Deceiver's Bond: Book Two of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (17 page)

I heaved a sigh. I just hoped there wouldn’t be any unwelcome surprises. Given last night’s dream, however, I wasn’t overly optimistic.

Fifteen minutes later, Daniel knocked on my door.

When I opened it, he scanned me up and down, arms folded. “You both ready?” he asked, practically tapping his foot.

Visions of yanking his all-too-neat ponytail until his head snapped backward entered my mind. “Good afternoon to you, Daniel. Nice to see you. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

An apologetic smile tweaked the corners of his mouth and he chuckled. “Long time no see, Lire. Vince. If you’re both ready, I’ve got things set up for us across the hall.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Vince had stepped up behind me, his hardcore detective expression on his face, a sure sign he wasn’t happy. I would have liked a few minutes to talk to him privately, just to warn him about keeping a healthy distance from whomever we were meeting, but decided against it. Maya and Tanu had ultimate control over any magic being used inside the building, and, since I was blood-bound to the two djinn—a requirement for all loft owners—they’d intervene at the first sign of trouble. Not that I expected any.

“Red, we’ll be back in a bit,” I called toward the family room. “We’re heading next door.”

“So I hear,” he replied, hesitating a beat before adding, “Make me proud.”

Translation: Don’t do anything stupid.

I smiled at his veiled warning. “I’ll do my best.”

Talking a hold of Vince’s hand, I followed Daniel into my neighbor’s apartment.

And was immediately pissed off.

Daniel and Michael had moved the furniture. Okay, they hadn’t dismembered pigs on Jerome and Peter’s plush area rug, but I knew how hard my neighbors worked to keep their place ‘just-so.’ It was important to them. And, here, Daniel and Michael had shoved their antique leather-inlaid gaming table against the far wall, along with their Regency era divan and pair of crimson-velvet upholstered armchairs. One of Jerome’s prized Staffordshire figurines had fallen to its side, exposing its unglazed bottom.

I rushed to inspect the porcelain for damage.

“Where do you get off messing with Jerome and Peter’s stuff like this?” I turned the charming cat figurine over in my hands. It didn’t appear to have any cracks or chips.

Michael intercepted me. “I laid that one down so it wouldn’t fall over while we were moving things.”

“Better yet, how about not moving things at all?” I snapped.

He gently wrested the figurine from my grasp and placed it back on the newly relocated side table, treating it with more reverence than a hundred-dollar collectible probably deserved. His voice was just as tender. “I’m sorry, Lire. It was necessary. You’ll see.”

Behind me, Daniel muttered a few words in a language I couldn’t place. In an instant, the air around me snapped taut with magic, pressing against my skin like a static-charged blanket fresh from the dryer. I gasped and turned toward the source.

Daniel backed away from the center of the cleared living room where a carved egg-like object nestled among the shag rug’s twisted ivory strands. If not for the intensity of magic emanating from it, I might not have noticed the five-inch-tall talisman; its alabaster color offered so little contrast from the carpet.

The surrounding air shimmered like heat rising from a hot skillet, making the object’s carvings flicker. Was it a phylactery? Was something held captive inside? The egg scene from
Alien
popped into my head. Any second, the top would split open and something tiny but terrifying would slither out. I bit my lip to keep from giggling. The sudden influx of magic, combined with all my recent stress, had clearly thrown me off kilter.

What the heck was that odor? I sniffed the air, trying to place the unfamiliar scent. I couldn’t decide whether it smelled woody or floral. I almost expected to find an exotic arrangement or a bowl of potpourri on the nearby table, but spotted nothing of the sort. Michael stood to my immediate left. His reassuring smile did little to settle my nerves. Before I could question him about the magic object or unusual fragrance, a burst of illumination snapped my attention back toward the living room’s center.

Two shafts of light shot upward from the floor, wavering briefly before rotating counter-clockwise around the pulsating object. With each successive pass, the two incandescent pillars became less brilliant and more humanoid in proportion.

I glanced to my right, checking on Vince. He stood across the room, mouth not quite agog, staring at the unfolding spectacle.

Leave it to a magical race to make one hell of an entrance.

A final circuit extinguished their otherworldly light and brought the tall, statuesque figures into view—one male, the other female.

The sidhe were known as ‘the fair folk,’ and these two firmly entrenched that stereotype. Both possessed perfectly proportioned, chiseled features—high cheekbones, regal noses, and large, slightly angled eyes—but the similarity between them ended there. Where she was blonde and blue-eyed, he was her opposite with ebony hair and eyes dark enough to rival obsidian. While she examined her surroundings with sharp interest, he evaluated each of us coolly before folding his arms and staring at nothing in particular, looking bored.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed movement and unexpected color variations, but whenever I turned in pursuit, I saw only Jerome and Peter’s living room. Finally, when I pinned my focus to the far distance, instead of my immediate vicinity, a faint panorama of trees and shadowed archways shimmered into view—a supernatural mirage.

“Telepath. You are not new to me.” The words, spoken by the female, drew my attention back to the room’s center. Her voice pleased my ears, almost musical but … not.

Daniel bowed his head. “My Lady Maeve. It has been some five years, at least. I am honored you remember.” He acknowledged the male sidhe with a second deferential head bob. “Lord Kieran, I am Daniel Stockard. Welcome.”

The female, tall and shapely enough to make Gisele Bündchen look dumpy, gazed down her patrician nose at Daniel. Her hair fell in gleaming blonde rivulets over her perfect breasts. I tried not to feel totally outclassed in my dark skinny jeans and deep-v cashmere sweater. Her gown looked as if it had been woven from spun sapphires. Talk about glamorous, not to mention figure hugging. I stifled a sigh.

She gazed nobly about the room, her lapis-blue eyes examining each of us in turn. Next to me, Michael tipped his head in respect. Apparently, he had taken Faerie Etiquette 101. I, on the other hand, was a delinquent. When her gaze drifted over my face and body, I dished it right back, look for look. It was a struggle to keep from tucking my hair behind my ears, for want of something to do with my hands, but I held my back straight and forced my arms to relax at my sides.

She dismissed me with a brief upward curl at the corners of her sensual mouth. On a less elegant creature, I might have described it as amusement.

As soon as her gaze fell upon Vince, she froze. Although her expression remained calm and majestic, her stare intensified.

Daniel, playing gracious host, stepped forward, unaware he had inserted himself between the Mistress of Blonde Perfection and Vince. “Please allow me to make the introductions.”

She focused on Daniel, but her brief glare of impatience told me she wasn’t happy about the interruption.

I had the absurd urge to leap to Vince’s side and pull him into my clutches—
back off bitch, he’s mine
—but knew this was my insecurity talking. I forced myself to stay put.

Daniel swept his hand toward Michael. “Michael Thompson here is one of our most skilled telepaths.”

Dipping his head again, Michael replied, “Lady Maeve, Lord Kieran, it is an honor to meet you both.”

Maeve inclined her chin. Kieran deigned him with a glance before continuing his disinterested examination of the room; although, out of the corner of my eye, I could swear he turned his head toward Michael and me more than once.

Daniel continued, “Lire Devon, next to him, is a clairvoyant, one of the few with enough talent and fortitude to work with our country’s law enforcement. She is the psychic my former colleagues have abandoned all other duties to pursue.” He stressed the words ‘all other duties,’ as though this was significant.

Again, the barely-inclined chin.

I returned her cool stare, refusing to bow or say, ‘Nice to meet you,’ because, at the moment, it wasn’t. Instead, I said, “Maeve and Kieran sound like human names. Irish maybe? It’s not what I expected, but I’ll admit I’ve never heard Silven spoken.”

“I am little surprised,” Maeve said archly. “We have found your kind struggles to pronounce our sidhe names. Years ago, we acquired these human sobriquets. They suffice.”

I had mostly ignored the male sidhe, but now noticed him watching me as though I were something akin to a talking chimpanzee.

If Maeve’s musical voice was any indication, hearing her speak Silven must be truly captivating. Too bad the appeal didn’t extend to her demeanor. I could only hope the dark and silent Kieran possessed a friendlier manner, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

Daniel turned to Vince. “And this is Detective Vanelli. He is a police officer in a nearby city … and the one you have expressed most interest in meeting.”

Maeve wasted no time in examining Vince from head to toe. After careful appraisal, her lips arched into a satisfied smile. “Yes. A tolerable specimen.”

She granted a business-like glance to her counterpart, uttering a string of fluid words that seemed to resonate in perfect harmony with the alien air around us.

At her directive, Kieran’s apparent boredom vanished. He stiffened and considered Vince, eyes narrowed in a way I didn’t like one bit.

When she spoke again, in the most exquisite melody, his attention snapped to my face, and he looked dismayed, possibly even repulsed.

Whoa.
I didn’t care for that reaction either.

Maeve went back to scrutinizing Vince and flicked an imperious hand at Daniel. “You did well contacting us. Your recent difficulties have elicited grave consequences. These failures will be addressed, swiftly.”

You did well?

So, it was true. Daniel had turned Vince’s name over to the sidhe, even though I had explicitly told him to stay out of it. And what difficulties? What failures? I couldn’t imagine this creature being the least bit concerned about my problems with Invisius. It must be something else—something Daniel hadn’t told me about.

Magic stirred inside my core. I didn’t know what these two sidhe had in mind, but Maeve’s behavior thus far didn’t have me thinking positively. In fact, my mind was busy throwing out gems like: ‘Screw this,’ and ‘Time to grab Vince and get the hell out of here.’

I hadn’t moved more than a step toward Vince before Maeve’s clear soprano filled the room. I halted midstride, awestruck. I’d never heard anything so breathtaking. Vince forgotten, I turned toward her, my body keyed on each exquisitely sung word. Her hands danced through the air, moving in time with her intoxicating chorus. Kieran stepped up to her side. Although he didn’t sing, his appearance was the perfect accompaniment.

For some reason, once I looked at the male sidhe, I couldn’t take my eyes off him, couldn’t stop thinking about him. As his midnight eyes roamed over me, I flushed, my cheeks burning. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Kieran was, bar none, the most attractive male I’d ever laid eyes on. Human men paled in comparison. Wait, something wasn’t right about that, but I couldn’t remember why. It probably didn’t matter. In fact, nothing mattered once his smoldering eyes locked with mine.

My breath became a series of long contented sighs.
Good Lord.
Looking at him was like the best workout, massage, and sauna treatment all rolled into one. I’d happily sink to my knees and stare at him for hours. My muscles tried to turn liquid at the thought of his hands on my skin. I licked my lips at the thought. I flushed again and, this time, the heat extended notably lower in my body.

Lire!
A deep bellow reverberated inside my head, making my ears constrict with pain, even though I knew the man addressing me hadn’t spoken aloud.

Jason?

Boy, was I ever woozy. I tried to think, but my body had other ideas. Floating was a delightful feeling.

Wake up, woman!
Again, the irritatingly loud voice filled my head.
Shield yourself.

Who?
I blinked furiously, struggling to place the voice. It couldn’t be Jason. The ritual … last week. Hadn’t it been last week? God, my mind sure felt fuzzy, but … yeah. Although I retained their gifts, both Trinity and Jason’s souls had been released from my keeping. They could no longer speak to me.

As I puzzled over this, a lovely tune pricked my ears. I had the strongest urge to stop the sound, even though I liked it. Although it took more effort than usual, I strengthened my psychic shield. Had I been sleeping? But who the hell sleeps sitting on their knees? I rubbed my eyes and, blinking away the remains of my stupor, gazed around me.