Crest (Ondine Quartet Book 3) (12 page)

"If there's any change in her...you know... either way." I cleared my throat. "Can you call me directly? I want to know as soon as possible."

I needed to hear it directly from him. Not from Jeeves, Tristan, or my grandmother.

A warm hand rested on my shoulder. "I will."

Once I got the shakiness under control, I stood. Leaning over my aunt, I brushed a few strands of that glorious hair away from her face and pressed my cheek to hers.

In the rich quiet between my space and hers, I whispered the most important truth I wanted her to know.

"I came back, Marcella."

By the time Tristan drove us through the wrought-iron gates of Haverleau, calm focus had settled over me.

This was the home Marcella protected and I would do the same.

We made our way up the winding road in the northeastern section of the community. Mountains and bare tree branches framed the French Baroque architecture of Lumière Academy.

Two dozen people milled about the entrance of the parking lot.

Tristan's fingers tightened around the wheel.

"What's going on?" Helene asked.

The crowd's attention latched on to our car.

More specifically, me.

"It's her!"

Points. Shouts.

I couldn't hear much through the closed windows, but the handwritten signs were perfectly legible.

Down with Irisavie!

Ondines ≠ Chevaliers

Where is the sondaleur?

Anxiety twisted up my spine. Heartbeat accelerated.

Several gardinels pushed people back, opening a safe path for us to drive through.

"Hang on." Tristan carefully navigated into the lot.

"Are they protesting?" Helene sounded excited. "This is amazing!"

The crowd's visceral anger reached into the car and smacked me in the face.

I was used to being strongly disliked and gossiped about.

But this wasn't about me. It was about the Irisavies.

These were the same people who called my mother crazy and talked about her as if her life were a form of cheap entertainment. The ones who wanted to see my grandmother out of power even though she'd sacrificed everything to keep them safe.

The ones who didn't believe I could be chevalier or
sondaleur
.

Anger swelled and hands tightened into fists.

"Don't give them what they want," Tristan murmured.

He pulled into a spot near the administration building. I reached for my handle and his hand shot out.

"Wait."

Fifteen minutes later, Academy gardinels pushed the last of the protestors off campus grounds.

"Okay."

Helene climbed out and I turned to him. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

No one told me protestors would be waiting for me. And judging from the gardinels dealing with the crowd, Tristan had expected it.

He exhaled. "Two weeks ago, the Governing Council found out what you did at the Lyondale factory. News also spread through Haverleau."

Which meant everyone knew my grandmother had circumvented appropriate protocol and undertook a deadly strike based on the word of two ondine teenagers and a nix.

"Ian —"

"He's safe. I have round the clock extra protection on him and he's still directly under the Governor's eye in the Royal Gardens."

The beginnings of a headache pulsed behind my eye.

"Given the situation with Marcella and Gabe, people have begun to suspect who the next Governor might be," he continued.

And they had the exact same reaction as Fujio.

"You could have told me this earlier," I said wearily.

"You have enough to worry about right now."

Through the window, I saw Helene filming the majestic contours of the school.

Sitting in Tristan's car reminded me of my first day here. Things were so much simpler back then.

"How did the Council find out?"

Tristan rubbed his eyes. "The information seems to have stemmed from Marquisa LeVeq."

How did Julian's mother find out about a highly classified operation? I doubted her son or the other participants told her.

Uneasiness rose. A traitor was betraying us on every level. I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with this as well.

Maybe that's why Rhian suspected he was on the Council.

Tristan turned, one hand resting behind my seat head and the other on the dashboard.

"Just..." His voice trailed off and for a moment, I thought he'd lean in and touch me.

But his face remained blank. "Just be careful, Kendra."

An echo of disappointment. "Of course."

I grabbed my duffel bag from the trunk and joined Helene in the middle of the lot.

Camera focused on a car four stalls over. "Is that yours?"

"My baby." I beamed at the red, dilapidated Datsun. No more crazy cabs or Renee's maniacal driving. "How'd you know?"

"Julian said you had an unnatural love for the ugliest car at school."

I scowled and walked over to it. She followed. "Someday, Helene, when you buy a car with your own hard-earned cash, you'll understand the feeling."

Of course, I didn't mention my hard-earned cash came from lifting the inheritance off a few Redavi demillirs.

"I don't know." Her tone grew critical. "Doesn't really seem hardcore enough for the
sondaleur
. Maybe you can switch it out with something sleek and fast. Do any of your friends own a Porsche?"

I patted the hood of the car. Metal groaned. "I thought you were making a documentary."

"Creative license." She lowered the camera and peered into the window. "What's that?"

It looked distinctly out of place against the black vinyl.

I yanked Helene behind me, dagger in hand.

Eyes scoured the parking lot. Virtue extended but found nothing except the usual stirrings of students and faculty.

Thirty seconds. A minute.

No immediate threats.

I slowly turned. Skin crawled.

An iris lay on the driver's seat.

The flower could've been placed there hours ago, even yesterday.

Heart pounded in my ears. Or maybe one of the protestors left it for me.

Keeping Helene in a protected position, I gingerly opened the door and took it out.

Petals glistened, rich colors bursting in the frozen air.

And there, staining the inner curve.

A drop of black blood.

Helene's small voice trembled.

"Looks like the Shadow is welcoming you home."

"I WAS DOING SO MUCH better when you were gone," a familiar voice said.

I stepped out of the booth at Cafe Rivière and grinned.

"Why? Because you finally had a shot at the top of the elites?"

"That's ridiculous," another low voice spoke up. "That would mean he'd have to beat me, too."

Cam Martin's hazel eyes briefly warmed before settling back into its usual sardonic sheen.

"You look snottier."

"Thanks." I peered at his face. "Did you get a little soft?"

He scowled. Another demillir with a neatly tied ponytail slung an arm around my shoulders.

"He's just jealous you spent a month in New York," Alex Girard said.

I pulled away and took in his sweater. It looked like someone knit together hair in shades of brown, orange, and grey.

"You've left a cat naked, Girard."

He settled next to Cam in the booth. "Goat, not cat."

A small lump formed in my throat at the sight of the nix and two ondines. I'd missed them more than I knew how to express.

"Hey," I said, awkward.

Chloe Moreaux threw her arms around me. "What's with the hey stuff?"

Awkwardness disappeared in an instant and I hugged her back hard. A trace of gentle perfume wafted off silky, platinum locks.

Aubrey's brilliant emerald eyes danced. "You look less beat up than usual."

"She just got back yesterday, Aub. Give her time." Ian pushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead and graced me with a shy smile. "Missed us?"

"Of course not."

Aub reached for me, her movements slightly awkward. I wrapped my arms around her and felt the hardness under her coat sleeve.

"Not used to it yet," she murmured.

 
"You will be."

She'd get used to it, master it, hack the hell out of it, then make the actual device a million times better than what it was when she started.

That was her way.

Ian folded his lanky frame into the booth, followed by the girls. A harried waiter took our order then rushed off to deal with two other tables.

After passing out last night, I'd spent the morning in meetings at the Governing House, reporting on my month in New York.

Using her persuasive talents, Chloe convinced Headmaster Pelletier to let them have lunch with me off-campus. Instead of today's cafeteria sludge of congealed vegetables and unidentifiable white fish, we were enjoying the savory flavors of my favorite restaurant in Haverleau.

The rich scent of luscious baked goods wafted through the air. Honeyed wood tables and rose colored chairs added to the familiar warmth.

Our waiter returned with plates of steaming hot food. Stan Molyneux, the previous owner, never needed staff. He ran everything himself and spent most of his time griping about how much work it was.

I glanced around the cafe. Almost every table was taken.

"Did this place get more popular?"

Aubrey nodded over at the tall demillir in the corner. "Give you one guess why."

Bastien Landry, current owner of the cafe, leaned against a table, animatedly talking to a group of ondines.

Pale green eyes gleamed under a tousled mop of light brown hair. With a lean, athletic build, easy laugh, and strong people skills, Bastien had turned out to be the best new addition to the cafe.

Every ondine at the table dreamily gazed at him.

"Last I heard, he had something going on with Laci over at the Justice Department," Chloe mused.

Ian raised a brow. "Should I be jealous?"

"Nah." Aub sipped her water. "The only thing that gets me going is someone who can break into a classified server in under ten minutes."

His eyes softened. "I might know a thing or two about that."

Her mouth turned up suggestively. "Do you now?"

Cam groaned. "Irisavie, the trouble you get your ass into has to be more interesting than this crap we've been listening to for the past month."

"Cam!" Chloe said, reproachful.

Aubrey tapped the index finger of her prosthetic against the table and narrowed her eyes.

"Bionic arm, Cam. You don't want to know what I can do with this grip."

"Amazing," Alex murmured. Cam squirmed a little.

I caught them up on events over our meal. Thanks to Ian's reports, everyone knew the basics of what happened in New York.

By the time we were on desserts, I'd covered what happened with the Lieutenant and DuBois building as well as what greeted me upon arrival.

"I can't believe that iris was in your car." Aubrey shook her head. "Nobody saw anything?"

A perfect cream and chocolate confection burst in my mouth and I almost moaned at how good it was.

God, I missed Rivière's eclairs.

I swallowed. "Nope. And they weren't happy about being asked either."

After discovering the iris in my car, I'd immediately reported it to Jeeves and Tristan.

The ensuing lockdown scared the hell out of me even if I understood why they were doing it.

Chevaliers and gardinels went house to house, checking every elemental for an Origin scar, and asking questions.

Because of the recent rash of Redavi murders, this wasn't the first time they'd done it over the past month. With each lockdown, tensions in Haverleau grew.

Six selkies stood watch near the entrance of Rivière, their alert eyes sweeping the cafe.
 

"Tristan mentioned additional gardinels. Someone want to tell me what that's about?"

No one said anything over the phone.

Aubrey and Chloe were Redavi ondines so extra protection was normal protocol.

But elementals disliked nixes and viewed the dark shapeshifter race as being no better than Aquidae.

The current paranoid mood of Haverleau also wasn't very friendly toward outsiders.

"Nothing much to tell," Ian said calmly. "Word got out about my part in the whole Lyondale factory thing. Some people weren't pleased."

"Don't worry, Irisavie." Cam popped the last of an eclair in his mouth. "We've been keeping an eye out."

If people knew about Ian, it meant Aubrey was probably getting crap for being with him.

"You didn't think to tell me?" I asked her.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"You have enough to worry about." Alex wiped his fingers with a napkin. "We can handle it."

It wasn't about that. I didn't like seeing them go through additional stress.

The worry was always there. At any moment, the Shadow's obsession with me could spill over to them.

"What's the schedule tomorrow?" Chloe asked.

Painfully obvious deflection attempt.

I let it go. "Council session in the morning. Original Magic trial in the afternoon."

As Irisavie representative, I was temporarily stepping in for Marcella and Gabe on the Council.

Both events were open to the public. Headmaster Pelletier even declared tomorrow an Academy holiday.

Interest in the Irisavies was at an all-time high and the Council session, the first in two months, promised to be quite the spectacle.

Cam raised his brow. "You've been holding out on us, too, Kendra."

"I told you everything that happened in New York."

"You could've said something about what's built under the Training Center."

Wait. "You know?"

Chloe shook her head. "Sorry, Kendra. It's my fault."
 

"No, it's not," Cam automatically said. "Alex and I saw her sneaking down to the Training Center basement."

"Yeah." Alex pointed at his face. "Nothing escapes the sharp eyes of an elite."

Ian choked on his coffee.

"But the Governing Council doesn't know yet," Chloe reassured me. "Amber said none of the Redavi know, either."