Ghost Phoenix (8 page)

“Philip Drake—the man currently threatening me with a dire end—is Beth Nakamora's father, though not by blood,” Richard said. “Did you get what you wanted out of that, Ms. Nakamora? Could you read my thoughts and intentions toward your father?”

Beth glared at him. “This wasn't a setup.”

“What do you mean about getting what she wanted?” Marian asked. Everyone seemed to be talking in a strange, foreign tongue where they referred to events everyone knew about but her. She'd felt powerful all her life in crisis situations because she had an edge. Now, these people's abilities dwarfed hers.

She was no longer unique. Or alone. But she was definitely without an edge.

“Beth Nakamora has been reading our minds to discover our true intentions, Marian. I imagine she picked up quite an earful during the exchange between me and her father.”

“She's doing what?” Marian backed up even more, almost banging against the kitchen counter. Beth had said she couldn't read her in the hallway.

Unless the telepathy worked because they were closer now. But, wait, if Beth could read Richard, she could read his memory of their conversation in the bathroom. Beth would know about the phantom power. Or maybe not. Beth said in the hallway that Richard might know ways to avoid a telepath.

Marian wanted to go phantom and get away from this right now. Here she'd been wary of the firestarter and Drake the scary guy, and it was the tiny woman she should've been worried about.

“You're scaring her,” Richard said in a low voice. He turned and grabbed Farley by the shirt. “Stop your woman. Stop it now.”

“Get your hands off me,” Alec said through gritted teeth.

Farley remained still, but one of his hands started glowing. The cuffs of Richard's sweatshirt started to smoke.

“Call off your woman,” Richard said.

“Get your hands off me,” Alec said again.

Flames licked the collar of the T-shirt.

“Dear God,” Marian said out loud. She knew one way to stop Alec, but no, she never wanted to do that. Ever. “Please, stop. I'm fine.”
Don't make me resort to that.

Richard and Alec stared at each other, a clash of the gods. Some unspoken communication passed between them, and the flames receded, leaving ash from the burned cuffs to waft to the floor.

Richard let Farley go and stepped back. Farley's hand stopped glowing. Richard gathered himself, assuming the royal personage he'd used on her grandfather.

“I'm not Edward, for which you all should be grateful,” Richard said. “If it had been me who died and Edward was left to avenge me, there would be blood and battle between all of us until no one survived.”

“Instead he took a bullet for your friend,” Marian said.

“Perhaps they think I planned that, Marian.”

“You didn't plan that,” Beth said.

“And now I've passed your test. Lovely. I'm charmed.”

“Can you blame us for treating you like an enemy?” Alec asked.

“I expected to be treated like the enemy. So nice to have you all live down to expectations. Perhaps I should judge Drake by his family too, as he's doing to me. His biological father was Richard Lansing, after all. Shall Drake pay for Lansing's sins?”

“That man was never my father,” Drake snapped.

“He was blood to you, as Edward was to me. But you behave differently. Perhaps it's the same for me.”

“I get your point. Let's start over,” Alec said.

“Start over?” Marian pointed at Drake. Did the man ever blink? That was eerie. “Are you kidding? He'd be happy to start that war of fire and blood.”

Drake shifted his full attention to her.

Ack.

“Philip,” Beth cautioned. “Dad. Leave her alone. Richard was right. We're scaring her.”

Drake relaxed his shoulders. Somehow, his face changed and he looked smaller and less dangerous.

“We don't know that they're not the enemy, Beth; we only that they're not an imminent threat.”

“Interesting, as I was just making the same assessment,” Richard said. “All the more reason to settle down and negotiate.”

“Negotiate what?” Drake asked.

“A truce.”

“So that means you'll talk about this supposed immortal Court, the mess your brother made and your role in helping Lansing originally set up this place as the Resource?” Alec asked.

Richard shrugged. “Have your woman pull it from my head, if you wish. It'll be faster.”

“Stop calling her ‘my woman'.” Alec rolled his eyes. “I don't own Beth, any more than you own Marian Doyle.”

“Did you own Lansing, Genet?” Drake asked.

“Once, a long time ago, Lansing was part of the Court. Edward was his handler and his patron because he discovered Lansing on a trip to London about one hundred and fifty years ago. Lansing was one of the youngest of us, and it was hoped he could help us evolve for the future. So many still had a medieval mindset, Edward among them. Alas, Lansing turned out to be far too secretive and power hungry for my Queen's taste. She banished him.”

“You mean you couldn't control Lansing,” Drake said.

“We could've controlled him by killing him,” Richard said. “He always feared that.”

“Why didn't you?” Drake asked.

“Edward thought that was a waste of talent. When you live hundreds of years, patience is a given. There was no reason to kill Lansing. We had time to wait and see if he could change.”

“So you just let him loose on people?” Drake growled.

“Yes,” Richard snapped.

Marian decided that sounded like a very sore subject with her prince.

Richard took a deep breath and resumed the tale. “When Lansing resurfaced as the owner of this facility, Edward watched him and waited, hoping for that change. But by then, Lansing was mentally unstable, as happens with some of us. Edward was contemplating action to resolve this when Lansing was killed.” He flicked a hand at Alec. “In battle, supposedly. You would know more about that than I.”

Richard believed Alec had killed his own foster father?

“I didn't kill Lansing,” Alec said. “He died saving me.”

“Interesting. Perhaps my brother was right in that there was hope for him.”

“There was no hope for Richard Lansing,” Drake said, all the menace back in his voice.

“You said your court watched Lansing. You must have known I was brought here as a baby. You knew what he was. Yet you left me in his hands,” Alec said.

This definitely didn't seem anything like negotiating a truce. More like an exchange of grievances.

“Firestarters are extremely dangerous to themselves and those around them,” Richard said slowly, obviously picking his words carefully. “Very few survive until adulthood, and many that do tend to be not right in the head. They grow in love with their fire and forget how it harms others.”

Richard sighed. “The Court thought the safest solution for everyone was to let Lansing deal with you and see if his methods solved the usual problems.” Richard pursed his lips, as if tasting something unpleasant. “The Court kept watching to make sure you were safe. Lansing must have done something right despite his imbalance, for you're well trained in your use of fire, and he saved your life at the end.”

“Locking me away wasn't right,” Alec said, but his voice wavered, as if he had mixed feelings about Lansing. “And Lansing's plans for some sort of world domination were insane. You have to know that.”

For the first time, Richard avoided looking at Alec.

“Richard Genet didn't agree with his court's leaving you with Lansing, Alec,” Beth said.

How the hell did she know, Marian thought. Oh. Telepath.

“Yes. I disagreed with Edward and the Court on the matter,” Richard said.

Marian stepped up and put her hand on Richard's forearm. Not evil, she thought. Richard was exactly who she thought him to be. The least she could do was show him support.

“Alec, he fought his brother and the Court over you,” Beth added. “He wanted to take you and train you himself, without obligation.”

Richard's face was stone. He clenched his fists. Even when being shot at, he hadn't lost his temper. But now he was actually vibrating with emotion. Marian curled her hand tighter around his arm.

Richard clasped her hand.

“I was ordered to stand down from Lansing by my Queen. I followed that order. It was the last order from her that I ever followed.”

An exile? But Marian's grandfather had been convinced Richard came from the Court, and Richard himself said he was on the errand to find Rasputin's DNA for them. Something had brought him back.

“So why are you here, then?” Drake said, asking the question Marian wanted to ask.

Richard shrugged. “A good friend asked me to complete a task for him.”

Alec reached out a hand and a water bottle rose off the counter in the other side of the room and flew into his open palm.

Silence reigned as the he drank down the bottle. When he finished, Alec stared at Richard.

“You could've been my foster father instead of Lansing.”

“Many things could have been, with different choices. I've learned not to dwell on centuries of
might have been
s. Or, as my current friends would say, the waves break the way they're meant to break.”

Alec and Drake exchanged a look. All Marian's years of remaining quiet under her grandfather's blistering lectures felt like the easiest thing in the world next to remaining silent among these people, especially with the threat of violence still potent.

“You said Lansing was mentally unstable and that madness was sometimes a side effect of immortality,” Alec finally said to Richard. “What did you mean?”

“Madness was not the word I used. I said
instability
. Immortality warps thinking. It's not only the loss of friends and family members who die a normal death, but the loss of whole worlds that no longer exist. My London is gone forever. So is my Aquitaine. The world begins to feel unreal, as if a dream. Sometimes there is an overwhelming desire to control it to prevent the inevitable. Need for control drove Lansing.” Richard focused on Drake. “Something for you to look forward to, yes, as the years pass?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Drake said. “We may yet get that war where no one survives.”

That sounded like a threat and a joke all at once. Was there something human under that scary exterior?

“Richard?” Beth stepped forward and reached her hand out to him. “Was your brother unstable?”

“Many of us lose the ability to think in shades of gray, Edward among them.” He studied Beth as he'd studied Marian in her office earlier. “The Court needs something and they make it happen, regardless of consequences. People who lead normal lives begin to seem unimportant in comparison. Edward's mindset was that the Court mattered and nothing else did. I left because I disagreed with that reasoning.”

“Are you unstable?” Beth asked.

“Of course he's not!” Marian said before Richard could answer.

He smiled and squeezed her hand before he stepped away from her.

“You're the one in my head, Beth Nakamora. You tell me what's inside it.”

Richard smiled at Beth the same way he'd smiled at Marian after he'd kissed her hand in the park, the smile that made her weak in the knees. Marian felt strangely deflated. And then she almost laughed, because here she was in a roomful of people with abilities similar to hers who talked about starting a war and what she felt most this second was jealousy instead of sheer terror.

“Show me what happened to my brother,” Richard ordered. “And you will have the answers you seek.”

“She can do that?” Marian asked. “How?”

“I can telepathically send him the memories of those around Edward in his last minutes.” Beth looked at Drake. “With your permission, Dad?”

Drake nodded. “Show him.”

Richard nodded as well. “Yes, show me. I have to know.”

Chapter Seven

This was what Richard wanted most: the truth, bitter as it must be. He thought he would be able to tell if the memories were false. He knew Edward. Even through another's eyes, he would recognize his brother.

Beth Nakamora closed her hands around his wrist. He felt a tentative inquiry into his thoughts, like a feather tickling against the inside of his head.

She was asking permission to invade his mind. If nothing else, she was polite. He answered her the same way she asked: telepathically.

“You did not request permission to read me earlier.”

“I had to know you weren't a danger. I had people to protect. This is different. This is deeper and more intense. It could hurt you. I need your permission to proceed.”

“How good of you to be concerned about me.”

“We don't have to be enemies, Richard.”

“That remains to be seen.”

The room around Richard disappeared. He was plunged into an entirely different place, flavored by the emotions of those who saw Edward in his last minutes.

The memories coalesced until Richard saw a bedroom in an ordinary suburban home. A pregnant woman lay seemingly unconscious on the bed, but Richard had the distinct sensation that this was her memory, meaning she was awake. She was scared but also determined and incredibly protective of the son growing in her womb. Her utmost thought was to get her boy away from him. Edward.

Edward stood in the room, his back to the woman, talking to someone—a doctor—about their court and how they would all be welcome there if the child had the healing gift, as hoped. And how the woman would be separated from her child if she did not agree to remain at court.

Richard experienced the woman's revulsion at being taken somewhere against her will, the implied threat if she didn't cooperate once the baby was born, and her worry over what had happened to father of the child, a man she loved. Odd. Philip Drake seemed an unlikely person to inspire such devotion in any woman.

But underlying all that was the woman's fierce anger. She loved the child. She hated being used against her will to create him.

It was as Richard feared. Edward had taken, not asked.

The woman's memory faded, to be replaced by another one, this one more intense, filled with rage, so much rage than it nearly brought Richard to his knees.

Drake.

Richard saw the house from outside, through Drake's eyes. He was sizing up how many people were between him and his woman. His devotion to her was even more fervent than hers for him.

Not only would Drake die for the woman, but he would kill and destroy to ensure her safety. Woe to whoever came between them. And Edward had.

Richard rode with Drake as he smashed a truck into the home, rushed inside the home, shooting anyone in his way, heedless of his own safety, and not flinching as bullets pinged around him. Richard felt Drake's euphoria from the pain in his broken wrist and fractured skill. Drake used his fury. His pain fueled him.

Edward appeared, armed with a machine gun. The memory become chaotic and jumped around as the two men fought, each losing their initial weapon. They tackled each other, rolled, fell over a balcony and hit the floor hard. Edward grabbed a sword and taunted Drake.

Edward, you idiot, did you have to have a sword? You should have used a gun!

Icy fury surged through Drake. He took a slash in the side to get closer to Edward, gained control of the sword and ran Edward through.

Richard reached out at empty air, as if he could stay the blow, but it was far too late. Edward crumpled to the floor, his eyes wide and open. He couldn't believe he was defeated. He couldn't believe he was dying. Richard went to his knees, as if the sword had run him through as well.

Richard felt Drake's momentary satisfaction, then fear for the woman he'd been protecting. The image of Edward taking his last breath seared itself into Richard's memory.

My brother.

He sent Beth Nakamora the information about needing Rasputin's corpse then everything to do with his argument about letting Lansing have Alec. He sent her his anguish at losing his brother's respect, about being alone, his solace in the waves and his determination to forge his own path.

The almost overwhelming flow of thoughts and emotions allowed him to keep specific information about the Queen sequestered into a mental box created over a hundred years ago by another, long-dead telepath. Eleanor of Aquitaine valued her privacy, and besides, Richard didn't trust these people with the secret of her illness yet.

“You are your own person, Richard. You'll be stronger than your brother and do what's right.”

His head snapped back. Power surged through him, responding to the telepath's touch on his mind.

“What are you after?”

“I'm not a threat to you. I told you the truth.”

Silence from the other end of their link.

“Are we friends or foes, Beth Nakamora?”

“Neither yet.”
She let go of his arm. She didn't want to answer the question. The last vestige of her from his mind vanished.

Richard took several deep breaths and stood. He staggered, his balance all awry. Arms closed around him, holding him steady. Physical weakness was not his normal reaction to telepaths, even given it'd taken effort to hide that one secret from her. Something else was wrong.

“Richard,” his angel whispered into his ear, “what did she do to you?”

“Gave me the truth, as I asked for.” His imbalance must be due to seeing Edward die. He was so used to not caring, it hit hard when he realized that he had cared.

Edward should've been checked by Marshal sooner. Edward should never have been allowed to go this far, even to save the Queen. Now Richard saw why Marshal blamed himself for Edward's death.

But Richard had been the one who walked away from the Court and his brother all those years ago. He bore some of the blame too. Weak, Edward had called him. Weak and unwilling to do what it took to serve the Queen properly. But not so weak as to stay and endure the insults and the focus on any means to an end.

Or perhaps it
had
been weak to run away.

The world around Richard blurred. He couldn't focus. He closed his eyes, content to let Marian keep him stable for a few seconds. He supposed he could deny the truth of memories shown to him. Telepaths were endlessly unpredictable.

She could have fed him false thoughts. No, not likely.

The Edward in the memories fit. That was his brother, believing he was above reproach and, yes, above anyone save the Queen. Edward had considered Marshal his beloved teacher but his underling nonetheless.

Marshal loved you as his son, Edward. You should have understood that.

Regular people were always pawns to Edward. After all, he was a God-chosen king, was he not? But this time, a pawn had taken a king. And as much as he wanted his brother alive, Richard couldn't say Drake had been wrong.

Richard opened his eyes. His angel kept her arms around his waist. He stared at Beth Nakamora. Had she been reading him just now? It hardly mattered. He'd given her as much of the truth as she'd given to him.

Richard focused on Drake. “I loved my brother.”

Drake nodded.

“I also protect what's mine, as you did,” Richard said.

“Do you want that blood and fire and war?” Drake asked. “I've been convinced lately it's not the way.”

“I've never felt it was the way. I'd rather battle the waves and Poseidon.” He settled on the couch, Marian at his side.

“So where do we go from here?” Farley finally stopped glaring and sat down in a chair.

“I hadn't planned to confront you. I was involved elsewhere when your man began following me and brought an assault with him.” He sighed. “I don't suppose you know how to help me find Rasputin's corpse?”

Alec snorted. Richard guessed Beth had communicated his memories telepathically to her lover.

“I wouldn't be so flip about Rasputin. And I wouldn't bring a civilian into the quest,” Drake said.

“Why not? What do you know?” Marian asked.

Drake stared off into space for a moment as if deciding how much to say. Or perhaps speaking silently to his foster daughter.

“Rasputin's said to be responsible for a deadly curse,” Drake said.

Alec cut the air with his hand. “Could you please back this up for me? Beth says you want Rasputin's body. Drake says he's cursed. But I'm not even sure what a Rasputin is or why he's so important.” He set his elbows on his knees. “I've got some serious gaps in my education.”

Unusual for someone of that power level to openly admit his ignorance. Maybe Farley was exactly what he said he was.

“Rasputin's a little obscure, unless you're an expert in Russian history,” Marian said. “He was born in 1869 and died 1916 and was known as ‘the Mad Monk', which isn't really appropriate because while he was from the lower classes, he wasn't crazy. The name comes from his supposed miraculous power of healing. The last czar's only son was a hemophiliac, a disease in which the blood refuses to clot. The czar's wife, the empress Alexandra, grew convinced Rasputin could heal her son. He became her most trusted advisor.”

“And so members of the czar's court killed him because he had an unnatural influence on their leader,” Drake finished for Marian.

She nodded. “But the legend goes that Rasputin also had the power of prophecy. He was said to see the future and even predicted that if he was murdered by members of the court, it would all end badly for the royal family. Which it did, as they were all killed in the Russian Revolution.”

“Rasputin was poisoned, shot, stabbed and drowned, I believe, before he was pronounced dead,” Drake said. “I'm guessing he was one of us, a psychic healer?”

Richard nodded. “We can only heal ourselves. Rasputin could truly heal others. So we'd like his genetic code for my court, as there are injuries that even we can't recover from. As is evidenced by my brother's death.” He frowned. “Why do you speak of a curse, Drake?”

“Lansing spent some time undercover in the Soviet Union studying their program to develop psychics as weapons. The Soviets thought Rasputin's story might provide some answers. They put a team of researchers and scientists together. Within a year, all those team members died violently. Add that to the massacre of the royal family that Rasputin predicted, and the story of a curse was born.”

“Lansing obviously survived,” Marian said.

“His CIA handlers grabbed him and pulled him back to the States.”

Drake came closer, close enough to lock gazes with Richard.

“I don't believe in curses. But psychic abilities that look like curses are real. Whatever or whoever wanted the truth about Rasputin buried, it's likely still out there. You're taking this girl into a wildstorm.”

“I'm not a girl,” Marian snapped.

Richard stood to be face-to-face with Drake. “You're concerned about her?”

Drake shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I've been studying European history and gathering artifacts for a long time,” Marian said. “It's the first time I've heard of Rasputin's curse.”

Again, Drake shrugged. “Keep poking around, and you probably will hear it from multiple sources, especially as the Soviet system is all gone now and the secrets are out.”

“Do you plan to stop me? Any of you?” Richard asked.

He waited, intensely curious about what they would all do next. The firestarter was little more than a boy, only halfway into his twenties. Yet he controlled his immense power well. He also had a dream, if Montoya's claim about setting this place up as a safe haven for psychics was true. Marshal's report said the same, but the report also expressed skepticism at the openly stated goal.

Perhaps Marshal forgot that the Court had been created originally to help gifted psychics.

“It would take a battle to stop you from doing this,” Alec said. “That's not what we're about.”

“In that case, you should let us walk out of here. We've done nothing to you,” Richard said.

“I wouldn't want to walk all the way back to my office,” Marian said.

That made Farley smile. “You were always free to go, Miss Doyle. And Drake's advice is usually good, even if he's snarling when he gives it. If he says this is a wildstorm, then it is.”

Farley stood “You're still dangerous to my people,” he said to Richard.

“We could each try to destroy the other. Whoever wins would be safe. But that's never been my way.” Richard shrugged “I'd rather hit the beach.”

“To make use of Rasputin's genetic code, you need a living womb. Attached to a living person,” Beth said. “Edward helped impregnate a woman against her will. Will you do the same?”

“If it comes to that, the Court will find volunteers.” Why Edward hadn't used one of them, Richard couldn't guess. The families that served the Court no doubt had enough daughters who would volunteer to serve as surrogates.

“What about if I volunteer?”

All attention turned to Montoya, who'd been observing silently for some time.

“You're not the right gender for a womb.” Farley grinned.

“I meant as a bodyguard for prince guy, here. I owe him for taking the bullet. If what Drake says is true, it'd be safer for Marian if I went with them to find Rasputin's body. And we'd know if we could trust each other after it's all over.”

“Daz, you have got to be kidding,” Farley said.

“Now, that's an interesting offer, Mr. Montoya. It's been a long time since I've had a man-at-arms,” Richard said. “However, our mysterious sniper was shooting at you, not me. Bringing you along may bring him along, and I don't want to be shot again on your behalf. No offense.”