INVISIBLE FATE BOOK THREE: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) (21 page)

Chapter
Forty-five

Even before Colin Farrell voice finished embracing my father he noticed Bran. Emotions raced across the stranger’s boyish face: surprise, anger and, what scared me most, calculation. If I’d only seen this face I would have thought him charming, handsome even. But I recognized him, from the night of Philippe Cheverill’s death and later in a stark and sterile laboratory.

Now? Now all I could do was rage. Could this be the man who
’d caused so much pain? Was planning to cause infinitely more? The man behind Dominique’s betrayal of Bran, behind Van’s kidnapping, behind the attacks on me?

I thought my feral growl was silent until Bran stepped back, knowing full well he
’d smacked right into me. But his action had the desired effect. I stopped being a ninny and snapped to attention.

Who was this
Padraig? What did he want with my dad? And why was he here?

My dad glanced over at Van. “Padraig
, I don’t believe you’ve met my son Van.”

T
he sociopathic bastard smoothed his features to a surprise that was all subterfuge; I could smell the deceit from where I stood shaking. But Irish Guy stepped forward, extending his hand as if he really cared. “I’ve heard about you.”

“Sorry, I can’t say the same
.” Van met the shake, dropping his hand as soon as possible. Only one of the reasons I adored my brother.

The creases around Padraig’s eyes deepened before he turned to my father and said
, “I didn’t know that your son was freed.”

Yeah, I bet.

“Congratulations are in order for both of you.”

He actually had enough balls to make it sound like he had helped in Van’s release. The sheer gall.

Then he cast a hard look toward Bran before addressing his next comment to my dad. “I didn’t realize you’d also captured one of the Council’s most wanted fugitives.” He lowered his head without losing eye contact as if he was giving my dad his due, then negated his action with his next words, “It is what you’ve done, is it not?”

Slimy rat bastard.

Even I could read between the lines. If Dad said no he’d be hauled before the Council, too. If he said yes … my heart flip-flopped. If he said yes, Bran would be taken prisoner, dragged before the Council and sentenced for involvement in Dominique’s drug dealing. Which he didn’t do. Plus he was involved in Vaverek’s death in front of the Council. That itself was bad but not as bad as being caught fighting Weres in full view of humans. It didn’t matter that the Weres attacked and Bran was only trying to save his life and mine. Little details like that meant squat to the high and mighty Council.

Please. Please. Please
.
Don’t throw Bran to this man, Dad!

“I’m curious why you came, Padraig,” my dad said, neatly diverting the conversation. “Especially with an armed escort.”

He meant the dozen Weres ranged behind the Irishman. They might not be carrying weapons, at least none that were visible, but their numbers and strength meant resistance was futile.

“My friends?” Padraig l
aughed and I clenched my hands. “These gentlemen are accompanying me because the Council felt this one,” he nodded toward Bran, “might be a danger to the board members.”

Dad’s brow arched. “And I was not informed? Or had a say in the matter?”

My dad’s voice might be low and even but he was pissed. “I am still Council, am I not?”

Direct thrust and twist to the kill zone for anyone who knew my dad. I could see Van inhale a breath as deep as I had.

“I brought your guards.” Padraig’s tone actually sounded surprised. “And here you astonish me by apprehending Bran before he could do more harm.”

Seriously? Who was this guy acting for? No one in this room believed him for a second, so why was he working so hard to be congenial and hale-and fare-thee-well hearty mates. I was going to gag.

Bran said nothing through all this posturing, these lies. I couldn’t smell what this Padraig was but he had a taint of dark magic about him. Powerful dark magic. Could Bran still take him? Would he?

I could only see Bran’s profile from where I stood but even that glimpse warned me that I wasn’t going to like what was going to happen next.

“I came willingly to Mr. Noziak,” Bran said, as if he had no idea of the cost of each word.

No! No! No! You fool! You’re giving up. Not even trying.

“Did you surrender?” Padraig’s tone made a lie to Bran’s words.

I moved, meaning to step forward,
call out this Irish coward for the pile of crap he was, when I heard Bran’s voice in my head. “Don’t, Alex,” he whispered, the words torn from him and slamming into me.

Like back in the tunnels when I was escaping from the Weres. I didn’t know how Bran could connect to me. Strong emotions probably. By the Goddess
, I knew that’s what was whipping through me.

I stared at Bran’s wide back, an empty spot growing into a deep dark hole inside of me. “We can take him
.” Even mind to mind I could hear the pleading in my own voice. “Van will help us.”

“Can’t.”

Won’t, I wanted to scream, but already the Weres surrounded him.

“You’re not planning to fight us are you?” Padraig made the question sound like a dare, then added
, “The simin fae owe you for their disgrace.”

Bran had managed to outfox the simin fae? No way was anyone going to be caught off guard again. Unless?

“I hope this doesn’t mean you plan to have a prisoner abused before he faces the Council,” my father said in such a reasonable tone that I missed the subtext. The one saying hurt-him-and-pay.

Go,
Dad!

What happened next happened so fast I almost missed it. Padraig pointed a finger at Bran that brought him to his knees, writhing.

Van flung his hand out as if to go to the warlock but in reality to keep me from him. Dad speared one look at the Irishman, lowering his voice before saying, “I realize your power, Padraig. So who is your show for?”

“No show, Jebediah. A promise. For our prisoner here. If he resists, in any way, he’ll suffer the consequences.”

One, no one called my father Jebediah. Two, creating pain to prove you can create pain was overkill. Three, stopping Padraig just became very real and very personal.

“You understand
, don’t you?” Padraig spoke to Bran, but the words were meant for everyone in the room. Bran couldn’t speak, he was in too much pain, so my father answered. “We all understand. Now take your prisoner and leave.”

He was going to let this psychotic sociopath waltz out of here with Bran?

“Tell the team,” Bran murmured through my thoughts, each word wrung from him.

Tell them what? The trap I’d led Bran into worked? One of our strongest allies was in the hands of the enemy? The enemy that now had a name and face, not that it was going to help us at all.

Whatever Padraig had been doing to Bran, he paused it with another small flick of his finger.

That gave me an inkling of hope.

“Bran, link with me,” I spoke directly to his mind. “Now. Between us we can take them out.”

“And expose you,” came his determined response as he straightened, still clutching his stomach. “Remain hidden or die.”

That was it? He was sacrificing himself for me? This was my crappy choice?

I looked at
Dad who was shaking his head in my direction, his expression shuttered. He couldn’t see me but he had no doubts how I was reacting. And why not, this was betrayal, clear and simple. And betrayal pushed all my hot buttons. Dad, of anyone should know.

Van moved in front of me, my scent betraying where I was, his action blocking me even more.

Padraig twisted his head to smile at Dad, a smug, self-satisfied grin I wanted to wipe off his face. The words of a spell jammed in my throat when Padraig looked in my general direction but spoke to Dad, “Have you heard anything about your daughter?”

I froze, my blood stilling. If Van as a shifter could scent me the Weres should be able to, especially if I moved or my heartbeat alerted them. So far
, they hadn’t seemed to notice me but that could change at any second.

“Why do you ask?”
Dad replied.

“Just interested,” came
Padraig’s lie.

“Do you need her?” Van ratcheted up the tension in the room with his four simple words. This is why he was a warrior and not a diplomat. Take the direct approach rather than tap dance around the situation.

“Not really,” Padraig murmured, then added in an undertone, “Not anymore.”

And that’s when my legs buckled. Padraig needed a powerful witch for whatever he
had planned. Now he’d found an even more powerful warlock.

Would
anyone in the Council question if Bran quietly disappeared? Not likely.

Would they even know about an accidental death, no doubt preceded by torture and pain? Problem solved. Humans would miss Bran more than preternaturals, but not as much as I would.

In the sound of heavy thuds and a slamming door they all disappeared. Bran’s spell broke, showing me a quivering pile kneeling on the floor. Van and Dad both stepped forward.

I waved them off.

“He’s going to do it, isn’t he?” I looked at Dad, not seeing him through the mist obscuring my sight. “This
friend
of yours.” I made such a strong emphasis on the word
friend
I was surprised it didn’t snap. “He’s going to release this demon. Use Bran to do so. And no one can stop him.”

“We can,” Van said.

I cast a disbelieving gaze at him, shaking my head though even that took effort. “You’re not even up to full fighting potential. No way.”

“I didn’t raise quitters,” my dad snarled, whipping titanium through my backbone.

My glance toward him contained pure venom. “No, you didn’t.” I staggered to my feet, keeping my distance, protecting myself. I’d fought myself, my abilities for so long that now when I needed them, when they could save Bran, I couldn’t trust them. But there was a reason for this. One burning deep within me, molten anger laced with fear. “What you did raise was an ineffectual witch who, because you feared my kind of magic, has been stumbling around doing as much bad as good.”

He looked like I’d slapped him. That was the problem with truth. It hurt like a banshee’s backside when you weren’t ready for it.

“Alex,” Van whispered beside me, “Dad’s not the enemy.”

“You sure about that?” I glanced at Van before meeting my dad’s
gaze head-on. “Then ask him why he let me go to prison.”

With that
, I walked out of the house.

Bran was right. I needed to get back to the team, and fast. Now that Padraig had Bran
, he also possessed all the power he needed to release the Zaradian demon. Nothing holding him back now.

Chapter
Forty-Six

Like a heat-seeking missile I focused, wending my way through the Parisian night traffic, pedestrian and vehicular, whipped by anger and desperation, driven by the need to find Ling Mai. She and the team were my only hope.

When the front desk staff glanced in my direction I expected resistance. What they didn’t expect was this intruder could wave a quick and easy cloaking spell. One minute
, a wild-eyed desperate woman, the next, nothing.

One spell that always worked for me. Sometimes I wished I could use it all the time. The easy-way out of past mistakes catching up with me.

But Noziaks didn’t do easy.

Lucky me.

I knocked on Ling Mai’s door with an urgent thud, thud, thud, desperation driving me, fluttering through my system, thrusting my chin up as she opened the door.

“Miss Noziak?”
She stepped back, not looking surprised or wary.

Her first mistake.
I was in the room between one heartbeat and the next, and I was gunning for bear.

No words would come though. Probably a first for me as they tumbled over and over inside, fighting for release. So many questions. So little trust.

“Why didn’t you look for me when you’d heard I died?” I asked at last, not because I was abandoning Bran but because I needed to have a damn good reason to fully trust this woman again.

Ling Mai didn’t answer directly. Instead
, she waved one hand toward a chair.

“I’d rather stand.” So many emotions pulsed through me standing was my only option.

“As you wish.” She crossed to a far window, folding her arms across herself. Defense or offense? With her you couldn’t always tell.

I waited, but when the seconds ticked by I pushed. Yeah, go figure, me being impatient. “Why?”

“I needed to,” she said at last, turning to look at me, letting me weigh the truth of her words. “I needed to trust my source.”

“That source wouldn’t happen to have an Irish accent?” I asked, striking out blindly.

She offered a partial smile. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me.” I stepped closer to her, hands wedged at my side into tight fists. When she remained mute
, I egged her on. “I could have died in that cell. I could have already unleashed a nightmare before anyone had a chance to stop it.”

“But you didn’t.”

My voice shook as I chewed a response. “Don’t you try that I-did-it-for-your-own- good crap on me.”

“And yet did you not survive? On your own merits?”

“What happened to being a part of a team? When you threw one of your team members away without a backwards glance?”

“Is that what you think happened?”

“Damn straight I do.” Hello? Where had she been? What else could I think?

“Your challenge
, Miss Noziak, is you lead with your heart before having the whole picture.”

I know my brow crept high on my forehead. How could it not while playing semantic games with this woman? “And what exactly has been the whole picture?”

She turned to face me head-on, and for a second, I glimpsed what might be the real Ling Mai. Driven. Determined. Holding so many threads in the palm of her hand at any moment it scared the willies out of me. As if the room suddenly couldn’t contain both of us, each with our own agendas, each holding thinly to too-volatile emotions. If either of us let loose there wouldn’t be much of the other, or the hotel, left standing. I had no doubts.

I took a step back, away from the edge, as she started to speak.

“If you’re asking did I use you then yes, I did.”

Talk about a hard, fast blow to the solar plexus.

“And I’d do so again given the stakes. You are a soldier. Soldiers at times are expendable.”

I inhaled to steady wired nerves but didn’t have to ask a thing as she continued
, “The one we’ve been seeking is capable of such evil it’s hard to comprehend or to stop him.”

As if I hadn’t just been in the company of Padraig and still wanting a shower.

Ling Mai turned back to the window. “I was asked by a Council member to uncover what he feared.”

“Who?”

“When you need to know I shall share.”

I could so easily hate her. But one battle at a time. “So what did you need to find?”

She looked at me like dealing with a young child, so I answered my own question. “Betrayal.” The emptiness twisted within me. Of course. Why wasn’t I surprised?

She nodded. “At the highest levels.”

“So you used me to what?”

“To force him to act.”

“And you couldn’t tell me? Warn me? Ask me?” I didn’t scream the words. Though it was tempting. I spoke slowly and evenly, each one more deadly than the last.

“No.”

Like a face slap I staggered back. “Just no? I had no choice?”

“Sometimes we have no choices. No good choices.” She remained staring out the window as if answers lay behind the darkness of the Parisian skyline, lit by twinkling lights, a
fairytale, unreal world. “Don’t mistake me, Miss Noziak, if I had to make the same decisions now, I would.”

I swallowed. Hard. But Ling Mai wasn’t finished. “Sometimes we act on behalf of the Council, our goals mutually compatible.”

Bully for us.

“But not always. This was one of the times we were assisting factions within the Council against themselves.”

Talk about circles within squares. My mind was about to explode.

“The one we sought was not to be drawn out easily. He had been laying his plans for years, decade upon decade, slowly, painstakingly woven until even those closest to him were blindsided.”

A realization whispered through me. “He was the one who killed Philippe Cheverill?”

An unclear expression flittered over her face, her voice low as she answered
, “Yes. An unforeseen consequence.”

“So what have I been?
The staked goat?” By now, my voice rose with each word.

“Yes. He wanted you and didn’t care who he killed to get what he wanted.”

“And now?” That was the big question. Followed closely by, “Am I still expendable?”

She had the balls to smile. “You’ve proven time
and again that you are not that easy to eliminate.”

“No thanks to you,” I mumbled beneath my breath, not really caring if she heard me or not.

“I admit, I have taken certain risks with you.” Ling Mai smiled. Not an apology by any means. “But have I not said since we first met that I have always had greater trust in your untapped abilities than you have had in yourself?”

That had me straightening my sp
ine. “Saying ‘you can do better …’" I used my fingers in an air quote so she received my message loud and clear, “… is a world of difference from throwing me into the hands of someone like Padraig.”

She inclined her head. Probably as close as I was going to get to an atta-girl, especially when she added, “Actions always speak more clearly than words.”

As if a switch flipped, I heard her words and found myself pausing. Damn if she wasn’t right.

Still didn’t mean I liked her underhanded manipulations. Or being used. “So what now?” I asked. “You flushed out Padraig. I’m assuming that was your goal?”

“Yes. We’ve identified him as the threat, both to the Council and the humans.”

I repeated my earlier question. “And now?”

“Now we eliminate him.”

Now she was talking Noziak language. Maybe Ling Mai and I had more in common than I realized.

I still didn’t trust her, and might never be able to, but I could work with her to mutually compatible goals.

Bring it on!