Chapter Sixteen
Ethan pushed the phone into his pocket, a frown pulling his brows together. He smoothed it away. Show nothing. That was the mantra of the Conclave. Give nothing away.
But where the hell is Fergus?
“What’s the matter?” Sadie asked.
As if she didn’t know. “I can’t reach Fergus. He’s not answering his phone.”
“You want to leave? Go find him.”
“Hell, no.” The only thing he could do was go in there and act as if nothing was wrong. Hell, hopefully nothing was wrong. But he didn’t like it.
She touched his arm. “I’ll see if anyone knows anything.”
“Thank you.”
“I actually like Fergus.”
He snorted but linked his arm with hers. “One thing occurred to me. What if Travis recognizes you?” he asked.
“I’d thought about it, but I think the risk is low. All the Tribe look similar, but with the exception of the twins, the similarities are superficial—height, hair coloring, eyes. I have at least two of those things covered.”
“Okay, but let me know if he even looks at you funny.”
“I will.”
As they approached the big double doors into the ballroom, they opened as if by magic, and together they stepped inside. And she stopped. He cast her a sideways look. She was staring around her, eyes narrowed. Clearly, she’d seen something she didn’t like, and he wished he could see into her mind. Know what she was thinking. Then she gave her head a little shake, and her mouth curved into a somewhat forced smile. “Let’s party.”
They strolled through the room. She had a faraway look in her eyes, but other than that, there was no sign of what she was doing. Practice, he supposed. She halted, gestured discreetly in the direction of a blond woman in a scarlet dress.
“Honestly, Ethan,” she murmured. “That one has to die.”
“Lauren?” Well, that was no surprise. She’d always been a contender and more so since the day he’d seen her at his father’s office.
“Sorry, but she had nothing to do with your mother,” Sadie said. Exploding that little theory. That would have been the best of some very bad options. Killing Lauren would be doing the world a favor. She was one of the more…radical members of the Conclave.
“Radical? I’m not sure that’s the right word,” Sadie muttered. “A few years ago, she tried to destroy London, some sort of biological attack, which would have wiped out the whole population. What sort of fucking nutcase job does that?”
“Descartes,” he murmured. “I’d heard a rumor.” Though he hadn’t realized it had gone so far. Something must have gone wrong, though, to presumably put the plan on hold. “There’s a faction within the Conclave who believe we should come out from behind the screen of secrecy. That we should take over the world in reality, for all to see.”
“But why destroy London?”
“To show we can, I suppose. One definitive example of our powers. After that, it would be easy to take control.”
She turned to face him. “And how do you feel about that, Ethan?”
He cast her a look. “You know how I feel. I wasn’t involved, knew nothing about it at the time, and luckily something obviously went wrong.”
“Luckily.”
He rested a hand on the bare skin at the small of her back, felt a shiver run through her. He wanted this night finished with, not hanging over him. He craved some time alone with her, with nothing between them. Was that even possible? He hoped she’d moved past wanting to kill him. But who really knew?
They strolled on, letting her dictate the pace, pausing now and then. But the little frown lines between her eyes grew deeper. Finally, she halted him again with a hand on his arm. “It’s not working—too much background, and I’m not the best at this.” She examined the room, studying its occupants, lips pursed. “I’ve got an idea—why don’t you introduce me to people and somehow bring your mother into the conversation? You remember that time my mother…sort of thing. That way, I’ll be able to follow the thought.”
“Okay, we’ll try it.”
He halted beside a small group of people. “Hello, Damian.” Damien was the head of one of the other houses. Around forty-five, he was young to have control. His father had died in a convenient boating “accident” two years ago.
The man nodded, and then turned his attention to Sadie, his gaze wandering over her in a way that made Ethan want to punch him on the nose. Sadie’s lips twitched.
“This is my assistant, Sadie,” he said. “Our mothers were friends.”
They chatted for a few minutes to give her time to do whatever she did, then she gave him a little nod, and they moved on.
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Yes, I got them all. But nothing dodgy. Most people have happy memories of your mother. She sounds like a nice person. Too nice for your dad.”
“You don’t like my father?”
He’d introduced them earlier; his father still wore the reflector device, so Sadie couldn’t read him. He was hoping that wouldn’t be an issue, and that whatever had happened to his mother, his father had had no part in it. He’d given Sadie a searching look—as though he sensed something not quite right. But then, you didn’t get to lead the Conclave without being perceptive.
“Honestly? He makes me want to squirm or do something really childish, like stick out my tongue. But I restrained myself. I think I must be maturing.”
They moved on, repeating the process with a few more groups. They were running out of people. And Travis still hadn’t showed up.
Ethan had his back to the door, when Sadie tapped him lightly on the arm, and he turned and went still. Travis stood inside the doorway as though waiting for someone. His gaze roamed the room while he talked into a cell phone, a small social smile on his face. Silver glinted in his hair; he was still wearing a reflector device, so Sadie would get nothing from him. It wasn’t unexpected, but he really wanted to find out what was inside Travis’s head. Maybe they needed a few minutes alone. Just him, Travis, and Sadie. He was quite looking forward to it.
Travis put the phone back in his pocket. His gaze settled on Ethan, and his smile widened. While they’d never been friends growing up, they had spent family holidays together. But Travis had never had the doubts he had. He was Conclave through and through, and ruthless enough to always do what was needed. Until this last project. When he’d gone against a whole lot of protocols. Why?
Travis’s gaze shifted to Sadie standing at Ethan’s side. For a moment, nothing happened. With her short blond hair, and brown contacts, she looked nothing like other members of the Tribe. Then Travis went still. His gaze shifted from Sadie to Ethan and back again, and something cold ran over his expression. Still staring at her as if he couldn’t drag his gaze away, he pulled the cell phone from his pocket and spoke into it.
A woman came to join him, and a genuine smile wiped the coldness from his face. She had her back to them. Tall, slender, with long black hair. Travis leaned in close, kissed her cheek and looped his hand through hers. His gaze caught Ethan’s again, and his expression was blank. Then they were both heading their way.
“What the fuck?” Sadie’s fingers dug into his arm.
“What is it?”
She gritted her teeth. “Who the fuck is that?” The words came out as a growl, and he turned to peer at her. “The woman with Travis—who is she?”
“That’s Travis’s wife, Joelle.” He’d been at the wedding, but hadn’t really talked to her in any meaningful way, and after that, she’d stayed in the background. Now, he studied her as she walked toward them on Travis’s arm. And something clicked in his head. It was the reason why Sadie had seemed so familiar from the start. The similarity went way deeper than mere hair and eye color. They weren’t identical, but close. The curve of her cheek, the straight nose, even the way she moved.
“Do you know her?” he asked, though the answer was obvious.
“She’s my goddamned sister. My goddamned dead sister. What the fuck is going on?”
…
A scream welled up inside her.
No!
Kaitlin went still as everything around her seemed to slow while her mind raced.
Don’t panic.
This wasn’t happening. She wouldn’t allow it to happen.
Her gaze took in the room, everyone and everything in it. Fergus was still strapped in his seat, an expression of…pity on his face. No help. Or maybe…
A diversion. He’d offer them a diversion, and she gave a quick nod. It wouldn’t be enough. They were unarmed. Two guards plus Peterson.
“Dex. We have to move and we have to move now.” The guard was already turning him around, shoving him back against the wall, his hand moving to the pistol at his waist.
“I know. Maybe…you don’t need to die. Live. Get out of here. Make the world a better place.”
“Fuck off. If you die, I die. But we’re not going to die. They are.”
Peterson was unarmed—they could leave him until last. But they had to take down the guards.
“Wait until Fergus moves,” she said. “Then go for your guard.”
He was already pulling the weapon from the holster. She went into Fergus’s mind. Now, he told her, and at the same moment, he heaved himself backward crashing his chair to the ground. She was vaguely aware of Dex diving for the guard, but she focused on her own. His attention swerved to the man on the floor, and his grip on her arm loosened. She jabbed her elbow up beneath his chin then whirled around and kneed him in the balls. He swayed but stayed upright, and she kicked her foot into his shin and slammed the edge of her hand into his throat so he choked and bent over. Fisting her hands together, she chopped him over the back of the neck so he collapsed to his knees. He was stronger than her, and she couldn’t afford to let him get in a single blow or a hold.
“Kaitlin, catch.”
Dex threw the pistol, and she snatched it out of the air, smashing the weapon over the back of the guard’s head, and finally, he collapsed to the floor. She spun around, shifting the gun in her hand.
The whole thing had only taken seconds, and Peterson stood, eyes wide as if he had no clue what was going on. Stupid fucker.
She raised the pistol, and without hesitation, she shot him between the eyes, feeling no remorse as he toppled backward, hit the wall, and slid down, eyes open and staring.
There was a movement behind her, and she whirled around, raised the pistol and aimed.
“Whoa,” Dex said in her head, and she forced her hand to relax and fall to her side. She blew the air out of her lungs, and then took a deep breath and looked around. Dex’s guard was unconscious, as was hers. But who knew for how long? She hunkered down, pulled the pistol from the holster, tossed it to Dex, then searched the man, found cuffs attached to his belt, and she hauled his arms behind his back and cuffed them. Dex was doing the same to his guard. Only when they were secured did some of the tension drain out of her, and her shoulders slumped. She closed her eyes briefly.
Christ, she’d thought that was the end.
She didn’t want to die.
And they still had to get out of there. Where was Jake?
Fergus was still on the floor tied to his chair, and she went across and unfastened the restraints. He eyed her warily as he pushed himself to his feet. He wanted to warn his boss, was unsure if they’d let him, and was wondering if he could take them. She lifted the pistol, aimed it at his chest.
“No,” she said. But she went to where Peterson’s body lay slumped on the floor and crouched down, delved in his pocket, and pulled out the cell phone. She straightened and held it out to Fergus.
“Go ahead,” she said. “But be quick. I want to get out of here.”
He took the phone, then punched in a number, lifted it, his gaze darting between the two of them. “Ethan, you have a problem. Travis knows about your girlfriend.”
He listened for a moment. “I’m fine. But your security is compromised. Stay in the main room until I get there.”
He ended the call, put the phone in his pocket, and nodded to her. “Let’s go.”
As she turned, gunshots cracked the silence outside the door. A moment later, it was kicked open, and Jake stood there. Stefan and Connor behind him.
For a moment, they stared at each other, and she could feel a grin stretching her mouth. Jake glanced past her at the bodies littering the floor.
“Been busy?” he asked.
She gave a shrug. “We had to do something while we waited for you.” Then she dropped the pistol to the floor and ran into his arms.
He wrapped them around her and held her tight. For the first time in months, she felt at peace. But this wasn’t over yet. She raised her head.
“Sadie’s in trouble.”
…
Her mind was in turmoil.
What the fuck was going on?
She hardly noticed the approaching man. All her attention was fixed on her sister.
“Josie?” She reached out with her mind and found nothing. An emptiness. Or a wall she couldn’t breach. She wasn’t sure which. She came out of her mind and looked into her face. Josie appeared normal, but there was a blankness to her eyes. A smile was fixed on her face, but there was absolutely no recognition.
Ethan’s hand tightened on her arm as though in warning. “Don’t make a scene here,” he told her in an undertone. “You’ll be taken out immediately. There are snipers watching from the balconies.”
Glancing up and around, she spotted one directly across from their little group. She swallowed and breathed deeply. She couldn’t lose it. Not if she wanted answers. But none of this made sense. She’d felt off balance since she’d walked into the ballroom and recognized it from her vision. All these people unconscious or dead.
It hadn’t been real. There was no reason to think it might come true. All the same, she’d had to fight the urge to warn them, to scream at them to get out of there, something bad was coming. But she had no clue what. And she had a headache forming at the base of her skull, dulling her mind.
She was sure the woman in front of her was Josie, but Ethan had said she was Travis’s wife. Joelle. What the fuck?
They’d reached them now, and she didn’t know what to do. What to say. The world had turned to chaos. Everything she’d believed was overturned. The woman was dressed in a long cream lace gown that showed off her vivid coloring. Diamonds at her throat and ears glittered in the light. Her long black hair gleamed with health. She looked sleek and expensive…like a sleek, expensive fucking doll.
Sadie had never seen her sister’s body. But she’d never doubted for a second that Josie was dead. Why would she have doubted? She’d lost contact. They’d been in each other’s minds since they’d first become telepathic. And now, there was nothing there. Just a huge hole where her sister had once been.
Fury rose inside her.
For the first time, she turned her attention to the man at her sister’s side, the man with a possessive arm at her sister’s waist. He had a look of Ethan about him, same height, same dark hair, though his was longer and his eyes were a pale, cold gray. She couldn’t get inside his head, but then they’d expected that. So he was going to have to tell her what the hell had happened to her sister.
She opened her mouth as Ethan’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders as he listened, and she delved into his thoughts.
Fergus. He was alive.
“I know,” Ethan answered, “We’re with him now. At the party.”
He listened again. “I won’t.”
He put the phone back in his pocket and turned his attention to Travis. “What the hell is going on?”
Travis ignored the question and turned to the woman at his side. “I need to talk business, darling. Why don’t you go and get a glass of champagne? Mingle for a little while.”
She smiled sweetly. “Of course.” She nodded to Sadie and Ethan and glided away. Sadie watched her go. The body might be that of her sister, but the mind was gone. She was like some fucking Stepford wife.
She took a step closer to Travis.
“Sadie,” Ethan murmured from her side. He was scared she was going to get herself shot.
“I’ll be good,” she said. “But I want answers.”
“And what makes you think I’ll give them to you,” Travis replied.
Arrogant fucking bastard.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll rip your fucking arms off and beat you to death with them.”
His eyes widened, as though she wasn’t what he’d expected. Maybe he’d thought she was another Josie. But Josie had always been the sweet one. No one had ever accused Sadie of being sweet.
“What the fuck have you done to my fucking sister?” she snarled.
He didn’t answer her, but just turned to Ethan. “What do you think they”—he waved a hand around the room—“are going to say when I tell them you brought a telepath into their midst?”
“If you do that, I’ll tell them you’re married to one.”
She followed his gaze to where Josie stood with her back to them, talking to Ethan’s father.
“I’m afraid poor Joelle has lost her ability to read minds.”
“Her name is Josie, and what did you do to her?”
He shrugged and brought his attention back to Sadie. “Personally, nothing. We wanted to investigate ways to…limit your powers. Ultimately, turn them on and off. Unfortunately, your sister was the first test case, and she woke up from the operation with no abilities and no memories beyond that day. She’d been scheduled for termination—of no more use to us. I happened to be there that day. You could say it was love at first sight.”
Her eyes pricked and she blinked. All these years, she’d believed Josie dead. Would that be better than this half-life? She looked over at her sister; she was laughing, her head back. She looked young and beautiful and carefree.
“Christ,” Ethan said. “That’s why you went dark.”
“I had no choice. There was someone coming after her people. Somehow finding them, when we’d failed. I couldn’t risk them coming after Joelle.”
“Josie. Her goddamned name is Josie.”
Travis shrugged. “I do love her. And she loves me.”
“She wouldn’t, if she knew what you’d done.”
“And you’d tell her and spoil her happiness.”
She glared at him. But he wasn’t living, no matter what. She didn’t care how unhappy it would make her sister—Josie would get over it. “It will probably help her reconcile herself to being a widow.”
“You’ll hardly be able to kill me from your cell.”
She opened her mouth to answer, when the pain in her skull flared into life, and a scream pierced her mind. She dragged her attention from Travis, as the first body folded, almost gently, to the ground.