Finding the missing is my penance. Doing it well, my promised salvation. But using my gifts? Risking attention? That comes at a price, a knowing reduction of whatever good will I’ve managed to build with the vindictive goddess.
“Have you ever heard of Elysium?” Zack asks.
He’s looking at me when he asks the question. It’s the question he wants me to ask Torres.
I’ve been playing this game of scales for so long, I don’t know how to keep track anymore. Last night, before it all unraveled, I thought I was closer than I’d ever been to ending my sentence. Now? If Eve really is involved with Robby’s kidnapping, we need to go after her. We need to know if we can trust Torres. Seems the decision is out of my hands. All I can think of is the little boy who is missing.
“Elysium?” I repeat. “I don’t believe so”
Torres frowns. “I take it we’re not talking about the Matt Damon movie?”
I begin the process of lowering my shields and tapping into my power. The temperature in the room climbs a few degrees. A wind rises up within me. I tamp it down. Emotions in the room are already running high. I need to stay in control, work my magic with calculated measure. Zack’s nostrils flare, undoubtedly detecting my change in scent, the subtle, perfumed breeze that always accompanies exposure of my true self. A delicate yet complex blend of white floral layered atop citrus begins to permeate the room. The scent is what betrayed me, or should I say revealed me, two nights ago.
It had been six months since I’d carelessly left a shirt I’d worn behind at Zack’s beach house. It smelled of sex and something else. Something that even with his training and his beast Zack couldn’t recognize or reconcile—until we made love. Until, unguarded, I once again broke free. That’s when he put it together, that we’d been lovers before. That I was the one, who had worn his shirt, slept in his bed. And that somehow I’d taken those memories from him.
Zack doesn’t glance my way. Instead he stays focused on Torres. “No, we’re talking about a place, here, in New York.”
I push what happened between Zack and me to the back of my mind. Concentrate on where we are, the here and now. On what our goal is. On finding a little boy. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to regain focus.
Maitlan’s kitchen is an homage to stainless steel and granite. The air around me stirs, but there’s little evidence of it in this room. No drapes fluttering. No papers ruffling. A strand of hair escapes the coil at the nape of my neck and drifts in front of my eyes. I quickly tuck it back behind my ear. There’s no need to draw this out. All I need to do is repeat the question. “You’re a local. Do you know anything about a place, here, in New York, called Elysium?”
Torres blinks. Her face is flush, her pupils expand. “No, but the Big Apple’s a big place.”
“Might Bradley or O’Neill?”
“I doubt it. O’Neill’s lived in DC since he graduated from high school. Bradley’s from Philly.”
We have our answer, the chance that any of our team members could be linked to Elysium or Eve Devlin are essentially nil. I rein in my magic and rebuild the walls before turning to Zack. Our eyes meet for only a fraction of a second before he turns away. But in that moment I see a flash of blue, the eyes of his beast.
Zack goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a coke. He takes a long draw, as if swallowing down whatever effect being exposed once again to my powers awakened in him.
I fill in the moment of silence by asking a question. “So, what is this Elysium?”
Zack buries his hands in his pockets. “It’s a… club owned by a woman named Eve Devlin. Mr. Maitlan was a member of that club. Two weeks ago Eve’s daughter, Amanda, committed suicide there. Eve blames him for Amanda’s death.”
Torres’ eyes narrow. “So, this isn’t about money.”
“It’s about revenge.” Maitlan’s standing in the doorway.
“Have you ever heard of Elysium?” Zack asks.
He’s looking at me when he asks the question. It’s the question he wants me to ask Torres.
I’ve been playing this game of scales for so long, I don’t know how to keep track anymore. Last night, before it all unraveled, I thought I was closer than I’d ever been to ending my sentence. Now? If Eve really is involved with Robby’s kidnapping, we need to go after her. We need to know if we can trust Torres. Seems the decision is out of my hands. All I can think of is the little boy who is missing.
“Elysium?” I repeat. “I don’t believe so”
Torres frowns. “I take it we’re not talking about the Matt Damon movie?”
I begin the process of lowering my shields and tapping into my power. The temperature in the room climbs a few degrees. A wind rises up within me. I tamp it down. Emotions in the room are already running high. I need to stay in control, work my magic with calculated measure. Zack’s nostrils flare, undoubtedly detecting my change in scent, the subtle, perfumed breeze that always accompanies exposure of my true self. A delicate yet complex blend of white floral layered atop citrus begins to permeate the room. The scent is what betrayed me, or should I say revealed me, two nights ago.
It had been six months since I’d carelessly left a shirt I’d worn behind at Zack’s beach house. It smelled of sex and something else. Something that even with his training and his beast Zack couldn’t recognize or reconcile—until we made love. Until, unguarded, I once again broke free. That’s when he put it together, that we’d been lovers before. That I was the one, who had worn his shirt, slept in his bed. And that somehow I’d taken those memories from him.
Zack doesn’t glance my way. Instead he stays focused on Torres. “No, we’re talking about a place, here, in New York.”
I push what happened between Zack and me to the back of my mind. Concentrate on where we are, the here and now. On what our goal is. On finding a little boy. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to regain focus.
Maitlan’s kitchen is an homage to stainless steel and granite. The air around me stirs, but there’s little evidence of it in this room. No drapes fluttering. No papers ruffling. A strand of hair escapes the coil at the nape of my neck and drifts in front of my eyes. I quickly tuck it back behind my ear. There’s no need to draw this out. All I need to do is repeat the question. “You’re a local. Do you know anything about a place, here, in New York, called Elysium?”
Torres blinks. Her face is flush, her pupils expand. “No, but the Big Apple’s a big place.”
“Might Bradley or O’Neill?”
“I doubt it. O’Neill’s lived in DC since he graduated from high school. Bradley’s from Philly.”
We have our answer, the chance that any of our team members could be linked to Elysium or Eve Devlin are essentially nil. I rein in my magic and rebuild the walls before turning to Zack. Our eyes meet for only a fraction of a second before he turns away. But in that moment I see a flash of blue, the eyes of his beast.
Zack goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a coke. He takes a long draw, as if swallowing down whatever effect being exposed once again to my powers awakened in him.
I fill in the moment of silence by asking a question. “So, what is this Elysium?”
Zack buries his hands in his pockets. “It’s a… club owned by a woman named Eve Devlin. Mr. Maitlan was a member of that club. Two weeks ago Eve’s daughter, Amanda, committed suicide there. Eve blames him for Amanda’s death.”
Torres’ eyes narrow. “So, this isn’t about money.”
“It’s about revenge.” Maitlan’s standing in the doorway.
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