Invisible Recruit: Invisible Power Part 23

"The shifter didn't smell right," Willie said, oblivious to the impact of his words. That wasn't just any shifter; that was Van.

I slammed to my feet. "Not right in what way?" I asked. Okay, I may have snarled a little. Willie's first response was cla.s.sic Were. His nostrils tightened, his head lowered, his stance widened. Then he pulled back, sucking in air as if his life depended on it, closed his eyes and started chanting, "Om madre padre om."

"Seriously?" I glanced at Bran. This was his idea and it wasn't getting us anywhere.

"Recovering Were, remember?" Francois offered with half-a-joke in his tone until he caught my expression. "Right. Your brother. Forgot for a sec." He turned to Willie. "Hey mate, tell her what you mean. Family connection."

Willie's eyes snapped open and he managed to look sheepish, a hard look for a Were to accomplish, recovering or not. "Oh, yeah. So the scent, it had this bite to it. Acrid, a hint of bitter."

I rolled my eyes at Bran as if to say we weren't at a wine tasting and he stepped in. "Do you mean he smelt afraid? Or worried?"

"No. Nothing like that. It wasn't an emotional smell. More like the scent you pick up if someone is really ill. That kind of pungency."

My stomach plummeted. "Could it be because he's been under extreme stress since he was kidnapped?"

Willie tilted his head as if pondering, then shook it in the negative. "No. I've searched for hostages before and while there was that taint, this was something different."

"Could it have been drug induced?" Bran asked.

Of course. Why hadn't I thought of that?

Willie's slow nod helped me inhale a breath. "Yeah, that could account for the acidity factor."

I scooted forward on the edge of the couch cushion as I asked, "Were you able to trace the scent to where he was being kept?"

"No. It was as if they expected to be tracked." He eyed me, trying to be clear and concise even as I was only half listening past his first word. "They kept doubling back, splitting up and then rejoining."

"The two with Van, you get a read on them?" Bran asked.

"As to what they are?"

"Yes."

"One was clearly a Were. Very strong, too. He was the one who left the shifter then came back and left again. The other was human. His scent wasn't very happy either."

Poor man, I wanted to snarl.

"Where did you lose them?" Bran cut me off from jumping in and stopping the flow.

"Le Metro," Willie answered. "The Invalides station. All three of them were together there."

"The subway?" I asked, getting a little lost.

"Oui."

This was making no sense. "Why would kidnappers take a wolf there? It's not like Van would be easily mistaken for a dog in broad daylight."

"My guess." Willie had moved on to chewing a hunk of bread and cheese. Weres were notoriously hungry all the time trying to keep up with their metabolism. "I think he'd shifted back into his human form long before the Metro."

"If he was groggy, or still sedated, two men could manage your brother and he wouldn't resist." Bran was obviously trying to calm me down. Not that it was helping much. "But I don't understand the Metro. Why not a taxi or private vehicle?"

"They had a private vehicle, which the Were left at one point. When he joined backup with the other two they left the car near the Invalides station. It was as if they waited for rush hour traffic to begin. No way to track through the mess of scents there."

"Plus it'd be easier to hide an impaired man in the crush," Francois added from where he leaned against the wall. Up to this point he'd been so silent I'd almost forgotten about him.

"So all indications are they suspected we'd do exactly what you did." Bran's voice sounded like a low, dangerous rumble as he glanced at Francois. "And the man you followed?"

"Either he was meant as a decoy or as lost as the most clueless tourist." Francois' tone told me which of the two theories he thought was most likely. "Interesting thing is that I followed him to the exact same station as Willie tracked his two leads."

"Invalides station?" Bran clarified.

Both Francois and Willie nodded.

"Do you think that station was important?" I asked, "Or could any station have worked?"

"At rush hour the 1, 2, 4, 12, and 13 lines are the busiest," Francois said as if he rode them on a daily basis, or had antic.i.p.ated my question and did his research. The RER lines can be more crowded but if they were looking for packed trains they could have taken several closer stations."

"But didn't." Why one station over another?

Bran pulled out his phone and punched some numbers. I ignored him to focus on Francois, recapping so I understood. "So both sets of men seemed to be leading you on a wild goose chase only to lose you at this particular Subway or Tube stop."

"Le Metro." Bran said not looking up as he continued to punch his phone. I so wanted to flip him off but didn't, mostly because he wouldn't have seen the gesture. When I glanced back at Francois though I could tell by the cant of his lips he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Bite me, I mouthed.

Instead he blew me a kiss.

That earned him Bran's attention and a frown, which didn't seem to faze the MI-6 agent at all.

"Anything else?" Bran asked, which had Francois shaking his head. "One thing."

I didn't realize I was circling my hand in a get-on-with-it move until I caught Francois' grin. At least he took my hint.

"The man I followed, who also happened to be a Were, crossed paths with another man who was at the park." That had both Bran and me sitting up straighter. Fortunately Francois didn't need a lot of prodding to continue. Either that or he knew exactly how far he could go in making us wait.

"There was the other shifter who attacked the first wolf."

I didn't say anything, but earned a sideways glance from Bran. We were talking about my dad, but I bit my lip, mostly to keep it from trembling.

"That shifter was removed by this unknown additional man. I'd call him the Green man."

"Why?" I blurted out.

"His scent." Francois seemed to pause. "The one time I smelled something close to him was a woodwose."

Why hadn't I paid more attention to Fraulein Fa.s.sbinder's obscure bestiary lectures? "And a woodwose is?"

"Wild man of the woods," Willie called from the kitchen where his head was buried in a cupboard. Probably still looking for more food. "Weres are sometimes mistaken for woodwoses which is plain stupid as far as I'm concerned." He looked over his shoulder. "I mean who would confuse a nature being with a carnivore?"

Francois jumped in as if he wanted to save his friend from my acerbic comeback. "A woodwose is considered more a fertility or nature spirit like a Green Man, but both harken back to pagan nature rituals."

"What's any of this got to do with this man you followed?" I prodded, thinking I was doing a pretty good job holding in my temper, until I saw Willie rolling his eyes.

"The Green man and woodwose are universal figures," Bran said. "Which doesn't give us much way to pinpoint who this person was."

"Except he was with my dad."

"Whoa, your dad was the other shifter?" Willie asked, earning a hand across the throat gesture from Francois.

"The point I was making was whether this man is a nature preternatural or not isn't helping us find my brother or Vaverek."

"But it is giving us one lead," Bran said, looking directly at Francois. "You said this Green Man crossed paths with the Were. Coincidence?"

"No, I wouldn't say so. Both ended up at the same cafe and the same table. Their scents indicated they stayed there for at least thirty minutes or so, not much longer and it could be less, but I'd say no less than twenty minutes."

Now I was speared by Bran's freeze-me-in-place look. "Which means we have one thread in common."

"My dad," I murmured, my backbone tensing.

Bran was the one who spoke the words I'd been dreading. "Your father and the Council."

CHAPTER 47.

Jeb walked the streets of Paris for what seemed like hours, watching night steal the light and warmth of the day, aware of the rage rushing through him. When he'd accepted his position on the Council he never dreamed he'd have put his family in danger. Now he faced losing one or two of his children.

If Zeid's words were to be believed. A traitor on or close to the Council. Seeking what? That's what Zeid needed Jeb's help for, there had only been so much he could discover hiding in the shadows. Now they needed someone who could talk freely, if not easily with the others.

"Why me?" Jeb had asked, struggling with the information Zeid had shared. "Except for Philippe the others and I have only been at odds."

"Because of your daughter?"

"Yes." Jeb had slammed to his feet. He'd made the hard choice a year ago and lived with that decision every day, as did Alex, but the other Council members had painted Jeb as less than trustworthy because his daughter had come so close to that line of exposing preternaturals to humans. Close but never strayed over the line.

He'd contained her actions and lost her to the prison system in the process. Wasn't that enough of a price to pay?

Obviously not, as someone sought to undermine what Jeb sacrificed so much to uphold. But who were they and what did they want?

There had always been factions fighting factions, one group thinking another group was getting more than their fair share, those who never accepted the dominance of humans over non-humans. The list was endless, so why now did someone work behind the scenes to undermine what had made the world a slightly more stable place?

That's what had been squirreling through Jeb's thoughts as he pounded the pavement. The more he walked the more clarity danced just outside his awareness.

By the time he'd returned to Philippe's townhouse, having never found different lodging, Pdraig was waiting for him. "I thought I had lost you," the younger man said as a greeting. "And without a word."

Jeb had no patience for pleasantries as he jumped right in. "Tell me what's been happening at the Council lately?"

Pdraig tightened his mouth, then seemed to change his mind. "You are more involved in the Council than I am."

"But I only rarely interact with day-to-day affairs." Jeb knew he'd pushed the Irishman, but wasn't sure why the other pulled back as if a.s.saulted. As his wife had always told him he had magic in the way of his words, when he chose to use them. A lesson he'd tried to impart to Alex, though telling her and showing her had not always meshed. Time to use a little of that now if he wanted to get what he needed. "I value your insights, your experience," he said, making sure the other heard the sincerity in his tone. "I admit that I've been distracted of late so may not have paid attention as I should."

Two balms to another's sense of value were to acknowledge their strengths and your own weaknesses. Even as he said the words he realized how true they were, especially the last part.

Pdraig's shoulders relaxed, as he tilted his head toward the formal living room off the entryway. "You mean the Were agitation?"

Jeb followed the other man, waving off an offer for a drink. Instead he crossed to one of the chairs near the far window and eased himself into it. No matter how much he wanted to find what the other knew and sooner rather than later. If he pushed too hard, too fast, he'd learn nothing. "Are the Weres creating the most agitation right now?"

Pdraig lifted the gla.s.s stopper of one of the decanters and paused with his hand midair. He seemed to ponder for a moment. "No more than usual. In fact I'd say just the opposite. They've pulled back a few of their pet.i.tions. I think Philippe's recent overtures to them have helped steer their more moderate members away from the fringe fanatics."

"What overtures?" Jeb refused to kick himself for not knowing these details. By nature he was usually out of the mainstream of Council politics but he'd preferred it that way. Maybe at too great a cost but what had been done was done.

Pdraig finished pouring his drink, the smell of aged bourbon reaching Jeb as Pdraig took a deep sip then crossed to sit in the padded chair across from Jeb. He didn't speak until he made sure the crease of his linen pants was centered exactly mid-leg. "Philippe made a few staff changes recently at some of the ancillary Council posts. Brought a few more Weres on as advisors, people with more rather than less power."

"Undoing some of the slights Wei Pei has offered over the years?" Jeb asked, seeing the thought process behind his friend's actions. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers before him. "So if the Weres have been appeased, who else might be unhappy with the status quo?"

Pdraig took another sip, watching Jeb over the rim of his gla.s.s before he set it down and leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. "I may be way out of line here, but there is something that's been bothering me."

"About?"

"This warlock who was called up recently."

"The one called Bran?"

Pdraig nodded, looking very druid with the movement.

"What about him?" Jeb warned himself not to jump too fast but to hear what the other had to say and weigh it.

"I can't really put my finger on it." Pdraig flopped back in his chair, releasing a deep sigh. "I know he's suspected of being involved in this new drug that's supposed to make someone act out of their own best interests." Jeb circled one hand. "Go on."

"They say his cousin was testing the drug on humans . . ."

"But was killed, wasn't she?"

"Yes, but what if this warlock had also been testing the drug on preternaturals at the same time only his tests haven't come to light? Yet."

Jeb shook his head. "Explain more if you would."

The Irishman jackknifed forward, running one hand through his hair. "I may be way off base here but what if the warlock has experimented on subjects using small tests. The kind that would fly under the radar and not attract the attention of the Council."

"Until it was too late?"

"Exactly!" Pdraig threw both hands open, nearly knocking over his drink in his enthusiasm. "How would the Council know if some fae somewhere quit his job of twenty years? An action that might have been totally out of character if you knew that particular fae, such as an Adbertos or something."

"You mean one of those who feel sacrifice is the ultimate good so are willing to do the hard jobs others would or could not."