Dangerous Games (32 page)

He didn’t say anything, and that in itself was damning.

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

“There is no need for this,” he said quietly, even as he obeyed. “And there was a good reason for sending you home last night.”

“I don’t care if there was or there wasn’t. And there
is
every need for me to do this. There are consequences for every action, Quinn. It’s about time I started making you pay for yours.”

“We—”

“Are finished.” I looked at Rhoan. “You ready?”

He nodded, then looked at Quinn. “Don’t try anything. If she doesn’t shoot you, I will.”

“For interrogating a suspect?”

“No. For abusing Riley’s trust yet again.” He picked up Maisie, throwing her like a securely cuffed sack over his shoulder. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

I stepped back and waved Quinn past me. He gave me his vampire face, but the air fairly burned with his anger. And surprise.

He hadn’t expected that I’d really end it. Hadn’t believed that I’d meant what I said.

Now all I had to do was find the strength to really walk away.

Chapter 10

I
leaned my head against my hand and barely restrained a huge yawn. “This is going nowhere fast.”

Jack handed me a coffee, his expression grim. “No one said breaking a mage’s defense would be easy.”

I sipped at the hot liquid in the cup. It couldn’t be called coffee because it just didn’t look, or taste, anything like it. Still, if it served the purpose of keeping me awake, I’d drink a gallon of the muck.

I eyed our captive through the one-way glass. Maisie was currently being interrogated by both a specialist in magic and a specialist in “interviewing” techniques. I’d seen the interviewers in action on several occasions over recent months, and knew their methods could get
extremely
gruesome. Unlike regular police, the Directorate didn’t have to worry about prisoner rights. If the person being questioned posed a threat to the human population in
any
form or shape, then the Directorate could basically do what they wanted to get the required answers. Except, of course, if the person involved was human or part human. Then it got trickier.

Which was probably why the techniques being used today had been pretty mild so far. Maisie might be a mage of extreme power, but she was
also
human. By law, the Directorate had to tread cautiously.

My gaze moved to the spindly woman standing in the corner of the room. I hadn’t even known we had a whole section of people specializing in magic, and I’d been working here for nearly eight years. Right now, she didn’t seem to be doing a whole lot, but sweat was beginning to dot her creased forehead, and the white stones surrounding Maisie had taken on a glow that reminded me vaguely of the heat shimmer that rose off a road on a long, hot summer day. Whether it was caused by our mage, or Maisie’s powers testing her defenses, I wasn’t entirely sure.

“How much longer do we have before Marg starts to weaken and the stones lose their ability to contain Maisie?”

Jack shrugged. “Marg will signal when her strength is giving out. As a general rule, she can last four or five hours if she’s doing nothing more than boosting the strength of the warding stones.”

“Why don’t we just raid her mind telepathically?”

“I tried earlier, when you were talking to Quinn.”

And hadn’t
that
provided a whole lot of information. Quinn had never been free and easy with information, but right now he was making like a clam and getting irritatingly amused when I got angry about it. Rhoan was currently in the process of having a little chat with our silent vampire, but I very much doubted he’d have any more success than I did. “And?”

“And, her shields are unlike anything I’ve ever come across. I’ve asked Director Hunter to come down and assist me.”

That raised my eyebrows. After eight years of being here, I’d actually catch a glimpse of the elusive Director Hunter? “She’s not exactly hurrying.”

“She decided to help Rhoan with Quinn first.”

“Ah.” And according to the weird hierarchy and honor system vamps had going, Quinn, being younger in vampire years than Hunter—though heaven only knew if he was younger or older in real, since-birth terms—was ethically obliged to answer any and all of her questions. “She could be hours, then.”

“Could be. Quinn may be younger, but I think he’s almost as powerful.”

“Which means what?”

“That while he may be obliged to answer, he can’t be forced. It all really depends on Quinn following the rules.”

And vampires never followed the rules unless it suited them. I sipped the brown muck for several minutes, then glanced at my watch. If I didn’t get some sleep soon, I was going to be a baggy-eyed wreck tonight. And that was
never
a good look.

“Why don’t you and I have a crack at her?”

Jack glanced at me, and I swear there was a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “Are you feeling up to it?”

“No, but if it’s the only way to get out of here and get to bed, then I’ll give it a shot.”

“Good.” He rose from the chair immediately, and that gleam became more pronounced. I had a sudden, very powerful feeling of falling into a well-laid trap. And it had me wondering if he’d even asked Hunter to come down and help, or whether it was a nice little ruse to get me to volunteer. But I didn’t bother asking because I just didn’t have the energy to get mad right now.

I only wanted to get home, even if the cost was playing Jack’s game and stepping just a little bit more into the shoes of a full-fledged guardian.

“I’ll hold her mind still and open,” he continued. “While you weave your way inside and see what you can find.”

“Okay.” I drained the remainder of the brown muck then put the empty cup down on the bench. “Let’s do this.”

I followed him into the interview room, and stopped slightly behind him. Maisie’s gaze skimmed us both, and a slight sneer touched her pale lips. “What, two people not enough to break one little blonde? We’ve got to add a couple more?” Her voice was sharp and irritating, and yet, once again, the way she phrased her words had that odd sense of familiarity scratching at my senses.

“And people fear the guardians,” she continued. “What a joke.”

Jack glanced at the specialist interrogator, and without another word, she left the room. “Last chance, Miss Foster. Are you going to answer our questions willingly, or shall we do it the hard way?”

“If you could do anything more than contain me, I think it would have happened by now. We both know your pet magician cannot hold the strength of the circle for long, and then I will be gone.”

Power touched the air, a tingly, spidery flare of electricity that flowed like wildfire across the room. Its center was Jack, not Maisie or the Directorate’s magician, and its touch had the tiny hairs along my arms and the back of my neck standing upright.

“People are always underestimating the Directorate,” he said softly, as the net of power flowed up and around Maisie. She stiffened, her eyes going wide as her body became immobile. “It is never to their benefit to do so. Go, Riley.”

I blew out a breath, then closed my eyes and carefully shut down my other senses, until my only awareness was of Maisie and the net of power that blazed around her. Slowly, carefully, I touched the net telepathically. The thrum within it was potent, a distant thunder that seemed at once forbidding and barely controlled. Like a storm about to break.

It was frightening, in some ways. I’d always known Jack was powerful, but I’d never felt just
how
powerful, even during our training sessions. And yet, he’d admitted himself that he was far less so than Quinn. In some ways, it proved just how much Quinn had been hiding from me—and how much more he was capable of. God, curtailing the urges of a werewolf had to be a walk in the park for someone with
that
much power. No wonder I hadn’t been aware of what he was doing.

I skimmed the surface of Jack’s power, riding it like a wave, using it as a ramp to enter Maisie’s mind. Her outer defenses were already laid open and bare by Jack, her surface thoughts an easy read. But it wasn’t surface thoughts we wanted or needed.

I pushed on, moving beyond the reaches of Jack’s control, into the deeper recesses of Maisie’s mind. It was there I discovered what Jack had meant earlier.

Maisie’s telepathic defenses weren’t in the form of a wall, or mental “glue,” or anything else that I’d come across before. Hers were more in the form of a spiderweb—interconnected, fragile in appearance, yet sticky and extremely strong. Breaking one strand didn’t mean I was through—I had to break
all
the connecting strands before I could go deep into her mind. Which was why two people were needed—one to hold her, and one to break her.

Even so, it was hard work.

The web seemed to thicken near the center of the mental shield, the threads becoming more tangible, harder to break, the closer I got to the deep recesses of thought. Sweat began to trickle down my spine, and an ache began to make itself known behind my closed eyes. A migraine in the making.

During my early months of telepathic training with Jack, I’d often been left physically and mentally exhausted, but like any sort of training, time and constant practice had provided some sort of mental fitness.
This
was making me feel like a rank beginner again. Every ounce of strength I possessed was being channeled into trying to breach Maisie’s unusual defenses, and my limbs were beginning to tremble with the effort.

Then, with the suddenness of a rubber band snapping, the tenuous webs gave way, leaving me mentally shaking but floating free in the rush of Maisie’s deep consciousness.

Only Maisie’s spirit or soul, or whatever that part of human consciousness was called, wasn’t there.

Someone, or
something,
else was.

And it was aware and waiting.

The attack came with a suddenness that was staggering. I had a brief feel of femininity, a taste of ancient power, then let out a yelp as my whole body recoiled from the sheer anger and force behind the mental punch.

Hands grabbed my arm, holding me upright, then Jack was beside me—a huge cloud of power and fury that might not be as ancient as the being inside Maisie’s mind but every bit as dangerous.

The ancient spark stilled instantly.

Riley.
It was an order and a question, all in one, and said in a way that suggested I’d better damn well hurry.

I licked my lips, and mentally pressed forward again. The presence in Maisie’s mind might have been held defenseless, but she was still very much aware.

Who are you?
My question seemed overly loud in the darkness of the mind held captive, echoing as if we were in an empty cavern rather than deep human consciousness. The thought had goose bumps chasing their way down my spine, and I had no idea why.

Then the darkness seemed to stir.
I sense something familiar in your thoughts.

The voice was old, and again, there was something in the way she pronounced words that scratched at my instincts. Something in the soft lilt to her words that was almost recognizable.

Tell me who you are, or I will kill you.

Amusement spun through the darkness.
You cannot kill me. Even
he
cannot kill me.

I frowned. He who? Jack?
Do not underestimate our skills.

Do not overestimate your own skills. You have no power to kill me. No skill. Those few who possessed such skills died a long time ago.

She had to mean the priests of Aedh. Why else would the spirit of the priest even be here, if not to deal with an ancient threat? Question was, how was Quinn involved in all this? What was his obligation to the priest? What was his connection to the ancient spirit holding Maisie’s body captive?

What have you done with Maisie?
Even though I asked the question, I had a pretty good idea that whatever or whoever Maisie had been, she was not now in residence in this body. Which, in a sense, was a good thing. We were not now restricted by the chains of dealing with a human.

And God, the mere fact that I was even thinking that made me want to puke.

The mortal who once inhabited this flesh has long gone.

Did you kill her?

Amusement ran through the void.
You cannot kill a soul. You can only restrain or destroy.
The voice paused, as if to add significance.
This incarnation will be her last.

Another chill ran through my body, yet I couldn’t really feel sorry for Maisie. Not if she was truly responsible for bringing this evil, and the others, into being.
Tell me your name.

My name is Caelfind O’Cuinn.

Why was that name familiar? Where had I heard it…then it hit me.
O’Cuinn.
Quinn’s real surname.

Suddenly his secretive ways were making a
whole
lot more sense.