Deceiver's Bond: Book Two of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (52 page)

The gibbering voice at the back of my brain ran on, unchecked.
Shit, shit, shit …
Five sprawled bodies sure took up a lot of space. But whoever had crafted the magic circle had anticipated that. It was at least fifteen feet in diameter. Yellow spray paint was an interesting choice of medium, but that didn’t matter as much as the spellcaster’s skill and intent. And, clearly, this spellcaster had some evil-ass intent. By the look of it, the telepaths had waited shoulder-to-shoulder at the circle’s far side and fallen where they’d stood, their throats slashed with no indication they’d resisted. Their blood had coated the gold-hued tile in a streaky, rusty-colored mess. Much of it had flowed down toward the drain at the center of the space. Even more stained the floor outside the circle.

If that wasn’t bad enough, worse was knowing what was in the next room. At least twelve more victims.

Wide swaths of smeared blood, where those bodies had been dragged, highlighted the way. Why move those into the storage room but leave the five inside the circle?

I shuddered. A blood sacrifice of this magnitude would have generated earth-shattering power. Whatever had been wrought must have been monumentally bad.

I didn’t realize I’d been staring at the bodies and trembling uncontrollably until Kieran pulled me into his arms to soothe me. Daniel had ceased his outward grieving and paced angrily near the circle, rubbing his forehead. He hadn’t yet noticed the trail of smeared blood.

Jackie’s pinched voice broke the silence. “Who would have done this?” She paused, surveying the horror around us. “And why?”

Daniel ground to a halt, his red-rimmed eyes considering Jackie and then Michael.

I pulled out of Kieran’s embrace and pointed an unsteady hand at the closed door to our left. “More in there,” I said weakly.

I didn’t think it was possible for Daniel’s face to whiten further, but it did. He staggered to the door, looking every bit a ghost—pale, haunted, and hobbled by unfinished business. He hesitated, not yet turning the knob but squeezing it tight enough to make his arm quake from strain. As if he’d reached his breaking point, he turned the knob and threw open the door. Beyond him, bodies lined the floor, face up, arms neatly positioned at their sides.

Michael joined Daniel at the room’s threshold.

I gestured helplessly at the group of fallen telepaths. “What about Caleb and Richard? Are they—?”

Daniel replied, voice gruff and clipped, “Yes. They’re both here.”

“I don’t fucking get it.” Michael turned away, wiping a hand across his mouth and jaw.

I looked over my shoulder. “Red, I think we could use your opinion here,” I said. My voice sounded more froggy than human. I cleared my throat and added, “You’re safe to come out.”

My backpack shifted slightly as he made his way out of the pocket just inside the opening. He grasped my hair and climbed up to my shoulder.

Jackie watched this with a wide-eyed fascination.

I introduced them. When I mentioned Red being a former necromancer, her brows went up.

Red examined the surroundings from his perch. “I take it the victims are Invisius telepaths?”

Daniel nodded. Michael replied, “Yes.”

“My condolences,” Red said solemnly. “I regret to say, my senses tell me little as to the reason for their deaths. As any layman would deduce, at first sight, this appears to be a case of ritual sacrifice. The point that most troubles me, however, is the lack of any discernable magic in the vicinity—other than the ward, of course. At least five ritual deaths and not a hint of a spell casting? That is most unusual.”

“And what’s with all the bodies lined up in there?” I asked, jerking my chin toward the side room. “If they were part of the sacrifice, why aren’t they still in the circle like the others?”

Kieran gestured to the floor in front of us. “I’m not sure they were. A lot of blood here, outside the circle. I’d say they were killed in a separate engagement and dragged into the room after it was over. Whether this fight happened before the circle was forged, or after …” He frowned and examined the floor.

“After,” Jackie said. “Look at it. The boundary is pristine. The circle was intact during the fight. The blood doesn’t cross it.”

“But who’d be fighting the telepaths? And why?” I glanced at Daniel and Michael in turn.

Michael frowned before zeroing in on something at the opposite end of the room. “Shit,” he bit out, striding to what had caught his eye.

At the far right corner—partially hidden behind what had to be the largest plastic ficus I’d ever seen—lurked a substantial, rotary dial floor safe. The large door had been left open, exposing its green, fabric-lined interior. One vertical section, free of shelves, was meant for housing long guns. Although, as far as I could see, there weren’t any weapons inside, just stacks of paper. Ivory-colored shards littered the ground, and my heart sank when I realized what they were. Michael bent down to peer into the safe, even going so far as to search each shelf with his hands.

Straightening, he kicked at the broken draíocloch fragments at his feet. “Not going to be visiting the Otherworld anytime soon,” he said, turning to glower at me. “But it seems like getting Vince back isn’t a priority anymore.”

I flinched at his harsh words. The sad thing was I couldn’t defend myself against the accusation. He was right. When I’d learned Vince had attached himself to Maeve, I’d stopped wishing for his return. I’d assumed he was ecstatic about his new love interest, especially in light of everything he’d spilled to Maeve about me. I tried to swallow, but guilt stuck fast in my throat, stinging my chest and flaming my cheeks.

It was obvious. Michael thought I was a heartless bitch—I’d discarded Vince because I’d moved on to someone new.

Or, was he … ? No. He wasn’t … jealous. Was he?

Red moved to sit on my shoulder and rubbed his paw against my neck to comfort me.

“Vince is the least of our worries,” Kim replied sharply, shooting Michael a stony look before adding, “He wouldn’t choose to return to Earth so soon, regardless. Still, it would have been nice to have had that access.”

Of course, the glaring fact (and the one nobody seemed brave enough to mention) was, without any draíoclochs, Kieran couldn’t go back home. Not until midsummer at the earliest.

I couldn’t decide whether this was good news or bad. My possessive inner shrew celebrated it. I didn’t want him to go, and now, regardless of his outcast status, he couldn’t. Conversely, I didn’t want him to stay if he was simply here because he had no other choice, never mind knowing that the big reason (but hopefully not the sole reason) he’d pursued me was because of my sidestepping ability.

I wanted to kick something. My mind was an angst-ridden jumble of conflicting thoughts. Why couldn’t I have found a guy who wanted me because of
me
, not because of my damned abilities?

Whatever. Getting worked up over this was pointless. Unless Maeve or the King rescinded the outcast decree, Kieran had no other choice but to stay, draíocloch or not. It also meant I’d have to wait to seek training from the Amhaín—if I even decided that’s what I wanted to do. Part of me was distinctly relieved by the delay. Just considering a visit to the Otherworld made my mouth go dry.

I remembered to thoroughly survey the building and confirmed nobody else was home. I wondered where the rest of the telepaths were, whether they were alive. Strangely, the ward prevented me from sensing anything outside the building’s perimeter. There was no way to tell whether Daniel and Michael’s compatriots had moved to surround the building like they’d planned.

Leaving this place and never coming back shot to the number one spot on my bucket list. I turned to Daniel. “We need to destroy the ward and let the others know what’s going on.”

“Already on it,” Jackie said from the far right corner. “The weakest keystone is over here. Once we break it, the rest will be easier to compromise.”

I crossed the room to take a look, putting enough distance between our bodies to keep her safe from Red’s aversion spell, and examined the object at our feet. The beefy head of a galvanized bolt, surrounded by a wide washer, protruded from the floor. A tan colored compound extruded from the edges of the metal fastener, probably epoxy. I kicked at it with the toe of my high top sneakers. It didn’t budge.

I muttered, “Unconventional. I’ll give them that much.”

“But effective. I’m fresh out of jack hammers and my skill with earth magic sucks.” Jackie evaluated me. “Can you break it out?”

Eyebrows raised, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Never used my TK for anything like that. But I can give it a go.”

I wrapped my telekinesis around the bolt’s head, starting with just a tug, and then gradually fed it more power.

Nice and easy.

Bringing the building down around our ears was to be avoided at all costs. After a minute of increasing pressure, the bolt gave a quarter turn. Something hummed nearby. The furnace, maybe.

“Yes. It’s working,” Jackie encouraged.

A jarring slam, followed by pounding footsteps, vibrated the ceiling above us, shredding my concentration.

Jackie visibly started and then jerked her chin sharply toward the stairs, the gesture telling Kim to ready herself for trouble. She removed a small rod from her pocket. “Hurry,” she hissed at me.

I tried to ignore the impending footsteps and once again lit upon the bolt. I didn’t dare divide my attention to get a reading on how many headed our way. By the sound of it, surely more than one. On the plus side, keeping track of the intruders wasn’t an issue. They were moving fast and didn’t care that they were making a crap-ton of noise.

How many? They going up or down? Do they know we’re down here? Did messing with the ward draw their attention?

The temptation to channel all my power into ripping the keystone from the tile and concrete, in one concussive swoop, had me tensed up to the point of hand clenching and lip biting while I fought for restraint.

Calm down, damn it. Pulling out the bolt, good. Massive crater, bad.

Red murmured next to my ear, “They have you protected. Take your time. Focus.”

As I wiggled the bolt, cautiously applying power, the subsonic buzz of whatever machinery I’d noticed earlier pulsed along the floor and up my feet. Amazing I could feel it at all, considering the racket pummeling the floor above us. Basements sometimes had a mechanical room where the furnace and water heater were stashed. It was probably on the other side of the wall here. Close. Strangely, though, as I became more aware of it, the vibration seemed to emanate not from under the wall but somewhere behind me. I chastised myself. It was stupid to be thinking about something so mundane.

Like Red said—focus.

I glared at the bolt and tugged a little harder, careful I didn’t twist the head off and leave the rest behind.

Just loosen … the hell … up!

Footsteps rained down the basement treads. They were almost on us. Jackie chanted something under her breath and the unmistakable caress of her magic pulsed over my skin.

Yes!
The bolt spun freely and, just as it loosed from its channel, a deep voice thundered from the stairwell, echoing throughout the room, “Lire, no!”

I closed my fingers around the nine inch galvanized bolt when it smacked into the palm of my hand and then turned to confront the source of the booming objection.

My internal hoot of victory lasted about half a second.

At the foot of the stairs, Agent Fisk stood unflinchingly tall, his face clenched in fury, wielding a gleaming two-foot-long katana. Not exactly government issue. Alternating up the stairs behind him, three other men stood at the ready. Two of them also brandished swords. Could things get any weirder? The one directly behind Fisk, blonde and powerfully-built, cursed loudly, eyes fixed to the far side of the room.

I followed his gaze.

The view hadn’t improved.

Just perfect. Standing in a reeking, blood-soaked basement with more than a dozen dead bodies. If Daniel or Michael didn’t work some mojo pretty damned quick, handcuffs and jail cells were in our immediate future.

“Stupid bitch!” Fisk raged, his amber eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Kim unleashed a cascade of branched lightning along the floor, cackling and snapping, ending just shy of his feet. “Watch your language, asshole, or I’ll sear your fucking tongue to the roof of your mouth.”

The vacillation under my feet nagged at me, but I shoved it out of my mind. “Michael!”

“Unreadable,” he snapped.

Shit. That’s right.
Kieran had said Fisk was a part-blood.

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

Damn it.
Daniel and Michael couldn’t make this nightmare go away with a simple memory-tweak.

Fighting evil telepaths was one thing, going up against part-blood FBI agents was another. I’d not hurt Fisk for doing his job, even if he was a conniving bastard.

We were so screwed.

I unleashed my TK, allowing my webbing to cascade throughout the basement and upstairs, and checked for Fisk’s backup. I still couldn’t ‘see’ past the ward, but its edges felt softer somehow. For now, it was just the four of them inside the building. If additional law enforcement waited outside, there was no way to know.

“Fucking with shit you don’t understand, you endanger all of us,” Fisk growled, sparing a withering glare for Kim. “Back off. What the fuck do you think is behind you? You think rainbows and unicorns are going to come of it?”

Huh?
Where was the ‘drop your weapons’ or ‘get your hands up?’ And what the hell was with the swords?

Jackie’s power prickled over my skin.

“Jackie, hold,” Kieran cautioned from behind me. “They are not telepaths.”

In a blink, Fisk’s sword dematerialized. He launched toward me, shouting over his shoulder, “Wade, get over here.”

He kept his eye on the far side of the room as he approached, chin jutted and jaw muscles practically popping with every clench. “Son of a bitch.”