she glanced from me to Ling Mai and back. Mandy's gaze was averted, not that I expected much from her. Stone was holding back Vaughn, which helped give some oomph to my spine. And Ling Mai looked as if everything was business as usual, and she hadn't just blown my world apart.
To think when I'd entered this room I was glad to see my teammates, the women I was coming to think of as friends.
I wouldn't make that mistake again.
CHAPTER 42.
Jeb sat beneath the Linden tree in Philippe's garden, the sc.r.a.p of paper directing him to the park earlier still gripped within his hands, his thumb idly rubbing back and forth, back and forth, as if touching the words would bring clarity.
Pdraig was off executing Council business and Jeb was alone. Waiting. Looking for connections where he could see none. Yet.
Why did Philippe have to die? Who benefitted? And who was behind Van's initial disappearance and now his actions in the park? Actions that stirred the Council into a flurry of communication with one another, but to what end? If the warlock who had been with Alex was truly a threat, or implicated in what had happened to Philippe, or Van, the warlock should not have been allowed a stay from judgment. Unless he had contacts on the Council, which was becoming a stronger and stronger possibility.
What was the warlock's role in events? And how had he involved Alex?
Jeb couldn't ask such questions during the Council session earlier because they were not directly related to the reason this Bran was being examined and later, when Jeb sought the warlock out, he'd already disappeared.
And the most disturbing question: why had Van attacked Jeb earlier? s.h.i.+fters and Weres could go loco for many reasons; age, grief, the challenges of balancing both human and animal selves. It was why Weres and s.h.i.+fters banded in packs or clans, as mutual self-protection. If a particular s.h.i.+fter or Were looked as if they could no longer walk the tightrope required of their existence the pack leader was responsible for eliminating them.
Jeb knew his Native American ancestors had resorted to a similar response during times of extreme stress for the tribe. If an individual threatened the tribe's existence, if they could not contribute but had or might become a drain on limited resources, it had been deemed the best to expose the individual to the environment. Let them die so others could live. Sacrifice for the larger good.
The larger non-human population could not let dangerous Weres and s.h.i.+fters walk off and die on their own. No, the Pack or Clann leader would either execute the individual himself, or call upon a designated slayer. One death for the salvation of the many.
If turning loco is what had happened to Van, then Jeb was responsible for ending his son's life.
It was their way and they both knew it.
But knowing and accepting were two sides of a honed sword's blade, and this knowledge cut deep.
He heard the footsteps approaching only because as a s.h.i.+fter he possessed acute sensory abilities. The sound was stealthy but not threatening. Not yet.
Jeb turned a fraction so the man could slide into his view. Still he waited.
”You are not surprised,” said the voice that held a hint of his Middle Eastern roots, but not the subservience of a butler anymore.
”No.”
The man Philippe called Zeid stepped before Jeb, looking taller and thinner than he had when playing the role of Philippe's servant. The last afternoon light reflected off the darkness of his hair, the swarthiness of his skin, making him more sinister than he might be. Jeb hadn't decided yet if the man was friend or foe.
”You are not afraid of me?” Zeid asked, a frown creasing his face as if revaluating Jeb just as Jeb was doing to him.
”Should I be?”
”I am fae,” came the neutral response, that could be either threat or reprieve. Fae were among the most populous of the preternaturals and ranged from relatively harmless and beneficial types, the innocui; goat spirits, garden sprites, bee keepers; to the very powerful and dangerous, the pericui; dream masters, spirits of iron and metal, soul stealers.