Reluctant Adept: Book Three of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (26 page)

At the time, though, the thing I'd pondered, most of all, was what it would be like to touch a strigoi without my gloves. Would their skin be cold? Did their hearts still beat? Were the rumors true? Could a clairvoyant touch (and—gasp!—maybe even kiss) a strigoi without the need for protection? Of course, I'd never worked up the courage to ask any of those things, because, despite his slight build, Alex had unnerved me.

Though, as I approached the hooded figure, it quickly became obvious … this man was about as slim as a Freightliner, which put him at odds with the seventeen-year-old boy I remembered.

When Diedra spotted me, she squealed and rushed at me, smiling broadly. "Lire! Oh, wow! It's been so long. Look at you. You didn't tell me you changed your hair," she gushed, grasping and swinging our mutually gloved hands between our bodies like we'd always done in school. The clairvoyant's version of a girl hug. "It looks awesome. I never understood what possessed you to dye it in the first place. God, otherwise you've hardly changed. You look great!"

I'd changed plenty, just not where she could see it. Diedra, on the other hand, had acquired some nice curves over the last ten years. In high school, she'd been flat as a board and so diminutive that she had to order from the youth uniform catalog long after the rest of us girls had gone on to women's sizes. One boy, who I suspected had a crush on her, made the unfortunate mistake of comparing her to a tiny Asian doll. To her face. Poor guy. Pretty sure, after the resulting profanity-laden explosion, he never looked at a doll the same way again.

"Hey, Deed. Looking good yourself," I replied, practically staggering under the weight of her enthusiasm, and tried to paste a smile on my face.

I couldn't believe Diedra thought I'd mistake this person for Alex. This had to be a setup, otherwise, why the bait and switch? Had she been forced into doing this? Strigoi saliva wasn't effective on clairvoyants or telepaths, but regular strong-arm tactics worked fine, as Lorcán had amply demonstrated.

Likely sensing my unease, Diedra frowned and glanced over her shoulder at the hooded figure, who'd turned toward us when Diedra waylaid me. Releasing my hands, she stepped aside to include him in our conversation. "Lire, I think you know Alex, from high school, right?"

She sounded so genuine, but there was no way this guy was Alex. From the day they were turned, strigoi were eternal, their bodies frozen in time, a gift for which they supposedly traded their souls, among other things.

I peered into the shadow of the figure's generous hood, but with the lobby's gloomy lighting offering nothing in the way of contrast, I couldn't discern much beyond the vague contour of a dark face. The hand that extended from the man's sleeve was a lustrous black, like brushed coal, marked with a distinct pattern of tiny, rounded tiles, similar to a snake.

As a general rule, gloves or no gloves, clairvoyants didn't shake hands. No clairvoyant wanted to throw away a pair of gloves every time they greeted someone. But with their immunity, strigoi were a special case, and this guy assumed I knew it.

Under normal, friendly circumstances—with
Alex
—I might have gone along with it.

These were hardly normal circumstances. And this wasn't Alex.

I enveloped the two of them within my telekinetic grasp. Subtle? No. But I learned one important thing as I indecorously picked up and restrained them. Neither one was affected by a shroud.

Diedra's eyes went wide and she gasped at the intrusion. The cloaked figure stiffened, but without a shroud or a way to counter my magic, there wasn't much either of them could do about it.

I smoothly whisked Diedra behind me, wanting her out of the impersonator's easy reach. I was done playing into my enemy's hands.

"So … here's the thing. I had an exceptionally shitty night, last night, no thanks to your buddies, Nathan and Eva and their newest pal, Lorcán. Call me crazy, but I get a little bit
irritated
"—I punctuated the word with a firm shake of his body— "when a herd of vampires enslave and kidnap twenty of my friends and murder a guy I used to date. So you'll have to indulge me when I say:
I'm not here to play your fucking games. Okay?
"

I speared him with a vehement glare as my fire fluttered along the surface of my skin before I could smother it. "You." I poked his steely chest with my index finger. "Are not." Poke. "Alex." Poke. "The Alex I knew intimidated the hell out of me because the guy had presence with a capital 'P,' not because he was the size of the goddamned Terminator." I folded my arms. "So, let's begin again. Shall we? Who are you and what do you want? And you better make this good. If you haven't noticed, I'm not a shy, fourteen-year-old clairvoyant anymore."

"Lire— "

"I know who
you
are, Diedra," I snapped without taking my eyes off the creature in front of me. "I wasn't talking to you."

"Lire!" she exclaimed.

"It's okay, Deidra," the man said, his voice sending tingles down my spine. "I'm not offended by the confusion. Being compared to the Terminator isn't such a bad thing, I don't think. But it's pretty ironic, since you're the one who suggested that I bulk up in the first place, Clotilde. I believe your exact words were: 'If you worked out some, put on some muscle, idiots like shit-for-brains Skyler who can't see past the end of their own noses wouldn't assume you're easy prey just because you're a computer geek.'"

He barked out a laugh. "Frankly, it's one of the most shrewd observations I've ever heard." His voice lowered to a menacing snarl. "No one mistakes me for prey."

The tingles turned into a full-on shiver as I brought a small ball of fire to the palm of my hand and cautiously raised it to illuminate the inside of his hood. A familiar yet ominous face stared back at me, his eyes black as jet. The orange and yellow of my flame glinted over his scales, making his skin appear almost opalescent.

"You can't be Alex," I said, but my voice lacked conviction. "Vampi—I mean, strigoi are eternal. They don't change."

He shook his head. "Not true. We don't age, but our hair and fingernails grow and, as you can see, we can build muscle, given the right … circumstances."

I stared at him, sure I didn't want to know about these 'circumstances,' and wondered what the hell to do. Although I hadn't spoken to him all that often, I had to admit, this strigoi sounded a hell of a lot like Alex. He had that same Midwestern drawl.

"That night … what did I say to Skyler to get him to back off?" I asked.

"You told him there wasn't a secret you couldn't uncover if you set your mind to it, like how he jerked off to a photo of Jennifer Randal and what her older brother might do to him if he ever found that out."

"Oh my God! You never told me that!" Diedra exclaimed, although I wasn't sure whether she'd directed the complaint to me or Alex.

"Well …
hell
," I groused, releasing them and extinguishing my fire. "You know, they don't teach you this stuff in school, dammit. I swear, half of my idiotic blunders could be avoided if people told me important shit like this."

"Yes. Important shit," he said, voice low and severe. "Like how a clairvoyant has the power of a magus and how she plans to make amends for violating the Fourth Law."

"Uh …" I blinked at him. "Sorry?"

"I suppose that's a start," he said dryly.

"No. I mean— " I blew out a flustered breath. "I'm sorry for, you know, the misunderstanding and manhandling you guys and stuff, but, uh … what's this Fourth Law? Another strigoi thing that I don't know about?"

"The Fourth Law states that a magus will not use his or her power against another individual without permission or express cause," he informed me. "Violation is punishable by the Arcane Council's discretion, but can include banning, imprisonment, and/or arcane shackling."

Okay, yeah, I'd heard of the Arcane Laws, I just wasn't familiar with their finer points.

By the time he said 'shackling,' my eyes probably resembled a pair of ping-pong balls. "Oh," I replied and then added, voice rising to a near squeak, "I have doughnuts. Upstairs?"

Behind me, Diedra made a choking sound, I think to stop herself from snickering. At least, that's what I hoped. Could be she was girding herself for Alex to take my head off. Alex, for his part, simply loomed.

"Look, I'm not a magus. I have more than one psychic ability," I explained and then shrugged. "It's kind of a long story."

"That's one story I'd be interested to hear." He paused, drawing in a slow breath. "Fortunately for you, Clotilde, it seems you share the domn's favor. But don't let it go to your head. He's notoriously fickle and unpredictable." He leaned forward and, beneath the hood, I swear his eyes glowed with an unearthly black light, which dimly illuminated a pair of exceedingly long fangs. "And bear in mind, I'm no longer the seventeen-year-old computer geek you knew in high school," he said, and with his menacing voice came the unmistakable smell of death.

I staggered backward, almost clobbering Diedra, but managed to stop myself before my hindbrain had me scurrying for the nearest exit.

"I never thought you were," I croaked and then turned on my shaking legs toward the elevator.

But I wasn't stupid. I kept my telekinetic net extended and monitored every move he made while he was behind my back.

By the time the three of us shuffled into the elevator, I'd restored my composure. "We're going to my building's conference room. I assume the domn filled you in on what happened last night?" When Alex answered with an affirmative, I continued, "Good. I don't know how much you know about the sidhe, but their society is comprised of two opposing factions, one led by King Faonaín and the other by his sister, the amhaín. Kim, the king's emissary, is waiting for us, along with the amhaín's liaison and several other sidhe representatives. Are you familiar with how their emissaries and liaisons work? Each one is soulbound to a sidhe who stays in the Otherworld. Since they communicate through their bond, it provides a way for the sidhe to— "

"Speak with people here," Alex interrupted with a nod. "What's your role in all this?"

I grunted. "I guess that would depend on who you ask."

"I'm asking
you
."

"My role is … complicated. In all honesty, I'd be happier not having one at all, but the alternative is doing nothing and that's not an option. I know it sounds crazy, but demons are planning to invade Earth, and I've found that I'm in a unique position to help stop them. They've already executed most of King Faonaín's emissaries and, a little over three weeks ago, they murdered eighteen Invisius Verso telepaths before we were able to close their gateway. Soon, though, they'll have the means to come here without being summoned, and if we want to survive, we need to work together to keep them out. All of this sidhe political bullshit— " I sighed. "It comes with the territory. The sidhe have been preparing to counter this invasion for a long time."

"The half-breeds," Alex said.

"Yes. You know about them?"

"Of course," he said gruffly. "Immortals tend to take notice of each other. Their progeny were hard to miss."

"Did you guys know why the sidhe were breeding an army?"

"Most of the strigoi assumed they were planning an invasion of their own. What you've told me doesn't negate that possibility, you know."

"The Compact forbids it. But if the king is usurped by his daughter Maeve and her loyalist Lorcán …" I shook my head. "Then all bets are off. That's why the amhaín is supporting her brother's continued rule, even though they don't see eye to eye on some pretty serious issues. Unfortunately, your strigoi
renegades
have aligned themselves with someone who wants to overthrow the king. So, with that in mind, it would be … wise to tread carefully in this meeting. Right?"

The darkness of his hood stymied any sense of his reaction, but based on his stony stance and Diedra's fearful expression, I got the distinct impression that one didn't
instruct
the strigoi on matters of conduct, no matter how politely worded or sensible the advice.

"Your counsel has been noted,
mortal
."

He said 'mortal' the same way a medieval monarch might say 'peasant.'

For the first time, I found myself wishing I was 'the one,' so I could rub his condescending face in it.

Dangerous thought
, I scolded myself.

In the end, who cared whether Alex acted like a douche? If we could number the domn and the strigoi among our allies, he and the rest of them could be as superior as the day was long for all I cared. It's not as though I wasn't already inured to it. Imperiousness seemed to be a sidhe national pastime.

My reasoning didn't squelch my disappointment, however. In all my childish daydreams, I'd never imagined Alex being a jerk. Scary and powerful and possibly predatory,
yes
. An arrogant jackass,
not so much
. I was beginning to think immortality was synonymous with hubris.

A dozen scathing responses flirted with the tip of my tongue, but I made a meal of them and kept my lips firmly closed. When the elevator door parted on the second floor, I strode ahead, aiming for the conference room with a mind more primed for battle than diplomacy.

Some people are jerks; get over it
, I told myself.

I waited at the closed conference room door, my hand on the knob, and forced myself into calm, arching my head to each side to ease the tension in my neck. When I heard Alex and Diedra approaching, I donned a neutral expression and ushered them inside.

As I opened my mouth to make the introductions, Alex issued a guttural roar and leapt at Tíereachán with all the ferocity of a ravenous grizzly but ten times as fast. My former classmate slammed into the unprepared sidhe, knocking him six feet through the air before landing on top of him. The sickening
thwack
of Tíer's head striking the wood floor reverberated through the cavernous room, followed by Diedra's shrill scream and my shocked gasp.

I sensed the exact moment Tíer lost consciousness, not a split-second later. The steady, almost imperceptible static of his shielded thoughts, which continually rumbled just below my surface awareness, vanished so completely that I feared Alex had killed him. I hadn't realized how accustomed I'd gotten to his presence at the periphery of my mind until he was gone.