The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(28)

You’re still bound. I’m reminding you of your loyalty. You might be angry”—his mental snort— “but it was necessary to call you back. Are you at full strength?”

“Yes.” Not a complete lie; he needed a few more days. “Are you still waging war?”

“I cannot control what Six does.”

“But blood is blood and you would answer him.”

“A monster lives in all of us, you know that, and yes, I will answer him.” A pause. He could sense her frown. “You’re colder than when you went away.”

“How do you know this?”

“I made you. A mother knows her children.”

“You are hardly a mother.”

“And you are not a son.” The tone was tight. “Have you found your girl, Enforcer?”

“Why ask when you know?”

“Why fight me when I do?”

A deadly silence. He was not in the mood to be polite, and Three probed his mind with more strength, a sharp reminder of who she was. It was part of their unspoken agreement. In public they maintained the hierarchy, in private they were equals up to a point. Three was ancient enough to hold immense power. But she had also created him, made him nearly equal to her in strength. He would allow her to control him up to a line they’d drawn in the sand and no farther.

It seemed she was willing to cross that line.

“It was not an easy choice to bring you back. I wanted to respect your feelings on the matter, but Phillipe insisted.”

“Your new advisor?”

“He’s convinced the magic is out of control. If the girls keep dying the warriors will react and I need you here.”

“Hire someone else for your blood work.”

“It’s not just blood work I want from you, Christan. It’s the threat and the reminder of the past. I thought you understood the full impact you have on immortal society.”

“You wish me to frighten little children out of my sense of duty?” Christan shifted his stance, scanning the horizon. “Even for you, Three, the argument is weak.”

“You used to respect duty.”

“And now I don’t.”

“Honor, then. Do you still possess that trait?”

Silence.

“You must get past what Gemma did.”

“Getting past it would change nothing.”

“You need her.”

“Why?” There was no fucking way he needed her.

“You spent too much time in the Void. I want you more human. She softens you, she always has.”

“I would not be softened.”

“So arrogant. I need this from you, Enforcer.”

“What else do you need, Three?”

“I need her. I need the two of you. Together.”

The single word Christan used was said with enough force to send the birds from the trees.




Lexi ran another search and waited while the choices filled the computer screen. After an hour of scanning web sites and public registries, news stories and business sites, she found nothing. Marge had been right. Arsen did not exist in the electronic world. He was hidden behind a shroud, with no cyber threads she could unravel, not even with the backdoor tactics one of her clients taught her how to use. Oh, there’d been two leads she discovered, followed them as they pinged her around from one IP address to the next. She’d been hopeful, until she realized Arsen’s tech people were playing with her. Lexi should have expected the misdirection since they’d hidden their activities so completely. They would want her to know what they could do.

She closed out her browser, considered using the computer program guaranteed to provide cyber-related privacy, and then thought, what the hell, they’d probably compromised that one, too.

An empty search bar appeared. Lexi started with the myth and a remembered name from the dream, guessed at the spelling. The computer responded with a ‘did you mean ‘Thessalonian King’ message. Links led her to the story of Kyrene. Common knowledge and not the proof she needed.

She searched again, found links to Cyrene. Libya. An ancient city, now an archaeological site decimated by war. Lexi expected the images to be familiar and they were, in a generic way; her grandmother had watched every history channel program available, thought it was like looking into the souls of those who lived in the past. It still wasn’t proof.

“How’s the search going?” Marge asked, setting a white mug on the table. The fragrance of fresh coffee reminded Lexi of Adirondack chairs on a misty deck. She looked back at the arid images on the computer screen.

“You were right about Arsen. I think his tech guys were having fun.”

“There’s only the one guy. Ethan. Nice. He lives in San Francisco.”

“Figures.”

Marge settled into a chair, scooted closer to Lexi’s laptop. “What are you researching now?”

“Ruins in Libya.” Lexi clicked on the image link and scrolled through the photographs. An archaeologist, dressed in a white shirt and brown shorts, was standing with one foot braced on a fallen column. Another image—marble floors with jagged cracks—reminded Lexi of a demolition site she’d once researched for a client. He wanted to raze the existing building and develop an exclusive high-rise complex. Lexi had advised him against the idea. “Find somewhere that doesn’t feel like murder,” she said when his disappointment overruled her evaluation. He did and had been so successful he’d come back to her for another project.