No Love for the Wicked (17 page)

“Why?” I asked, shifting in my seat. No point even trying to sit still during this part of the meeting. “Why will Shane already be there?”

“I’m invited to the gala on my own,” Shane answered tightly. “For the last four months, I’ve been working as a sales rep in Kelch’s telecommunications division. I won the Gold Star sales incentive for this last quarter, and an invite to the gala was part of my award. That and a big-screen TV.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you serious? You work for my father? I thought you were a farmer.”

His lip curled. His hands fisted. I could feel the pent-up hate building inside him. “I was raised on a farm and still own a farm. We needed someone in Kelch Inc.’s new division, and I was qualified. You would have known all this if you’d bothered being around these last few months.”

I cocked a brow at him, and he looked away. He hadn’t wanted me around these past few months. In fact, he’d been relieved when I’d ended up gone for as long as I had. But at the same time, whatever was inside Theo that drew him to me was also inside Shane. He longed to be near me. A compulsion. I’d just never felt anything back. I wished the whole thing was different, but if I couldn’t control the things I felt, how the hell was I supposed to control the things I didn’t? I took another drink.

“As I was saying,” Thirteen continued. I ground my teeth and shifted again. “Jon and Magnolia will arrive right before the scheduled montage. We can assume Magnus will feel the supernatural presence as soon as Magnolia reaches the campus grounds.”

“Actually, he probably won’t notice until I’m already in the building.”

“Even better. But we’ll stick to the schedule as if he senses your power the moment you arrive. His distraction will be our advantage, as his concierge is set to position him on the stage prior to the video montage. He’ll have to stay visible to the crowd while onstage but will be preoccupied trying to pinpoint the source of power.”

Thirteen looked to me, and I saw the hint of worry behind his eyes.

“He won’t find me,” I said. “I’ve been dampening my power around the guy my entire life. And with the size of the crowd expected to be there, he’d have to be right in front of me to know I was the source.”

“We’ll be long gone before he gets a chance to get that close.” Jon nodded at me confidently. I smiled a little at his reassurance.

“In the past, the montage slide show has lasted anywhere from twelve to nineteen minutes,” Heather explained. “Right afterward, Magnus will give his annual motivational speech. It will last no more than five minutes.”

Thirteen added, “You will then have the length of the montage and his speech to complete your mission and exit the building.”

Thirteen outlined the entire series of events that would get us into Father’s offices and back to the rendezvous point several miles away. By the end of his explanations, I wasn’t the only one dreading Saturday night.

Finally it was over and I could breathe again. I knew my role and what I was expected to do. Now I wouldn’t have to think about it again until Saturday night. One thing had been interesting, though. While I’d fought not to picture too clearly how close I would soon be to my father again, it had become glaringly obvious that Colin’s mission had been a total joke. I mean, Thirteen outlined mission details, contingency plans, operation timelines; Colin had barely prepared his team for a possible problem. I knew he wasn’t anxious to work with me again anytime soon, but if the opportunity ever presented itself to help out his team, I’d definitely think twice before signing on.

The meeting was coming to an end, which meant it was time for continued research updates. I finished off the whiskey I’d been
nursing during the planning session and scooted to the edge of my seat. I knew I looked all call-on-me, but I didn’t care.

“Magnolia?” Thirteen said, sensing my change in demeanor. “Have you found something?”

“Bohlren is a small, impoverished city located on the bank of the Danube River,” I recited perfectly. “Its primary export is textiles, but it relies heavily on local tourist income because of its museums. Temperate in climate, the city’s average population is—”

“Museums?” Jon interrupted, totally denting my flow. “What kind of museums?”

“The kind that have a bunch of old stuff. Anyway, the average increase in population ranges—”

“What kind of old stuff?” Jon asked drolly. “You mentioned that they export textiles. Are we talking industrial relics, manufactured goods, native artifacts? There has to be something specific if the city depends on the museums’ contents to draw tourist income.”

Who cared? I’d spent more than half an hour reading everything about Bohlren. They were going to hear about it whether they wanted to or not. “I have no idea what kind of crap they have on display. Their fancy museum is only a big deal because it has stuff from Ukraine, Moldova, and Russia. I guess other museums over there are only allowed to carry stuff found in their own country. But what I was saying was that the population—”

“Why would Bohlren’s museum be allowed to carry historical items from all three nations?” Cordele asked, sitting forward in her seat. Great, now she was moving in on my report time too.

“Because the city sits right on the Danube River.”

“So?” Shane argued. “Tons of towns sit on the banks of the Danube.”

“No, I mean it’s literally
on
the river. It’s like a long island or something—like Manhattan. It sits just far enough away from the
east bank that it can’t be considered part of Ukraine. It’s not part of any of the countries. Not officially. Government-wise it follows whoever steps up to claim it, but that changes almost every year depending on which country happens to have the strongest leadership at the time. That’s why the museums have the stuff they do. And that’s also why the population shifts are so drastic each year. People move there for a year during leadership shifts, then move back to their mainland once another nation takes over. Only a couple thousand locals have lived there for any length of time, and they work either at one of the little ports or at the museums.”

Yeah, that’s right. Soak in the research, people.

“Holy shit!” Charles said. “No wonder they’re so eager to get something set up there. With the government in constant flux, a Kelch manufacturing site could go for years without paying any federal taxes on goods produced there.”

“And how much do you want to bet there aren’t any manufacturing regulations,” Jon added. “God, they could move their entire weapons production there. Turn the whole city into one production facility. They’d supply every nation in the East with military-grade artillery and make fifty times what they’re making right now. Good job, Magnolia. Chang, we have to run with this.”

I sat back and basked in my moment of contribution. No one had needed to be mind manipulated or turned invisible—just simple research to get the right information. I looked to Thirteen, and his knowing smile just added to my happiness.

I drank the rest of my whiskey and crunched on the ice. What a really, really good feeling this was. How long would it last?

I’d never gone down the green corridor before. Something about it had always just felt wrong to me. But last night, for the first time, Malcolm and Markus had gathered their courage and asked to be there in the room when Father was with me, not just watching from their hiding place in the shadows. Father had said no, so they were going to find me this morning while I wasn’t all the way healed yet. Malcolm wanted to do things to me on his own. He thought he was old enough now. He should be able to practice his powers on me like Father and Uncle Max did. So I’d hidden in one the guest rooms down the green hallway. They wouldn’t find me. They never came down there either.

I listened carefully to the other side of the door. My tummy grumbled. If I hadn’t been starving, I wouldn’t leave the dark safety of this strange room. But I’d had to heal a lot last night. Now I was hungry. All was silent. It was still dark outside, and I hadn’t dared to turn on the lights. As quietly as possible, I opened the bedroom
door. There were no lights in the hallway, only the tall south-facing windows. When the sun came up, there wouldn’t be very many shadows. I needed to get out of there while it was still dark. I stepped out of the room and stifled a groan. My legs still ached from being broken last night. Father had wanted to see which healed faster: my arms or my legs. He’d made a game of it with his guards. I was strapped down on one of his worktables; he counted to three, then everyone snapped a limb. I’d tried to hold back my power, but when the pain hit, it hurt so badly. A burst of energy had shot out of me, knocking back two of the guards and cutting the third across the face like a knife. Father had been furious. The knives had come out then.

I crept along the wall toward the servants’ stair. Muffled voices came from somewhere nearby. I plastered myself against the wall. Down the hall. The opposite way. Sun started to peek its way into the sky, and for the first time, I could see that the hallway actually ended at a turn. There was another hallway down there.

I’d thought I’d seen all the wings of the main house. Having rarely slept in the same room two nights in a row, I’d been in pretty much every guest room. And even though I’d never been down this green hallway, I still knew it was there. That hallway looked really dark; there probably weren’t any tall windows down there. It would be all shadows. A perfect place to hide and heal.

I ignored my hungry tummy and moved quickly, quietly, crawling along the floor. The carpet was soft and thick, with raised diamond patterns that brushed my chin as I inched along.

The closer I got to the end hallway, the heavier the feeling of dread grew. I shouldn’t be there. Had Father done something to the rooms down there? No. That was silly. He wasn’t a wizard; he didn’t cast spells or make magic. But something was very off. I hesitated. Maybe it was my instincts. Father and Uncle Max had been worried lately that I’d start growing stronger now that I was almost a
teenager. Maybe that’s what was happening. A new dread sank my heart. I didn’t want to get any stronger. Father already hated me so much. If I grew any more powerful, I knew the sessions would get so much worse. Maybe I could stop it. Like if I concentrated hard enough, I could keep the power inside me just where it was—

Murmured voices. I froze. Nearly to the turn of the dark hallway up ahead, I heard two distinct voices. Thought voices, not spoken voices. I could tell because thought voices didn’t have the same inflection as spoken voices. Men. Guards. Why were there guards way back there?

I lay flat on the ground and scooted closer. At the wall’s end, I peeked my head around the corner. Two guards sat on high-backed velvet chairs, just like the ones in the big dining room downstairs. Only these chairs were dark green to match the color of the twisty vines on the hallway’s wallpaper. Between them was a set of wide wooden doors. There were no other doors in the short hallway. No windows, no settees, no tapestries. So much for finding a new hiding place.

A female shriek echoed from behind the double doors as a small burst of power whipped past me. Both guards hopped to their feet, coming to attention. My mind snapped into focus. A woman. Not a servant or a reporter, but a person who stayed here. Lived here. Her thoughts opened up for me without my even trying to read them. I’d seen thoughts like this before in the guards Father kept loyal with drugs. They usually thought in numb emotions unless something set them off. That’s what she felt like now. Like something had set her off. Rage, confusion, fear. And power. It was small, but she definitely had some kind of supernatural power inside her. It was rare to feel it in someone outside my family, but now that I was right outside her room, I recognized it right away.

Something heavy slammed into the door from the inside, shaking the wood on its hinges. The guards flinched. Something was
about to happen. There was a reason for the woman’s sudden outburst, and the guards knew it. I reached out to the guards’ thoughts, trying to stay in the woman’s head at the same time.

The next moment I was off the ground. Pulled up painfully by my hair, I slammed into the wall in front of me. My face smashed into the wallpaper so hard I imagined little green leaves imprinted on my cheeks. I slid to the ground and cowered against the floorboards. The first hit was always just the beginning. Father’s face contorted with frightening, seething rage. His eyes bled to black, his teeth bared as he sucked in quick, low breaths through his mouth.

“You think you’re so clever,” he growled in a deep, low voice. An animal’s voice. I shook my head in denial even though I knew it meant nothing to him. “You know nothing!”

He lifted me off my feet and held me by the throat against the wall. His face inches from mine so I could see the bottomless pit of his eyes. No, no, not again. Not yet. Heat simmered at the base of my skull, burning inside my ears as it slowly spread. He was trying to force my thoughts. But he couldn’t do that. His strength was in moving physical things with his mind, not changing other people’s thoughts. Even Uncle Max couldn’t get in my head. Why would Father think he’d be able to?