Warrior Enchanted: The Sons of the Zodiac (17 page)

When everyone just stared at her, she added as an afterthought, “Or at least tell me about the really big snake.”

“Fine, tell us.” Grey sighed, nodding, and Emerson thought it was even more curious to see just how tightly he focused on Finley. She’d only met the man on a few occasions, but her impression of him was that he didn’t do relationships. The careful way he looked at the lawyer had her rethinking that opinion.

“He was attacked by a snake. At my house. By my—” Emerson’s voice broke off as the reality of the words hit her. “By my brother.”

“What was your brother doing with a snake?”

Finley’s immediate curiosity only reminded Emerson of all the things she didn’t know about her brother. And all the fears she harbored for what he’d possibly become.

Was Drake right? Was Magnus involved in some sort of dark magic?

She’d felt dark magic before—the insidious way it teased and taunted the senses. The promise offered by that abuse of power was a heady rush, like standing on the edge of a precipice with the absolute certainty you could fly.

And Magnus had made that strange comment the first night he was back about using her powers to her advantage.

But she just didn’t
feel
it.

Of course, he was her brother. Was it possible he
could mask it from her? And her magic
had
worked to remove the poison.

Maybe the real truth was that she just didn’t want to see him in that light.

“I don’t know. All I do know is he had this enormous snake on the floor in front of him in his room. It matched the tattoo that covered his shoulders, which I didn’t even know he had.”

“You didn’t know your brother had a tattoo?” Finley probed.

“He’s been gone a long time.”

“And has now made a sudden return, reptile in tow?”

“He’s always lived slightly on the edge, and it got worse after my mom died. But the snake and the tat.” Emerson looked down at her arm with a rueful smile. “I’m not against tattoos, mind you. In fact, I’m rather fond of mine. But, I can’t explain it. There’s something
wrong
with his. And it made the whole experience even more…unsettling.”

Something tickled the edge of her memories. She’d been so focused on the snake that as she thought back over it, Emerson realized there was more to it all than the actual animal.

What was it?

“What was unsettling?”

Finley’s warm smile put her instantly at ease and, in that moment, Emerson suspected the woman was an incredibly good lawyer.

“He controlled the snake in some way.”

“Until it looked like he couldn’t control it any longer,” Drake added. “The snake was after Emerson. I
don’t think he’d purposely meant to hurt her, which is why I assume her brother lost whatever measure of control he had over it.”

“So then it attacked?” Grey pressed them.

“It was aiming for me, but Drake leaped in front of it like some freaking Secret Service Agent.”

“That’s a rather romantic gesture.” Finley’s gaze jumped from Drake to Grey. “You’re quite a bunch of men.”

“It’s not romantic. It’s—” Emerson stopped herself as Drake’s attention washed over her, his interest in her answer palpable. Why was her first reaction always to fight?

“Okay. It is sweet,” she conceded, “even if it’s the height of stupidity to throw yourself in front of an eight-foot coiled snake.”

“Has your brother ever owned snakes?”

Emerson was surprised how Finley’s cool reasoning and pointed questions calmed her and helped her think. And each question managed to focus more on what she’d seen back at her own home. “No, never. In fact, he never had that reptile interest a lot of boys go through. He was more of a dog lover, a let’s-go-out-in-the-backyard-and-play-ball sort of boy.”

“A regular Boy Scout,” Drake muttered as he stood, polishing off his second banana. She marveled at his iron-willed strength as he crossed to the Sub-Zero refrigerator. No one would have ever known the man had had venom coursing through his body fifteen minutes before. “Anyone want a beer?”

Emerson gave an absentminded yes as she watched the play of muscles across his broad back. The material
of his T-shirt had ripped in long strips where the snake had attacked, and the tanned skin underneath fascinated her as he reached into the fridge for the beers.

As he leaned forward, she saw a gap in the material of his shirt and caught sight of the ink that rode high on his shoulder.

With a rush of awareness, the abstract thoughts she had about her brother solidified and the missing connection between his tattoo and the snake she couldn’t quite place came together.

The snake
tattoo
on his shoulders had writhed in matched motion with the live one on the floor.

Magnus fell to the floor in Eris’s living room with a heavy thud. He still hadn’t figured out this damn porting thing and he sucked ass at it.

He hated being terrible at anything. Which really was a fucking joke since, other than the cold-blooded killer gig, he sucked at everything.

Including playing at Warrior.

What the hell had he been thinking, letting the snake out in his grandmother’s home? With his sister just down the hall?

But the
power
.

All that coiled power that lived just under his skin. It called to him, taunting him to play with it. Even now, he felt it writhing across his shoulders, begging to be let free.

Struggling to his feet, he cursed himself a million times over for the lunacy of his actions. But damn if he’d figured out a way to control himself yet.

To control
it
yet.

Eris had explained the snake lived in his aura—whatever the hell that meant. All he knew was that he suddenly had a tattoo that writhed and moved and wanted
out
.

It was like puberty all over again, except instead of a dick that got hard, all he wanted to do was play with the immortal power Eris had bestowed on his body. And like the dick he’d had no clue what to do with when he was thirteen, he was pretty much equally in the dark now.

Eris materialized in the room, a supremely self-satisfied smile covering her face until she caught sight of him. The smile vanished in an instant and her voice was hard when she spoke. “I gave you a very simple set of directions to follow.”

He knew where the smile had come from, but opted to keep his own counsel on that one. It was a juicy tidbit that would come in handy sooner or later. “The mobsters you wanted dead have been taken care of. Besides, I needed to come here. I needed to get away from my sister.”

Eris nodded as she tossed her purse on the couch. “Does she suspect something?”

You mean when I set a huge snake loose on her and her boyfriend?
Keeping his own counsel on that little tidbit as well, he simply opted for, “She’s highly intuitive.”

Whatever smug bemusement Eris had arrived with was gone by the dark look in her narrowed eyes. “Yes, but does she know?”

“No.” The response came out quickly, but even as he thought it through Magnus acknowledged Emerson didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

He had no doubt his sister suspected something was
going on with him, but she could guess for a million years and she’d never figure out what had happened to him.

Would never guess the power of the choice he’d made.

Or what he’d abandoned to possess it.

“She’s quite a powerful woman, from what I understand. And a witch to be reckoned with. You’re absolutely sure?” Eris probed once more.

“I can take care of my sister.”

“My, my, my.” Eris sauntered over to him, the dark storm clouds in her eyes fading as she gave him an appraising look. “Aren’t we the confident soldier? Somehow, I find myself questioning this sudden bout of loyalty. You’d turn on your own sister, even as you’re chomping at the bit to go after her boyfriend?”

Magnus pulled himself back. Although he hadn’t spent all that much time with Eris, it hadn’t taken long to learn the games she enjoyed playing.

Twisting words and creating confusion, which quickly led to far darker emotions. She wasn’t the goddess of strife and discord for nothing. She’d had millennia to practice and she was damn good at what she did.

“We made a deal from the outset. I will work around my family. Leave that to me.”

She nodded, and although the motion appeared as if she were acquiescing, he knew better. She might give the suggestion he’d won the round, but he wasn’t deluding himself.

He’d merely staved off the inevitable. He just hoped like hell he’d get better control of his powers before that day arrived.

Before he could dwell on it any further, Eris snapped out orders. “Well, what are you waiting for? The Pisces awaits your attention.”

Drake snagged the four longnecks and carried them back to the table. As he laid a bottle in front of Emerson, he immediately caught her pale coloring.

“What’s wrong?”

Emerson’s lips stood out in sharp relief on her white face. “It was moving.”

“What was moving?”

“My brother’s tattoo.”

“That’s impossible.” Even as he said the words, Drake knew them for the lie they were.

Tattoos
did
move. He had one to prove it. And so did each and every one of his Warrior brothers.

But if Magnus had a tattoo that moved, he’d have noticed it.

Until he replayed the events in his mind and remembered that he’d only seen the snake and reacted, paying minimal attention to Emerson’s brother.

“I know what I saw, Drake. I know it. The tattoo on his skin moved.”

“Is your grandmother okay?”

As diversions went, it was anything but subtle. But Grey’s words were immediately effective as Emerson’s eyes went wide in her face. “Oh my God! I have to go back and check on her.”

Drake’s grip tightened again. “You’re not going over there without me.”

“Wait. No. Wait.” She shook her head as she reached for the phone in her pocket. “I need to go call her, but I
think it’s her bridge day with her girlfriends. In fact, I’m almost sure of it.”

“Then Quinn and I’ll go back and deal with your brother.” He added a pointed stare for the ram. “And Grey can begin the business of getting Finley out of here and back to her life.”

“You’re not dealing with Magnus.”

“Well, you’re most certainly not.” The stubborn set of her chin and the immediate set of a hand on her hip nearly had him smiling, but he held it back.

He nodded toward the phone in her hands. “Go call your grandmother and let me and Grey discuss it.”

Although he didn’t expect her to accept his direction, clearly the need to see to her grandmother overrode anything else and Emerson left to make her call.

“Somehow I get the feeling you two need to have a discussion.” Finley stood from her bar stool. “I saw a very lovely library down the hall that I’d like to go investigate before we leave.”

Grey waited until the swinging door to the kitchen had closed behind her before he whirled, his voice a low hiss so Emerson wouldn’t overhear. “His tattoo fucking moves?”

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Shit, Mom, I was a bit busy fighting off a venomous snakebite.”

“Okay, I take it back. How in the hell does Emerson’s brother have a tattoo that moves?”

“I don’t know, Grey. It’s a snake. None of Themis’s Warriors have snake tattoos. It’s not a part of us.”

“But the tats are Themis’s creation.”

“Doesn’t mean someone else on Mount Olympus didn’t think it was a damn good idea.” Drake rubbed the back of his shoulder, and the joined fish that lived under his skin twitched in acknowledgment of his words.

Grey shot a look toward Emerson, but she was still facing the cabinets on the far side of the room, engrossed in her conversation. “And he
used
the snake?”

“That’s what I can’t get a handle on. I think the snake used him. There is just no way I believe he planned on attacking his own sister.”

“My tat can’t do that. Either I control it and make it attack something, or it stays where it is.”

Drake knew the power in the ram’s tattoo—knew the innate strength in all of their marks—and thought back to an earlier time. “Don’t you remember the beginning?”

“What beginning?”

“When you first became a Warrior.” Without even trying, Drake’s memories of those first days and weeks in service to Themis came back in a heavy wash of memories.

The confusion.

The raw power that coursed through his veins.

The never-ending questions that taunted him, suggesting he’d been too hasty in his decision and that she’d change her mind, sending him straight back to Alexander at the first opportunity.

“I sucked ass at it.” Grey’s smile was rueful as he nodded. “I was clumsy, like I couldn’t get my footing.”

“Me too. I suspect we all felt that way.”

“I didn’t understand it then and still don’t. I was
strong in my mortal life. Hell, I was a trained assassin for the royal family.”

“I was a soldier in Alexander the Great’s army, and let me tell you, that fucker took training to a whole new, maniacal level. It didn’t mean that suddenly having the body of an immortal, with all the various attributes that went with it, wasn’t an adjustment.”

“And you think her brother’s an immortal.”

“I think he’s something.” Drake shot a look at where Emerson stood across the kitchen. She was still on the phone, but those slim shoulders were more relaxed than they had been and what he could hear of her voice was more evenly modulated. “We need to keep her here.”

Grey was the first to speak. “Callie.”

Without wasting any time, Drake secured Callie’s reluctant help and briefed Quinn. Within minutes, he’d ported them into the kitchen, unwilling to drop straight into the bedroom Magnus had occupied.

“The house feels empty,” Quinn noted as he swept through the kitchen.

Drake nodded. “Let’s go upstairs.”

The Carano brownstone wasn’t nearly as wide as theirs—even without the extra square footage that sat on Mount Olympus—and they hauled ass up three flights of stairs in moments.

Drake led the way to the room Magnus had occupied earlier. “He left his things.”