Highland Son (Highland Sorcery: A New Dawn) (10 page)

The guy looked to Jewel. “Illusions. Strong illusions. Make people—or monsters, animals even—see what I want them to. They hear what I design with a thought, smell—“

“The Sifts.” Alexander eased upward. “That’s why they didn’t attack the motel. I was sure they had our scent.” He looked at the young man. “You were there too? You did that for Sheppard’s group?”

He shifted uneasily on his feet and glanced again at Jewel.

Jewel. Jewel had done that. At the motel. All of it. Without assistance. He’d felt her magic, sensed it was within her. She’d hidden them, covered their sense with illusion all on her own. Her magic was stronger than he’d believed. She’d hidden the sense of it well. More illusion? Little wonder she’d been so cagey around them. If he’d accidentally given her away… His heart pounded at the implication.

If Sheppard knew she had magic…

He pushed up to his feet, and nearly went back down again. Jewel quickly went to him, tucked herself into his side to keep him up. It was a little more than unsettling that he needed her to.

“Sheppard’s been doing this for a while” Jewel slipped her cool palm flat on his overheated chest. “Giving anyone he suspects of magic to the Sifts. And the beasts come like obedient dogs, tails wagging. I didn’t know any of this until…”

“Until Sheppard came for me,” the guy finished. “A sacrifice in similitude of Abraham, he called it. His own son.” The young man bristled with bitterness.

Son?
Alexander slid his gaze to Jewel. “This is Sheppard’s son?”

Frowning, she nodded. “Yes, this is Lance. My brother.”

Silence stressed between them, tight with anxiety, ready to crack.

“Brother?” Alexander gaped, looking from brother to sister. He could see the resemblance now, the slight slant of their eyes, the way their foreheads crinkled with the same creases. Similar hair coloring. How did he not notice before? “The brother you said was gone?”

“Sheppard believes him to be dead. Everyone does…”

Brother. Which meant… He couldn’t help the grin that spread through his essence and probably boldly through his expression. He never did have a good poker face. The world had just opened up to a whole new range of possibilities. “He’s your brother?”

Her gaze narrowed on him as though he were still in a drug-infused haze.

He stiffened as the rest of Lance’s statement caught up to him and stared down into Jewel’s eyes. “Wait. You’re Sheppard’s daughter?”

She tore her eyes from him, looking down. “He wasn’t always like this. He once was a good man. A good father…”

But Alexander’s thoughts were already spinning, fear streaking them in vivid red. If Sheppard would sacrifice his own son…

~~~

“Sit back down,” Jewel ordered. “You need to eat.”

“I need to get to my friends,” he countered.

Lance had gone to gather the others, insisting they could help rescue Dez and Ethan. Which they could. Jewel needed to convince Alexander to let them help him.

“You need your strength to be any good to them.”

He smiled. “You realize you’re always trying to feed me.”

Her hand fluttered against his warm chest. She couldn’t quite restrain herself from touching him. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, someone needs to see that you eat.”

He lowered to the pool cushion again, seeming to be grateful to be off his feet. He was still a bit clumsy and uncoordinated from her father’s sedative.

“So, a sorcerer…”

A flush crept up the back of Alexander’s neck. He shrugged. “Yeah.” He was embarrassed?

Jewel watched him from beneath the fringe of her lashes. “What exactly is that?”

He reached over and pushed the lip of her cap back on her head and then let his hand drop. “Centuries ago, it meant we were supposed to keep light and dark magic in balance, so that neither overtook the other.” He frowned at his hands over his thighs. “We didn’t do so well on that point.”

“But you’re doing what you can now to make it right.”

She slid her fingers over his hands in an attempt to comfort him. What she did not expect at her seemingly casual touch was the jolt of warmth that touching his skin shot to her core. How many other pairs of hands had she similarly touched in her lifetime without even a second thought, or a hint of what she was feeling now? She quickly pulled her hands back, not ready to assess what these quiverings he made her feel meant. But he was quicker, and captured her fingers, bringing them closer to him once more.

Turning his hands over, he slipped his palms across hers. “I’m trying my best.” He said, looking at her hands as if they were the most riveting thing he’d ever seen. In truth, she was also mesmerized by how their palms fit together, his large and darker fingers beneath hers and the low trilling vibrations humming between them. He had the callouses of someone not opposed to hard work, a few tiny scars from scratches, possibly the hands of a brawler. But they were also gentle, competent hands. She watched his thumb move along hers. That simple stroke pulled at her, making her yearn for things she never believed were possible. Not in her world.

Not when her daily existence whittled down to survival, her own, and also the survival of the others, Mae, and especially the children. And not when she had to be on constant guard around her own father, hiding this crazy ability of illusion, hiding the nosebleeds. What if Sheppard was right about magic? What she could do frightened her. Her father frightened her. The only person she knew she could fully have faith in was her brother.

But staring down at her hands lying within Alexander’s, gods how she wanted to trust him, to drop her brave front and hand over some of her worries to him. To simply feel safe and protected. To feel…well, this. Whatever
this
was.

Glories
, she was a mess.

But Alexander. His intelligence had struck her from the beginning. That and his unassuming confidence.He somehow had the rare ability to accept how the world was, and came out of his acceptance confident that he could change things. He was comfortable with his magic, using it to guide him and help him see things more clearly. She envied him. She wanted to feel that confidence in herself, learn to use her magic for greater benefit, be less afraid in her own skin.

She…

She was thinking too hard. Avoiding the sensations pulsing through her.

Her whole body was in turmoil. He was affecting her as no other ever had, and it frightened her a little. She shouldn’t trust him so easily, but this…whatever was going on between them had less to do with trust, and more to do with yielding her soul. How could she ever be sure of anything after her father had shredded her trust?

Then he drew his gaze from their hands and dipped his head to look her straight in the eye. She could see everything he said was in earnest. Everything he was. Something deep within her belly opened. That place he called her essence? Whatever it was, it was humming from deep, deep within. Something more than the nerves of butterfly wings. Something magical. He was capturing her heart as surely as his hands had captured hers.

She felt the honesty of his very soul. It glided alongside hers with the same care he took in holding her hands. He was beautiful, inside and out…and she knew…she knew…he would never hurt her, never betray her…

She stared into his strange violet eyes. Sorcerer’s eyes. Her breasts rose and fell, almost painfully, as though she’d just outran a pack of Sifts.

Too intense, she dropped her gaze back to their hands and took a chance, allowing their fingers to entwine. It was such a small act, but it was as if she was turning a key and letting him in. Fully in. Warmth surged in her anew, touching that foreign spot of magic once again.

In order to distract her racing mind from stopping what her heart wanted to do, she made an attempt at continuing the conversation.

“That’s more than most people can say. Me, I’ve been hiding.”

He leaned close to her. “You’ve been doing what you could to save people.”

Her eyes met his, held for a brief moment before sliding away. “I want to do more. I want to help you.” She took another peak up at him. “At your lighthouse. I want to join in your fight to get rid of the Sifts.” She blinked up at him and something rare and indefinable passed between them.

That warmth spread through her belly again. She wanted to go there with him, where she could learn how to use her magic from him, where she could finally feel safe. Glories, who was she kidding? She just wanted to be with him. Wanted him.

She’d never felt anything like it.

It was pointless to deny it any longer. 

She was going with him.

That’s all there was to that.

Lance cleared his throat. When had he returned?

Her brother’s eyes narrowed on them, tracked to their joined hands. “Jewel?”

She blinked up at him, going for a picture of innocence. “Lance.”

“There’s food downstairs,” he ground out, his features stone. “He needs nourishment. Sheppard’s drugs take a lot out of you.”

Kicked him in the teeth more like.

“How long was I out?” Alexander asked, speaking to Lance though his gaze was still locked on Jewel. She felt the burning intensity of it.

“A little over thirteen hours.”

Alexander closed his eyes over that little tidbit, worry over his friends scrolling across his features and the heat between them slipped away. “I need to go.” Letting go of her hands, he pulled himself up and headed, well more like staggered toward the only doorway that Lance stood in that led to the tight stairwell and the open horse stalls below.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Lance didn’t move out of the way. Instead he strode forward and pulled Alexander none-too-gently to his side to steady him. Voice low, he warned, “That’s my sister. She doesn’t get hurt. In any manner.”

Jewel rolled her eyes. “Really? It’s the time for this now?”

“Well it’s not the time to be making batty eyes at a perfect stranger,” Lance defended.

“And it concerns you how?” Jewel glared at him.

Alexander and Lance met each other’s eyes, both at a loss for words.

“You’re my sister. Of course it con…”

“Who can take care of herself,” Jewel countered.

Alexander pushed away from Lance and braced a hand on the door jamb. “I need to go to my men.”

Nice diversionary tactic, the coward.

Lance deflated under Jewel’s hot glare. “We’re going with you.”

That made Alexander pause, leaning harder against the jamb. “I don’t need you. I’m a sorcerer, last of my kind. Sheppard had no idea what kind of magic he had been tangling with.” Oh now, he was ready to toss in his I’m-a-sorcerer chip? He looked back at Lance. “Sheppard doesn’t know you’re alive. Don’t jeopardize that. This isn’t your responsibility.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Lance growled, green eyes sparking. “Shepard’s been getting away with this for months. It’s time, past time, he’s stopped. We’re going.”

Her brother was determined, she’d give him that, a little impressed with his tenacity even while she was annoyed with his overprotective brother routine.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “What if Sheppard holds a gun to your man’s head again? That worked out so well for you last time.”

Alexander winced. She knew he wouldn’t risk that again. Not with his friends’ lives on the line. “All right.” Just as she’d thought, Alexander conceded their point. “But we do this my way. I take the lead on this, and the highest risk. I don’t want your people endangered. How many of you are there?”

Lance smiled. “I think it’s time for you to come downstairs and meet the others.”

“Good idea.” Jewel headed for the stairwell. “But you’ll be eating your soup while you talk.”

Alexander grinned at her. “Bossy, isn’t she?”

Lance shook his head. “You have no idea.”

Chapter Eight

A vampire. There was an ever-living vampire standing right in front of him.

Alexander had assumed they’d died out—or been starved out long ago when the Sifts depleted their source of blood. He’d never seen a full-fledged vampire. Though his uncle was part vampire, Roque’s draconic genetics overshadowed the rest. And he’d never known any members of Roque’s clan, nor would his uncle ever speak of them.

A multitude of questions sprang to his mind. Were there other surviving vampires? Where were they? How did they survive? Yet the minute Lance brought him downstairs into what was an old horse barn, the taller creature had been on him, leaning close, taking in his scent.

“Magic trills through his essence. Strong, this one.”

Alexander held his ground, allowing the perusal of his essence, fascinated at the vampire’s sensory ability to do so. How did it work? Pheromones? A higher sensitivity to magic? Could he detect a magic wielder’s essence with the same intensity he could hear his heart beat from a great distance?

Oh just give him one sample and his equipment back at the lab…

“What makes you believe you can succeed where my race has failed?” the vampire asked.

“I don’t know that we can,” Alexander answered truthfully.

The others in the barn watched him, eight or nine in all, intent on his every word. They were all men, hard-edged and watching him with a wariness born of putting their faith in the wrong hands. If Jewel and Lance had saved them from Sheppard, each one of them had magic or were not wholly human, or had been suspected of such.

Then again, they may have met up after Lance left Sheppard. He doubted very much that the vampire was ever part of Sheppard’s group.

“But we’re going to give it our best shot,” Alexander finished.

They all had a stake in this. The vampire’s long hair fell lower on one side as he cocked his head, waiting patiently. Preternatural brown eyes bore into him, disconcerting in the way he seemed to take in everything. Alexander suspected the man heard his blood pumping through his veins, felt every pitch of his breathing.

“Are there more of you?” Alexander asked before the vamp could throw another question his way.