Tegan's Return (The Ultimate Power Series #2) (9 page)

 “You know as well as I do that that's not an option,” I whisper.

 “I don't know,” says Ethan, still breathing against my neck. “Why don't we try it?”

 I push away from him as much as I can. “I thought you weren't interested in me for my blood?” I say to him, my voice indignant.

 “I'm not, but it would be a pleasant experience. For both of us.”

 “No, that's not happening.” I try to get out from under him again to no avail.

 Ethan laughs loudly and pulls me back, securing me underneath him. This time he lifts each one of my legs at the knee and positions me so that my thighs are around him. I find it difficult to think straight when he grinds into me.

 “I'm going to kiss you now,” he tells me.

 “Not unless you use some mouth wash you're not,” I protest weakly.

 “Suck it up,” is all he says before his lips meet mine in a hard, desperate kiss. Surprisingly, I taste no blood at all, and it doesn't take long for me to melt as his arms fold around me. The moment is broken all too quickly when his phone begins to ring. It's in his jeans pocket and it vibrates against me, not unpleasantly. Ethan grins before slipping it out and answering it, first in English but quickly he switches over to Romanian. Bastard. I want to know what he's talking about.

 Soon the conversation turns serious and Ethan slides out of the car, pacing back and forth just outside. I continue to eavesdrop, even though I have no idea what's being said. Although I will admit that I did do a bit of reading on Romanian history while I'd been finishing my degree in Manchester, and I managed to pick up a few words here and there. I think I did it so that I could find out more about Ethan, about the cultures he's lived through over the course of his long life.

 Mostly I'd been transfixed by the story of Vlad the Impaler, and couldn't help wondering if he was a relation of Ethan's. I concentrate on his voice and one word stands out. One word that I recall from my studies.
Fat°.
It means girl. Is Ethan talking about Rebecca? Oh good Christ, I hate that my heart still deflates every time I think that Ethan might have been involved in her kidnapping.

 Ethan seems to be arguing now with whoever is on the other end of the line. He can be terribly romantic at times, but that doesn't mean he's not scary as hell when the occasion calls for it. I wouldn't like to be the person he's talking to. The conversation continues for another minute or so and then he hangs up.

 He takes a deep breath and begins talking to me before his eyes reach mine. “There is a situation that I need to attend to…” he says and then trails off, his eyes now glued to me. His head tilts to the side ever so slightly, as if he's using some unknown sense to feel me out.

 “What the hell Tegan?” he demands, and comes stomping toward me. My throat goes dry with nerves and he grabs me by the arm. “Who fed from you?” he asks, his voice harsh and jagged like broken glass.

 “Nobody, I was attacked yesterday. Somebody stole my blood,” my words tumble out.

 “And you didn't think to tell me this?” His hand is tight around my upper arm, which is definitely going to leave a bruise.

 “I was going to,” I reply, “but you kind of side tracked me by trying to get into my pants in the back seat of your car.” Well, I hadn't actually planned on telling Ethan. I figured Finn would be able to help me find out who did it, without the need to bring anyone else into the situation.

 “Trying and almost succeeding,” says Ethan wistfully, before glaring at the phone clutched in his hand, the source of our interruption. Then he snaps back to the present. “This is bad Tegan, very, very bad. You need to be more careful with your personal security.”

 “Well I'd thought the secret of my blood was safe, but obviously somebody found out who wasn't supposed to.”

 “Are you accusing me?” Ethan questions.

 “No of course not, I'm just completely lost. I'm not seeing the full picture right now. I need to think about it and figure out who knows.”

 “And I will help you, but right now I have to be somewhere. Go back into the club and tell Lucas I said to escort you home.”

 I glance back at the night club building. “No way am I going back in there. Eliza just about tried to punch my lights out earlier.”

 Tension and anger fill Ethan's eyes. “What?” The word comes out low and whispery, like he's so pissed off he can't even make a proper sound. I gulp.

 “Yeah, I kind of referred to her dad as a creepy bastard. She didn't like that.”

 Some of the tension leaves Ethan's face. “You can't say things like that about Jeremy Whitfield. He's the Governor of South Tribane, Tegan.”

 “I'm quaking in my fucking boots,” I mumble sarcastically in a low voice.

 “He's a dangerous man, but he is also a close ally of mine. In fact, I am directly below him in rank. That means we rely on each other in many respects. You will not speak badly of him again.”

 At the moment I'm standing directly in front of Ethan. I slowly fold my arms across my chest and raise a cynical eyebrow. “I don't think I like this side of you Ethan. And come to think of it, I don't want anything to do with a man who associates with people like Whitfield.” I turn and begin to walk away from him.

 “Get back here, Tegan. You are
not
leaving.”

 I don't know where it springs from, but suddenly I'm completely pissed off with Ethan. Perhaps it's because I really wish he was nobler than he actually is. If he and Whitfield are as thick as thieves the way I think they are, then Ethan is definitely not the man/vampire I'd hoped he was.

 I turn around then, facing him but walking backwards and say, “Watch me,” before giving him the finger and disappearing out of the car park.

Burn Your Life Down

Inside my head there is a voice of sanity, telling me that I'm making a big mistake walking away from Ethan so rudely, but I ignore it as best I can. I'm too angry to act rationally. I stand across the road from the club and dig my phone out of my pocket, surprised that Ethan didn't come after me. Then again, he did have somewhere important he needed to be. He made that point very clear.

 I scroll to Finn's number on my speed dial and it rings three times before he picks up.

 “What's the story?” Finn asks.

 “Where are you?”

 “Look right behind you, the black van.” He answers laughing.

 I roll my eyes and hang up, making my way to the van. The door slides open when I get to it and I hop inside where I find only Finn and Wolf. I'd expected there to be a bunch of slayers in here.

 “It's just you out tonight then?” I ask.

 Finn frowns. “If you hadn't noticed, we've had an awful lot of casualties lately. Most of our best men have either been killed or dangerously injured.”

 “Right, well keep an eye on Crimson's car park,” I say, climbing into the front seat beside Finn. “Ethan should be leaving any minute now.”

 Finn's expression is questioning. “You got a lead on Pamphrock's kid?”

 “Just follow his car. I think that wherever he's going, it's where they're keeping Rebecca. I overheard one of Ethan's phone conversations. He hadn't been speaking English, but I managed to glean enough to know he was referring to a little girl.”

 Finn's gaze suddenly fills with determination, and a minute later Ethan's Cadillac pulls out of the night club. We follow a few cars behind him as he drives through some of the more upper class residential areas of the city, a little close to where Ethan himself resides.

 Finn curses under his breath. “Fucking leeches always like to live in luxury.” He's glancing out the window at the fancy houses we pass by. Houses that probably cost several million to buy. Wolf rests his head on my shoulder and I rub him on the nose.

 “Where do you think he's headed?”

 “I'll give you three guesses,” says Finn, just as Ethan's car stops at a pair of big black gates that lead into a huge mansion. He rolls down his window to talk into the speaker, and a minute later the gates slowly open and close once Ethan's car has gone inside.

 “Whose house is it?” I ask, glancing at Finn.

 “Whitfield's, did you even have to ask?”

 “Fuck.”

 “Yeah, so now we know where Rebecca is. Cocky pricks didn't even bother keeping her some place more discreet. The problem is getting to her, do you think you might be able to work your way into Whitfield's house?”

 I slump back in the seat, letting out a heavy sigh. “I kind of had a fight with Ethan tonight and I'm really not in the mood to crawl back with my tail between my legs. He knows I don't like Whitfield, so I have no clue how I might convince him to bring me into his house.”

 Finn's smile is intolerable. “Trouble in paradise, eh?”

 “Shut up Finn. This is horrible for me. I'm going to have to put on a huge act just to convince Ethan I've changed my opinion of Whitfield. I
really
dislike the man, and I hate pretending to like people that I hate.”

 Finn starts driving away from the mansion now, but he's still laughing silently. I'm glad my discomfort causes him such amusement. I continue petting Wolf as we head back over to the North side. Finn's phone is sitting on the dashboard and it begins to vibrate. I glance at the screen and see Gabriel's name. I wonder what he's calling about. Finn pulls over and picks up the phone. Clearly he adheres to the rules that you're not allowed to talk on the phone while driving. Perhaps he and the law are not so much at odds as he likes to imagine.

 “Gabe, what's up?” He answers and immediately his brow begins to furrow. I lean closer to listen in, and get a surprise at the amount of noise travelling from the other end of the line. I can hear shouting and crashing, and strange whooping sounds in the background.

 “Hey, just calm down alright. I'm on my way. Do you think you can hold them off until I get there?”

 Finn hangs up then and I raise my eyebrows questioningly, wondering what on earth is going on with Gabriel. Finn starts up the car again, one hand on the steering wheel, the other rubbing his forehead.

 “Where are we going?” I ask.

 “Rita's house. Apparently the magical families discovered that she and Gabriel had been setting up their own little revolutionary magic school.”

 “You knew about that?”

 Finn nods. “Of course I did, Gabriel is one of my closest friends Tegan.”

 I'd thought Finn and Gabriel were buddies, but I hadn't realised they knew each other that well. “So what's going on then?”

 “They set fire to Rita's house. They're currently at a stand-off out on the street. You up for taking part in a fight the likes of which you've never seen before?”

 My jaw hangs open in shock. Rita's wonderful house full of trinkets and magic has been set on fire. Anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach. What right do these families think they have to destroy a person's home just like that? I quietly scowl and nod as we continue the rest of the drive in silence.

 When we approach Rita's road I almost pull a muscle in my neck as I stick my head out the window to get a better view. All kinds of swirly, hazy splashes of colour are twisting through the air, bashing against one another in a beautiful, spectacular struggle. The word “wow” escapes my lips, a near inaudible whisper.

 “How come the people who live in these houses aren't going wild and calling the police?” I ask.

 “Glamour.” Finn replies. “You and I can see the magic because it's what we expect. Humans who are unaware of the supernatural world don't even consider it possible, and therefore with a little glamour the magic users can make them see only what they expect to see. Which for many people living in this city is absolutely nothing at all.”

 “Amazing,” I breathe.

 As we get closer to the awe-inspiring battle that is taking place before our eyes, I begin to make out the figures of Rita, Gabriel, Alvie and Rita's mother Noreen, standing in a semi-circle formation in her front garden. Their mouths are moving in unison as they chant some kind of spell, and out of their bodies float these huge swirls of colour, red and purple and blue and yellow.

 Just across the road are about nine other people, standing in a similar position to that of my friends. Crap, they probably have the upper hand too, because not only are there more of them, there are nine of them, and nine is a multiple of three. My friends only have four, which is
not
one of those magical numbers required to perform spells correctly.

 These are members of the elusive magical families I have heard so much about. All of them are strikingly tall, like Marcel, but that's just about the only feature that sets them apart from normal humans. They aren't particularly beautiful like the vampires or the dhamphirs. Colours rise from them also, but there's something different about the consistency. Their magic is condensed and heavy, but less vibrant. The magic of my friends is like a splattering of luminous paint, while that of the magical family members is see-through and dark, like you could move your hand right through it.

 Above all of this are massive clouds of smoke, rising from Rita's poor destroyed house. Flames burst out of one of the upstairs windows. Finn parks the car a few houses down from Rita's and we step outside, Wolf padding along beside us, his head slightly lowered as if he's on guard.

 “I thought the
vampires
were supposed to be the enemies,” I say to Finn as we approach Rita and the others.

 “The magical families can be temperamental. Most of the time they're okay, but every so often they lose the plot. If you ask me it's all that inbreeding.”

 I raise an eyebrow in surprise. I'd always thought Finn didn't have a bad word to say about anyone who lived on the North side. Apparently I'd been wrong.

 “Hey, you lot wanna try fighting the old fashioned way?” Finn calls over to the collection of warlocks and witches on the opposite side of the road. In response, a tall, dark haired man steps out of the semi-circle formation to make some strange hand gestures at Finn. A second later a tidal wave of mist comes seeping toward us, knocking both of us off our feet. The magic clings to my skin like the humid air in a sauna, but it drifts away just as quickly as it came.

 “Thought not,” Finn spits. “Taking the coward's way out it is then.” We both get back to our feet, but then I see the warlock make another hand gesture and a second, more powerful mist heads our way. Wolf's growl resonates through the street. Panic sets in, because some instinct deep inside of me tells me that this mist isn't simply going to knock us off our feet like the last one. It feels as though someone else is taking over my body, like a long lost incarnation of myself, a self both familiar and completely strange, is rising to the surface.

 With a steady arm I push Finn out of the way and sweep my hand across my body and to the left hand side. It reminds me of the gestures that the witches and warlocks make. But it can't be the same, can it? I have no clue where the gesture came from; it's a memory I never knew I possessed.

 The warlock's mist disintegrates with the sweep of my arm, and out of the palm of my hand fly hundreds of little silvery white electrical sparks. They flit like fairies, flying through the air at the warlock before me. His eyes widen in shock before the sparks make contact with his face and singe his skin. Oh God, that felt empowering and amazing. Suddenly I'm not so wary of this ball of magic Rita says I've got bubbling up in my belly.

 The others are staring at me now, and Rita's got a massive smile on her face. “Nice one, Tegan,” she calls, clapping her hands together.

 Finn grabs my arm and drags me the rest of the way to Rita's garden. “You'll have to teach me that trick some time,” he says in a low voice, eyeing me with interest.

 I'm still in absolute shock when I reply, “You'll have to wait until I figure out where it came from first.”

 When we join the others, an older warlock with short grey hair comes walking into the middle of the road where he stops and surveys our motley crew. His eyes land on me almost immediately and he asks, “Who are you, child?”

 “Like she's gonna answer to you,” says Rita in a pissed voice.

 Simultaneously, Finn, Gabriel and Alvie stand in front of me, shielding me from the warlock's gaze.

 “You have lost your way, little one,” he says, still talking to me, his voice is almost hypnotising. “Come back to us.” He opens his arms as if to welcome me home. There's not a chance of me going anywhere near him. And what does he mean by 'come back to us'? Does he think I'm some lost member of his family or something?

 “She does not and never has belonged to you,” says Rita's mother, speaking up. “You have destroyed my home Michael, is that not enough for you? Do you wish to see myself and my daughter dead too?”

 There is a moment of silence, and all I can hear is the crash of wood as something breaks inside Rita's house. It sounds like an entire floor has fallen through. The warlock named Michael's gaze flits to the house, and a cruel smile covers his thin lips.

 “Take this as a warning Noreen Doherty, if I ever find you trying to corrupt the children of my family again I will do a lot worse than burn your house down.” His eyes meet mine through a gap in the bodies that are currently shielding me. “We will meet again, little one,” he says with an intrigued expression.

 At this he motions to those behind him, and it only takes a few moments for them to drift away and out of sight. Gone. Noreen slumps to the ground, her posture betrays her exhaustion. Rita hurries over to her mum and pulls her into a tight hug. Then a window from the top floor smashes outwards and we all just barely avoid being struck in the face by shards of glass.

 “We have to leave now,” says Gabriel. “It's not safe.” The sound of a fire engine wails in the distance. One of the neighbours must have called for it.

 “Come on, I've got the van parked just down the road, we can go to my place. You lot can figure out what you're going to do from there.” Finn offers.

 We all huddle into the van. I sit across from Rita and her mother as they hold onto each other and cry silently. Seeing Rita display this kind of emotion startles me for a moment, since she's always so confident and breezy about things. I suppose losing all of your worldly possessions as well as your home will do that to a person.

 Gabriel is examining a small cut on Alvie's face, perhaps not all of us avoided the shattered glass after all. Gabriel tries to dab away the blood with the sleeve of his shirt. It seems sort of intimate for some reason, but then he catches me watching and pulls away. Alvie's expression is wounded. It makes me wonder if something is going on between the two of them.

 When we get to Finn's house everybody sits around the kitchen table, while Noreen goes about making a big pot of tea. A plan is going to be hatched. I leave to use the bathroom and end up staying in there for a good long while just staring into the mirror. The magic that I used tonight has me both fascinated and terrified. If I could summon up burning sparks like that without even consciously thinking about it, then what could I be capable of if I really put my mind to it?