Phoenix Fallen (11 page)

Behind him, Jules could hear as Kelsey choked.

“Mags needs to keep her damn mouth shut.” Jules muttered, giving up on intimidating the smaller man and turning to face Kelsey's face on screen. Miles, he noticed with irritation, was hiding the tiniest bit of a smirk. As soon as the French vamp noticed Jules' eyes on him, the look vanished. Jules frowned.

“A vamp? Really?” Kelsey’s eyes were wide and her voice had gone high in shock. “Anyone we might know of?”

“Nope.” Then with a huffy sigh, Jules gave in. “Her name is Rissa. Clarissa Styles.”

“Who’s her sire?” This from Miles.

“I didn’t ask,
Dad.”
Jules’ look was a warning, but if he couldn’t intimidate Dustin, he sure as hell wasn't going to be able to intimidate
this
man.

Miles didn’t say anything more, but his eyes rested on Jules, his face considering.

That French bastard would have a dossier on Rissa in his hand by the time the sun went down on the Seine.
Prick.

Jules' gaze flickered back to Kels who was still studying him, her face alive with curiosity and not a little wonder. She, more than anyone else in his life—even Fannie—knew how he felt about vamps. How many times had she soothed him from his nightmares when they were teenagers?

“This is an …interesting development.”

Jules opened his mouth, but Dustin interrupted.

“Hey, folks, sorry to break up the family heart to heart, but we need to get this show on the proverbial road.”

They got the dual, intercontinental teleconference off without a hitch, no small accomplishment.

Jules spent a few minutes after touching base about Miles and Kelsey's arrival next weekend in Chicago for the ball. Then he sat around and bullshitted with Dustin for awhile. All in all, despite what he had said to Rissa it was well after 4am before he was ready to leave.

Jules still had a spring in his step as he passed the electronic security desk. Then he saw who was edging behind it, wearing her morning workout gear and looking uncomfortable.

His eyes narrowed. "Hold it up there a minute, Foley."

There was a swirl of a long, dark ponytail before a pair of resigned cobalt blue eyes met his.

"Hey, boss man. Whassup?"

"Oh, I don't know. You tell me. You seem to have your finger on the pulse of all the latest gossip."

She looked confused for a minute, then her face cleared.

"Dustin.
Goddamn that mouthy little queen." Jules didn't blink at her choice of words. Mags and Dustin had a very odd relationship; which seemed to consist of a lot of vicious insults, barbed threats and a loyalty so deep he had absolutely no doubt they'd die for each other in a heartbeat. Swearing the whole time.

Mags was a little nuts, and one of his favorite people in the whole world. He was pissed she'd been gossiping about him, sure, but not really
angry.
Phoenix was a rumor mill of the worst sort. If you were on the insid
e
.

I
f
you were on the outside, you wouldn't hear nothing but crickets.

Mostly he was just annoyed, and a little curious.

“Should I even ask you why you were in a bleeder’s club?”

Mags raised her eyebrows. "Ask away. But I hope you don't expect an answer."

"Damnit, Mags, you being there isn't the point. Why did you have to tell Dustin of all people that
I
was
.
Or
who
I was with?"

She smiled. "I had to tell someone. Juicy bit of gossip like that…how I'm supposed to resist?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're not the gossiping type."

"Aww, is that a compliment, sweetie?"

She was giving him an arch look. But something was off, she was a consummate actor, Mags. The
best.
Telepaths usually were and Mags was a kick-ass telepath. But she was hiding something, trying a little too hard….

Oh.

He was a fucking
idiot.

"You were spying on me.
Jesus."

Mags didn't flinch, but her nostrils flared ever so slightly.

"Fuck. Give 'em up, Mags. It was Kelsey, wasn't it?"

Her eyes started to slide away from his, but he caught the shadow that flickered in those bright blue depths. "No. Not Kels… Miles?" The delicate vein in her temple started to pulse visibly and Jules cursed. "Fucking
Miles."

Jules pushed away from the wall, "Goddamn it, Mags. He isn't even one of us, how
could
you—"

"Oh shut it, J! How was I supposed to say no, huh? To Miles fucking de Rousseau." She shuddered. "Especially when he said it was for Kelsey, and your own damn good. And he wasn't wrong,
was
he?"

Jules wasn't listening. Now he was mad. For real. The blood was roaring in his ears. "The bastard must be persuasive, I'll give him that. I never thought
you
would spy on me, Mags."

Her cheeks flushed, bright against the paleness of her Celt heritage.

"Hey, you know what?
Fuck off, J.
Miles and Kelsey aren't the only ones worried about you. You think the rest of us don't see what you…how you—"

He lifted his head. "See what exactly?"

"You're fucked up, boss man. You've been fucked up since Paris." Her shoulders slumped and for the first time he noticed the weight that had settled there, the faint shadows under her eyes. Mags was only, what? Twenty-two, twenty-three maybe?

She looked a lot older right now.

"What would we do without this place, without you, without Kelsey? Don’t you know how
scared
everyone is, J? You know where we came from, what things used to be like…"

His anger drained away at the sparkle of fear in those eyes. Eight years ago he'd found Magdalena Foley living on the outskirts of East Garfield Park. She'd been a tiny, emancipated thing, all eyes and hair. The most powerful telepath he'd ever seen, alone and homeless. She'd been about the age he'd been when the Cleaners had taken him.

Severely neglected, she'd never been without that quiet cloak of dignity, threadbare as it had been back then.

Almost twenty years after the Reveal. Five years before the Proclamation of Paranormal Dignity was enacted—legislation Phoenix Inc. had helped to write.

Humans with distinctive paranormal aspects,
paras
as they had been called since they began showing up in the population in such numbers that their existence could no longer be denied. Genetic experts latter decided paras had been on the rise since the turn of the last century, but it was only towards the end of '88 that the scientific community had been forced to come clean.

That had been a little less a year after the world-shattering events that led to the Reveal. When shades had come out of the nightmares and shadows with bright, serrated grins that cut the world in two.

Monsters are here, we've been here all along. We're real and we won't let you hide from us any longer….

As scary as that had made life for the rest of the world, it had been a whole lot worse for the emerging paras. They should have been welcomed with open arms. Instead the fear and hatred that had already been loosed due to the Reveal had doubled, trebled and rebounded back on this
other
strange and different community.

Paras had been persecuted in every way, shape and form. It had been an awful, dark time. And Mags had been so very young…

"Jesus, Mags. It won't ever be like
that
again, you know that."

"Maybe. Maybe so, J. But people are scared.
I'm
scared. I don't want to lose this place."

"That isn't going to happen, Mags. Seriously. We'll figure it out. And as for me, I'm…better. I got a handle on this now."

"You sure?" Her lips were actually trembling.

In that moment, Jules felt like the worse kind of ass, being so involved in his own shit, he had forgotten to take care of his people. Phoenix wasn't just a company to him, it never had been. It was a network of people, people who were for the most part, friends. Friends he was letting down just when they needed him most.

Fuck.

"Hell yes, I'm sure. Take a peek if you don't believe me."

Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"

It wasn't often he offered a telepath carte blanche of his mind, but this was Mags and she was scared. He nodded decisively. "Go for it."

Her power tickled his temples gently as those blue eyes narrowed. Trailing and cool she seeped into his head. Or tried to.

"I don't want to hurt you, boss man. Are you
trying
to keep me out?"

"Huh? No." Damn it, that would be his touch of shielding again. Jules took a deep breath and focused on letting her in, being open, relaxed…

There she was. Inside him. Like liquid smoke in his head. He watched Mags' lips part, heard her sigh and then smile. She withdrew her power with a tickling flick that sent goose bumps down his spine.

"That was…very interesting, J."

He rolled his eyes. "I bet. Can you keep your mouth shut this time?"

"Sure." Her eyes were dancing as he turned away. "And, hey, boss?"

"Yup?"

"She's one lucky vamp."

He felt his cheeks heat like a girl.

"Shut up, Foley."

Mags' delighted laughter rang in his ears as he walked away.

Rissa was on guard that night and the next. Afraid of what she might hear in the night. But not a hint of anything untoward happened. She forced herself to relax. Daimen wasn't one to slink in the shadows, he was more the grand entrance type. If he was around, she'd know it. He'd want her groveling at his feet as soon as possible.

Her lips tightened as Rissa wiped the make-up off her face for the night. Of course, Daimen didn't know he wasn't going to find her so damn pliable if and when he showed up again.

She'd been practicing.
Religiously.

There was no hope of her overpowering him, not ever. She knew that, though it pissed her off
.
Even if he hadn't been her sire, Daimen was a formidable vamp with an ungodly power. However, she'd learned a few tricks since they'd last danced. He might hurt her, kill her even—but she'd swore he'd never get a hold of her mind again.

She took a deep breath and told herself this was silly, this fear. It had been over two decades since she'd escaped Daimen. If he had wanted her back, he'd
have
her by now.

No, she suspected she was transferring her anxiety from a different issue onto a safely imaginary one.

Her anxiety about Jules was the real problem. And his little announcement. He'd left her alone last night, as promised. Which was good. He also hadn't texted or called
tonight.

Which pissed her off.

Guess destiny had a short fucking attention span.

Five minutes later, she said her good-byes to Benny and the rest of the guys and made her way outside. North Broadway was deserted. It was after three in the morning, the neon lights were down to a minimum, the streets were mostly gray and lifeless. Her cab wasn't there. What the hell? Her cab was
always
here.

She was a regular with Livery Cab Services and the guys generally treated her like a princess, even though they knew she was a vamp. That was why she hadn't used anybody else since her first night in the Windy City. It wasn't like them to leave her waiting.

Well, hell. Shivers danced along the back of her neck that had nothing to do with the bathwater warm breeze of Chicago in late August.

Rissa turned to head back into the club, only to find the door blocked.

By
him.

She sucked in a breath that hurt her lungs.

"I dismissed the cab, Rissa." Jules' voice was curt.

"They listened to you?" That was disappointing.

"Everyone listens to me, remember? 'Cause I always ask so nicely." His dark eyes shown in the faint light.

"Rii—ight." She shook her head, pressing her lips together to hold back the laugh that wanted to bubble up. He wasn't going to get to her so easily. "So."

"So." He threw it back at her. "Ready to come ho ...back to the house with me?"

"You almost said 'home', didn't you?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Maybe." He didn't look in the least sheepish about it either.

"Honest to god, Jules—"

"What?
What,
Rissa?" He stepped forward, until her nose was almost brushing his formidable chest. "It was only a slip of the tongue, nothing to get excited about. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Sure you didn't,
Mr. Destiny,"
Rissa huffed.

"Would you stop with that shit?"

"'You are
meant
for me,'" she mimicked his deep, low bass and almost coughed.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. She swatted his arm. "Don't laugh at me, Jules Gentry. Don't you just …!"

He bit his lip, his hands coming down to cup her elbows.
"Rissa.
I know what I said. And I damn well meant it. But I'm not going to be hounding you every waking minute, trying to force you into something I know is going to come anyway."

"Arrogant jerk," she muttered under her breath.

"Yup." He pulled her closer, lifting her up so that the toes of her shoes were barely brushing the pavement. His breath was warm on her face, spiced with the faint scent of cognac. "Do you really think that is the kind of man I am?"

No.
No, she didn't. He was patient as hell. He didn't need to nag or bully her, he believed what he'd said last night. Down to the ground.

She sighed. "Okay. So, maybe I over reacted. But …but can we just agree to take it easy? I know what you want, what you
think
you want anyway—"

His eyes glittered dangerously and Rissa hastened on. "But I don't know what
I
want, got it? Or what I'm even capable of." She sighed again. "Jules, just promise me. We go slow here.
Please."