“Give me time to think.”
“Tick, tock,” she taunted, preparing to squeeze the trigger. “So sorry.”
“No.” Without warning, the man lunged forward. Stella took a step back, but not before he’d grabbed ahold of her wrist, yanking off the charm bracelet that was the only thing she’d kept from her life with her mother.
Instantly Peter stiffened, his eyes rolling back in his head as he dropped to his knees.
“What the hell?” Stella muttered, torn between curiosity and the urge to put a bullet in the idiot’s head and be done with him.
“A vision . . .” he choked out.
“Very convenient,” she muttered, her brows snapping together as he swayed, side to side. “No doubt you can now magically tell me where the clairvoyant is going to be?”
“Not the clairvoyant.” He halted his swaying, his face coated in a layer of sweat. “You.”
Stella lowered the gun, a flicker of hope easing her seething fury.
“Tell me.”
* * *
Myst finished the last of the crisp green salad and fresh bread that Bas had waiting for her when she woke for the second time.
A part of her had been horrified to discover that it was nearly noon. She wasn’t in France to lie around, indulging her desires. She was supposed to be finding the answer to her vision so she could halt the blood and death she’d seen spreading through Valhalla.
And just as important, as far as she was concerned, was the opportunity to figure out how to be a real mother to Molly.
A larger part of her, however, was determined to savor each and every precious second of this brief respite. As Bas had pointed out, there was nothing they could do until they set up another meeting with the Keeper of Tales. And after four years of virtual isolation in the library of the Russian monastery, she surely deserved a few hours of pleasure?
Pushing away her plate, she was still torn between guilt and the tiny voice whispering she would never again have Bas completely to herself, when the gorgeous male was abruptly leaving the room with his phone pressed to his ear.
Myst grimaced, tugging the robe tighter around her naked body. She didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to know this momentary bout of madness was about to come to an end.
Five minutes later Bas was returning, his unshaven jaw clenched as she slowly rose to her feet.
“Who was that?” she demanded.
“The Mave,” he said as he confirmed her suspicion, the clipped edge in his voice sending a chill down her spine. Bas’s tone changed with his mood. When she’d first met him it’d been cool, even aloof. The perfect businessman. When she was in his arms, it was low and whiskey smooth. Now, it was tightly controlled. A certain sign he was trying to disguise some intense emotion. “They think they found out how the Brotherhood knew where to find you.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “How?”
“They have a male clairvoyant who has either become a traitor or is being forced to work for the leader.”
Myst felt a stab of disappointment. She’d been betrayed by her family, held like an animal by the humans, and now one of her own people was using his powers to track her.
Could anyone be trusted?
“Is he someone who knows me?” she demanded. Most clairvoyants needed to be close to the person they were reading. Some even had to touch them.
Bas’s expression hardened, clearly no more happy than she was at the thought of a high-blood traitor. In fact, he looked like he’d already decided the perfect way to kill the clairvoyant once he got his hands on him.
“It’s impossible to know for certain,” he admitted.
Myst glanced toward the window where the sun was shining brightly. If the clairvoyant had some way of knowing where she was going to be, it would make it impossible for her to hide.
“What are we going to do?” she muttered, even as she began to plot in the back of her mind.
She had to sneak away from her companion.
Bas was just stubborn enough to insist on staying with her even if she couldn’t shake her tracker. She wasn’t going to let him be captured by the Brotherhood.
Not because the mere thought of him being hurt made her heart race with panicked horror. Of course not. It was just . . . Molly needed him.
Yep. That was the reason.
“Wolfe is sending in Sentinels to deal with the clairvoyant.”
Myst nodded, knowing there was more. “And?”
He grimaced before forcing himself to say the words. “And the Mave has set up another opportunity for us to meet with Boggs.”
She felt a flare of relief. She’d feared the elusive Keeper of Tales would refuse to set up another meeting. Not that she was entirely convinced the mysterious male could help her. Still, she had to feel like she was doing something.
Otherwise . . .
A cold ball of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.
Otherwise she had to seriously consider Plan B.
Taking herself out of the equation, by whatever means necessary.
She shook off the depressing thought as Bas’s eyes narrowed, almost as if he could read her dark thoughts.
“Where?” she abruptly demanded.
“An old cathedral a few miles north of here.” He continued to study her with a piercing gaze. “Are you willing to take the risk?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have any choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” He stepped forward, his hand wrapping around the side of her neck with a casual intimacy. “I can take you back home.”
She shivered at his gentle touch, a familiar sadness tugging at her heart.
“I don’t have a home,” she whispered. “I’ve never had a home.”
“Myst.”
The shimmering bronze eyes darkened with a sympathy that shook her out of her momentary bout of gloom. Abruptly she stepped back. The last thing she wanted from this male was his pity.
“I should take a shower.”
He stiffened, almost as if he was hurt by her emotional retreat. Then his stunningly beautiful features settled into a mocking expression.
“Do you need help?”
She gave a shake of her head. As tempting as the thought of sharing the cramped shower with this delectable male was, she had to accept their time together was at an end.
Deep inside she could feel a growing sense of urgency. Time was running out. She had to find a way to avoid her fate or . . .
“I think I can manage.” She forced herself to answer his teasing words, backing toward the bathroom.
His gaze drifted down her body, swathed in the oversized robe.
“I just want you to know that I’m here to be of service.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right.”
His gaze returned to linger on her lips, which were still swollen from his kisses, before he reached to grab the package he’d brought back last night.
“I’m going to make sure there aren’t any bad guys lurking around,” he said, handing her the bag. “There are clean clothes in there.”
She swallowed a small sigh. Of course he’d thought to bring her clean clothes.
The male was . . . perfect. Even when he was being an arrogant, annoying ass.
“Be careful,” she said before she could halt the words.
His eyes softened to melted bronze. “You’re worried about me?”
She hunched a shoulder, unable to admit the truth.
“You’re Molly’s father,” she instead muttered. “She would be devastated if anything happened to you.”
He moved forward, crowding her against the door of the bathroom. “And what about you, cara?” he demanded, his fingers threading through her tangled hair. “Would you be devastated?”
Her mouth went dry as she forced herself to meet his brooding gaze. He had to sense that she was terrified he would be hurt.
Why was he so determined to make her admit her unwelcome obsession with him?
??
?What do you want from me, Bas?”
His lips twisted as he studied her pale face. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
She made a sound of annoyance. “Riddles.”
Swooping down, he claimed her mouth in a kiss of utter possession.
“Take your shower,” he at last growled, reaching behind her to shove open the bathroom door. “I won’t go far.”
Whirling on her heel, Myst darted into the cramped room and slammed the door behind her. She wasn’t angry at Bas. No. She was furious with herself.
It was embarrassing to admit, but despite knowing she could never be like other women, she fiercely wanted to fantasize about a future with Bas.
White picket fences. Silver-haired, bronze-eyed children. And an icily beautiful assassin who turned to fire in her arms.
She dropped the robe and stepped into the shower cubicle, turning the knob to hot, although it was barely lukewarm. Only then did she allow the tears of regret to track down her cheeks.
Less than half an hour later, she had her damp hair pulled into a braid and had slipped on the pretty sundress in a pale shade of lavender. There were also slip-on flats in butter-soft leather, and delicate undies that fit her to perfection.
With her composure restored, she stepped out of the bathroom and managed to meet Bas’s searching gaze with a tight smile.
“Ready?”
He grimaced. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered, moving to join her as she headed determinedly toward the door.
He’d changed into a pair of gray slacks and a crisp white cotton shirt that was left open at the throat, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. With his pale, elegant features that contrasted with his silky ebony hair, he looked like he’d just stepped off the front of a fashion magazine.
At least until she caught sight of the bronze eyes that blazed with a power that could only belong to a warrior.
She shivered, wondering if there’d ever been a female who hadn’t looked at this male and been consumed with lust.
In silence they snuck out of the small hotel, walking along the bank of the river. At a glance they no doubt looked like a young couple simply out for a stroll on such a fine, sunny day. Up close, however, the air prickled with Bas’s magic as he kept his lean body close enough that she felt singed by his power.
She didn’t doubt he would rip apart anything that crossed their path.
The town disappeared, to be replaced by rolling vineyards with only a handful of distant cottages. The peace should have eased the tension that clenched her muscles, but she couldn’t shake the sensation of a ticking time bomb.
At last, they turned away from the river to head up a narrow path. In the distance she could see the top spire of the cathedral, but without warning Bas reached out to grasp her arm, bringing her to a sharp halt.
“He’s here,” he muttered.
Myst sent her companion a startled glance. “Here?”
Bas gave a slow nod, his expression wary. “Just ahead.”
Her gaze scanned the nearby fields, seeing nothing beyond the grapevines and a few birds that circled overhead. Had Bas made a mistake? Boggs was supposed to be waiting for them at the cathedral, not in the middle of the road.
“I don’t see him,” she admitted.
Bas nodded toward a small thatch of pine trees near the edge of the road.
“There.”
“Very good, assassin,” a disembodied male voice floated through the air.
Bas moved to stand directly in front of her, his vibrating energy stirring the dust beneath their feet.
“Show yourself,” he commanded.
An electric surge of magic clashed against Bas’s power, making the hair on the back of Myst’s neck stand upright.
Damn. She took a step back. She felt as if she was going to get fried.
“Not until I’m sure you weren’t followed,” the unseen male responded. “The last time you brought the enemy to my favorite lair.”
“We didn’t know the Brotherhood was able to find us,” Bas said, a bite in his voice.
“Which is why I tried to alter the place of our meeting at the last second,” Boggs retorted.
Myst grimaced. That explained why Boggs wasn’t waiting for them at the cathedral.
Bas muttered a curse, pausing to glance around the empty countryside.
“There’s no one near.” He gave an impatient gesture with his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Very well.”
There was a faint rustle in the shadow of the trees before a tall, lean man walked down the road.
“Oh . . . Lord.” Her stomach twisted with shock.
She’d never seen anything like the Keeper of Tales.
His features were barely formed and his eyes glowed with white power. He was a pale, hairless creature that looked more like a larva than a man.
At the moment, his body was covered in a dull brown robe that covered him from his neck to his toes. Something she was deeply thankful for. She was fairly certain she didn’t want to see what was beneath the thick wool.
“Bothered, sweet Myst?” Boggs asked in a singsong voice. “I can make myself more appealing if you want.”
Myst made a sound of shock as the creature moved closer, his features smoothly transforming until he was an exact duplicate of Bas, except for the eyes, which remained a pure white.
A doppelganger.
She’d heard of them, but she’d never seen anything so . . . unnerving.
Bas hissed in anger, his body stiff as he clenched his hands at his sides.
“We’re here for answers, not parlor tricks.”
The creature shrugged, releasing his magic. Instantly he returned to his larva state.
“I have answers,” he taunted, “but do you know the right questions?”
Myst hurriedly moved around Bas’s rigid body, sensing violence brewing in the air.
They didn’t have time to waste on a male pissing contest.
“I want to learn more about my vision,” she announced in firm tones.
“A foreseer.” The shimmering white gaze locked on her as Boggs drifted forward. “I haven’t had a taste in a long time. Let me—”
In a blur of motion, Bas had his hand wrapped around the doppelganger’s wrist, his eyes blazing with fury.
“Don’t touch her.”
The creature hissed with impatience, but he was smart enough not to struggle against Bas’s hold.
“I can’t see her vision if I don’t touch her.”
“No.”
“Bas.” She carefully reached out to brush her hand down his back. She wasn’t excited about the thought of Boggs touching her. Not because he looked different. They were all high-bloods with gifts that made them unusual. But because his magic was strong enough to make her skin crawl. “We came here so we could see if he could help.”
He didn’t even glance in her direction. “No touching,” he growled.
“Fine.” Boggs heaved a dramatic sigh. “Give me something that belongs to you,” he said to Myst.
She frowned. Everything she had on was brand new. She doubted it carried enough of her essence to help the male.
Then, without warning, Bas was loosening his hold on the doppelganger and reaching into his pocket. The sun glinted on a gold chain as he stretched out his hand.
“Will this do?” he demanded.
Myst felt her heart come to a shocked halt as Boggs reached to take the object from the male standing at her side.
It was a locket.
Her locket.
The one she’d lost in his office five years ago.
In a daze she turned her head to study Bas’s elegant profile, unable to believe that he would have kept the necklace, let alone carried it in his pocket.
A dozen questions hovered on her lips, but she was forced to swallow them as Boggs pressed the locket to the side of his face, his eyes blazing like stars.
“Yes, this will do,” he said in
a low voice, his body abruptly arching as a cry of horror was wrenched from his throat. “No . . .”
Myst flinched. That was the same sound she’d made when the vision had seared through her.
“What do you see?” she asked.
He shuddered. “Death.”
She grimaced. She already knew about the death. She needed to know how to halt it.
“Can you see what the weapon is?”
His breath hissed through his clenched teeth. “Blood.”
Blood?
“You see blood?” she probed.
“The blood is the weapon.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Boggs lowered the locket even as his eyes continued to glow. “The blood has power.”
Okay. This was getting her nowhere. Maybe she had to be more precise.
“Do you mean the Brotherhood could use my blood as a weapon?”
Boggs shrugged. “Impossible to say.”
Bas made a sound of frustration, his body rigid as he glared at the doppelganger. Myst struggled to ignore him. She didn’t think the Keeper of Tales was trying to screw with her.
He truly needed her to ask the right questions to bring the event into focus.
“Do I somehow alter my blood?”
“No . . .” Boggs gave a slow shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Is it still in my body?” she pressed.
“That’s all I see.” Boggs lifted a hand, as if to silence her questions. “Blood and death.”
Shit. He wasn’t telling her anything that would help her avoid her fate.
“Are there any prophecies that would match the vision?” she asked in desperation.
“A thousand,” Boggs admitted.
Myst felt her heart sink. “A thousand?”
“Perhaps tens of thousands.”
Bas had reached the end of his patience. “So what you’re saying is that we wasted our time coming here?” he snapped.
“No.” Boggs held out the locket. Surprisingly, it was Bas who reached to snatch it from his fingers, shoving it in the front pocket of his jeans. The doppelganger stepped back, his expression impossible to read. “My role has yet to be played.”
“Come on, cara, we have better things to be doing,” her companion growled, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm.
She shook her head, not prepared to give up so easily. “But—”