Part 22 (1/2)
”And I'm afraid it will be someone close to you, but that will be the only way to see if the drug is truly effective.”
Van froze. A nightmare? The voice must be a frightening illusion. That was all.
”I'm afraid this is no illusion, Mister Noziak. I am very much real. And what you must do is very real, too.”
A scream tore from Van's throat. ”Never.”
”Soon, very soon.”
Van would kill himself before he allowed them to kill him.
A laugh whipped against him. ”Bon. After you kill, suicide is a good solution.”
CHAPTER 45.
We ended up back at the warehouse, which made sense. I hadn't told my team where I'd stayed the night before, only that Bran had arranged it. Not that they really cared at this moment. I cast a quick glance at my phone, wondering if I should chuck it now so no one could trace me on it. Or wait.
For what? For them to decide Bran couldn't or wouldn't be bringing me before the Council tomorrow? Or for me to head out on my own at the first chance?
”You're thinking too much again,” Bran said, walking up behind me so quietly I jumped.
”I expected Francois and Willie to be here.” Yes, I changed the subject but Bran was a little too intuitive for me to trust he wouldn't guess my idea about leaving. Why shouldn't I? The Council had messed with me once, there was no reason to meekly show up on their doorstep to be executed because they were too lazy to find out who really killed Philippe Cheverill.
Bran might think he was being all responsible and honorable appearing before them tomorrow, but not me. If I couldn't find Van in the next twelve hours running was a good option. The result would be inevitable, my death, but at least if I ran I stood a chance to still help Van, if he was still alive. No more acting like a sheep from me.
”Did you hear me?” Bran asked, refocusing my attention back on him.
”Hear what?”
He pulled up a ha.s.sock to sit on across from where I perched on the couch, my arms wrapped around me. ”I said Willie and Francois should be here any moment. In the meantime I have some questions.”
”About what?” No way was I telling him the train of my thoughts.
He was sitting on the edge of the stool, his hands clasped in front of him, his attention all on me. And when he focused you felt it. At least I did, like an electrical current running beneath my skin. ”Explain what you did yesterday morning in the street fight.”
The fight? Was that only yesterday? I had to shake myself away from thoughts of Bran to another topic I didn't want to discuss. No point in acting like I didn't know exactly what he was asking about. ”What does it matter?”
His laugh sounded bitter. ”The type of people we're going up against are not your normal threat. If you hadn't done what you did, you, me and your team would have died.”
Finally, someone who saw what I'd done the way I saw it. It wasn't black magic I'd used, at least I didn't think it was. Most black magic involved body parts and death. I'd only channeled power.
”You want me to use that ability against Vaverek?” Is that where he was going with his thought process? ”Because it's not a spell I'm sure I can replicate. With any precision especially, sort of like having an AK47 and a bad case of palsy. I'm surprised the spell worked at all.”
Plus my dad had warned me against exercising it. He made me swear I'd never use it, once he'd seen me call it as a child. But I had employed it again, to save Jake from that rogue Were. And look where that got me-prison for life. Is that why my dad had abandoned me to the Council? Because he knew I'd broken my word to him? Or because I was some kind of a freak with what I could do?
Bran waved his hand before my face. ”Come back,” he said, his voice low and if it had been anyone else, I'd have said concerned. But this was Bran.
”Tell me what happened to the non-humans you'd been fighting after I left.”
”Why did you leave?”
He actually laughed, but not containing any mirth. ”You stole my magic without as much as a by your leave. Did you think it made sense for me to stick around?”
Well, when he phrased it that way. ”It's not like I really planned for that to happen. I was just trying to save all of our skins.”
”I realized that.” He tapped one closed fist against my knee. ”Didn't mean I was happy with you at the time, so leaving was the better part of discretion.”
Go figure.
I swallowed and let him continue. ”I take it you haven't used that kind of magic a lot.”
”Are you serious?”
His laugh this time was genuine. ”Thought so. Sort of like playing with a nuclear bomb.”
So he did understand. Which I wasn't sure I liked. An enemy was better than a frenemy with him, and way better than trusting that we could be anything more. Been there, done that. Still had the broken heart.
”Back to the non-humans,” he said.
See? He wasn't getting all off track. He was precision point warlock.
”What about them?”
”Any survivors?”
”You going to bring this up to the Council?”
He sat up straight, as if I'd dashed cold water in his face. ”No.”
”You swear?”
”By the secrets of the Craft, I thee swear.”
Using the old words meant something and I had to respect that. ”Okay.” I sucked in a breath that did nothing to quiet the increase of my heart rate. ”As far as I know no non-human lived.”
”Yet you and your teammates did.” His face creased in concentration.
”And so did you.” He seemed to ignore that point and had turned inward so I pushed. ”Why does it matter?”
He glanced at me. ”It makes common sense to know the limits of a weapon.”
”You mean me?” I jabbed my thumb into my chest. ”You're thinking I'm going to go ballistic like that again?”
”Aren't you?”