No Peace for the Damned (22 page)

I sank completely into the pillows. The hit that my mind and soul had taken in the last several hours was catching up with me. Then to have Theo pull away like that—I closed my eyes and moved the sheet a little farther up my body.

“Well,” Thirteen said finally. “That’s going to change some things.”

My eyes stayed shut but I felt the bed move when Jon leaned over and pressed his hands down at the foot of the mattress.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because that just doesn’t make any sense. We all agreed that an attack against the Network would have to come from the brothers, most likely with Maxwell at the helm. If he’s not behind this, then who? Do we go after Magnus? It has to be one of them.”

I shook my head. God, I was so tired. “No. It doesn’t work like that. If Uncle Max doesn’t know anything, then neither do the others. They can’t keep secrets from each other. Their minds are too closely linked.”

At least it had never worked like that in the past. But Uncle Max was blocking his thoughts now.
Why?
I was too tired to explain this new development and they wouldn’t understand anyway.

Jon didn’t like my answer. “What do you mean it doesn’t work like that? Doesn’t work like what?”

Exhaustion tugged at my consciousness. The pillows were so cool and soft.

“Magnolia, what do you mean…” Jon started again.

“Jon,” Thirteen’s voice was low and soothing and commanding all at the same time. “We can discuss it further in a few hours.
For the time being, it’s been a long day and we all need some rest. We have enough information to begin rethinking our next steps. Let’s just leave her be for now.”

Thirteen’s big hand patted my forearm. His warmth felt good, safe. He wouldn’t pull away from me just because other team members were around. I heard the shuffle of feet and felt a dip in the bed as everyone moved to leave. I cracked open an eye.

Theo still stood in the doorway, and that new look of possession was back. I shivered under the weight of that look. He stared down at me for another moment before he finally turned away. Softly, he closed the door behind him.

I fell back against the pillows. I hadn’t even realized that I’d leaned toward him.

In my dream, there was only red now—crimson and salty—full of power and rage and rightness. In this dream I knew myself. I knew my likes and dislikes, my strengths and weaknesses—every nuance of the emotions and power within me. There was no more confusion, no more doubt. I pulsed with the certainty that I was everything I was meant to be. Complete in every way. And I totally welcomed it.

The crimson deepened and expanded, soaking into my skin like a sponge and turning my flesh a deeper, purplish pink.

Utter bliss.

My body relaxed as my powers swelled. My muscles flexed and my bones shifted. But there was no pain. I was being molded. And that was just fine.

A flash of light burst from my chest, but the crimson thickened, began to coagulate. On reflex, I pulled against it, but its solid grip tightened. Quiet uncertainty stirred. The crimson was
acting on its own, struggling against my pull, and I struggled to wake myself, but the dream itself did the same, resisting me.

Another golden flash.

My chest clenched tighter than ever, and I gasped as a clarity approached my consciousness. All those flashes of color I’d seen while awake—it wasn’t part of the dream at all. It was a part of
me
. It was the fear and the rage and the pain, welling up and taking me over.

Thirteen’s face appeared before me. What was this? There had never been people in my dreams before. I lifted a hand to wave him over but the red held me tight. Then he turned to me. His hands clasped the sides of his head, his eyes poured red, adding to the sea of red around me. Blood. And I was reveling in it.

I pulled again, this time with force. It still wouldn’t give. Theo appeared then.
Oh God
. And Heather. They reached for me, red spilling from their fingers, their throats, their mouths. The rightness and fulfillment I’d felt earlier vanished, shut off like a light. The red magnified, nearly purple now. My flesh blackened as the blood continued to fill me from the outside in.

Another flash of light shot out.
I
was still here, still in control. I gathered strength from every piece of energy I had left. I would
not
hurt them. I would
not
let the red take me. With one final pull I wrenched myself free.

I awoke, gasping, my body shaking violently. My heart pounded in my chest. Evil pulsed deep inside me. And if I let it, it would carry me away.

I put a hand to my head just to make sure it was still attached and felt that I was soaked in sweat. The backs of Theo’s fingers brushed along my neck. I jumped with a yelp. He crouched beside the bed, frowning at my panic. The vision from my dreams pierced my mind—his pain, his blood. All from somewhere
inside me. I shut my eyes tight. When I opened them, he was still there, frowning harder.

Theo’s sun-kissed hair framed his face. His eyes looked even deeper and more beautiful than usual. Slowly, his presence calmed my racing pulse. I could breathe deeply now.

I leaned back against the pillows. He reached out again, his hand moving with me as I lay back down. His fingers gently traced a path along my jawline. The movement was so natural, he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“Everyone’s gone,” he said quietly. “You want to hear about the next plan of action?”

I shook my head
no
before he even stopped talking.

I didn’t want to think about what was coming or who we were targeting next. I didn’t want to know the Network’s next plan to use me for my powers. I didn’t want to think about the blood in my dream or how wonderful and right it felt to soak myself in it. He kicked off his shoes at the foot of the bed. Then he looked back at me with a new hesitation in his eyes.

I took him in, his perfect tan and his tight T-shirt that emphasized the definition of his chest. I sat up and pulled the sheet back on the side closest to him. Then I relaxed back into the pillows and watched the smoothness of his muscles flex and ripple as he slid under the sheet next to me. His clothes were still on and he had yet to touch me, but my entire body grew warm and tensed in places I didn’t know could tense. But when he reached out and touched my chin again, this time lifting my face to meet his eyes, my body released itself.

He held my face with the touch of his fingers. I closed my eyes and turned my head into his palm, gently forcing his entire hand to cup my cheek.

“Magnolia…” he breathed. My body flexed as a steady pulse built inside me. My powers swelled beneath my skin. Theo’s hands
moved from my face to pull me to his chest. I rested my head on his bicep as his other arm wrapped around me.

“Sleep, my Mag,” he whispered. I let him hold me tighter and let the confusion of the unknown wash away. I drifted into a serene sleep.

This time, I dreamed of gold.

“You know, your attitude really sucks.”

The next morning when the others arrived for the briefing, Shane decided to take it upon himself to fill in the role of asshole now that Marie was away with Charles and Heather on
l’annuaire
guard duty.

“I’m just trying to understand what the hell happened yesterday,” he snapped at me. “The whole ‘I would have seen Magnus’s thoughts in Maxwell’s head’ thing—it’s bullshit! It doesn’t make sense!”

I took a long pull on my whiskey and slammed the glass hard on the table.

“I don’t know how else to explain it other than exactly the way I have already explained it like a hundred times!”

There was something else tainting his thoughts. An anger that had nothing to do with the mission. I’d felt it the moment he arrived, but his thoughts were racing and pulled in all directions.
I couldn’t tell what his anger was about. Maybe he’d had messed up dreams last night too.

Whatever it was, Shane reeled with questions. And the order for more investigative research had him pissed to an unreasonable level. He didn’t trust my detail of the events and felt we shouldn’t steer away from Uncle Max just because I
claimed
he wasn’t behind the Network abductions.

“Shane, man, we’ve been over this,” Jon said from the counter, where he finished off the coffee. “We need to completely change our approach. Thirteen’s decision is made. So either offer something new, or shut the hell up.”

Cordele sighed from the seat next to me. She spun her glass of OJ on the table between her hands the same way I spun my whiskey. When had she started doing that?

“We’ll just see when Thirteen gets here,” Shane mumbled under his breath.

I rolled my eyes. “Where
is
Thirteen?” I asked.

Jon and Theo exchanged a quick glance, then frowned. Immediately, both men whipped out their cell phones and punched speed dials.

“Nothing on his cell,” Theo said after several moments on the phone.

“No answer at home,” Jon replied at almost the same time. We looked at each other, the same thought in mind, and were on our feet, moving toward the door without a word. Jon was in front but I was tight on his heels. He stopped so abruptly I stumbled into his back. “Where do you think you’re going?” It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me.

“Where the hell do you think I’m going?” I said.

Jon opened his mouth, an order for me to stay already on his tongue. My power flared.
Just try it, Polo Boy
.

Theo put a hand on my shoulder. His fingers brushed against my neck. Warm comfort trickled through me as I slowly turned to face him. His eyes softened the way Thirteen’s did sometimes—patient. “Thirteen would want you to stay here,” he said quietly.

I narrowed my eyes but couldn’t hold it. Against my will, I calmed down.

“If he’s not OK, or if we need your help, we’ll call,” Theo continued. “I promise.”

And just like that, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
Damn him
. Using our connection to manipulate me like this. If I could, I’d be totally pissed off at him. As it was, respect grew inside me. Smart guy to recognize a valuable resource when he had it.
Crap
.

He held my gaze a moment longer then walked out the front door.

Cordele turned to me as she backed down the front hall. “Do you have our cell numbers in case you hear from him?”

“Yeah, I got ’em,” I said and snatched up my whiskey bottle.

“We’ll be back soon,” Cordele called. The screen door bounced on its frame behind her.

I poured a tall glass of whiskey, no ice or sour mix. Might as well finish off the bottle. Not like I had anything else to do.

…

I stretched out on the extended sofa in the great room. I’d never tried this before, but what the hell? Everything else with me was so out of whack, this might actually work. I closed my eyes and concentrated.
Where are you, Thirteen?
I focused on his image—the little crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. The deep tremor of his voice. His comfortable scent of Old Spice and ginseng.

Nothing. After a few minutes more I gave up. I couldn’t sense him.

I took a long drink. Thirteen was a tough guy. He’d been fighting my family for years. He was probably just working through something with one of the other teams. I mean, he came back last time, right?

But the others weren’t worried last time. This time they were.

The gore from Uncle Max’s thoughts flashed in my mind. Blood coated his every thought. Pulsing inside him, just like my dream. Did he draw strength from that darkness? Did his powers swell inside him every time he made someone bleed?

Uncle Max had said that their powers grew as more vessels carried our bloodline. Torturing his victims wouldn’t grow his powers, would it? When I lashed out at Jon, throwing him against the kitchen wall like that, everything had turned red—just like when I was near Uncle Max. The rage and fear had come easily, naturally. Had I gotten more powerful in those moments? I couldn’t be sure.

In my dream I’d recognized the source of the supernatural pulse inside me. My powers fed from that place; in my dream, whenever I’d resisted the red, gold light flashed. The same color gold I dreamt of lying beside Theo last night.