Mimic, p.11
Mimic, page 11
I chewed on my lip. “What did he mean when he said it had just begun? Was that about the industry?”
“No.” Fenn finally glanced down at me. “That was about vengeance. Sparks had been flying between the Houses for years, but after Callayo’s death, things got ugly fast.”
And then I knew. “He didn’t die of natural causes, did he?”
Fenn shook his head. “He was stabbed to death.”
The tiger growled in my belly. “Who did it?”
“Jalen Tiernam,” Fenn said. “Jakob’s eldest son. But that’s not the worst part. Callayo spent the last moments of his life thinking”—his voice shook—“that Cade was the one wielding the blade.”
I flinched. “What?”
“He was—” Fenn stopped and cleared his throat. “He was fooled into thinking his own son had turned against him.”
“How?” I barely got the word out.
“Deception. Jalen was the one kind of prodigy you can never, ever trust, Willow.” Fenn turned his solemn gaze on Callayo’s proud, dead face. “He was a mimic.”
13
Foreign Tongue
Sparkling eyes held me captive. Glints of white and silver swam in a sea of blue, drawing me in. I couldn’t look away. A hand touched mine, palm to palm, and the tug in my belly turned to an aching tightness that spread swiftly through my limbs.
Did you forget about me? the boy whispered lazily.
My lips parted to tell him no, that I could never forget this feeling, but his face blurred. His sparkly eyes turned pale blue, and his slender jaw widened. He leaned over me, still blurry, his breath hot against my mouth. Silky strands of brown-bordering-on-blond hair swung around us as he pulled me close. You still haven’t learned the rules.
His curved blade slid into my belly.
I came out of the water choking and spluttering, my hands splayed across my belly and a cry of denial stuck in my throat. Steam had filled the bathroom, making Gem a ghostly figure as she burst through the door. “What’s wrong?”
I coughed violently and spit up bath water. Thanks to the fragrant bubbles, it tasted like lavender. “Nothing,” I gasped. “Just fell asleep.”
“I warned you, girl. Drugs and hot baths don’t mix.” She padded over to the tub and sat on its edge. The tiles, designed to resemble stone, clashed with her pink robe. “How many injections have you had?”
“Four,” I said, slicking my hair back with my hands. “No, wait . . . five. Fenn gave me another after supper.”
“No wonder you’re sleepy, girl.” Gem stuck her hand through the thick layer of bubbles. “This water’s really hot. It’s probably boosting the medication. Want me to cool it?”
“That’s okay. I’m getting out.” Reaching for a towel at the foot of the tub, I looped it around my shoulders and dried my face with the ends. “Could you get my pajamas?”
“Sure. The green ones?”
“Yes, please.” I waited for her to leave before pulling my body out of the water. Bubbles clung to my skin. I splashed them off and wrapped myself in the towel, still in the dark clutches of the dream. It felt as real as the one I’d had of Samson in the desert. But that one had been a warning.
I shivered. What if this one was, too?
Sitting on the edge of the tub, I swung my legs over and rested my feet on the bath mat. Drops of water ran down my right shin. I noticed the welts there were starting to bruise and bent to touch one. It was still tender. So were the ones dotting my upper thigh. My fingers trembled as I went higher—more bruises covered my right arm and rib cage. I had little memory of being thrown, and I didn’t need one.
My body was mapping it out.
The scene rushed back in vivid detail, intensified by the aftermath of the dream, and I stifled an unexpected sob of anguish. It welled up fast and hard, making my heart race. Bending over, I buried my face in my knees and breathed through it, waiting for it to pass.
This had been happening a lot. The attack had caused more than just physical trauma—it had left me feeling fragile, falling to pieces when I least expected. Breathing deeply, I found myself wishing it would have limited itself to my body. Of all the marks that Chesapeake had left on me, the emotional ones were the hardest to bear.
The panic faded, and I sat up slowly, blinking back tears. I couldn’t endure much more of this. The dreams, the rebel attacks, the attempts for my DNA—they had to stop. They were breaking me. Every time I turned around, I faced a new threat.
And it was only going to get worse.
SKILL LEVEL FOUR—the recalibrated message glowing on the smoky pillar had been painfully clear. It had put a smile on Morry’s lips and made Kristoffe stare hard at me with his emotionless gaze. Fenn had touched my arm, looking proud. The tiger had simply laughed. No one had cared how I felt about it. Not one of them had bothered to ask if I was okay with a diagnosis that made me even more of a target.
Rising, I brushed off my thoughts and collected myself as Gem returned with my pajamas draped over her arm. She tossed them onto the vanity stool, along with my favorite robe. “I’ll leave you to dress.”
“Thanks.”
“By the way,” she said, her voice turning playful, “Commander Reece asked for you. He’s waiting in the study.”
“He is?” Her news took me by surprise. When supper had come and gone with no sign of him, I’d assumed he wasn’t going to show. I should have known better. “Well, I’m going to need a few minutes.”
“You still want this?” Gem held up a delicate piece of black lace held together by silky straps, designed to sit low on my hips. “It barely exists, you know.”
I took it from her. “Stop that.”
She grinned. “If you’d like, I can get you something less girly.”
Balling the lace in my fist, I threw it at her as she scooted out the door. It landed on the tile, shimmering—tiny jewels sewn into the lace, I was sure. My seamstress loved anything that sparkled. If there was a way to work a gem or sequin into a garment, Julianey found it.
She’d also found the perfect arrangement of glittery slashes on the outfit for my introduction to Thess. It hung in my dressing room and was the first thing I saw when I emerged from the bathroom, my pajamas on and my hair turbaned in a towel. I went to it and ran my fingers over the soft, stretchy fabric. The copper stripes really did give it the look of a tiger.
But tonight, I was no tiger. I was a girl with soaking wet hair and too much on her mind. Tossing my robe aside, I grabbed the blow-dryer-thingy and activated its blue energy source, attempting to dry my hair the way Gem had taught me—bent over, scrunching handfuls as I waved the nozzle wildly around. She came in and laughed when she saw me.
“Here, let me help.” She took the device away.
“Am I doing it wrong?”
“Not if you’re trying to dry the carpet.”
I sat and let her finish, feeling rather spoiled. She even rubbed a sweet-smelling serum between her hands and massaged it into my hair. By the time she was done, I was half asleep from the heat and the gentle tugging, but I looked presentable.
She picked up my robe and slipped it over my shoulders. “You look like you could use some chocolate.”
“I’m fine.” But my arms felt heavy as I pushed them through the sleeves. “Well, maybe half a cup.”
Gem smiled. “I’ll pour you some.”
She followed me out of my bedroom and down the hall to the living room, where she headed straight for the kitchen. I turned right instead, shuffled past the spiral staircase, and took another right.
This hallway was separate from mine. If I kept going, it would take me to the bedroom Fenn and Morry shared—a room that had initially shocked me with its size and opulence. But I didn’t need to go that far. The first room I came to, on my left, was the study.
Leitwolf stood in the open doorway, his small hands clasped in front of him, his bodysuit blinking with blue lights. His dark hair stood up in spikes. “Moin,” he said.
I halted. “What?”
His amber eyes met mine. “Moin.”
I had no idea what he was saying, and before I could respond, Reece appeared in the doorway. His hair hung freely, and snug black clothing clung to every muscle. Tantalizing hints of lime and cedar filled the air as he slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe.
“Moin,” Leitwolf said again, sounding frustrated.
Glancing down, Reece spoke softly to the Ritter. His husky voice made the harsh language sound like silk. After a brief exchange, Reece turned to me with a smile. “He’s saying hello.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “Hello, Leitwolf.”
The Ritter twitched his cat-like nose. “Wo geiht’t?”
I stood there, bewildered.
Reece smiled again. “That’s ‘how are you?’”
“I’m good—”
“Not to me.” Reece nodded to the Ritter. “To him. Say, ‘mi geiht’t, un di?’”
“Come again?”
Reece repeated the phrase and then, when I didn’t say it back right away, took my fingers and pressed them against his throat. “Mi geiht’t. Un di?”
My breath caught. “What are you doing?”
“This is how we teach them to speak,” he said. “The language is difficult—a mix of Low German and other dialects, known only to Core officers. Feeling and hearing the words together makes it easier.”
“Okay.” I leaned close. “Again.”
He pressed harder on my fingers. Beneath his burning skin, his throat gently ground out the words. But his warmth and citrusy scent made it hard to focus, and watching his mouth unwillingly pushed my thoughts in a different direction.
“Again.”
His eyes gleamed as he repeated the phrase.
“One more time,” I whispered.
With a sly glance down the hall, he peeled my fingers away and turned his face into my palm. He kept his eyes on mine as he planted a soft, warm kiss there. “I think you’ve got it,” he murmured.
Butterflies whirled. “Are you sure?”
“Give it a try.”
Leitwolf looked expectant as I turned to him. “Mi-mi geiht’t,” I stammered. The phrase felt foreign on my tongue. “Un di?”
It must have come out properly, because Leitwolf’s face lit up, and a chorus of unintelligible words tumbled out of his mouth. I’d never heard him speak so much at one time. Reece laughed as I raised my hands in protest.
“I don’t understand—” I started.
“It’s all right.” Smiling, Reece uttered a short phrase that put Leitwolf back on alert, resuming his watch at the doorway, hands clasped and cat-eyes forward.
“What was that all about?” I asked as Reece ushered me into the study. The room was small, but cozy. Flames danced behind the glass front of the fireplace, and a raised board with crystalline figures on top sat beside the hearth.
“Programming.” Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, he drew the board in front of him and gestured for me to sit. “Now that Leitwolf considers you a first-priority directive, he will attempt to form a bond with you.”
I curled up across from him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Reece adjusted one of the figures on the board, centering it within its designated square. “He’ll greet you, ask questions, and lap up any morsel of attention you give him.”
“But I . . .” I glanced nervously at Leitwolf and lowered my voice. “I don’t want a bond with him.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Can’t you reprogram him?”
“I could,” Reece said, shrugging casually. “But I won’t. He’s an extra measure of safety when you’re in my presence.”
“Really.” I folded my arms. “What happened to ‘I’m all the security you require’?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “That was in the Outlying Lands. In case you haven’t noticed, the Core is significantly more dangerous.”
I leaned forward. “Speaking of dangerous—”
But Gem walked in, a mug in each hand, and I forced my curiosity about his secret mission aside as she offered me one. The rich scent of chocolate teased my senses as I pushed my face into the steam.
Reece accepted his mug with a nod of thanks. “This takes me back to the White Haven,” he said as Gem left. “The night you woke from the second phase of your Surge.”
Creamy marshmallows floated in my chocolate. I blew them into a spin. “You mean, the night you tried to bribe me.”
“Bribe?” His voice held a trace of humor as he shifted his legs to one side and leaned on his hand. “Perhaps I was simply—as you tried to deny—out to win your heart.”
I glanced up to find a smirk on his face. He raised the mug to his lips, and I bit back a sigh as he took a long, slow sip. He didn’t have my heart—no one did—but he certainly had my attention. Every inch of him demanded it, from his reflective eyes and broad curves to the silken strands of hair falling across his chest. If he kept teasing, I was in trouble.
“You had no interest in my heart,” I reminded him. “It was my trust you wanted.”
“Yes. Your trust.” The words came out slowly, as if he was testing my reaction to them. “And do I have that, Willow?”
“That’s our deal, right?” I shrugged as casually as he had. “I trust you, and you do whatever it takes to keep me happy. Speaking of happy—”
“What did you do to Katja?”
For a second, I stared at him. He couldn’t have startled me more if he’d asked the question in Leitwolf’s language. Then surprise turned to anger, and the tiger—who’d been sleeping peacefully in my belly—opened one eye and growled.
“Katja?” I echoed, my voice low.
Reece looked serious. “You heard me.”
Another growl. My chocolate bubbled. “If you’re at all concerned about my happiness, Reece, you really should consider changing the subject.”
“The subject is strategy.”
“So talk strategy,” I hissed. “Just keep your ex-lover out of it.”
He seemed surprised that I knew. Aspen had filled me in, but I’d kept it to myself, waiting for just the right moment—and his expression confirmed the truth. Then the surprise faded, and his eyes narrowed. “That may prove difficult.”
“Yeah?” My chocolate began to gurgle. “And why is that?”
Reece reached out, pried the mug from my hands, and set it on the hearth. Then he took one of the dark figures on his side of the board and scooted it toward mine.
“Katja’s filing assault charges against you.”
14
Illusion
The glass piece sitting between Reece’s side of the board and mine was all smoke and curve—exquisitely crafted, from its smooth, round top to its delicate flared base. Beautiful as it was, I found myself sorely tempted to snatch it up and hurl it at him.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I said, though his expression clearly indicated he wasn’t. “Assault charges? She tried to have me killed.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t prove that.” Leaning toward the hearth, he set his mug beside mine. “She admits to providing a hideout for Mercer’s followers, but she vehemently denies contacting him on the day we were attacked.”
“And you believe her?”
His brows lifted. “Oh, she wasn’t lying.”
“How do you know—” I stopped, dread sinking into my belly. He’d probably beaten the truth out of her, as he’d done with Piper. I despised Katja for her betrayal, but I wouldn’t wish a Core officer’s fists on anyone. “Never mind.”
“You don’t want to know the details?”
I shook my head.
“You might find them interesting,” he said dryly. “Especially the part where she burst into tears—”
“Don’t,” I warned. “I’ll leave.”
“—and fell to her knees, pleading with me, begging me not to—”
“Reece.” Aghast, I started to rise.
“—bring the Roanoke heiress into her interrogation unit.”
Halfway to my feet, I froze.
“For reasons I cannot begin to fathom, Katja Wayne is terrified of you. I want to know why.” Reece pointed to the carpet beneath me. “Sit down.”
Easing back down, I kept my eyes on the board. I could have looked anywhere—at the buttery-soft leather furniture around us, the Tyzer screen above the mantel, or the shelves lined with vintage books I’d been ordered not to touch. But my gaze was fixed on the chess piece he’d moved.
“Tell me what happened,” he said quietly.
I focused all my attention on the piece. “She made me angry.”
He paused. “And?”
The glass shivered. “I attacked her.”
“Physically?”
I conjured up the memory of Katja’s mocking laugh. It was enough to warm my belly, and the piece fell over, clinking against the board. The tiger snickered as my gaze slid to Reece’s face. “What do you think?”
His forehead wrinkled. “I think there’s a lot you’re not telling me.”
“Speaking of not telling—”
“The marks on her neck were incredibly precise and made with a significant amount of force. Only a trained telekinetic could have pulled that off.” Reece leaned forward and looked me in the eye. “How did you do it?”
“I don’t know,” I said irritably. “It just happened. She was being hateful and called me a savage. She said I was better off with you dead. I lost my temper.”
He pursed his lips. “So, you decided to strangle her?”
“I didn’t decide anything, Reece. It just took over.”
“What took over?”
“The tiger.” I wouldn’t have said that to anyone else, but Reece knew what I meant. He’d given her that identity. “She wanted Katja dead.”
Leaning back, Reece drew one leg up and rested his arm on his knee. “But she didn’t get what she wanted.”
