Prince of Power (2 page)

Propriety had never been Agnessa's strong suit. Thad sighed again and stifled a yawn. Siddoh's narrowed eyes and low growl weren't lost on him. Sure, Thad was tired too, but he wasn't the one out combing the streets. “Thanks, Izzy. I've got it from here.”

Isabel smiled tightly and left as Agnessa nudged the door closed with one of those pricey-looking stilettos she always wore. What were the odds he was going to get an earful about this later? He was fairly certain that if it were up to Isabel, Agnessa would no longer be allowed inside the estate.

“How's tricks, Agnessa?” Siddoh all but growled the thinly veiled jab, but Agnessa seemed to ignore it.

“I thought you could use my help, Thad.”

The real kick in the balls was that maybe they could. Agnessa was one of the few remaining Oracles who knew the craft of their kind, and Lee and Agnessa had been mated for a long time. But she'd been across the estate this whole time, and just now she was showing up? He hadn't really gotten a handle on how she operated, and it hadn't been at the top of his to-do list.

“I've been in meditation,” she said as if she could read his thoughts. She couldn't, could she? And who in the hell meditated for over a week straight? Long, pale fingers tipped with red polish flipped a swath of platinum hair over one shoulder. She smiled faintly, revealing a pearly white fang. “Lee's alive. They both are. I thought you would want to know. I was only just able to feel either of them a short while ago.”

“Where?” This time Thad growled and the question came out as a command. He crossed the room and was nose to forehead with Agnessa in a few paces. The display did little to affect the lithe female's demeanor.

“I don't know. My blood ties with Lee are not what they once were. I can't feel him very strongly right now. But he's powerful and proficient. He'll be fine. And Tyra…” Agnessa leveled her gaze at Siddoh. “She's stuck somehow. I know that much. But I've seen that she's going to get free of whatever is holding her. You don't need to wear yourself out like this.”

Thad took a step back. His body burned and his heart stuttered. Part hope, part fear. He attempted to breathe evenly as he weighed her words. Wait. Just
wait
. It couldn't possibly be that simple.

A long, low growl came from Siddoh across the way. He stared hard at Agnessa as new understanding dawned on his tired face. Perhaps now he guessed one of the reasons why Thad had allowed her to stick around after she had nearly turned Thad and Lee against each other.

And probably even why Lee thought all Oracles were “wackos.”

“No way. No
fucking
way. Agnessa's your new Oracle? Can't trust her to predict the damn weather, Thad.”

Tyra's senses sharpened quickly, and the sulfur smell of beef and cabbage from down the hall told her that it was roughly seven o'clock. Dinnertime at the shelter. The scent of cooking food wasn't nearly as strong as the sudden and palpable tension right there in Anton's little residential room.

Lee Goram, Tyra's friend and the king's royal guard, crowded the small doorway he'd just come through with his massive body. He looked like he had been to hell and back, and for Lee that was really saying something. Tyra had done battle beside him on more than one occasion over the past century. Lee didn't get hurt easily.

While Tyra was unique in having multiple powers, most vampires had a single powerful ability. Lee's was the capacity to produce energy shields that blocked almost any attack. If that didn't keep him unscathed, the centuries of fighting experience under his belt usually did. To see him spattered in blood and sporting a black eye was out of place.

“Lee, you look like shit.”

He leaned his considerable weight against the door behind him that led from Anton's room out into the men's wing of the residential hall.

Tyra cringed. With hope that blood on Lee's clothing was dry, or it was going to leave a smear.

“I feel like it, so that's appropriate.”

“What happened to you? What are you doing here?” Tyra leaned herself against the small metal desk by the bed and hoped nobody noticed that she needed a little extra support. Looked like Lee was too busy wiping blood from an oozing elbow wound.

Anton was too busy staring at Lee. He stood close to Tyra now, radiating heat and tension. His head moved up and down like he was sizing up Lee, who had a good few inches on Anton's six feet of height and a little more bulky muscle.

Lee's gaze flicked to Anton.

He
doesn't know. He can't tell that Anton's a wizard.
Tyra pegged Lee with a glare, warning him not to do anything threatening.

“It's a long story. Let's say I got into a fight and it went badly. We need to get back. We've both been gone too long. Thad's gotta be out of his mind.”

“You haven't been in touch with him?”

Lee shrugged his massive shoulders, giving the tattered leather jacket hanging off them a run for its money. “Ran into a problem. Got separated from my phone.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Must have been some problem.”

“Yeah, well.” Lee shrugged again. Never was much of a talker, that one. At last he acknowledged Anton, who still sat against the wall looking at Lee like the force of nature that he was.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on her, pal.” Lee made a subtle motion toward Anton but locked his blue-green eyes on Tyra. “This isn't really the place for discussion. We need to clean things up and get out of here.”

The “cleanup” he was referring to, of course, was Anton. Tyra wasn't ready yet to mess with Anton's head. Not without getting more information. She moved alongside Anton and placed a hand on the back of the metal desk chair. For support, but hopefully she managed to do it casually. She nodded to Lee. “Go ahead back home. Let Thad know I'm okay. I'll be right behind you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “No way, Ty. I can't show up to see Thad after being gone for over a week and not bring his sister. He'll shit bricks.”

Tyra closed her eyes and did a slow backward count from ten. “Fine. Please get the hell out of here for a minute at least. I don't want to risk that someone here at the shelter catches a glimpse of you and loses their sanity.” She squinted. Something clung to his elbow that looked very much like a chunk of scalp. “Or their dinner.”

Lee didn't move.

“Lee. Let me handle this and I will meet you out back. Two minutes.
Please
.”

He stared her down with his nastiest set-you-on-fire-with-his-eyes glare, before a blur of motion took him out the door as fast as he had come in. Luckily for Tyra, she'd had more than a century to get used to that stare, and it didn't make her tremble so much anymore. A lot of shit was going to hit the fan if Lee figured out who Anton was. Getting Lee out of that room had been crucial.

She stared hard at Anton. He'd turned to face her, somewhat relaxed in the wake of Lee's departure, and his eyelids had drifted to half-mast. “You really haven't slept, have you?” she said quietly.

It was amazing, right then, how easily she could forget who he was. Wizards killed vampires and used blood sacrifice to steal their supernatural powers. They wore stupid-looking out-of-date hooded robes that would have been laughable but for the damage and death they represented. This guy seemed like a regular guy. Jeans. Flannel shirt. Sneakers. Almost human.
Careful, Tyra
.

He dipped his head and cleared his throat quietly. “Tried not to. I wanted to be sure you were safe. I left at mealtimes because I didn't want to give anybody reason to check up on me.” He pressed his lips together for a beat. “I'm glad you're okay. I wasn't sure what to do if you didn't wake up soon.”

Something in his words and in his fatigued expression squeezed at Tyra's heart, and she hated the feeling for how very, very complicated it made things. Duty dictated that she kill him because of what he was. But he had stayed with her; protected her when he had every opportunity to slice her open and take the beating heart right out of her body. So why hadn't he, and where did she go from here?

“I don't know what to do about you.” She examined a chipped spot in the dingy tile floor.

“That's understandable.” He cocked his head to the side, as if unwilling to let her avoid eye contact. Even though he was tired, the heat of his steel-gray eyes was intense.

She pressed her hands to her face. Still woozy from her long, long nap, she wouldn't be wise to try and read him right now, no matter how much she wanted to. And the curiosity was making her itch all over. What little energy she had now from his blood would be necessary for teleporting out of this room and getting home.

An important fact stuck in Tyra's mind:
Lee
hadn't known
. Tyra herself had never had strong abilities for detecting the evil aura that surrounded their wizard foes, but Lee's radar was historically very good. He'd acted as if Anton were a human who needed to be dealt with, not a wizard enemy.

Anton was the wizard leader's son. What if he was legit and he meant what he said about helping them kill his father? No question he could prove useful. With her powers, she might be able to ensure that he would be. It was risky, but it was a chance to ensure the safety of her race if she succeeded. If she could do that, it would mean everything.

She inhaled sharply and pulled back her shoulders. Stepping forward into his space, she caught another whiff of his blood. It smelled as good as it had tasted. Like the forest at night.

Never
mind, Tyra.
She forced herself to make eye contact. That she remember who and what they both were to each other was extremely important. He hadn't killed her in her sleep, and damned if that watching-over-her thing didn't make her heart melt a little, but there was an awful lot of “what the fuck” going on here still. Too much for blind faith, especially given the circumstances.

“I want you to stay here. You and I have an awful lot to talk about, and now is not the time. If I don't get out there, Lee's gonna come back and heaven help us both if he figures out who you are. But I swear to you, Anton, if you give me any reason to be sorry I left this room with your body and your brain intact, I will take you down myself.” After Thad was finished raking her over the coals.

He nodded. “I promise, Tyra.”

Promise
. There it was again. She held her hand up. “No offense, but it's going to take a lot more than just promises. I want to believe you mean to do the right thing, but just accepting the word of a wizard would go against everything I've been raised to believe.” Deep in the core of her was a terror so cold it almost burned. She had been so weak in front of him. He had seen a vulnerability in her that nobody ever had and that he might have been able to use against her. He still
could
use it against her.

He lifted a hand that hovered, stopping just short of touching her face. “It wasn't just about doing the right thing, Tyra. I didn't deliver you to my father because I love—”

“I have to go.” She couldn't hear that. She just couldn't. Before he could say anything more, she summoned her power to teleport. Lee was waiting for her outside, and she didn't want to be spotted leaving the building. She kept sight of those hands of his until they faded away. The warmth of them still lingered on her skin.

***

Anton braced his hands on the metal desk chair in the tiny, dingy, uncomfortable room where he had spent so many hours watching Tyra like she was a modern-day Sleeping Beauty. The room he was presently being kicked out of.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Smith.”

The petite, senior African American lady wore a kind expression behind her wire-rimmed glasses, but the take-no-shit attitude she wielded might as well have been a baseball bat in her hands.

“I don't understand, ma'am.” Something in his wrist popped from squeezing the chair so hard. As a young wizard he'd been raised to wear his rage like a cloak and to swing it like a club. Out here in the human world, he had to keep it under wraps. Times like these, it was such a challenge.

The back of his head throbbed—a reminder of the injury from his father's recent attempt to kill him. Anton rubbed at it carefully. The woman had sidelined him that morning coming back from breakfast in the dining hall, and he didn't entirely understand what was going on.

He squinted against the bright overhead light in the room. “I thought I had more time to stay.”

“It may have been a computer glitch. The shelter's been taken over by private ownership. There have been changes in policy, changes in computer systems…” She shifted with her clipboard and shook her head. “Look, Mr. Smith, I hate to be the bearer of bad news. It's a difficult time of year. The weather is cold. We're always overbooked. They're adding beds to the common areas so we'll have more capacity. But you're a healthy man in your thirties. Others need to be here more than you do.”

“I'm twenty-seven,” he said.
Nice
one, Anton
. As if letting them know that he was
younger
than they'd thought when they'd first checked him in would help his case here. “I don't have anywhere else to stay.” An equally smart thing to blurt out. As if the others did. At least he'd gotten a night's sleep before they dropped the bomb.

“I can leave you with a list of other shelters and soup kitchens in the area. You've got until tomorrow. That's the best I can offer you.”

He mumbled a string of obscenities under his breath as the door closed behind her.

In his hands were two black trash bags with red drawstring ties. For his belongings. For
what
belongings? He'd been wearing the same secondhand clothing for longer than he cared to think. Ever since he was released from the hospital.

Now what?

Tyra hadn't returned. Given her insistence that she'd be back, he'd foolishly made the assumption that it would be
soon
. He'd been too tired to think clearly. And frankly, nervous. What fighting skills he had were probably no match for hers. Certainly not unarmed. Definitely not once her friend had shown up. And did he really want to fight Tyra? Of course not.

He didn't especially want to die, either.

There was no question of how it was going to look if he was gone when she returned. And he wasn't certain where else he would go. But he did know one thing: “I don't have any clothes to pack,” he said to himself.

Sure, his father had more wealth than Croesus, and theoretically Anton was in line to get some of that money… Or he might be if only the old man hadn't been busy trying to wipe Anton off the face of the planet. He did a slow circle in the empty room, and the garbage bags hit the desk with a soft crinkle.

For a minute he stood there in the center of the room, jiggling his leg like a kid who had to go to the bathroom. And then it hit him: his wizard ring. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the small, heart-embossed signet ring that all the members of his wizard clan had worn. It was the key to finding his way back to his father.

Take
him
to
the
woods
and
finish
him…

Those words were the last Anton could remember his father saying. The Master had decided to punish him for failing to deliver Tyra Morgan as ordered. Thankfully, most of the torture was only a vague impression in his memory, but those words rang out loud and clear in his head.

He flipped his hand palm up and shoved up his shirtsleeve. The cheap watch around his wrist didn't work. He'd traded a small box of Whitman's chocolates that one of the shelter volunteers had given him for it right after Christmas. The small razor blade it hid so nicely was the real reason he wore it. He slid the blade out now and used it to score his palm again. The cut from yesterday was already healed.

Focusing intently, Anton summoned his healing power. Warm tingles pulsed at the tips of his fingers and spread through his hand, bathing the extremity in an amber glow. Itchy sensations prickled up and down his palm as the skin knit back together. In no time at all, the bleeding had stopped. He rose up onto the balls of his feet and smiled at his small accomplishment. He'd tried to practice on Tyra and on his larger injuries, but small things like cuts and scrapes were better for helping him to learn control.

“And I'm getting faster,” he said to the small empty room. As if the dented metal desk cared at all.