Pyromancist (11 page)

He stared at her wrists for a long time, as
if he was trying to make up his mind about something, and then he
got to his feet.

“No,” she shook her head, “please, Josselin,
don’t leave me here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

Clelia suddenly knew where he had brought
her. She should have realized right from the start. If her mind
hadn’t been so fogged up with the drugs he shot into her
bloodstream and with the heady cocktail of his male scent, she
would have registered it sooner. The round room ... the tower ...
this was his bedroom. A dread filled her, bloomed in her limbs and
made them dissolve with fear.

“Please,” she said, hearing the tears in her
own voice.

Josselin looked her over, from head to toe,
and without showing any emotion, did exactly what she had begged
him not to do. He left her alone in his childhood house, handcuffed
to a bed.

* * * *

Josselin swore as he made his way down the
creaky stairs. He banged his fist against his forehead. What the
hell was wrong with him? What just happened in there was so not
okay. She could have his ass on the line for sexual harassment with
the stupid act he had just pulled. Even if they operated outside of
the law, the organization took sexual harassment and assault pretty
seriously. He pulled his hands through his hair. Fuck. At the
bottom of the stairs he stopped and pushed his thumbs into his
tired, burning eyes. If there were a wise bone left in his cursed
body, he would hand her over to Cain and claim a conflict of
interest. But he knew that wasn’t an option. Her face, her eyes,
her lips ... he felt like he knew her body, which was totally
ridiculous, but not as ridiculous as the craving he had for her
soul.

When he had tasted her blood the first time,
when she was only a girl, he knew that she was too good for him,
someone the likes of him could only spoil and taint with his
darkness. She was pure and innocent and everything he wasn’t. Her
taste had haunted him for years, in his waking hours and in his
dreams, and the minute he had tasted her again, he wanted more. He
kicked the front door and stood quiet for a long time, his hands
resting on his hips, his eyes on the floor.

What had he done by bringing her here? It was
the only safe place he could think of. No one would look for him
here. He wiped his hands over his face, pacing the small space of
the entrance at the bottom of the stairs. God forgive him for
leaving her alone, but he didn’t have a choice. She needed to eat.
She needed clothes. And he needed to find out what the hell was
going on. Fast.

Chapter
Seven

By the time Josselin had bought food and gone
to Erwan’s cottage to pack some of Clelia’s clothes (after staring
down four damn wolves), he got a call from Lann saying that Cain
had arrived at the ‘safe house’. Josselin looked around the
abandoned jetty in the hidden alcove to ensure he wasn’t followed,
and scanned the surrounding forest with heat sensitive binoculars.
When it came up clean, he threw the things he tugged along into a
motorboat, started the engine, and drove it a few miles out to sea.
After Île Longue, he spotted the yacht. He cut the engine when he
was close, and allowed the momentum of the water to gently push his
boat to the side of the luxury vessel.

He had informed Lann that he was coming in
and watched him appear on the deck, hooking the ladder into place
for Josselin to come aboard their new safe house. He had to admit,
it was clever. They could move around, making it harder to be
tracked, and Cain had a natural affinity for water, not to mention
that water was probably the safest place a person could be when a
firestarter posed a threat.

Lann extended a hand to help Josselin over
the last step. His grip was unexpectedly firm for the slender
appearance of his long fingers.

“Where is she?” Lann said.

“Safe,” Josselin replied, resenting the fact
that he had to leave her there, on her own.

Truth was he didn’t trust her with anyone
else. Right now, he didn’t even trust Cain. Not that trust had ever
been required for their working partnership. Josselin executed his
missions without asking questions. This time around, he had plenty
of questions, and he was going to demand answers. He had a feeling
that there was more to the case than solving a crime. He also knew
Cain’s brutality where the fight for snuffing out evil was
concerned. Cain would harm Clelia if need be. It wouldn’t be the
first time that they would be required to destroy someone who
abused the power of their art, or use whoever they could to get to
that person. Until he knew how Clelia fit into the picture, and
what Cain’s plans were for her and Erwan, he wasn’t exposing her to
anyone.

Lann regarded him curiously, his green
cashmere sweater hanging loosely over his lean but well-defined
body. “You’re overprotective where that female is concerned.”

“If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked
for it.”

“I’m not challenging you, Joss. I’m
concerned. Cain isn’t pleased.”

Josselin motioned to the motorboat. “Get the
bags. There’s food that needs to be kept cold.” When Lann moved
forward, Josselin laid a hand on his arm. “I appreciate your
concern.”

Lann’s yellowish eyes flickered. “You better
get inside. Cain will be upset if you keep him waiting.”

Upset was a girlish word for what Cain would
be. Cain was only a few years older than Josselin, but his
authority was asserted through his rank, and although Josselin had
no particular desire to start fighting ranks, he’d do whatever was
needed to keep Clelia out of harm’s way.

His irrationality bothered him. He knew she
was innocent, but innocence alone wasn’t enough for the enormity of
his feeling of protectiveness, not to mention the sudden
possessiveness that flooded him. For now, he pushed these troubling
thoughts from his mind in order to focus on the conversation that
was to follow.

Josselin braced himself as he went below deck
to the lounge where Cain sat on a leather bench, an espresso by his
elbow, reading data on a 3D screen. With his thumb and forefinger,
Cain minimized the graphics he was studying and pushed the
information aside with a flick of his hand. He wore a white suit
with a white shirt and white silk tie, his signature attire. He
dressed like God, Josselin thought grimly, as if he controlled the
fate of mankind, which wasn’t too far off the mark. His dark hair
was brushed back, curling over the nape of his neck, and his brown
eyes were brimming with a brewing explosion. The inflamed redness
of the birthmark on his cheek told Josselin that Cain was
‘upset’.

Josselin only nodded in greeting, coming to a
halt in front of the table that separated them. Maya sat in a
corner on a red leather chair working on her ePad, Bono was behind
the bar twisting open a bottle of beer, and Lann had gone to a
table in the center covered with maps. With a toss of his head,
Cain dismissed the others. They gave Josselin looks that varied
from worried to concern as they filtered to the upper deck.

When they were alone, Cain put the tip of his
Italian shoe on a metal chair that stood at his side and kicked it
toward Josselin. Josselin caught the chair, placed it facing Cain,
and sat down, his legs spread, his hands on this thighs. Neither
man spoke as each waited for the other in silent challenge to
either attack or defend.

Josselin had a lot of time and respect for
his leader. After all, it was Cain who found him, trained him, and
rescued him from himself when he washed up, a shadow of a boy, in
the streets of New York. But on this, Josselin had to trust his
gut. It ran deeper than his conditioning, maybe deeper than he’d
ever like to admit. The men stared at each other until Cain sighed
in frustrated recognition of Josselin’s hardheadedness.

“What the fuck was that stunt?” Cain said,
his American accent strong.

“What stunt?” Josselin said, feigning
innocence.

“Acting doesn’t suit you de Arradon. You’re a
team leader, not a circus clown.”

“And your point is?”

“You better start acting like the man I
trained and not like some rabid action hero gone astray.”

“I took the suspect in, just as you
commanded.”

“You were supposed to bring the girl in to
ground base. And if the base was compromised, naturally, you should
have brought her to the safe house. I thought my orders were
clear.”

“I made the best decision I could with the
knowledge at my disposal.”

Cain lifted his brow. His expensively
cufflinked arms rested on his cane, his wrists elegantly crossed.
“You think I’m withholding information from you?”

“I know you are,” Josselin said. His tone
wasn’t accusing. He knew they operated on a need-to-know-basis. “I
don’t know who’s behind the attack, but I’m not a fool. I know the
assault was meant to take us out.” He leaned forward. “And to take
her alive.” He reclined, waiting for Cain to digest the
information. “Someone else wants her as bad as we do. To keep her
with us puts the whole team in danger. I thought it best to hide
her until I know more.”

“Lann said the first shot was aimed at
him.”

“Yes. He was standing in front of the window,
a clear target for the assassin. Lucky for him, he moved at just
the right moment.”

“And after that, are you sure the shots were
not aimed at the girl?”

“The shots only targeted my team. They
steered well away from me. I’m guessing it’s because I was covering
Clelia and the shooter didn’t have a clean shot without the risk of
taking out Clelia. Maya recorded the bullet holes and reconstructed
a hologram that shows the bullet path directions. You can look at
the report if you want.” Josselin narrowed his eyes. “Who else
would be interested in abducting a fisherman’s granddaughter? Cain,
is there something you’re not telling me about Clelia?”

Cain smiled. “Is there something about her
you’re
not telling me?”

Josselin felt his muscles tense but managed
to keep a calm exterior. “I told you what I knew, that there were
rumors about her mother.”

“Just rumors?”

“So far, yes, they’re just rumors. Nothing
concrete. We’re trying to track down anyone who was on the trawler
that rescued Clelia’s mother.”

“So, just rumors. And nothing else?”

“No, nothing else.”

“For someone who practically grew up with
her–in a town where everyone knows everyone–you don’t know much
about her, do you?”

Josselin clenched his teeth. “I did a
thorough background check. She’s clean. No funny business. A
fucking straight line. What else do you want me to say?”

“I was hoping for something more personal,
like what her character is like. What was she like at school?”

Josselin regarded Cain, his eyes burning into
his leader’s. “Why are you so interested in her, Cain? You’ve never
come out on any mission. Why did you come here?”

Cain ignored his questions. “You said you
tasted her blood.”

“Yes. She’s clean.”

“No magic? No potential for ancient
arts?”

“I told you. No.”

“Interesting, considering what you said about
her mother.”

“Cain, I don’t like where this is going. When
we came out here, it was to investigate a paranormal crime. Why do
I get the feeling that this is about something totally
different?”

“Oh, I think for you it is about something
totally different. Did you really come out here to investigate a
crime?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cain smiled indulgently. He didn’t answer.
Instead, he said, “You’re not asking who attacked you.”

Josselin crossed his arms. “I was hoping you
would tell me.”

There was a short hesitation, and then Cain
said, “The game has changed.”

“Meaning what?”

“It has started.”

“What has started?”

“The evil that’s been dormant for the past
four centuries is about to be re-awakened. We’re facing the
beginning of the second Dark Age, and it’s our job to prevent
it.”

“Fuck, Cain, you sound like a horror
movie.”

“There’s a dark force on this plain, and it
has started to harvest power. It’s worse than anything we’ve ever
dealt with. I don’t know who’s behind it, but whoever he is, he has
disciples reaping art. His followers are hunting people with the
ancient skills of forgotten magic. By killing them, he can steal
their talents, adding them to his own, growing his power, provided
that his victims’ hearts have gone to the dark side. One of his
greatest followers, a man named Lupien, rumored to be his
second-in-command, is said to be a very powerful pyromancist. No
one has heard or seen a trace of Lupien for nearly thirty
years.”

Josselin had an uneasy feeling. “And you
think he’s here?”

“I can feel him, Josselin. I sense his
presence.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before I embarked on
this mission?”

“I just got the intel yesterday.”

Cain had informants and spies everywhere.
Josselin didn’t envy them their positions. He’d much rather face a
fight head-on, tackle evil with his bare hands, than play
psychological games and live a lie.

“If you feel his presence, then it’s most
probable that this Lupien, or whoever he works for, was responsible
for this morning’s attack.”

“Yes. It’s a possibility we have to
face.”

“If Lupien wants Clelia alive, it means we’re
on the right track. We’re onto something. Clelia’s clean. She’s not
a firestarter. And I have my doubts about the old man, Erwan, even
if all physical evidence points to him. If Lupien wants her alive,
it can only be for the same reason that we want her, to use her as
bait to bring Erwan into the open. That can only mean that Erwan is
the one who’ll lead us to the truth, to our firestarter.”