INVISIBLE FATE BOOK THREE: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) (8 page)

And I was damn hungry.

Chapter Fourteen

With five minutes until Stone was to meet him Bran held his cell phone to his ear, glancing around the
Café de Pomone
from a distance, not trusting anyone. Except Willie, for now.

It was the Were who answered the phone. “Yup?”

“Can you see me?”

“Yes.”

“Scent anything else?”

“Older couple to your left.”

“Ones wearing wool?”

“Checkered?”

“Yes. Forty years out of date.”

“Figures, they’re harbingers, always one step behind.”

“Anything else?”

“A cat shifter near the metro. Might be a lynx or a caracal. Two Cambion demons having lattes at the café.”

Bran shook his head. That was the problem with a recovering Were, paranoid about everything. And in Paris, like most of the older cities of Europe, preternaturals tended to gather. That didn’t mean they were all a threat. Most were just going about their lives, remaining under the human radar. “Anything I should be worried about?”

Willie paused, as if scenting the air. But he needn’t have bothered as a waft of power
ful magic pulsed over Bran.

He turned, slowly, trying not to arouse attention.

There. Near the Metro opening, where Stone should have been, four simin fae, the security guards for the Council. Simin fae might look benign but they possessed lightning fast speed and wicked tongues that could scourge a man in seconds. Before he could even think of taking flight, one simin fae could wrap and deliver him to the Council. The fact the last time Bran had run across three of their kind, Alex managed to have them killed, would not endear him to them.

Stone
had sold him out.

But Bran wasn’t a master mage for nothing.

Sending a whip of magic toward the clueless Cambion demons, who jumped out of their chairs as if tazered was the first step. They knocked into the nearest tables, scattering humans who, mostly being French, were always up for a fracas. Within a minute, shouts and blows were whirling about, snapping the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Including the simin fae.

Bran waited until the
fae pivoted toward the fighting, before cutting across the path and disappearing down the nearest Metro entrance.

He had seconds at most before the fae realized a diversion had been set up. That was the problem with the more warlike of the fae, smart and quick.

Which meant he had to be smarter and quicker.

And a whole lot luckier.

Chapter Fifteen

Bran didn’t emerge from the Metro until he reached
Gare de La Défense
. Simin fae preferred hunting in the sunlight, so the longer he remained underground the better chance he had to lose them. Since the stop was also the terminus of three converging lines, it was easier to blend among the humans surging up through the aluminum and neon lights of the nearest exit.

Once outside
, he was surrounded by the city’s business district, with the
Arc de Triomphe
visible in the near distance down the central esplanade. What now? He’d kept in touch with Willie by phone but didn’t tell the Were where he was. Willie was still a preternatural and thus beholden to the Council for his existence. It’d be a brave man who risked death for another he barely knew.

Earlier
, Willie had shared that the scent of Alex had ceased in the parking lot at Versailles. Which made sense if someone dragged her away. But there was no telling if she was alive at the time.

There had been Stone’s
eyewitness who’d point-blank said Alex lived, but that might have been a ploy to reel Bran in.

Should he check on Jeb and Van Noziak? See if Van had healed enough to become a reliable witness to Bran’s innocence?

On the other hand, Jeb was a Council member and not too pleased to be left underground.

Maybe it was time to go back to the beginning. Check out Versailles himself. Yes, the Council had met there but
how likely was it the members would still be around? Especially with the dust up after the Were attacks. Even if they left some preternaturals in the area, it was a risk Bran was willing to take as the quickest way to find a link between him and Alex.

He
might not get Alex’s scent trail, but he could cast a Seeking spell. How hard should it be to find one witch/shaman?

Given it was Alex, plenty hard.

Next woman he was attracted to was going to be full human. Compliant. Soft spoken, and tractable.

Only problem was
, he feared it might be too late to find such a woman, especially if he remained wrapped in the spell of Alex Noziak.

Chapter Sixteen

The scream roused me. A girl’s scream, followed by babbling in French and English. Mostly English and curses.

I turned my head, but that was all. All I could manage.

Two big goons who smelled like Weres were dragging a girl from the cell opposite me. She was making them work at it though, kicking and biting and dragging her feet. Not that she stood a chance. They must have been told not to hurt her, though, as they hadn’t yet used their full strength against her.

Until her kicking foot connected with the crotch of one of them. He doubled, shouting, “
Merde
,” before he backhanded her.

She flew like
crumpled paper across the tiny room, slamming into the far metal bars before sliding into a shapeless heap. One that wasn’t moving.

“What the
—” I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say as I fought against straps holding me. With an oath my brothers used quite often, I popped the canvas and levered myself first to an elbow, then a sitting position. I didn’t hurt as bad as I had been, but still felt groggy and stiff. With a quick glance down, I realized I was still in the clothes I’d worn to go to Versailles, however long ago that was. Grass stains and dried blood streaked my jeans and sleeves.

With one tentative hand
, I raised fingers to my neck, expecting to feel where my brother Van in his shifter form had savaged me. Not intentionally but under the influence of whatever drugs his kidnappers had pumped into him.

But instead of a raw
, oozing wound, or even a wad of bandages, all I could feel was smooth skin. No scarring at all like the last time I’d touched the same spot.

How long had I been out of it
this time around? An injury like this should have taken weeks if not longer to heal. But my astonishment was short-lived as one of the goons glanced in my direction.

“Look what you’ve done, now.” The one who could stand upright smacked his buddy with a closed fist to his chest. “Boss said not to wake her.”

The other guy’s response was in French but even in my fuzzy state I got the gist of it. None of it flattering to me, or women in general, with a few extra comments for either his crappy job or his crappier boss.

If he really wanted crappy he should feel like me. I raised my head to glare at him, as if that was going to do anything. But it must have as he paused, casting quick, furtive glances between his cohort and me.

Why was it always Weres? They were not only among the strongest of the preternaturals, but the stupidest too. I could deal with one but not both.

“Let’s get out of here,” the
English-speaking one said. French Guy must have been on the same wavelength, as he scrambled over to the unconscious girl and grabbed her, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of feed.

I eased off the metal gurney, glad when my feet smacked the
concrete floor, and my legs held. “Going somewhere?” I asked, my tone saying loud and clear that it wasn’t a good idea. My throat still felt sore on the inside but I could sound like a badass and not a puffball waiting to get the stuffing kicked out of me.

Small improvements but I’d grab what I could get.

“What can she do to us, anyway?” English Guy spoke to his friend, as if seeking assurance.

When he didn’t see any he looked back at me, his chin nodding upward. Pure bravado. I could smell his hesitation, hear the increase of his heart rate, the blub, blub of his blood surging through his body. Something about me scared him. Didn’t know how I knew, but I’d take the
extra little win.

“Why don’t you set her back down.” I wasn’t phrasing it as a question. “Nice and gentle.” I spoke to the guy who could understand me but looked at the goon clutching the girl.

I must look in worse shape than I felt, which was hard to imagine, but he started doing what I asked, keeping his gaze locked on mine, every movement slow and non-threatening.

Who said negotiation never worked? Oh, yeah, that would be me.

What was really surprising me, though, was I could hold the Were’s gaze. Weres, shifters and vampires didn’t go for the gaze-locking or even looking eye-to-eye thing with humans. They so got their panties in a twist. Saw it as some kind of aggressive body language. Which it was and why I was doing it for as long as I could. If this Were was powerful I’d be slammed into my place any second now, but not until he realized he wasn’t dealing with an equal.

Before I even had a chance to congratulate myself on a job
well-done, English Idiot grew some balls. He twisted with a snarl, and lunged toward me, snapping the gunmetal bars that separated us like pretzel sticks.

I moved before I knew it. One second propped on the gurney, the next meeting
Goon Guy, head-on, like a battering ram hitting a tank. I used my uninjured shoulder bone as a weapon as I barreled into him. The move had worked on another Were recently so I tried it again. Only this time I added power punches from beneath his chin. One. Two. Fist to jaw. Elbows following in quick succession. Bam. Bam. Then a step back, just enough to give me some room to raise a foot high enough to thrust him backwards.

My IR teammates would have given me a high-five. Team instructor Stone a slight chin nod. My brothers? Beers all around, and not the frou-frou craft beers, but cold draft pulled from the Iron Mule Saloon in Idaho Falls. Upscale by Mud Lake standards and one of the few bars
that one or the other of my brothers hadn’t been banned from in Southern Idaho.

I expected the Were to stagger, not sail through the air like
a football in the winning penalty kick at a high school football game. The only thing that kept him from flying farther was the stone of the far wall.

Ouch. That had to hurt.

Score me.

I didn’t know who was more surprised, him or me, or the guy still clutching the girl.

“You next?” I snarled at him as he dropped the girl.

Damn, she was going to have one nasty headache when she woke up. If
she woke up.

French
Goon now stood in front of me, his arms swinging loose at his sides as if he debated morphing into his animal self or fleeing. The other guy was pulling himself into a sitting position, shaking his head. Probably hearing a few bells going off inside. Served him right.

I stepped away from the open cell door, their only means of escape, and nodded toward the hallway behind me. “Be my guest.”

I guess French Guy understood more English than I gave him credit for as he rabbited past me in a blink. The other guy swayed to his feet, still looking dazed, then growled before raising his hands. Should I give him a lecture on the lack of good judgment by sending mixed messages to the person who’d just clobbered him?

Nah. You couldn’t un-do stupid.

“Go. Now.” I meant it, and he must have heard the steel beneath the two simple words as he shuffled past, his head hung low, one leg dragging behind the other. I was tempted to shout “boo” as he passed.

W
ho said I couldn’t be magnanimous?

Poor baby.

I waited till he was out of sight before I crossed to where the girl still lay on the floor and crouched down beside her. Two fingers on the pulse in her neck told me she was still alive, though I could hear her heartbeat, too. That scared me because it wasn’t something I was used to hearing. An after-effect of my being out of commission for whatever length of time I’d been recovering?

Possibly. I didn’t want to think any deeper than that.
Or about the words the Colin Farrell voice had said. So did not want to go down that rabbit hole. Besides, I had a hurt girl who smelled of unwashed clothes, fear and magic.

I guessed she’d been the one who begged for help earlier. Or maybe that had been another nightmare. Hard to tell
anymore. But common sense told me it was time to skedaddle.

“Here you go,” I mumbled, planning to lift her up at least as far as the welded bench/bed in her cell. Guess I didn’t know my own strength
, though, as I almost threw her into the air. I caught her at the last second as I jumped to my feet, having her sag against me. Last thing she needed was to get banged around some more.

Speaking of last things, remaining where we were wasn’t too smart. No telling how soon goon
s one and two would reach their boss, or reinforcements, and return. I didn’t want to be here when they came back.

I had no idea who the girl was I held. Didn’t care right then. In the goons against girl debate, I landed firmly on the side of helping the girl. She looked about fifteen with stringy brown hair that needed a good wash and
showed bruises along her too-thin face.

Mud Lake, Idaho, where I was from, didn’t have too many strays, of the human variety. It was hard to run away when most folks in the county knew you by name, as well as the names o
f your siblings, parents, grandparents, plus, when your truck last had an oil change.

But my gut told me this was a stray, someone with no mom or dad
who gave a rat’s tail where she was. And that alone made me want to make sure she made it out of here alive.

“Come on,” I said, thinking
walk waltzing her might be the best option. It wasn’t. Reminded me of the three-legged sack race I’d lost once at the Jefferson County fair back in my stupid days. Of course choosing to be hog-tied to Jimmy Calhoun of the roaming hands as my partner earned me a smack upside the head all by itself.

We hadn’t even reached the cell opening when, far down the hallway
, I could hear the roar of male voices raised. That pissed-off and sharing it sound.

Running out of time.

Without wondering how the hell I was doing it, I swung the girl across my shoulder in a fireman’s hold and started running.