I slammed the tip of the knife into the table, lodging its blunt end in about an inch. I was not liking this place, or the freaking dragon mystics.
Louis rubbed a hand over his chin, interrupting before his brother could answer. “Jess, it’s not Quale’s fault.”
I swung my glare around to him. “Like hell it isn’t. It’s his fault and it’s your fault. Why the crap did you send us here? This is like a cult recruiting to raise the freaking evil king. And I’m apparently one of the four females required for the job.” Panic and betrayal swelled in my gut, my throat tightened. “Did you know about that? Did you send me here for that reason?”
He reached out to take my hand, but a hard glare from Braxton had him backing off. “No, Jess, I promise it was just about keeping you safe. The sanctuary is the one place the Four will never find you, and it’s only for a few more days. Once we pass the thousand year mark, we can make a new plan.”
I tried to think. “I have to leave. I can’t stay here. I can’t be in Romania.”
My father took my hand, trying to calm me. “If you’re not in the sanctuary or Drago at the time of the rising, you’ll die. I can’t lose you. If the king rises, we will deal with it.” Jonathon’s voice had a layer of ice over it. I recognized the tone, he was both worried and pissed.
I rubbed the back of my neck, the tension there becoming painful. “So … even if I don’t help them open the tomb or raise the king or whatever bullshit plan they have, I still have to be here or at Drago? All of the marked do?”
Quale spoke, “That’s the rumor, and there is no way to know until the final strike of midnight on the Day.”
He said “day” like that was its title.
“Tell me about the twins.” I was focused on him again. “How do they break into the prisons?”
Quale looked around, I think to determine if anyone was listening in. I was pretty sure lots of supernaturals were listening in. We were in the middle of a freaking restaurant.
“I’m not totally sure, they keep their secrets very close to their chest. I have guessed at a few skills: they can sense dragon marked supernaturals – which makes it easy to find them hidden in the prison – and they can also influence the minds of males. Mostly those who are weaker, but still, in every prison they have found someone to help them.”
Influencing minds, like controlling other supernaturals? That was both wicked and scary as heck.
“Why don’t Mischa and I have cool powers like that?”
Louis answered me. “They’re old and have had a long time to develop their abilities. You and Mischa are young, and your powers have been blocked and bound for most of your lives.” He turned to my shell-shocked twin. “Mischa’s marked powers still are.”
I lowered my voice. “Do they have a large dragon mark too?”
There was a few confused looks around the table, but not from Louis. The damn sorcerer always knew everything. Well, clearly not everything, we still had a crap-ton of unanswered questions. But he was on point most of the time.
I explained for the confused. “From what I’ve seen the supes in here have small dragon marks. Mine is like half my side and back.”
Quale shrugged. “I’ve never seen the twin’s marks, and the other mystics haven’t either, but I can tell you that there have been none to enter in the last few hundred years which have a large mark.”
I was sure that the fruit twins had massive marks too. Why would I be the only one in this compass? Mischa lowered her head but didn’t say anything. Her expression troubled me.
Tyson pushed back strands of brown hair. “The spirits – magical essence inside – is urging us to unlock Mischa’s mark, let her and Jessa figure out what their twin-abilities are.”
“No!” Jonathon’s tone was short and hard. “I don’t think there could be anything worse right now than releasing more energy for the dragon king to manipulate.”
Mischa’s chair screeched as she lurched to her feet. “You think I’m weak and stupid. You don’t trust me with my powers. Shit, I was raised with humans, I freaking think like one, and you’re doing nothing to help me adjust.”
She was yelling and waving her hands. Plus she’d just sworn in front of her mother, who had very definite ideas about ladies and bad language.
Mischa turned tail and took off. I could see my parents were about to go after her, but I stopped them. “I’ll go. We need to have a bit of a talk, and I think it’s better if no one else is there.”
I had to get through to her, I couldn’t lose my sister, and I sensed a rift between us which hadn’t been there before I got lost in Faerie land.