No Peace for the Damned (2 page)

I struggled against the urge to sit up and get a good look when Jon’s scent suddenly hit me. Polo cologne. Shit. My fists clenched as Malcolm’s face flashed in my mind. His cover-model features and soulless eyes—just like Father’s. The sharp tang of the cologne filling my nose, his hot, eager breath on my face. The pain. I’d try not to hate Jon for it, but God, it would be hard. The thought of spending the upcoming weeks smelling that crap again and again…

Jon’s cologne faded just as Theo’s smell hit me like a punch. My stomach tightened. My chest grew warm.
Whoa
. Musk, metal, male—I’d never smelled anything so—so intoxicating.

What the hell?
I caught myself. I was
never
affected by anyone like this.

I gripped my whiskey and stayed low on my bench. The door to the kitchen swung shut. Jon’s and Theo’s footsteps echoed on the back stairs, heading down to the meeting room where my introduction would take place. I listened carefully as they entered the large basement conference room. The hum of the room’s security system paused as they opened the door. Thirteen had told me the room was impenetrable to psychic eavesdropping. I don’t know what contractor sold him that load of bull, because I could hear all ten team members just fine. And not just the murmured speculations about the meeting’s purpose, or the click-clacking of some guy named Chang on his laptop. Their thoughts were as crystal clear as the stressed businessmen’s in the booth next to me.

I clinked my ring on the side of my glass to get a refill. Miller stomped up to my booth and slammed the bottle of whiskey on the table. He loomed over me even as he kept his eyes off my face.

“Just keep the damn bottle, why don’t ya,” he growled. I just sighed and jiggled the ice in my glass. Miller huffed and grumbled, then pulled out a clean glass he just happened to have behind his back. It already held ice and sour mix. I smiled. He could deny it all he wanted, but Miller liked me.

He poured my drink then hurried back to the bar, the whiskey bottle gripped tight in his hand. His thoughts stumbled as he made his way across the room. Images raced through his mind: my thick, dark hair, my long legs bent on the booth bench. Thirteen had made me wear these ridiculous capri pants in an effort to appear more conservative. I thought I looked like an idiot, but Miller had no problem at all with the way my annoying pants hugged the curves of my legs.

Miller wouldn’t be in the meeting today. Aside from running the Turtle, I wasn’t sure what role he actually played. I’d have to ask Thirteen later on.

“If everyone will have a seat, we’ll get started.”

Thirteen’s quiet command brought the underground meeting to attention. I’d gotten so attuned to him over the last couple of months I didn’t even have to concentrate to hear him from below.

“We have a new source. As this task force was created to focus specifically on the activities of the Kelch brothers, you can be certain that the knowledge provided by this individual will be directly related to the family. You each know just how important accurate information is whenever dealing with a supernatural threat. It’s even more important when it comes to the Kelch family. With that in mind, this source’s information has been deemed valuable enough to assign temporary agent status as a consulting member of this task force.”

Their thoughts swirled with anticipation. My stomach knotted again.

“But first,” Thirteen continued, “Banks? A status update, please.”

Banks’s mechanical leg whined as he pushed himself to standing. Why the big man insisted on looking like a cyborg rather than getting himself proper prostheses was beyond me. There was a soft scrape of metal on metal as he rubbed his thumb ring over the silver eye patch that was sewn directly into his skin. His barking voice shook the conference room. “Two days ago, Harold Meador’s body was found and ID’d on Chicago’s Red Line. How the local sheriff ended up riding the EL in the Windy City is the least of our worries. Meador is the third Network member’s body to be discovered outside city limits. Someone is taking us out.”

He paused for dramatic effect, and I rolled my eyes. The sooner his update was over, the sooner I could get my part over with.

“Each of our men was abducted while on assignment, each body found just across state lines. Emme Thewlis was the first, found two weeks ago in a dumpster outside a Steak-n-Shake in Henderson, Kentucky. Zak Inge was found nine days ago sitting in a back booth at Zips Diner in Cincinnati. Thewlis was a customer service manager for the overseas pharmaceutical division of Kelch Incorporated. Inge was a junior aide to a House rep who shared conference room space with Senator Maxwell Kelch. All three bodies were autopsied and found to have died from internal injuries that are right in line with the Kelch way of torture.”

I took another long drink. Grinding metal squealed again as Thirteen and Banks broke from the meeting and headed upstairs. Almost time.

I put in my new iPod earplugs and closed my eyes tight. It wasn’t enough. The sound of their footfalls still pounded in my ears. Thirteen’s presence had physical weight as he slid into the booth bench across from me.

“It’s time, Magnolia.”

I didn’t sit up. “Yeah, I know.”

The knot in my stomach upgraded to a full-blown cramp. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to go downstairs and meet these people who were not going to like me and were not going to want to hear what I had to say. Most of all, I didn’t want to be a Kelch anymore.

“Never took you for a coward, Magnolia,” Banks growled as he put two fresh shots of whiskey on the table. “Didn’t think it was in yer blood.”

I took a deep breath. I would do this for Thirteen; I owed him that much. I waited until my song was over, then wrapped up my earphones, shoved my iPod in my pocket, and gave in.

As I sat up, my long hair fell forward to cover half my face. Thirteen didn’t react at all, but Banks’s leg squeaked again as he staggered in place. And Miller’s audible gasp from across the room made me want to groan. The man seriously needed to get a grip.

Thirteen leaned forward until I met his eyes. He was enormous. Even sitting, I had to look up to see his face. His gray hair was longer now than it had been the night I’d escaped, and he’d lost some weight recently—probably from stress—but neither change took away from the innate authority that radiated off him. The crinkles around his bright blue eyes softened. God, the look on his face—such an odd mixture of pride and worry. No one had ever looked at me the way he did.

With a slight nod to one another, we stood. I paused long enough to throw back one of Banks’s offered shots then followed the two men through the kitchen door. The back stairs were longer than I thought, and at the bottom a tall, light-haired woman stood in front of the auto-locked metal door that led to the meeting room. She was attractive enough—midtwenties with high cheekbones and a thin frame—but her eyes were too sharp to be pretty. She casually looked over my outfit, pretending to admire my clothes while really looking for weapons. Then she met my gaze. And gasped. Just like Miller, her mind drifted into a lust-filled stupor.

“Ugh! See?” I motioned to the woman. “I told you this would happen.”

Thirteen patted my arm. “Cordele,” he said coolly.

She blinked. Then blinked again. Finally, she shook herself, opened the door, and stepped aside, glaring at me the whole time. I didn’t move until she walked back toward the long meeting table in the center of the room. She didn’t know what I had just done to her, but she knew it was some kind of power. And she was pissed.

Great. I hadn’t even entered the room and already one of my “teammates” hated me.

Theo sat at the head of the table beside Jon. His scent had drawn me like a magnet the moment I walked in the room. He was gorgeous: a jaw rough with stubble, long hair that curled at his collar, eyes warm like melted chocolate. The hard contours of his face put my brothers’ pretty-boy looks to shame. And when he gasped at the sight of me, sucking in a deep breath along with everyone else in the room, his faded T-shirt stretched tight over his muscled chest, my own breath faltered. Power pulsed beneath my skin. This was wrong. I was too distracted. Vulnerable.

I dragged my gaze away from him and forced myself to focus on the nine other people in the room. Banks and Thirteen stood off to the side. Most everyone had blinked themselves back into focus and were now either confused or pissed. The GI Joe seated closest to me, a big guy named Charles Hilliby, was especially itching for a fight. As was his wife, Marie, the Latina fashionista to his right. Their minds were sharp, suspicious, but neither of them was really a concern. Not like the psychic I sensed in the room. Automatically, I made sure my mental walls were set.

A loud smack came from my side, and I turned. Banks had whopped the small Asian techno-geek, Nicky Chang, on the back of his head. Chang coughed and sputtered, then covered his eyes with his hands—like if he didn’t see me, maybe I’d just go away. I rolled my eyes. Only the weakest minds got so out of whack at the sight of me that they had to be slapped back into focus.

“Er, we’re sorry about that.” A pretty brunette rose from her seat on the opposite side of the table. “We just weren’t expecting…well, someone like you. You know, with powers.”

We wore nearly identical outfits, only she looked comfortable in hers. Then she smiled. “I’m Heather,” she said brightly, “Heather Lamping. Welcome to the team.”

What. The hell. Was this?

Thirteen’s team was supposed to be an elite task force. An experienced group of Network agents willing to take down my father and uncles. Instead, he had trigger-happy newlyweds, a video gamer who couldn’t look at me without passing out, and a fucking preschool teacher complete with patient smile and peach sweater set. Hell, other than Theo and Jon—who were dangerously controlled at the moment—the only other capable fighters at the table seemed to be that chick Cordele who’d opened the door and a silent blond giant named Shane Bailey. He hadn’t missed a thing since I’d walked in. I turned to Thirteen, the angry confusion plain on my face.

Look closer
, his thoughts whispered. He’d lowered his mental shields, anticipating my telepathy. I glared at him for a moment then turned back toward Heather. She smiled expectantly.

“Um, hi,” I finally managed. Her smile turned sympathetic as she sat back down. I probed deeper into her mind. She had strong, natural mental blocks like Theo, but they were easily pushed aside. God, her thoughts were as pleasant as her smile. Genuine, kind, sympathetic…wait a minute. Not sympathetic. Empathetic. She actually related to what it was like for me to stand here, knowing that everyone in the room was suspicious of me. She felt it as if it were her own discomfort. She was the psychic I’d felt earlier. But she was more than that. She was a true empath.

And she had absolutely no idea.

I turned wide eyes to Thirteen. I could block psychic intrusions, no problem. But an empath? I didn’t want this lady knowing my feelings all the time.
What the hell, Thirteen?
He ignored my silent question and stepped forward again.

“I would like to introduce you to our newest team member,” Thirteen said evenly. “Magnolia Kelch.”

Jaws dropped, faces blanched. Shock and anger permeated the room. But Theo and Jon showed nothing. No reaction, no movement. Just total control. If those two turned out to be as strong as I sensed they were, maybe Thirteen didn’t need the rest of the team.

GI Joe Charles swung around in his chair and grabbed my wrist. “How dare you bring an enemy…!”

I didn’t think. I just reacted.

I crushed his hand instantly, the bones breaking to bits under my grip. I slammed a quick extended-knuckle fist into his larynx, no more than bruising his windpipe, but incapacitating him nonetheless. Then I swung him completely out of his chair, twisting him to his knees in front of me, his back pressed to my front, his broken-handed arm pinning him in place. The Glock 34 he’d had tucked into the waistband of his jeans now rested nicely in my other hand. I pressed the gun to his temple.

Everyone leaped to their feet, guns out, all pointed at me. Charles gurgled and I pressed the gun tighter to his forehead. Thirteen waved his arms in the air yelling something like, “Don’t!” or “Stop!”

“Magnolia…” Banks said, as if trying to reason with me. But he didn’t lower his gun.

“Lower your weapons!” Thirteen commanded. No one moved. “Lower your weapons! NOW!”

All guns pointed to the floor.
C’mon Thirteen, don’t be a buzz kill. Let’s see what they’re really made of
. His stare bored into the side of my face.

“That means you too, Magnolia.”

At a normal speed, I released Charles and lowered his gun to my side. I watched with amusement as he scurried across the floor to Marie. Well, that had been fun. I turned to Thirteen and my amusement evaporated. He sighed deeply, his thoughts full of disappointment and regret. Damn it, it wasn’t my fault that Charles guy had grabbed at me.

“Heather,” Thirteen said, “please run upstairs and get some ice and a first aid kit from Miller.” Heather didn’t look at me as she rushed to the door.