Otherworld Nights (41 page)

“Um, yeah.”

“Will you come with us?” I said. “You don’t have to. We can’t force you. But in light of recent events …”

He quirked a smile. “Come with you if I want to live? Sure. Get me out of here. Please.”

“I’ve got the kid,” I said into my phone. I was not in the office. I wasn’t taking a chance on Keefer overhearing this conversation and deciding to run again. We’d left him with Paige and Lucas. I was making this phone call from a coffee shop while Adam stood guard outside. Lucas and Paige’s threats about the division of assets had sent Josef scuttling off, but we weren’t trusting that he was actually gone. Or that he’d taken all his men with him.

On the other end of the line, Sean exhaled in what sounded like relief. “Good. He’s all right, then?”

“Banged up, but fine. Seems Josef’s men subdued him with their fists.”

“No, they were showing him why he shouldn’t run from them.”

“Ah, of course. Intimidation. The lifeblood of any decent Cabal.”

“I won’t argue. I’ll just say there are ways to do it that don’t involve beating teenagers. But the boy’s safe now?”

“He is. The question becomes: what do we do with him?”

“I … have an idea.”

“I thought you might.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What do I think?”

“Recruitment.” Sean paused, and I heard him moving on the other end of the line. “No, let me be honest. It
is
ultimately about recruitment. But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Is genetic engineering involved?”

A hiss of breath. “Can I come there and talk, Savannah? This isn’t a telephone conversation. And no, I won’t bring along a team to snatch him away from you. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you or to him.”

“I know.”

Which is why I worried about my brother as Cabal leader. As good and decent a person as Lucas was, he had a streak of Machiavellianism that my brother did not. Lucas would never harm a kid like Keefer. But if he thought that kid was in danger, would he consider taking him temporarily against his will? Yes.

In some ways, Sean could come down harder than Lucas. He could make tougher choices. But he had his weaknesses, too. As a person, those “weaknesses” kept him good and decent. But as a Cabal CEO? They were problems, and I could only trust that he was smart enough to work around them and lead his Cabal effectively. So far, he’d been doing fine. Maybe, between him and Lucas, there was still hope for the Cabal institution. A place for reform and humanity and compassion that wouldn’t be perceived as weakness.

I agreed to meet with Sean. He’d fly up from LA on the corporate jet and be here before midnight.

After we hung up, I sat there, staring into space, one hand wrapped around the untouched coffee I’d bought to justify taking up a table. I lifted it for a sip.

“That one’s cold,” said a voice above me, and another coffee appeared—a vanilla latte by the smell of it.

Adam set it down and then slid into the booth seat with me. He sat there, hands folded on the table, before saying, “I overreacted.”

“No, I fucked up.”

“Yes, you should have told me, but when I saw the letters, I should have known there was more to it. That you weren’t going to pretend
everything was fine if you were planning to dump me. That’s not you. And unless I’m seriously misreading things, that’s not
us
. We’re doing better than that.”

“We are. I hope.”

A soft laugh. “Yeah,
I hope
. That’s the problem, isn’t it? We work together, we play together, we’re obviously very happy together, so there shouldn’t be any ‘I hope.’ Not for either of us. It should be clear. This is good, and we’re going to make it work. I can say that for my part. Without reservation.”

“It’s my side you’re not so sure of. You don’t feel comfortable assuming I feel the same way because we don’t talk about that. About where we’re going. What we want. Long term.”

“Yeah.”

“We should.”

“I know.”

I sipped my latte, then said, “Let’s start with the age difference.”

He stiffened exactly as I had when Paige brought it up.

“It’s … significant,” I said.

He fidgeted and glanced at the door, as if hoping a Cabal goon would barrel through to save us from this conversation. Then he said, “You mean in size or in importance?”

“Both.”

More tensing. “You’re saying it’s become a significant issue. Big enough that you’re wondering if we should—”

“Break up?” I looked at him. “Do you want that?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Same here.
Fuck, no
. So let’s move that off the table and get through this conversation without either of us raising that possibility again. Because it isn’t one. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“The age difference doesn’t bother me. Does
not
. At
all
. I do worry that there might be times my maturity—or lack of it—is a problem, but I think I’ve come a long way, and I know you wouldn’t
have ever started this if I hadn’t. The bigger problem, it seems, is you worrying that you’re moving too fast for me, because of my age. Which is laughable.”

He shifted, face darkening. “I don’t think—”

“Hear me out. Yes, given that we’ve been dating a year, living together isn’t exactly a big deal. Paige was a year older than me when she moved in with Lucas. When I say it’s laughable, what I mean is …” I inhaled and looked him in the eye. “You can’t move too fast for me. This is what I want. It’s all I want. I know you worried that, when we got together, my crush would wear off, but it had already worn off before that. I love you. I don’t want anyone else. That hasn’t changed. It won’t change. And that’s the problem, because I know …”

I gripped my cup. “I don’t want to go to college, Adam. Not out of state. Not even here. I just want what I have. Hell, I joke about getting out of the receptionist’s chair, but I’m fine if that’s always part of my job description. I know I should want more. At the very least, I should want a specialty. You’re the research guy. Paige is the tech whiz. Lucas is the lawyer. I’m the receptionist. But I’m okay with that. We all pull our weight. We all get out in the field. I want to be the best damned investigator I can be, but I don’t want more. I just don’t.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I feel like I do.”

“If I’ve ever—”

“You haven’t. Not you or Paige or Lucas. But I see you guys get excited when I talk about college. About what I want to specialize in. Maybe I’ll find it someday. But I’m okay for now. Just like I was okay with moving straight from their house to your building. I would have been fine moving into your place. I wanted an independent life, but …” I looked at him. “This
is
my independent life. Being with you. Staying in Portland. Working at the agency with Paige and Lucas. Nothing’s holding me back. This is just what I want. What I’m happy with.”

“That’s all anyone cares about, Savannah.”

His arms went around me, and he held me tight as I rested there, feeling like I’d been holding in some deep and shameful secret, and now it was out, relief washing over me.

“So you want to get a place together?” he said as I pulled back.

“I do.”

“An apartment or—”

“A place. A permanent place. I’m not saying I want a wedding ring and babies. Not now.” I took a deep breath. “Eventually, yes. That’s where I’m headed and I know you might not be—”

“I am.”

I nodded. “Then I think we need to start being honest about that. Expectations. Timelines. Stop worrying that one of us is more committed than the other or that one is too young to think about things like that.”

“I
am
a little young for fatherhood.”

I laughed and kissed his cheek. “I know. And I’m
much
too young for motherhood. But we’ll begin with a place of our own. And maybe a cat.”

“I’d prefer a dog.”

“Given how little time we spend at home, maybe we’ll start with fish and work up.”

He smiled. “Agreed.”

“Go get yourself a mocha,” I said. “Sean isn’t coming in for a few hours, and I’m in no rush to get back to the office.”

Two hours later, we were in Paige and Lucas’s condo, having deemed it the most private place to meet. Paige and Lucas themselves were still at the office with Keefer. They trusted us to handle this.

“Genetically modified supernaturals,” I said as we walked into the living room.

Sean and I don’t share a mother and I suspect, beyond the height, blond hair, and bright blue eyes, he takes after his mom more than
our father. In temperament as well as looks. So he didn’t turn icy blue eyes on me and tell me to give him a damn minute to settle in. He just sighed, lowered himself into a chair, and said, “Good to see you, too, sis. No chance of coffee first, I’m guessing?”

I handed him a can of Coke. Another sigh, but he popped the top and drank half. Adam sat beside me on the sofa. As Sean drank, he eyed us over the can, one brow lifted. When he lowered it, he said, “So which of you will be playing bad cop this evening?”

“Adam is always bad cop. I’m worse cop.”

A tweak of a smile. “Of course.”

“We have a teenage teleporting half-demon who can take passengers. And the fact that you aren’t even raising an eyebrow at that tells me almost everything I need to know.”

“Good. Then we can skip all the—”

“Not a chance.” I inched forward. “It’s the St. Clouds, isn’t it?” One thing Sean
did
inherit from Dad? An excellent poker face. Which would be so much more effective if it extended to his eyes. Those who knew him best could always call his bluff. I only needed to give him a hard look before he said, “Excellent deduction. Or …” He glanced at Adam. “Should I say research?”

“We dug up a few rumors,” I said. “Now you’re going to fill us in and tell us how you’re connected.”

Silence. Then, “Do you trust me, Savannah?”

“This isn’t an issue—”

“I’m afraid it is. Let me put it to you another way. You know I can’t be completely trusted in matters of business. I’m CEO of the Nast Cabal. You’re my sister, yes, but you’re also, effectively, the granddaughter of my rival. There is no question which Cabal you put first, and I don’t blame you for that. Maybe, someday, ours will be something you feel you can more fully support, but until then, we cannot trust one another in that arena. But do you trust me as a
person
? As someone who, if put in the position of choosing between a massive corporate advantage and the safety and well-being of
teenagers, would find a way to protect both his corporate interests and those teens, with the emphasis on the teens?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then let me give you a hypothetical. Suppose you are right. Suppose the St. Clouds did conduct prenatal genetic experiments on supernaturals. Suppose they handled it poorly.”

“Shocker.”

A quarter smile. “Yes, I know. So suppose they handled it poorly, and these subjects—now teens like Keefer—broke free only to find themselves—again like Keefer—on the run from every Cabal plus a few independent interests. Hypothetically, is that how you’d see it play out?”

“Of course. If they have modified powers, everyone will want them.”

“Can they fight back?”

“Against Cabals? Not a chance.”

“So presume, then, hypothetically, that I saw a way to intervene. To give them a safe environment, a community where they can be with their families and grow up as close to normal as possible. While being trained to become Cabal operatives, because as CEO, I’m not about to lose the opportunity to recruit some. Note that I say ‘some.’ You know my philosophy, Savannah. If Josef had this opportunity, he’d lock them up under house arrest, train them, and forcibly recruit them. I would rather show them that Cabal life isn’t so bad if you’re a talented and powerful supernatural. I prefer willing employees over slaves.”

“So you—”

“Hypothetically.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s drop the—”

“I can’t. Because if I do, then you can reasonably ask for details. For names and powers. You might ask to come and see what I’m doing. And the answer would be no. Unequivocally no. For their protection. For your protection. And, yes, for the protection of my
business interests, because if Paige found out, she’d make this
her
business, as a member of the interracial council. Then, if we had werewolves or vampires in the group, those delegates would want to get involved, and ultimately it would be a political firestorm that would clearly not provide the kind of safe and stable environment I’d be trying to give these kids.” He met my gaze. “Am I right?”

I glanced at Adam but knew what he’d say. The same thing I would. That Sean was right.

Adam nodded and said, “So what do you have in mind for Keefer?”

It wasn’t an easy decision or a quick one. But whatever Sean said to Keefer in the hours that they spent talking, it convinced the boy that he could trust Sean enough to at least see what he had in mind.

Convincing Lucas and Paige was tougher. Sean constructed a decent story. He told them he had a place, not unlike a college dorm, for kids like Keefer—powerful supernaturals nearing the age of recruitment. It was private and secure, but would provide enough freedom that Keefer could always contact us and let us know if he wanted out, and if he did, we could come up with a better solution.

Given that Sean was my brother—and that our relationship was valuable on both sides—we knew he’d never make Keefer “disappear” or refuse to release him. Most importantly, though, we knew Josef wouldn’t dare come after Keefer while he was in Sean’s custody. The asset split would take years to finalize, and during that time it was the best leverage anyone had over Josef. Interfere with Sean’s business and Josef risked losing his share of the spoils.

In the end, though, what counted was Keefer’s decision. He wanted to go, so we couldn’t hold him. The only alternative we could offer would be to contact the half-demon community and see if someone could take him in until he started college. That
wouldn’t just be awkward—crashing in the spare room of strangers—it wouldn’t be safe, either, not with Josef hot on his trail. Paige and Lucas would have taken him in themselves … if that wouldn’t be the first place Josef looked.