Ascension, Laura Hall [black books to read .txt] 📗

I opened my eyes, assessed that I was alive and lying supine on a couch in the library, and closed them again.

“I’m getting sick of this.”

The Prime’s low chuckle sounded from across the room. “And I grow tired of carting your unconscious body to the nearest flat surface.”

I sighed and dropped a forearm over my face. “Is she gone?”

“Yes,” he said, much closer now. I peered from beneath my arm to see him standing over me. He frowned, opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it.

“What?” I pressed, lifting my arm.

“Before we discuss what she learned, I thought you should know I heard from Malcolm.”

I sat up so fast my head spun. “Did he find my dad?”

“Not yet, though he has a promising lead.”

“What is it?”

The Prime strode across the room to a small cabinet. “Would you like a brandy?”

I considered tossing a couch cushion at his back, and almost did as he threw his head back and laughed. The warm, infectious sound almost distracted me from his violation.

“Get out of my head!”

He faced me, his eyes still crinkled merrily at the corners. “Mo spréach, you throw your thoughts like you do lightning.”

Mo spréach.

I remembered him calling me that once before. It sounded Gaelic, but although my dad and Malcolm’s parents were Irish transplants to the U.S., the language had passed from the family generations ago.

No way in hell was I going to give the Prime the satisfaction of asking what it meant. From his tone, it was either an endearment or a demeaning moniker. Both options set my teeth on edge.

“Brandy?” he asked again, lifting a glass tumbler in my direction.

I nodded shortly, and moments later was presented with two fingers of liquor. He tossed back his own serving before settling at the far end of the couch. I lifted my glass and took a healthy swallow, the fiery elixir burning my throat and clearing my head.

“Does this mean Mal is coming to Seattle?”

The Prime nodded. “He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

I took another sip of brandy, staring at his profile over the rim of my glass. “What do you think happened to my dad? I’m assuming it has something to do with the case he was working for you.”

“I would agree.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He glanced at me, brows raised. “I don’t make a habit of sharing case details with laypersons. Nor do I think your father would approve of me sharing these particular details.”

I swallowed hard. “Tell me this much: do you think he’s dead?”

He was silent long enough that I knew the next words he spoke would be bullshit.

His lips curved wryly. “I’m damned either way with you, aren’t I?”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand. My dad and Mal are the only family I have. The people who accepted and protected me the last fourteen years.” I rubbed the aching space over my heart. “I’m not an innocent, either, if you’re thinking to spare me horror. I grew up with a cop for a father. I’ve even helped on cases in recent years when he’s needed to track mages. I’m not asking for the gory details, Connor. Just give me something. Anything to hold onto.”

A small, weighted pause ensued. “So you do know my name.”

I flushed and quickly swallowed the last of the brandy, then set the glass on a side table. Standing, I narrowed my eyes on the side of his expressionless face. “Since I was unconscious for the last two days, I doubt I’ll be sleeping tonight. Can I borrow a book?”

His lashes dropped, shadowing his eyes. “Sit down.”

“No.”

He sighed. “A group of ciphers calling themselves the Liberati are capturing and torturing supernaturals. Experimenting on them. They’ve been extremely circumspect with their victims until recently, when a shifter escaped confinement and managed to share his story before dying from his wounds.”

I sat back down, my mind reeling. “Isn’t this FBI territory? How does my father come into this?”

“The FBI is investigating, but so am I. I asked for Frank’s help because of you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I choked out.

He finally looked at me, gaze steady and unapologetic. “The Prime’s Office has been aware of you for a long time. Your first registration with Census, when you received a cipher classification, was a ruse. We’ve been watching you, waiting to see how your powers would manifest.”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“Forgive my bluntness, but my goal is to use you. I need your skills to track the ciphers responsible for more than sixty suspected murders nationwide. You said it yourself: you’ve worked with your father tracking mages. My hope, in contacting Frank, was that he would enlist your help. I underestimated a parent’s drive to protect his child.” He sighed lightly. “Had you been more patient, all this would have been revealed tomorrow.”

“I’m not…” I knuckled my eyes. “You’re wrong. I didn’t sense anything at my dad’s office.”

“I know. Malcolm’s spells helped you manage your lightning, but they also dampened your ability to perceive magical resonance. Resonance is an echo of a person’s aura, like a fingerprint. The stronger the aura, the longer its resonance stays in a place and the more easily you can sense it. For example, have you ever entered a room after your uncle left it and felt like he was still there?” Interpreting my scowl of annoyance as confirmation, he continued, “What you sensed was Malcolm’s personal resonance. In time, you’ll learn how to differentiate between different species and people, just like a wolf can catalogue and track thousands of scents.”

The patient, measured tone of his voice made me want to scratch my eyes out. I said irritably, “Thanks for the refresher, but none of that is news to me. I’m telling you, there wasn’t any resonance at the office.”

“But there was,” he countered with insufferable calm. “Alchemy is magic. It’s merely a different kind, one you haven’t learned to perceive. Alchemists don’t harness power from within, as mages do, but use a catalyst to activate spells. In the last decade, the art, so to speak, has quickly advanced. Practicing cipher alchemists have discovered that the most effective catalyst is derived from the blood of supernaturals.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why haven’t I heard anything about this? I don’t watch the news every day or anything, but this is pretty huge.”

“No comment.”

My breath expelled in a huff. “Figured you’d say that.” I tried another angle. “Didn’t both my uncle and Adam sense the alchemy at the office? If mages can sense it, what do you need me for?”

“For mages, alchemy is akin to a general sense of wrongness. There are no distinguishing features. So although they can recognize it, they can’t track it. You can. And you will.”

Anxiety tightened around my chest like a vise. The walls seemed to waver and move closer, igniting claustrophobia. I jerked to my feet and paced across the room.

“I thought it would be because of my lightning.”

“What would?” he asked, in a tone that said he already knew the answer.

“I always knew someone would find me. Abduct me.” My voice rose with every word, edged with hysteria. “To use me. Survival of the fittest, right? But I’m not a predator. Not like you. I never had a chance!”

“Fiona.”

I spun, jabbing a finger in his direction. “All your fancy words and ‘I’ll protect you’ bullshit can quit. I don’t want to hear anything else. I just want to go home!”

Every muscle in my body quivered like I’d just completed a fifty-yard dash. My chest heaved, my breath rasping in the sudden silence. The Prime sat completely still, his lips slightly parted, his pupils pinpricks amidst the muted green glow of his eyes.

Instinct screamed at me to run, but it warred with an equally potent, nearly magnetic compulsion to go to him. To fall at his feet. Obey him.

“Unbelievable. You’re mind-fucking me without even trying, aren’t you?”

He blinked, releasing a slow breath. “You need to leave,” he said in a low, chilling voice. “Go. Right now.”

I laughed shrilly. “Really? Should I bow, too? Or maybe curtsy? What does Samantha do when you order her around?”

I was quite possibly the stupidest person on the planet.

Cool fingers surrounded my throat in a deceptively