“And he can hear you,” Ezra and I muttered as one.
“Oh.” Jack rubbed his chin. “Right.” His head cocked. “I always forget about that. What’s that like, being able to hear everyone?”
Snickering, and with a quick glance at Ezra, then back to Jack, I whispered, “He wears earplugs to bed.”
“How would you know that?” Cahal asked softly at my ear.
I jumped, my heart skipping a beat as I banged against Pearl, but…he wasn’t behind me. He was clear across the room, speaking with King Fergus. My friends stared at me peculiarly, obviously not hearing what I had. Moving my wide-eyed gaze to Ezra, I whispered fiercely, “What type of powers does your dad have?”
Ezra blinked slowly, and then peered across the room to his dad. Stared. Spring green eyes flared briefly, dimly, and I was sure that if I hadn’t physically seen his mouth move, I wouldn’t have heard his voice. My mind knew it should be there, so I listened. It was quiet, like the gentlest of breezes, but ricocheted before me, after me, then farther past me, bouncing across the room until it hit its intended destination. “Leave her alone.”
His dad’s lips curved but he still held his conversation, evidently receiving the same treatment he had given me. It appeared he found it amusing.
“What was that?” Pearl asked, staggered, rubbing her ears.
“That was sick, man.” Jack held up a fist.
Ezra fist bumped him, shrugging. “It’s just an old form of communication.”
“I don’t like it.” My wolf growled quietly as I stared at his dad. “So don’t do that again, please.” The last bit was directed to Cahal, and I got an immediate answer.
“It’s so much more entertaining, don’t you agree?” Cahal’s voice purred at my ear, and I jolted. “Besides, you never answered my question.”
I still didn’t. If he wasn’t going to respect me, then I wasn’t even going to respond with a lie, much less the truth. He got no answer.
I lurched again, hearing him chuckle at my ear, and turned to Ezra, whose mouth was moving and I only caught the tail end of him saying in that funky way, “…affecting your hearing? I said to leave her the hell alone.”
My voice was a mere breath. “I think he’s getting us back for all that dancing.”
His eyes were narrowed. “I know he is.”
Abruptly, Antonio charged into the room, the door flying wide open to hit the wall. He didn’t seem to notice, his nose buried in an old brown leather book of sorts. He had changed his clothes, too. He no longer wore his suit, but now, a pair of black cargos, a black t-shirt, and black boots, and his hair was tied back at his nape, his handsome features showing in sharp relief. His ensemble was completed with the two huge black duffels over his shoulders, their straps like an “X” over his chest. I had never seen him appear quite like this.
Absorbed and fervent and chilling, all at once.
The room went quiet as he trekked across the floor, only peering up from his book when he stood in front of the window I had broken with my uncle earlier. He stared out of it for a few moments, and shook his head slowly, his eyes closing. He whispered, “It’s time.”
Swiftly, Cahal weaved through the motionless gathering to stand next to him. “For?”
Antonio’s eyes opened, and he shut the book. He lifted the duffels off his shoulders and let them fall heavily to the floor with a glance to Cahal, again whispering, “It’s time.” He turned from him, murmured a word, and the book in his hand glowed golden. Walking to Vivian, he held it out. “Take this. Keep it safe. Know that anyone who tries to read it will directly die.”
Her startled, a green gaze flew from Antonio to Cahal.
Bizarrely, Cahal was unbuttoning his suit jacket, but he nodded once.
She took the proffered book, holding it gingerly, as if it might bite her.
“What’s going on?” Mrs. Jonas asked, watching, like all of us, as Cahal finished removing his jacket, then began slipping his dress shoes and socks off.
Good question.
One that Antonio and Cahal ignored.
“Do they have time to leave?” Cahal probed, rolling his shirt sleeves up.
A glance at his watch. “The clock chimes twice.”
Everyone in the room peered to the wall clock with the swinging pendulum, directly next to the broken window, even though I was pretty sure none of us had any clue what Antonio was talking about. It was one minute until two o’clock.
Cahal inhaled harshly, gazing from Vivian to Ezra with what almost looked like a dose of distress. His eyes slammed back to Antonio. “How many uninvited?”
Antonio squatted and unzipped the duffels, removing guns from their depths. Lots and lots of frigging guns. He whispered, “Too many.”
Cahal sucked in another large breath. “How many casualties?”
“Too many,” Antonio whispered once more, giving hand weapons to the Kings, who took them mutely, even if they were looking back and forth at each other with blank expressions.