Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel (8 page)

I shook my head, giving him my best pout. “No, come on. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know, but you’re right.” He took the practice sword away from me. “We shouldn’t risk it. I’m supposed keep you contained.”

“Contained? As in under control or restraint?”

He sighed, but nodded. “Another Knight will be here later to make an evaluation. Until then, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t use any of your powers.”

“So, I’m your prisoner?” I didn’t bother to keep the hurt or accusation out of my voice. I should have known the other shoe would drop eventually. Especially since I was starting to like him. That never bodes well with me. The more I like a guy, the worse he probably is. I’m a regular jerk-o-meter.

“No, you’re under my protection.” Julian pulled on a T-shirt.

I berated myself for the wash of disappointment that swept through me when he covered up. I was already letting my hormones think for me. I’d thought we were having a good time, maybe even connecting a little. But he was only doing his job. Keeping me occupied. I wondered if his orders had been
by any means necessary
. Would he take me to bed if they told him to? And would he consider it a chore, or a perk?

You’ve got it wrong, as usual Alex.

The fact that my life still hung in the balance came crashing down on me anew. I was trapped. A tremble of panic ran through my body. I hated not having a choice. Too much of my life had been spent doing what other people wanted me to do. Now I had all these new abilities and with them came a whole new set of restrictions.

How could I put my trust in someone who was only taking orders? Who had no vested interest in my survival? Julian said I deserved a fighting chance, that the Grigori didn’t scare him, but what about the Cloak? He’d as much as admitted he would hand me over to them as soon as they came for me. He would probably be glad to see me go so he could get back to his neat, orderly life of enforcing. I was just a temporary hiccup.

“Maybe I don’t want your protection.” I stormed out of the garage before he could answer. I didn’t have a plan, I just needed to do
something
. I left the back door to the house swinging, but Julian caught it and closed it gently before following me into the kitchen. I spotted the phone and lunged for it.

He beat me there and held it behind his back.

“Give me the phone!” I shouted in his face, my breath coming fast and hard.

Trapped! Alone…

Julian absorbed the brunt of my anger, his expression impassive, his voice calm and way too reasonable. “Tell me who you’re going to call and I’ll consider it.”

“My mother,” I said through bared teeth. Despite my attempts to look threatening, tears sprang into my eyes at the thought of my mom. He’d done a good job distracting me, but the harsh truth of my death and what it meant carved into my chest like a cold, jagged knife. I needed something familiar to ground and comfort me. I needed my mom.

What would she say if I explained everything that had happened, if she knew my life as I’d known it was over? I shook my head and gave Julian a disgusted look. His brows were furrowed in sympathy, which only made it worse. I didn’t want him to see how weak I really was.

I clenched my jaw, and when I was assured my voice would be calmer, said, “She’ll be worried about me. I just disappeared. She’ll call the cops if I don’t check-in soon.”

He looked abashed as he nodded and handed me the receiver. “It’s a secure line. You can call her. But you can’t tell her anything, Alex.”

I scoffed when he didn’t move away, and dialed the number with him looking over my shoulder. I waited for my mom to pick up with Julian listening by my ear. No answer. I got her voicemail instead. My eyes watered when I heard her familiar message leaving her pager number for emergencies. I decided while waiting for the beep that a lie would best for now, regardless of what it said in Julian’s stupid rule book. If people wanted to kill me, I didn’t want her involved.

“Hi, it’s me…Just calling to let you know I went camping for the weekend with some friends. There’s no cell phone service and I didn’t want you to worry. I’ll call you next week.” I paused and swallowed, careful my voice didn’t quiver when I added, “I love you.”

I hung up and handed the phone over, refusing to look at Julian. I crossed my arms over my stomach, silently cursing Cody, Julian, and every other Undead I had yet to meet. I didn’t want to be there anymore — not just in Julian’s keeping, but in the whole fucked-up situation.

It had been a hell of a ride — mostly suckage, with a few upsides — but I was ready to get off. No matter how Julian wanted to word it, I was stuck there. Trapped. I wanted my final exams, and soccer practice, and my mom setting me up on boring dates with her co-workers’ sons, my flannel PJs and UGG slippers, my iPod, and a bra, dammit! This was not supposed to be my life.

I could handle it all when I thought of myself as Julian’s guest, maybe friend, or even his pitiful rescue project. When I thought of Julian as a nice guy doing me a favor, maybe because he liked me. But in reality, he was just the same as a cop, and I was under house arrest. He was my warden, not my friend. After everything else, that realization was just enough to push me over the edge. I really was on my own, and people who didn’t even know me were going to decide my future while I rotted in a cage. Or, my other choice was to leave and get killed. Again.

I might have been over-dramatizing, but I felt entitled.

Julian’s hand lighted on my shoulder. I sniffed, shrugging him away.

“It is possible to lead a somewhat normal life as an Undead.” He didn’t sound like he really believed it. “The Cloak has classes, programs, networks. You can have a house, a job, a…companion.”

“Maybe.” I brushed past him to stare out the window. Maybe for someone like Julian, or Cody, that would be possible. “But it’s different for me.”

Other Undead weren’t psychics too. There was no book to help me figure out where I fit in. There was no liaison. There was a hunting party on one side and a judge and jury on the other. The distrust in Julian’s eyes every time I reminded him of my powers was enough to convince me I would never find a comfortable place in his world. If it bothered him so much, the other members of the Cloak could only be worse.

“You will be okay, Alex.”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. It was either that or keep crying, and I didn’t want to lose all of the respect I’d earned. He thought I was
tough
, which might have been all I had going for me in his eyes.

“I always wanted to break the mold. To prove I was one of a kind.” I spoke to Julian’s reflection in the dark glass as he stood behind me. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I’d give just about anything to be boring right now.”

“I don’t think you could be boring if you tried.” The tenderness in his gaze almost shoved me over that edge and into the fit of sobbing I deserved. Was it genuine? I couldn’t reconcile the Knight and the man, despite how badly I wanted to believe him.

“Yeah, well, I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.” I clamped down my self-pity and tried to wrap my head around things instead. I stalked into the living room and flopped onto the couch, resigned to accept my circumstances and move on. I needed to get a grip and come up with a plan. “When’s this other Knight coming?”

“A few hours.” Julian propped himself in the doorway. He gave me his appraising look again. “I should probably tell you, the Cloak is going to have a lot of questions.”

I shrugged. I obviously wasn’t going anywhere unless the Cloak wanted me to. Julian wouldn’t let me leave, and besides I had nowhere to go. I’d answer their damn questions. Not like I had an alternative. Oh wait — beheading — I guess that was an alternative. Maybe after a few hours of the Cloak’s interrogation it would hold more appeal.

“They’re going to have a hard time believing you didn’t know you were a psychic. The Grigori keep very good track of their bloodlines. They grow up knowing who and what they are, within the fold, so to speak.”

I glowered at him as he stepped into the room. As if sensing the precarious edge of my mood, he perched on the farthest end of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

“First off, can you quit calling me a psychic?” I shot back. “And secondly, didn’t you tell them that I don’t know?”

“I told them, but it’s hard to believe. How could you not have known? Who were your parents?”

“I don’t know my father.” I looked away from him. “My mother is a surgeon at Stanford. Dr. Veronica J. Moore, and she’s not a psychic by any stretch. To her, there’s science and nothing else.”

“What was your father’s name?” Julian pressed.

“I don’t know.” I gave him a warning look.

He ran his hands through his hair in what I was figuring out was Julian’s tell for frustration.

I sighed. What was the sense in taking this out on him? He was my keeper, but he did seem to want to help me. As much as he could, anyway. Since he was maybe my only ally, I might as well play it straight. “He was an anonymous sperm donor, okay? My mom used artificial insemination to have me. I’m the next generation model of Moore over-achiever, made to order.”

He furrowed his brows, but wisely proceeded with, “Okay,” and slid down to the cushion beside me. “You have proof of this?”

“I can get it.”

“Good. Then all you have to do is convince Derek to let me escort you to get it, and then present your case to the Cloak.”

“You know the guy?” I asked, suddenly wary. Why did I feel like Julian was holding information back until he found it convenient to share? And why, despite that fact, was I so quick to believe everything he told me? The answer wasn’t something I wanted to own up to. It would only complicate things, and they were botched enough already.

Keep your head on straight. He’s just a hot dead guy, and you’re desperate.

He nodded. “Yes, and he’ll be a tough sell.”

“Of course. Why would anything be easy?” I laid my head against the back of the sofa, tucking my legs to my chest. “You believe me, don’t you?”

It shouldn’t have mattered to me, but I would be lying if I pretended it didn’t.

“I believe you.” It seemed like he was going to say something else. Instead, he went to shower, leaving me to wonder if Julian believing me was enough to matter. It didn’t change what I was. And even though he claimed to believe me, he still shut down every time my psychic powers came up.

I rubbed my fingers together, wondering if I should try to learn to use my powers. If I was going to get killed for having them, shouldn’t I get something out of it? Maybe I could protect myself. Then I wouldn’t be stuck relying on Julian. Just in case he wasn’t all he was cracked up to be, or the Cloak decided I couldn’t be allowed to exist. It might be a good idea.

A nagging voice in the back of my head kept reminding me of the fact that Julian could be lying to me. What if the Grigori wouldn’t actually hurt me? They were his enemies, but were they really mine? I was one of them, too. Could I be putting my trust in the wrong person? I laughed out loud.

Not like that has ever happened before.

But then I thought of my nightmare, my psychic “awakening.” I remembered the feeling of all of the voices trying to reach into me and shuddered. If that was the Grigori, I wanted no part of it. I had already picked my side, putting my stock in the Undead Knight. I assured myself the decision had nothing to do with the attraction I felt. Julian had helped me so far, and I wanted to trust him. Maybe I wanted to imagine something was there a little too much, but as long as I didn’t let my body do the thinking, I could handle it.

As for the psychics — one problem at a time: avoid execution by the Cloak, then deal with my cerebral solicitors.

Chapter Six

J
ulian gave me space for the few hours we waited for Derek. He must have sensed that hovering would just make me more antsy. Even after I had my fill of quiet reflection, he stayed on the phone for over an hour, and I didn’t want to interrupt, so I locked myself in the back bedroom. I decided to take advantage of my unsupervised time and distract myself by snooping. I poked through the drawers, cupboards, and medicine cabinet for clues about my mysterious host. His boudoir wasn’t very forthcoming with personal details, which tickled my curiosity even more. I would have settled for finding out how old he was, or what his last name was. But I also happened to be very curious if there were any other women in his un-life.

“Ah-ha!” I felt a thrill of triumph upon discovery of Julian’s little black book. But thumbing through it, there weren’t any names that seemed to be attached to friends, much less women. There were no dirty magazines. I lifted the comforter to look under the bed. Not even a speck of dust. What a neat freak. Cleaning must have been where he channeled all of his sexual energy.

I flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He definitely had sexual energy. There was no way a man that sexy didn’t. He just kept it under tight control. I should have been thankful for that. It was hard enough to concentrate when he wasn’t trying to get my attention. Maybe he had very particular tastes and fulfilled them elsewhere? I’d never asked what he was doing at the Sweat Shop that night.