Fortune's Favor (A Power Up! Story) (7 page)

“Has to be a setup, right?” Nathan’s gaze met his, puzzlement clear in his even features. “What have you seen, Avery?”

“Besides your uncle in this house holding that bloodied blade? Not much.” He refused to admit he didn’t want to look again. He feared seeing Nathan dead or hurt, and he didn’t want to know.

“When’s the last time you looked?”

Trust Nathan to be persistent. “Let me shower, and I’ll get back to you on that. Besides, we need to talk about how to handle the case. I have an idea or two to get Malcolm back here sooner than later.” He left the room before his partner could nag him again.

Avery didn’t like the taste of fear anytime he looked too closely at the future. Dark times were coming. Though he’d seen himself and Nathan laughing together, he didn’t know if that would occur before or after they dealt with Dixon. And they would deal with Dixon. That, Avery knew to his bones. He just hoped they could both live with the outcome.

* * * *

After running five miles through thick flora and the uneven terrain of the jungle outlying his home, Malcolm retreated to the small courtyard in the middle of his ranch. A small, covered pavilion sat at the center of the courtyard, where a photograph perched on a small wooden table. Malcolm approached and stared at the picture. It was a routine steeped in loss, betrayal, and remembrance.

Danielle had been a true beauty in face and form and deed. If he’d ever suspected she might turn on him the way she had, he never would have married her. It hurt to see her staring back at him when he knew she was lost forever. But he needed the pain to remind himself he was still alive.

He sighed and left the pavilion to start his daily exercises. Nearby, in a stand that held his favorite weapons, Sangre watched over him. He executed the familiar lunges, poses, and strikes calculated to reaffirm his muscle memory. Decades of hard training had allowed him to age slowly. Though he’d turned fifty-five just two weeks ago, he had the body of a man much younger.

His life had come full circle, ever since he’d found Sangre. The gladius called to him, returned him to the place of his birth and the scene of a terrible day he wished he could do over. Even now, two decades after her perfidy, Malcolm still missed his wife.

Her surprise upon seeing him hadn’t been faked. The same government agency that had told him she and Nathan were dead had told her the same about him.

He didn’t mind the lie she’d been given so much as he cared about being manipulated. Now that his old handler lay chopped to pieces beside a copse of morro trees, Malcolm felt a step closer to closing the circle of his strange past.

Only twice in his life that he could recall had he ever lost control. In both instances, Danielle—and by extension, Nathan—had been involved.

He finished his exercises and gripped Sangre in his hand. He thrust and parried, dancing with his new favorite weapon as he reveled in the blade’s grace. Moving as so many had before him, he reenacted the killings that made Sangre so powerful.

Danielle had been an easy execution. The blade had soaked up her blood and spirit in one smooth, slick thrust. Her confessions had come too little, too late. He refused to believe the joy he’d seen flash in her eyes. It had been there and gone briefly, like the flash of life that winked out in the shadow of Sangre’s cool cunning.

Secrets upon secrets. He hadn’t been the only one with something to hide. Or someone, in Danielle’s case.

Malcolm still resented Nathan, the greedy child who’d stolen his wife’s interest. The blade fed his bile, and he allowed it. The emotion saturated him, filling all the empty parts of a man once whole. And then he knew.

Nathan wasn’t just his past. Nathan was his future. The possibility of continuation, forever, teased with potential. What if the boy had grown into a man Malcolm could use? From the material he’d gathered in the past few days, Malcolm knew Nathan had inherited his share of talent. The ability to touch an object and know its truth was a power unto itself. Like Malcolm’s ability to touch a weapon and absorb the knowledge of how to best use it, and how others had used it. What if Malcolm could absorb Nathan’s essence the way Sangre did—through death?

Excitement flared at the thought of battling Nathan face-to-face. Where so many other foes fell too easily, the boy wouldn’t fade, not as fast. He’d been the only person ever to get too close to killing him. At the time, Malcolm had considered the incident a freak coincidence, sheer luck. Now he knew better. The boy had power, and he’d tapped into it.

What would it be like to fight someone of that skill? To know that he’d found a worthy opponent, finally? Blood of his blood, a tie connecting father to son?

He grinned and slashed at the air once more, sure Danielle would roll over in her grave if she knew what thoughts filled his thriving mind.

* * * *

“You’re kidding, right?”

Avery shrugged. “What’s the problem? We’re not learning anything from the neighbors. The library has jack shit on the guy, and Ian’s only managed to tell us to hurry up and wait while he ferrets more crap on Dixon.”

“So your answer is to put out an ad in the local paper?” Had Avery slipped in the shower and hit his head? “Genius, we don’t want Malcolm to know we’re here. We want to surprise him, remember? That way, when he’s standing over me with a bloody sword, I’m ready to take him out. Not become his next victim. Shit.”

“Easy there, Nancy.”

Nathan hated Avery’s condescension, even as he thrived on their arguments. He was such an idiot, helpless to stop himself from craving the attention.

“What we need to do is take control of the situation,” Avery continued. “I know Malcolm will be here. I know he’ll be carrying Sangre covered in blood, and I see you in the vision. You’re whole, not a scratch on ya, so take it easy.”

“Stop being an ass. This isn’t about me being afraid.”
It’s about me worrying about
you.
I can’t protect you from the monster if I’m dead
. “I know what he’s capable of; you don’t. You might think you’re hot shit on the mats, but Malcolm is lethal with a weapon. And with Sangre, he’s more than capable of killing…and killing…and killing…”

“I get that.” Avery regarded him with a narrowed gaze. “You haven’t opened up in here, have you?” Psychically.

Nathan shook his head. “It’s a lot to absorb. Especially since everything in this house has been handled not only by my aunt, uncle, and myself, but by all the other people who’ve traipsed through in the years since. My aunt let a friend of hers run the place as an inn for a while. That’s part of where the place got the reputation for being haunted. The guests claimed they heard strange noises at night.”

Avery remained silent a moment, his blue eyes impossibly deep. “What if they did hear noises? What if your uncle used to come back here after you and your aunt left?”

“Creepy, but it could have happened.” Nathan repressed a shiver. As much as he needed to kill the old man, he didn’t want to face him again. He’d tried to put that part of his life behind him.

“I want you to feel out the house. I’ll be with you. And while you do, I’ll open myself as well, try and catch any floating energy, maybe jump-start my senses to see the future more clearly.” At Nathan’s look, he shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“I don’t know. We’ve never worked that way together before.” But the notion intrigued him. Having Avery nearby while he opened his psychic senses would ease his worry about safety. While he tapped into his abilities, Nathan lost his awareness of reality. Just as Avery did. “Look, if we do this, you have to stay awake and aware until I pull out. I don’t want us both fuzzy in case Malcolm’s here somewhere, watching.

“Makes sense. So where should we start?”

Nathan sighed. “Might as well start in here.”

They spent the next two hours moving slowly through the house. Nathan ran his senses over everything, his fingers gliding past utensils, pots, pans, dishes, cabinets. Anything and everything not nailed to the floor became his to peruse.

He had no luck until they entered a rarely used room at the corner of the house on the second floor.

“What was in here?” Avery asked. He’d been silent for the better part of their time, his attention focused on Nathan.

Nathan had found his partner’s presence disconcerting at first, until he’d recognized the warm feeling of protection he’d been missing since his missions with the PWP. Though he’d worked on a few cases since their team had left DC, this was the first he worked as lead—with Avery.

“I don’t remember this room.” Nathan turned slowly, seeing the battered dresser and dusty ottoman. The only two pieces of furniture in the room didn’t make the space any more lived-in. Nathan moved to the closet. The minute he put his hand on the knob, he felt a resonance of energy. “Something’s here.”

“Go on. I’ve got your back.” Avery seemed somehow larger behind Nathan, as if his declaration of intent enhanced his power.

Nathan let go of his consciousness and embraced the vision that smothered him…

* * * *

“I can’t wait to fill this with babies.” Danielle twirled on her feet and smiled at her husband.

Malcolm grinned back, so lighthearted and carefree. He looked young, his face unlined by time, his green eyes bright. “Yours and mine, sweetheart. We’ll love her and keep her safe from the monsters in the world.”

Danielle’s face fell. “I wish you’d quit, Mal. I miss you when you’re gone.”

“I know, honey.” He moved forward and hugged her. “I worry about you. But this work is too important. I’m helping keep the nation safe. And all the money I earn is going toward our future.” He rubbed the small of her back. “A college fund for our baby, savings for our retirement. All that stuff.”

“But that energy you absorb. It isn’t good for you.”

“It’s not good for anyone. But I’m making the world a better place for us. Think of it like that.”

She ran her hands through his hair. “Who knew you were so responsible?” She kissed him, a mating of mouths and hearts clearly shining in the embrace they shared. “Now how about we start on making our baby? Although I’m not sure about a little girl. How about a boy with your eyes and your abilities? Our little magic man.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Long as he has your temperament, I’m game. Lord knows I’m no joy to be around without you.”

* * * *

The vision faded.

“You okay?” Avery’s gruff voice preceded his image slowly coming back into focus.

“Yeah, I think.” He relayed the vision to Avery in its entirety. “I can’t believe it. He really loved her. At least in the beginning.”

“Wonder what changed.”

“Everything, I’d say.” How the hell did you kill someone you loved that much? His uncle had more than a screw loose. Nathan staggered as exhaustion overcame him.

“Whoa.” Avery caught him by the arm and dragged him out the door.

“What the hell?”

“Go take a rest. You’re having a really hard time in this house, aren’t you?”

Nathan shrugged.

“I can tell. So go sleep it off. I’ll watch over the place.”

“I thought you were going to look into the future again.”

Avery nodded. “Soon as you’re up and about, I will. No hurry. What’s coming is coming, and nothing we can do will change that.”

“But we can be prepared.” How would his confrontation with his uncle work out this time? Nathan wasn’t a child any longer. He’d grown strong, powerful, and he knew how to handle danger. This time Malcolm Dixon wouldn’t walk away.

“Right. Prepared. One of my favorite words.” Avery gifted him with a small smile. “Now go lie down before you fall down. I’ll hold the fort, dimples.”

For once, the nickname didn’t annoy him. Avery sounded almost caring. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Exactly. Long as you recognize that I’m in charge, this will go smoothly for all of us. And Dixon won’t know what hit him when he gets here.”

Nathan nodded and entered his bedroom, weary beyond what should have been normal. The grief he’d been working to suppress for days caught up with him, and he turned from Avery and lay down in bed. He pulled the covers over his shoulder and faced the wall. “Shut the door behind you,” he said in a low voice.

Avery didn’t answer. The door shut softly, and Nathan felt himself alone. All alone.

He let the tears fall, aching for his aunt—his mother—for all she’d lost. More than just her life, but a caring, devoted husband. Whatever had happened to change his uncle had changed them all. He remembered her smiling face. The years spent after Malcolm, so much joy in just being with her. She made holidays, his birthday, even his sporting events so much more. Nathan tried but couldn’t stop crying.

God, Mom. I miss you.

Chapter Five

Avery felt terrible. He’d pushed the door open a crack to check on Nathan and had seen his partner shaking under the covers. The small sobs he tried to hide ripped Avery apart. But he left Nathan alone, knowing he wouldn’t want anyone to witness his breakdown.

The guy had been holding it together for days. After he’d flown back from Danielle’s funeral, he’d demanded they set out to recover the stolen blade. Their boss hadn’t complained, but he’d shot Avery a look, one that said to take care of his partner. Hauling Nathan’s ass out of bar after bar hadn’t been fun but necessary. Fucking him? Necessary
and
fun, but in retrospect, not in Nathan’s best interests.

Then again, maybe something they’d done had shaken Nathan’s reserve, because this was the first time Avery had seen his partner grieve.

Nathan had to get it out. Holding on to that much pain would only make it worse. He needed to be clearheaded and focused when they met up with Dixon. From the information Ian kept filtering through Avery’s e-mail, the news continued to grow worse.

Malcolm Dixon was not only a killer but an unofficial cleanup man for the CIA. Wonderful. As if that weren’t bad enough, according to Agency files, the shit the man could do with a weapon would make anyone nervous, Avery included. Malcolm’s skill seemed to be a lot like Nathan’s, except Malcolm could not only see impressions off weapons but also use the skills of those who had once wielded them. Guns, knives, swords—Malcolm mastered them all.