The Inner Circle (Return of the Ancients Book 3) (8 page)

Taking a seat next to Al’s chair, I waited until he sat down and then seized the opportunity. Leaning close so only he could hear, I suggested, “Maybe we should build some Faraday cages. They would prevent microwave mind-control, wouldn’t they?”

Al frowned at me a moment, as if trying to recall something, and then his blue eyes brightened. “Faraday cages,” he repeated, stroking his chin. “Now that’s a brilliant idea, kiddo. You’ve been doing some research, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging and trying my best to appear casual.

To my relief, I heard the slam of a car door. Glad to escape Al’s shrewd gaze, I headed for the door, but Grace beat me to it.

And as Al began to sing aloud one of Jareth’s more popular songs—a sign that I had come to learn to mean that he was spinning up some eccentric scheme—Jareth himself strutted through the doorway, wearing an outlandish black outfit of shredded leather and chains that suited him well.

He paused at the door, listening to Al sing, and then recognizing his own song, he began to grin.

Al was halfway finished before he noticed the rock star slouching against the door. With a wink, he stopped singing.

Jareth began to clap. “Maybe we should do a duet,” he drawled by way of greeting.

Al gave a great guffaw. “Just have your agent call mine, Jareth,” he said, pointing to Betty before kissing her on the cheek.

“Oh, I’m your agent now?” Betty laughed, but her gaze had zeroed in on Jareth. “Your black eye really healed fast there.”

For the briefest of moments, Jareth appeared puzzled, but then he pointed to his face and with a theatrical whisper uttered one word, “Makeup.”

Betty’s eyes lit with understanding, and she laughed.

Grabbing my
Bean There, Baked That
T-shirt, I gave everyone a hurried goodbye and shoved Jareth through the front door. And if Betty and Al thought it strange for a rock star to be driving me to work, they didn’t give any hint of it.

“Ashamed of me?” Jareth asked with an openly cynical smile as he escorted me to Rafael’s Bentley.

“Al’s pretty sharp,” I said, sliding into the car’s leather passenger seat. “He just might figure out who you really are, and as your friend, it’s my duty to protect you.”

“What’s this?” Jareth asked in mock astonishment. “Friend? Am I growing on you, Sydney?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” was all I said.

But a slow smile curled his lip all the same.

“Do you always have to work at this grueling hour?” he asked as he pulled out into the street. “It’s almost ten o’ clock.”

“You’re lazy,” I said with a long yawn.

He eyed me then, openly cynical, but he didn’t say anything. And then he was flying down the road, zooming through cars, causing road rage, and offending pedestrians.

Through a break in the trees, I could see the distant white peak of Mount Rainier. I watched the houses race by. Jareth was an insane driver. I wondered how many tickets he had racked up.

Suddenly, an image flashed through my mind. “Marquis’ ring,” I said, abruptly recalling it.

Jareth gave a noncommittal grunt. “Ring?”

“Is it unique?” I asked.

He grew silent and seemed annoyed. “You noticed that in the Hall of Mirrors, did you?”

I raised a brow and turned on him. “So, you knew it was Marquis the whole time?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’d never seen it before a few days ago. I don’t know what it means. Maybe it is a symbol of the Inner Circle.”

“The Inner Circle,” I said, absently biting my nails. “We’ve got to stop them, you know. We’ve got to get ahold of that evil tulpa and destroy it. We can’t just keep living our lives like nothing is happening.”

He looked at me with rank irritation. “That is a Fae matter, as is the tulpa. You needn’t involve yourself.”

“Are you really going to tell me that?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m involved whether I want to be or not. And I’ve got to find a way to get rid of that thing before it slips past you guys and eats me.”

He shot me a cunning look as we pulled up to the back of the coffee shop.

Stretching, he gave a loud, obnoxious yawn.

But I cut him short.

Swallowing hard, I pointed to the rooftops. I could still make them out, even in the light of day: bright glowing eyes.

“They’re still here,” I said. “The Mesmers.”

To my surprise, Jareth got out of the car and shouted, “Enough of these games! If you wish to speak, then come. But I’ll only do this once.”

Immediately, one of the Mesmers broke away to slink down the brick wall, head first.

It was Blondie.

He jumped onto the hood of the car. I could hear his nails and spikes scratching the metal. It sounded like someone dragging their fingernails over a chalkboard.

I winced.

“You have the blood of kings. You walk in the bodies of our past,” Blondie addressed Jareth. “How is this so?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Jareth replied, fixing his mouth into an arrogant sneer. “Are we done?”

“Yet you carry the light of the Fae and dream as a human,” Blondie continued in a deep, guttural tone. “We have seen your dreams in our homelands.”

Jareth’s nostrils flared in contempt as he smacked his hands together in a single loud clap. “I’m done here. Nice talking to you, but it won’t be happening again.”

As he spun on his heel, Blondie leapt.

I don’t know why I did it. After all, Jareth hardly needed my protection. But I bolted out of the car and ran around to stand in front of him.

Blondie was crouched on the car roof, looking ready to attack.

“Go away!” I ordered him fiercely even as I felt the cold fingers of fear closing in on me. Jamming my fingers into my sweatshirt pocket, I clenched Jareth’s protection rune tightly in my fingers. The stone was almost too hot to touch, but I didn’t exactly care about that right now.

Blondie tilted his head sideways and regarded me with beady eyes.

One look and I began to panic. Recalling how I’d broken away from him before by filling myself with thoughts of love, I desperately summoned those thoughts.

“You do not know what true love is, foolish human.” The Mesmer’s lips peeled back in an unholy grin. “You never will.”

“Enough,” Jareth interrupted, shoving me aside. “I’ll not let you harm her.”

“Humans are so easy to distract.” Blondie gave an evil cackle. “So biddable to suggestion.”

“Be gone,” Jareth thundered. “And do not bother Sydney again.”

Blondie didn’t appear too intimidated, though he did inch back a little. “Is your existence here enough for you, Jareth? Is it enough to simply see the human tulpas without tasting them?” His tongue flicked out like a lizard.

“I’ve no desire for such things,” Jareth replied angrily.

Blondie’s voice dropped into a low rumble of a laugh. “You are putting up a valiant fight. But there is no avoiding it. You will join us in the end. You are on the path already.”

“I’ll listen no more.” Jareth spat the words with such contempt that I thought Blondie just might attack him in retaliation.

Somehow, Blondie was pushed off the car, as if by unseen hands.

He rolled down the hood, making banging and scratching noises, but right before he hit the pavement, he flipped to land on his feet.

“Well done, lizardling.” Blondie laughed in evil delight. “Accept your powers, use them and never forget that you are one of us!” His deep voice carried clearly on the wind.

My mouth dropped open at the implication. Could Jareth really move something with just his thoughts?

Unbidden, the memory of Halloween flashed through my mind. It seemed so long ago; I’d just met him then. He’d been angry and had seemingly made scissors flow through the air and embed themselves into the carpet.

“I will no longer hear your voice,” Jareth announced imperiously. “You are invisible to me.”

Blondie revealed his teeth in an overt threat. “Then, if you do not join us, you are too dangerous. We will take what is ours.” He let his gaze rove over Jareth from head to toe, and I knew that he meant that they would take Jareth’s body.

The back door of the coffee shop opened, and Samantha poked her head out.

Catching sight of her, Blondie drew back with a hiss.

“Is that mangy raccoon out there again, Sydney?” Samantha asked briskly. “Should I get the broom?”

Blondie hesitated only a moment before slithering under the car.

I was shocked. Samantha did have an impressive temper, but I was astounded that even a Mesmer might think so.

Taking heart, I grabbed Jareth’s sleeve and hurriedly yanked him into the coffee shop.

I felt safer inside, especially in Samantha’s company.

She didn’t say anything as I dragged Jareth through the maze of boxes towards the front. She was too busy dialing up Animal Control.

“That mutated armadillo-raccoon thing is here again,” I heard her complain sharply as I guided Jareth through the door and into the front of the shop.

“Sit down,” I ordered him, pushing him into one of the overly-stuffed chairs.

He didn’t resist. He slumped down obediently, but he did take the time to deliberately prop his boot onto one of Samantha’s precious coffee tables. But the gesture seemed somehow forced.

He was clearly shaken.

I got him a blueberry muffin, and having a few minutes before my shift started, I sat down opposite him. I didn’t know how to make small talk in a situation like this, so I didn’t even bother trying.

“What did he mean about you seeing tulpas?” I asked quietly.

Jareth dropped his head into his hands. “I see them,” he admitted. “I always have. It took me awhile to realize that no one else could.”

I found that disturbing. “Is that how you read my mind?” I asked.

“I don’t read your mind!” He scowled at me, knitting his brows together in a line. “For you, it’s written plain on your face, anyway.”

I returned his scowl.

“I do see the emotions you are creating,” he explained, relenting a little after that. “And it isn’t hard to figure out why you’re generating them. I can’t read your mind, but the tulpas you create give big hints.”

So he
had
kind of been reading my mind this entire time. I wondered if he could read Rafael’s.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “And I can tell from the new tulpa you’re creating right now that you’re thinking of Rafael, so you must be wondering if I can see his thoughts, too.”

I blinked, chagrined.

“The Fae can’t create tulpas,” he said shortly. “They can’t dream.”

They. The word stuck out like a sore thumb between us. The way he’d said it was as if he didn’t really consider himself one of them. Did that mean that he felt he might be part of the Brotherhood?

He’d clearly seen the tulpa that thought had created, because he suddenly sat up and slammed his fist down hard on the coffee table.

The plate rattled and everyone in the shop looked our way.

Smiling woodenly, I sent them a cheery wave, and when they’d returned to their own business, I shifted my gaze back to Jareth.

He was watching me coldly. “We’ve established by now that there’s something wrong with me, have we not?” he asked sarcastically. He dropped his voice, “Maybe … just maybe I
am
one of them.”

“Impossible!” I disagreed vehemently even as I tried to prevent myself from thinking of the lizard scales that I’d seen on his skin.

He cast me a churlish glance. “Exactly,” was all he said.

A new thought popped into my head. “So, that’s how I, merely thinking of numbers, can summon you. You can sense the tulpa that my thoughts generate?”

“I’m not one of them, Sydney,” he said, ignoring my question. “I don’t belong to the Brotherhood.”

“Of course you don’t,” I agreed, but I wasn’t super confident.

He seemed desperate to believe it. I couldn’t blame him. Yet, everything was getting so mixed up.

I was downright relieved that my shift was starting, and telling him that I’d catch up later, I left.

I don’t think he even noticed.

Samantha put me to work steaming milk for the baristas. I actually didn’t mind, because from that position, I could still keep an eye on Jareth.

I was worried about him.

He had wadded a bunch of napkins into a single ball and had absently begun to toss it against the wall and then to catch it again with one hand.

“Keep an eye on that one, will you, Sydney?” Samantha asked curtly as she swept by with her arms full of her pastry-order books. Groaning, she sat down, looked at the pile, and murmured, “I’m going to have to expand at this rate.”

Jareth didn’t do much. He just sat there, as if lost in thought.

A little bit later, a rail-thin woman with penciled eyebrows arrived with a squirming toddler in tow. After collecting her latte, she took the seat behind Jareth’s and began chatting loudly on her phone about her latest diet.

The toddler wandered off.

Samantha raised a brow as the little boy zeroed in on the Christmas tree and began pulling off the ornaments one by one. With a tightening of her lips, she asked me for a plate of cookies. Armed with sugar, she corralled the little boy and escorted him back to his mother—who hadn’t even noticed he’d left.

The cookie solution didn’t last long.

As soon as Samantha sat down, the little boy got tired of eating them and began lobbing the cookies at various customers.

His mother continued chatting on her phone, making several loud, snarky comments about how much weight one of her other “friends” had gained.

One of the cookie pieces zinged past Jareth’s ear.

It shook Jareth from his stupor. Expelling a long, dramatic breath, he turned to glare at the little boy.

The toddler paused and stared back at Jareth with his finger up his nose. He grabbed another cookie and hurled it straight at the rock star’s face.

Jareth’s reflexes were amazing. With two fingers, he caught the cookie in midair and flung it back like a Frisbee onto the plate. He then reached over and plucked the phone out of the woman’s hand.

Snapping it shut, he said in a voice riddled with annoyance, “Control your offspring!”