Invisible Recruit: Invisible Power Part 10

And that fast I fell to earth. Splat.

I shook my head to make sure there was no stardust in my own gaze, no remnants of hope. It was to be business, and only business between us. Fine. The boundaries were drawn as clearly as any Berlin Wall.

"I need to know what you know to find my brother." I was proud how controlled and smooth my words were, given the disappointment racing through me.

"Always the mission," he said and I swore I could hear the echo of regret in his tone. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

"Yes." I looked around, shaking his hold off of me, seeking a few seconds to gather my shredded what-might-have-beens. That's when I noticed the silver- haired man who'd been speaking to Mandy earlier. He was standing across the room from me but we could see one another easily. Before I'd noticed his good looks, now I noticed his paleness as he stared at me. As if he'd seen a ghost.

He raised one hand to his throat as the other hand gestured to me. A one-finger admonishment as if shouting no, no, though he was making no noise. No noise at all.

Until he fell to the floor and the room erupted into movement.

A fit? A stroke? What did it matter; I only knew that I had to get to him, against the tide of people shuffling away from him.

I didn't say a word to Bran, just pushed against the people, not caring who I knocked against though I was aware there were a fair number of preternaturals in the room. Not an unusual amount given the wealthy and powerful at this gathering. Give yourself a few centuries to get your act together and many preternaturals, those who gravitated toward possessiveness, tended to acquire enough material wealth to reach the higher rungs of a material society.

But that's not what I was thinking about right then. I was focused on reaching this stranger's side. Which I did, my breath short as I knelt beside him, a man I took to be a doctor on the other side, searching for a pulse.

I didn't expect him to find one until the man who'd collapsed flashed his eyes open. He clawed at my hand. "Alex?"

How did he know my name? Who was he?

I leaned closer, aware of his need to tell me something. "Yes?"

"Seekers," he whispered, his words more breath than substance. "Beware." He coughed and his lids fluttered closed.

I grabbed his palm, feeling its coolness between my hands as I glanced at the doctor who was shouting directions in French. I doubt he knew the answers to the questions I had roaring through me.

"Don't die," I murmured over the man, "Please don't die."

He knew information I needed. Desperately.

His eyes quivered open. Hope tap-danced through me. "Help is coming. Just hold on."

A sad smile touched his lips as if his pale blue eyes could already see more than I could. He crooked one finger, gesturing me closer.

I leaned near enough it looked like I was about to kiss him. But he was fading so fast I had to hear what he fought to tell me.

Just as I was ready to pull back, let others with more experience at saving lives help, he muttered in a low chant. "Beware. Beware . . . beware."

"Yes, I know to be careful." I was aware of how hard he was struggling to say the pitiful amount he was. "But beware of what? Or who?"

He smiled then, a real smile that showed me the attractive man I'd noticed earlier.

Then he coughed out a single word. "Jebediah."

My father? Someone else?

But it was too late. He was gone.

CHAPTER 21.

I was gobsmacked. How many Jebediah's could there be in the world? Surely more than my father. Please, let there be lots more. So why did I know, deep inside me, that this stranger meant my dad?

Maybe because he knew my name? Fought so hard to speak to me even as he was dying?

The younger man who'd helped me escape Francois earlier suddenly appeared at my side.

"Philippe?" The single word sounded like a cry from the heart. "You can't. Philippe." He raised his head, spearing first me, and then the doctor across from us with a look demanding answers. "You have to save him."

Thank the Spirits the doctor answered because I still couldn't find my tongue.

"I'm sorry young man, there's nothing we can do. Did he have a heart condition? Health issues?"

"No. None."

That's when it hit me. I glanced at my ring, not trusting the heat I felt from it. But it glowed almost pink against my skin. The dead man was a preternatural of some kind. So were others nearby. Very close.

I shot a glance at the young man who was shaking his head in grief, an anguish so deep it made it hard to look at him. "I'm sorry," I said, speaking to his pain. An automatic gesture. "The paramedics or whatever they're called here have been summoned."

His gray eyes seemed to focus then, latched on to my face as if searching for something.

"You're not French?"

I shook my head. "No."

I understood this response to shock. The tendency to grab on to whatever one could, the more mundane the easier until you could sh.o.r.e up too volatile emotions.

The man c.o.c.ked his head at me as if really seeing me for the first time. "Did you know him?"

Another head shake. "No." Then before a lot of messy questions could be asked I said, "It's obvious you did. A friend? Relative?"

"The best friend I ever had or could hope to have." He turned back to the dead man.

The words startled me for their stark simplicity and raw pain. Could one wish for a better epitaph. Then I realized what I was doing. Ignoring the man's final words.

I stumbled to my feet, needing some air. "Excuse me. I must go." I smiled at the man still crouched at his friend's side. Until he rose beside me.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Alexis Noziak." I extended one hand. "Though everyone calls me Alex."

His handshake was half-hearted, as if going through the motions, but he didn't release my hand as he said, "Thank you for being with him. At the end."

What could I say to that? "Not a problem."

"Did he say anything? Any last words?"

Nothing that needed to be bandied about came my gut response. So I shook my head again, adding a, "Sorry, no."

There was something off here, apart from the whole stranger knowing my name and dying in my arms bit. But I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Foolish of me to ask." The younger man quirked a wobbly smile as he glanced at his friend. "I just hoped for some last something. To hold onto."

Made sense. Might not be my way but who was I to begrudge this guy what he needed.

I wanted to leave but it seemed rude to just jerk my hand out of his so I gave him a shaky smile. "You didn't mention your name."

"I didn't?" he looked like he was stumbling around in a fog. "Forgive me. Pdraig Byrne."

"Nice to meet you." I could have kicked myself for sounding so ba.n.a.l given the situation but thankfully I was saved by the arrival of two men and a woman all dressed in black with orange vests. Must be the French emergency response service, which gave me the excuse I needed to tug my hand away from Byrne's and step back. I don't know if he even heard my mumbled excuses.

Didn't matter. I still needed that air and s.p.a.ce to think. But leave it up to Bran not to give me either.

He must have been right behind me as he snaked a hand around my waist and propelled me toward the rear of the house, not as noisy, and less in an uproar. I wasn't sure if he was treating me like a wilting flower because he thought having a total stranger die while I was holding him was going to undo me, or if the act was for show. Either way the second we entered what looked like an empty kitchen I pulled away from him, practically swatting his hands away.

Not that I didn't like being pressed up against his hard body. I did. Too much and that was the problem. I had too many things to deal with already tonight; I didn't need one more.

"Enough," I said, stepping back to put s.p.a.ce between us. "I won't faint."

"Never thought you would," came his quick response, but one without heat. "You want to tell me what you were doing rushing to Philippe Cheverill's side like a long, lost friend?"

"He called me," I said before I realized the words were going to escape. Bran's arched brow gave me some backbone as I clarified. "Not call as in speak but he seemed to summon me. With his hands."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. I'd never met the man before." Bran gave me a perplexed look I didn't understand. So I added, "He appeared in distress, from across the room, and then when he fell it seemed like everyone was moving away from him, just when he needed help."

That I could relate to, especially in my complicated relationship with Bran. But now wasn't the time to point fingers or create more antagonism between us. We had enough painful memories for a lifetime. Instead I shrugged. "He needed help and I thought I could help."

"In what way?"

Why was he being so difficult? "I don't know. You might have been able to do something."

"Meaning?"

I looked around though we were the only ones in the room. I lowered my voice anyway. "That whole bring-someone-back-from-the-dead-thing you can do."

He stared at me for a moment until he jammed one hand through his hair, then shook his head. "Just for your information I don't go around reversing death every chance I can. That's as unnatural and dangerous as what you did this morning with your power-amplification act."

That hurt. In the s.p.a.ce of one sentence he turned my good deed, to help a stranger, and twisted it around to make me an abomination. On the other hand the fact he once returned me to life after I'd died made me feel better about what he was willing to do for me. That was then though, this was now.

But he wasn't finished. "Death is as much a part of life as birth. Reversing that has consequences."

"I know that." What did he think I was? A total idiot? I understood the cost of magic, better than most, so he didn't need to rub it in my face. "So I'm a freak. You're not. I get it."

"Not what I said."

We were way off the reason I'd tracked him down tonight. "Can we get back to the finding Vaverek and locating my brother discussion?" I asked, knowing even as the words left my mouth he was going to take offense. So I offered a carrot. "Won't finding Vaverek help you if you have to go before the Council?"

He looked at me as if I was talking Swahili. "You really don't know do you?"

"Know what?"

"Who Philippe Cheverill is . . . or was."

I raised my palms to him in an I-give-up universal gesture. I wanted Vaverek. Bran wanted to beat a dead horse, neither of us particularly happy with the other one right then.

Just as Bran opened his mouth, and I a.s.sumed was going to tell me who the dead stranger was, Frank or Francois bustled into the room.

"There you are," he said with a buzz of urgency beneath his voice and a minimization of his French accent. "I'd get out of here. Now. Before a world of hurt comes smashing down on you."

I glanced at Bran who actually looked like he knew what Francois was babbling about.

Instead of cluing me in, he spoke to Francois. "She says she doesn't know who Philippe Cheverill was."

"I didn't. I don't." I wanted to shake them both. "Why should I?"

Frank tsked, tsked as if dealing with a cranky toddler. He looked at Bran. "Leave it to her to get in the middle."

Bran nodded, which made me want to kick them both. Not the best of moves when dealing with a powerful warlock and a temperamental shifter.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" I growled.

Bran gave Frank a nod. But Mandy came bursting through the kitchen door before he said a word. Did no one have anything to do except run into the kitchen in hysterics?

"Go! Go! Go!" she shouted at me. "Now!"

Was this a trick? Have her scare me off only to turn around to Ling Mai to tell her I'd vamoosed? End of my short stay as an IR agent. "Alone?"

"I'll come with you," Bran said, shocking me more than everyone else yelling at me to run.

"Won't that put you in more trouble with the Council?"

Francois grabbed my elbow. "Can't get into much more trouble. I'm coming too."

I knew I looked like an idiot standing there with my mouth open, wondering what all the hullabaloo was about.

Mandy was flapping her hands at me like I was a chicken escaped from the henhouse. Francois was dragging me toward the back door. Bran's expression was so intense he scared me. And no one made sense, until Jaylene came slamming through the hallway door.

"Did you really kill him?" She looked only at me. "The head of the Council."