No Love for the Wicked (29 page)

Malcolm’s thoughts were churning. A raw smugness warred with a remembered hesitancy. My family thought I was dead and that he had killed me. He’d seen vague images of a Network agent with supernatural powers when he intruded on Cordele’s thoughts—a flash of hair, a shot of speed—but nothing concrete about who I really was. She’d protected my identity, after all, just like she said.

So then why wasn’t he surprised to see me?

My eyes flared, and my claws curled. He took a step back. His thoughts narrowed with a steady stream of
Ohshitohshitohshitohshit!
I smiled. Of all my family, only Markus had ever seen my beastly transformation, and that was right before I’d ripped out his throat. Malcolm, the piece of shit, should be scared.

His fear only lasted a moment, though, before he masked it with that arrogant look I knew so well. He tugged on his heavy black trench coat and squared his shoulders.

“Magnolia,” he said with an annoying air of satisfaction. “I knew it was you. When we found Markus in that barn, his throat shredded like that, I knew it had to be you. No matter what Uncle Max said about not sensing your powers anymore.”

He raked his gaze over me, and my stomach clenched in revulsion. How many times had he scanned me like that, his thoughts eager to start touching me?

“I have to admit, though,” he continued, “this new look isn’t the most attractive I’ve seen you.”

I hissed, my teeth straining. Malcolm flinched before he could help it, then forced himself to stand his ground. A new
calculation gleamed in his eyes.
Still alive and with more powers. Father’s going to shit himself.

Before I knew what I was doing, I picked up Cordele’s car with my mind and threw it at him. A few feet away, Cordele screamed. Malcolm stepped out of the way, using the same supernatural speed I had. But when he did, the car hit the ground hard, skidding in the snow, straight toward Cordele. She’d inched her way to the side of the yard, moving toward the house.

Shit!
I diverted the car into a small tree to keep it from crashing into her.

“Temper, temper, Magnolia.” I felt the chill of Malcolm’s power slide along my thoughts. “You don’t want to hurt our lovely Cordele, do you?” he purred. “Your teammate? Your friend?” He twisted his mouth in a way that told me just how little he really thought of her. “And you don’t really want to kill me either. Not when I’m here to help you.”

A whip of power slashed across his chest, tearing a nice, satisfying hole through his cashmere sweater. He countered instantly; a smack of power slapped across my face, leaving my cheek throbbing.
Shit!
I’d forgotten how much stronger he was than Markus. I balled my clawed hands and forced myself not to attack. I needed Cordele out of there. Malcolm and I were going to battle it out—right here, right now. If she hung around while we went at it, there was no way she’d get away without being hurt.

With a not-so-subtle push, I directed her thoughts. Get in her banged-up car and leave. Drive to Thirteen, head to Charles and Marie’s, whatever—just go.

She didn’t move. I pushed again.

Nothing.

As if sensing what I was doing, Malcolm smiled.
You can’t touch her mind
, his thoughts slithered through my head.
She’s mine now.

I tried again. Sure enough, there was a block there. I could read her thoughts but not direct them.
Damn it!
How did he do that?

“Cordele,” I growled out. My teeth were painful to speak around now. “You have to get out of here.”

She stood several feet away, gun in hand, watching as Malcolm and I squared off. At my words, she moved quickly. But not to her newly dented car. She moved to stand directly in front of Malcolm, blocking him from me.

“You have to listen to us, Magnolia,” she pleaded. “Malcolm isn’t the same person you remember him to be.”

The utter adoration that I’d seen in her memories was back. It was as if the brainy Network agent I’d known for the past year was gone.

“Jesus Christ, Malcolm, what have you done to her?”

From inside the farmhouse, the shrill sound of Alannah Myles’s “Black Velvet” rang out. I’d just customized the song as Theo’s ringer in my cell phone yesterday. Instantly a surge of warmth shot through me, swelling my power like a pulse. Malcolm’s eyes went wide. I slammed down my mental walls, but the flashed thought of my connection to Theo had been too strong in my mind.

Malcolm moved behind Cordele, snaking his arm around her waist. The new calculation shining in his eyes made me want to scream.

“It’s not what I’ve done to her, Magnolia. It’s what she’s done to me. We have a connection, you see, Cordele and I. She strengthens me, gives me purpose. Surely
you
can understand that, can’t you?”

How dare he make up a lie based on what I had with Theo! A hard growl erupted from my chest. Cordele’s mind swirled. She remembered image after image of me and Theo: the noticeable
strength that Theo now had as a result of our being closer; the energy that had poured over the entire team that first time we’d been reunited after my return. Did she give that same power to Malcolm? The very idea of it had her snuggling into him, holding his arms around her.

Malcolm smiled at me, content that his lie had sealed her even closer to his side.

Fuck!
Now how was I going to kill him without hurting her?

“He knows what your father and uncle are doing, Magnolia,” Cordele pleaded. “He wants to help us stop them.”

Over her shoulder, Malcolm smirked. I ground my teeth and tasted blood as my fangs finally broke through. “God damn it, Cordele, wake up! It’s all a lie. You have no connection with him. He couldn’t care less about you. You have to leave before you get hurt.”

She held tighter to his arm. “Just listen. What your father and Senator Kelch are doing in Russia and those other countries has nothing to do with manufacturing facilities. They’re trying to grow their power—their
real
power, not just their political and economical foothold. This is so much more than what Thirteen and Jon think.”

Behind her Malcolm suddenly grew serious. “She’s right, Magnolia. This isn’t about Kelch Incorporated. This is about us.” In his mind I saw Father’s tools again. “You remember the tools, don’t you?”

I curled my lip. “Are you kidding me? You used one of Father’s blades to cut off my head!”

Cordele straightened. She hadn’t known that. Malcolm just waved it off. “I was a different person then.” She instantly calmed.
Moron.
“It’s the symbol on them that’s important, Magnolia. Do you have any idea what those tools are?”

Something inside me hesitated, and the man from my dreams flashed in my mind. “They came from Grandmother,” I said
slowly. “She used them to punish Father, Uncle Max, and Uncle Mallroy when they were young. Then she gave them to Father to use on me before she died.”

Malcolm frowned. Whereas my ability to crawl through people’s minds had been there at birth, his had developed over time. He hadn’t gotten all the background stories that had played through Father’s head over the years. He’d never realized that Grandmother—the sick bitch that she was—had used the same torture tools on Father that he’d used on me. And to show just how twisted a fuck my older brother really was, he actually felt a twinge of jealousy that the tools hadn’t been used on him. Like he’d missed out on some family tradition or something.

“God, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He cleared his head and glared. “The point is: Where did Grandmother get them? They’re family heirlooms. They had to come from somewhere, and it sure as hell wasn’t her side of the family.” For a moment all arrogance fled Malcolm’s face. “I’m not enough for them anymore, Magnolia. They need more.”

It took me a minute, but I finally understood what he was saying. It was all about the bloodline, the way our powers grew stronger when we were near one another. Separate, Father and our uncles were each a force to be reckoned with, but when the three of them were together, they were virtually unstoppable. Father’s telekinesis jumped from car battery to nuclear power plant. Uncle Max’s telepathy could create an entire city of zombies if he wanted. Uncle Mallroy could shape-shift into anything—at least, I think he could; his powers were always hard to figure out. But whatever their strongest ability, they needed the power of their family to keep themselves at their strongest. It was why Father had had children in the first place, and why he had experimented with other supernaturals. Like his Marlena.

Uncle Max had been completely against any of them procreating, terrified that they’d inadvertently create a child more powerful than even them. But Father’s need for more had ultimately won out.

Of course, in the end, Uncle Max had been right. I was more powerful than any of them combined. And according to Malcolm’s thoughts, when I died—or rather, escaped—their power levels had taken a bigger hit than they expected. And then I’d killed Markus. All that was left now was Malcolm. If what he said was true—and judging by the anger and fear pouring out of him, I had a feeling it was—his presence wasn’t providing enough juice to keep their power at the level they were used to. They wanted more.

I remembered facing off with Father during the gala, the eagerness he’d felt when he’d realized I could strengthen him. All those years of torturing me and trying to kill me—it had never occurred to them just how much the presence of my power had been affecting them.

My cell phone rang out again. The urge to run in there and hear Theo’s voice was nearly too tremendous to suppress. But I had other things to deal with at the moment.

“What does that have to do with the tools?” My voice was almost normal. My teeth had receded a bit. I curled my fists.
Yep, still claws. Good.

“It’s what they’re doing in Bohlren and those other places,” Cordele explained. “They are looking for more of those tools because they think they will yield them more power.”

I cocked a brow at my brother. He rolled his eyes behind Cordele’s back.
Father doesn’t think the tools will make them stronger
, he whispered with his thoughts.
He knows our power doesn’t come from inanimate objects. The man’s not an idiot.
We’d have to disagree on that one.
It’s the symbol. They’re searching for the maker of the tools.

A new fluttering began to brew inside me. Were they really thinking what I thought they were thinking?

Grandfather
, his thoughts said.
They’re trying to find where we came from, Magnolia.

Against my will, the pounding of my heart went into overdrive. A tempered excitement seeped into my chest. It was something I’d never thought about while I lived on the estate. My life was nothing but pain there. It had never mattered who I was or where my powers came from. But now everything had changed.

“What have they found? Tell me, Malcolm.”

He paused. His arm around Cordele’s waist tightened as he brought his free hand up to caress her collarbone. She turned her head in to him, nuzzling against his touch.

“Unfortunately, you know as much as I do. I really have been helping your team, Magnolia. I want to know where we came from just as much as you do.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why? Father never hurt you. No one did. You’ve always gotten everything you ever wanted. Hell, you even work for Kelch Inc.”

“From home, you idiot. I work from home where they can keep me on their tight, short leash. I’m thirty-two years old, and the only time I ever get to leave the estate is when they are out of the country. I’m as much a prisoner to their powers as you were.”

“That is such fucking bullshit, and you know it.”

He stepped back and took Cordele with him. She squeaked as his grip turned tight. Damn it, he was going to seriously hurt her. She might not believe it, but I sure as hell did. I took a deep breath, tempered my powers again.

“I want them dead, Magnolia,” he said, surprising me with his boldness. “You don’t know what it’s been like since Markus died. They never let us leave before, not even to go to college. But now they’re fanatical about it. Their guards lock me in my wing every
fucking night. I work for Kelch Inc., but I barely get to speak to anyone. I’m a senior vice president, for Christ’s sake, and I’ve only ever met my staff via video conference. Hell, I didn’t even get to go to the Winter Gala!”

His jaw dropped open as his mind suddenly connected the dots. “You were there. With Cordele and her other teammates. Oh my God—you were the one with the power that Father felt. It was all he talked about when he got home that night. He and Uncle Max spent the entire next day locked in their offices, trying to figure out who you were.” His face was suddenly transformed with renewed anger. “Fuck them! You got to go to the gala, and I was stuck in that fucking house? They have to die, Magnolia. All of them.”

Maybe he and Cordele really would make a good couple, after all. They were both completely delusional.

“You do not honestly expect me to feel sorry for you? Oh, poor baby. Daddy locks him in his two-thousand-square-foot wing every night. He wasn’t allowed to go to the fancy party and get drunk and laid.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it.”

“Do I?” My teeth were growing again. “How many times were you hung from one of Mallroy’s barns and bled out, Malcolm? How many times were you stripped naked and beaten and left for dead, only to be ignored by the groundskeepers because Father told them if they helped you, they’d be gutted too?” I stepped forward, flexed my claws again, and enjoyed the stretch of their leathery pull. “How many times did you have to hide from your brothers because they wanted to tie you down and rape you?”

Cordele gasped.

“I never raped you,” Malcolm said quickly.

“Only because I was too powerful and beat you back every time you tried.”

“But don’t you see, all of that is just more reason to kill them. They turned us into what we are.” He looked pointedly at my claws. “You can’t honestly tell me you enjoy being what you are.”

“
Fuck you!
” It came out as a harsh snarl. Cordele cowered into Malcolm’s chest, but this time he didn’t flinch.