“Still mad you have to have an escort to come in here now?” She grinned. “If it makes you feel better I volunteered for your raid tomorrow night. Should be fun.”
“We’ll see.” I wasn’t sure fun would be the right word for taking down an evil man like my father. It was more like I needed closure and to be done with him.
I parked the Jeep at the front of the house and we headed inside. The guards at the entrance didn’t say anything as we passed, continuing toward Derrick’s office. It was actually rather quiet this evening. With the exception of the security team, there weren’t many other sups around. When Nik ran the place it always seemed busier, wilder.
Kariann stopped in front of me just before we reached the door. “We should start sparring again. You wouldn’t want to get out of practice.”
I considered it. My skill with a sword had improved a lot since I’d first come to Fairbanks two and a half years ago, but I still wasn’t nearly as good as Kariann. It’d be good to get the exercise, too.
“Yeah, okay. After things calm down again we’ll work it out,” I agreed.
“Good. See you later.” She headed off.
I took a deep breath and schooled my features before going into the office. Derrick had his head buried in paperwork on his desk, appearing as stern as ever. I shut the door and looked to the opposite side of the room where I found Micah. He stood next to wall-to-wall shelves filled with books.
“Melena.” He inclined his head.
“Thank you for coming,” I said and waved my arm at a pair of high-backed chairs. “How about we sit and talk?”
He studied me for a moment. “If you wish.”
Derrick cleared his throat. “I’ll just leave you two alone. Don’t forget to give me your update before you leave, Melena.”
“I will.” I watched him go before taking my seat.
Micah settled in his so that we sat across from each other. It never failed to amaze me how much he looked like his brother. The only difference being he kept his blond hair longer and he wore more casual clothes. Right now, all he had on was a gray t-shirt and black jeans.
“Glad the cold doesn’t bother you,” I said.
“I just concluded some business in Mexico. It’s warmer there.”
Had he flashed straight to Fairbanks? That would explain why his power levels were really low. The greater the distance he traveled by that method the more energy it took. It was one of the reasons Lucas didn’t visit me more often when he was away. Micah was going to have to hide out somewhere close until he recharged. He could probably make it to Anchorage—assuming he and Yerik had an ally there who would keep quiet.
“More of Yerik’s preparations?” I asked.
I was trying to keep the conversation civil, though I wanted to shout at him. Lucas was suffering because of him. I couldn’t help but be angry with Micah for that.
“Yes. The preparations are worldwide.”
I supposed that made sense. “Doing what?”
“Nice try, Melena.” He gave me an amused look. “But there are some things I can’t tell you.”
I threw my hands up. “What is it with supernaturals and their desperate need to keep secrets? I’m under an oath not to talk about it.”
“The less you know the better.”
Sometimes it was a matter of asking different questions, ones they’d think were harmless. “Any idea how long it will take until you’re ready?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe a month? We could move it forward some if we had to, but it would be risky.”
I would have loved to know what they were doing to mitigate the risks. It would have taken hours of rephrasing my questions to get him to hint at that, though.
“Did you hear there’s a nerou who may know about the cure?”
Micah nodded. “Yes, but going there early will only be used as a last resort. I’m doing my best to find the cure before it comes to that.”
“I’m surprised you don’t know it already. Weren’t you around back then when the last plague outbreak happened?”
“It only lasted two years and I was in Moscow during that period.” He broke his gaze from mine. “I knew about it spreading, but I had other things on my mind at the time.”
Something was off. He wasn’t lying, but there’d been the briefest flicker of pain when he’d mentioned Moscow.
“What could have distracted you so much that you’d ignore a major plague outbreak among supernaturals?”
Silence. He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes.
“Micah?”
His fingers curled. “A woman.”
“You were in love with her, weren’t you?” I cocked my head. “Why haven’t you ever talked about her before?”
Another round of emotional pain came from him. “She’s dead. It’s not something I want to speak about.”
I wanted to pry and ask what she was like. I’d always assumed he was a ladies’ man who never stuck with just one woman for long. But it was clear the topic hurt him too much so I let it go.
“Did you ever hear anything that might help us with the plague?”
He met my eyes again. “I was the one who suggested the garlic oil. After Parthenios—the nephilim who cured everyone—died, I asked around about what he used. A werewolf told me he remembered that part very clearly.”
“That’s not surprising.” I couldn’t imagine anyone forgetting they were forced to drink garlic juice and have it rubbed on them. The stench of it still lingered in my nose.
“It wasn’t until you came back from Nik’s that I remembered the salt water. Parthenios had been asking anyone who could travel quickly to go to the Dead Sea and obtain as much as they could, then bring it back to Greece. I suspect he was bathing his patients in it to help contain the demon magic. The high salt count no doubt has some effect.”
I frowned. “If it affects the spells then it could make the disease contagious to anyone.”
“No. Someone already tried it since you got the news. From what we can tell bathing the patients in it only weakens the magic, but it doesn’t nullify it like your blood would.”
“Well, that’s something,” I conceded.
“Except it’s not enough,” Micah said, frustration in his voice. “Parthenios also used a manipulative type of healing magic, according to his patients. I just can’t figure out the spell he might have used.”
I was beginning to think people’s investigative skills sucked during the dark ages—even among the immortals who should have been smarter. Sups were dying and we had no answers for how to save them. Not truly effective ones, anyway.
“That’s all the survivors from that outbreak remember?” I gave him an exasperated look. “They didn’t pay attention to what cured them?”
Micah ground his jaw. “It was a different time. Most people weren’t educated and when someone had a proven treatment they didn’t question it.”
I leaned back in my chair. Dead Sea water. That’s all we had to go on right now and it wasn’t exactly easy to obtain. With the tensions between Israel and Jordan always high only someone who could flash and remain invisible could obtain it. That or compel a whole lot of people to look the other way while they gathered it and flew large containers out of there.
“How much do you think the Dead Sea water can help? And why don’t we just salt the heck out of some other water and replicate it?” That seemed easier than going all the way to the Middle East to get some.
“It’s still too early to tell how well it will work. As for why we can’t use other salt water…” he lifted his shoulder in a shrug, “they say the Dead Sea has a mystical quality to it.”
“How so?”
“It’s been told for as long as I can remember—which would be a very long time, mind you.” Some of those many years reflected in ancient eyes. “The only explanation I’ve heard is that when Sodom and Gomorra were destroyed the lake became a place to cleanse evil and improve health.”
I’d forgotten about those cities. The people in Sodom and Gomorrah had been so corrupt that God destroyed them as punishment for their sins. All the major Abrahamic faiths—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—told the same basic tale. Had it changed the water in some way where it could work better against demon magic than regular salt water? Apparently Micah thought so.
“So that’s it? You’re just going to keep looking for the magical part of the spell? It’s funny how your brother—who misses you, by the way—is doing the same thing.” I stood up. “Too bad you guys can’t work together.”
“Melena, you know why I must stay away from him.” He rose from his chair.
“No.” I shook my head. “Not really. Why can’t someone else do whatever it is you’re doing?”
“Because I have the power to do it faster and move during the daylight.”
Now that was interesting. It implied the only other people who could perform his task were vampires—the black magic offspring of nephilim. They had the same compulsion abilities. Ones that most other races didn’t have. But there were about four dozen nephilim out there and he didn’t have to do all the work.
“Put a stop to this,” I said, giving him a beseeching look. “I don’t care what you excuse you give, but go see your brother. It’s killing me to watch him in so much pain.”
“I can’t,” he said, regret in his eyes. “I’m needed now more than ever.”
I felt my anger rising up. “That’s such bullshit!”
He took a step closer and I backed away.
“I have to do this,” he argued.
“You’re such an ass. You can’t even imagine.” I headed for the door.
“I have my reasons,” he said to my back.
I reached for the knob. “Not good enough.”
“My daughter is in Purgatory.”
I let go of the knob and spun around. “What?”
“My daughter is there. The woman I spoke about in Moscow—she was a sensor. She died during childbirth, but I took care of our little girl until the archangels came to take her away.”
My stomach twisted. Micah had strong healing abilities, but when it came to the mother of his child he wouldn’t have been able to help much. Her immunity to his powers would have prevented him from doing anything other than basic care before she died. Then he’d had to give up his daughter shortly afterward, losing them both. No wonder he’d pushed for me to use birth control after Lucas and I mated. He hadn’t wanted us to suffer the loss of a child or die trying to keep it.
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” I slowly walked back toward him.
“You know how my brother feels about your race. I thought it was best if he never knew. At least, not until I found a way to free the nerou.” There was agony in his eyes. His emotions pushed at my senses until I almost couldn’t breathe. How could he have hidden this for so long without telling anyone?
“I’m surprised you didn’t get yourself in trouble just so you could go to Purgatory and see her.”
He gave me a sad smile. “You forget that until recently we didn’t even know the nerou were there. Most of us thought they’d been taken somewhere even more impenetrable.”
Like heaven. That’s what I’d thought until I learned the truth while rescuing Lucas.
“So this is why you’re willing to risk your brother’s wrath?”
“It is,” he agreed.
“This is going to be one gigantic mess when he finds out. I hope you realize that,” I warned.
“It is why I’ve finally chosen to tell you the truth. Something tells me you may be the only one able to reach him and explain things.” He took hold of my arms. “I’m relying on you to do that.”
“I’ll do my best, but there’s no guarantee he’ll listen to me either.”
He gave me a weak smile. “You underestimate your power over him. He would destroy the world for you if you asked him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m not.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lucas
“Are they dead?” Lucas asked.
Kristen, a witch and the closest thing they had to a healer, glanced over at the two bodies laid out on the floor. “Yes, master. Both of them passed in the last few hours.”
She’d been Melena’s best friend back when they were fourteen, but they’d hardly seen each other since. Lucas was grateful to have the witch in Juneau. Most of her coven had died after Zoe recruited them for a battle against the supernaturals in Fairbanks last year. Kristen had remained loyal to him and Sayer, which was particularly useful since witches hadn’t been targeted by the plague as of yet.
“Burn the bodies and inform the families,” Lucas ordered.
He stalked off.
He’d barely made it out of the massive living room of Aeson’s former mansion and into the hallway before Sayer found him. The fifteen-hundred-year-old vampire ran the city when Lucas wasn’t there. Even when he was present, though, Sayer took care of most things.
“Master, a young pixie boy just arrived. He has the early signs of the plague,” the vampire reported.
Lucas considered it. He could have the child placed with the other afflicted in the living room/ sick ward or a private room. Did he have the energy to try another healing? Would it be worth the attempt when the last two times failed miserably? His healing powers were weak at best, but he felt duty-bound to Aeson’s people to try. After all, Lucas would have died centuries ago if not for the cambion. It didn’t matter if Aeson was gone now and couldn’t witness his efforts.