I hadn’t even heard him come in, and already he’d moved Ivory to Paloma’s car?
Paloma looked over at me as she gathered her coat. “Please call if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”
She paused in the doorway, giving me one last gentle smile before leaving.
Once the front door closed, I fixed my glare on Adrian. “What the hell is going on?”
“My apologies for rushing at you with this. Please, let us discuss.” Adrian paced across the linoleum floor, from a tile near the window to a dented one near the kitchen door. Back and forth, from sienna to mustard, each tile separated by dark grout and imprinted with fleur de lis. “I need you both to pay careful attention and stay calm.”
Charles’ eyebrows drew together. “What’s going on?”
“Your parents,” Adrian said, directing his gaze toward Charles. He continued in a sunken tone. “I’m deeply sorry to tell you.”
A sense of dread clenched my stomach.
Charles’ eyes hardened. “Tell me what?”
“They have been apprehended.” Adrian wrung his hands together and began pacing again.
Charles stood, fingertips pressed firmly against the table in front of him. “You’re mistaken.”
“I’m afraid not,” Adrian said, stopping to place a hand on Charles’ shoulder.
The low lighting reflected off the unshed tears in Charles eyes.
My gaze darted between them. “They who? Thalia’s coterie?”
Charles shook his head. “He means the Maltorim.”
I barely registered the words. How did they learn of Charles’ parents? Now, after hundreds of years?
Adrian leveled his gaze at Charles. An intensity saturated his voice and a sheen of purpose glazed his eyes. “We’ll get them back.”
How did Adrian know all this? The emotions rolling off Charles revealed complete trust as an undercurrent to his fear and concern. Maybe he could read Adrian’s aura and saw him as someone trustworthy. But Charles had failed in his judgments of others before, and while I hated to be skeptical of a friend, I focused on Adrian’s thoughts, letting the rest of the noise float into the background.
His subconscious replayed the moment he’d learned the news. After Charles had called, Adrian went to Club Flesh to collect information about Ivory. Instead, he overheard the bar owner speaking with someone in the office. Someone who was looking for Charles and who said his parents were already in the Maltorim’s custody.
Charles sagged into the seat across from me. “Us against the Maltorim? Thalia’s thugs are one thing, but that place is too heavily guarded.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Adrian said. “Thalia’s coterie turned your parents in. They caught them as they were leaving town. Now they are after you, too.”
“Do they know where I am?” Charles asked.
Adrian shook his head. “They haven’t yet discovered your exact location. Last week they tried to track Sophia but lost her scent a few miles from here.”
“I’ll help,” I said. As much as Ivory’s memories weakened my ability to trust, they strengthened my confidence in myself. Somewhere inside of me, a power lurked, waiting to be tapped into.
“No.” Charles said in a tense, clipped voice that forbade any questions. “You won’t.”
Fortunately, I didn’t care much what his tone forbade. “None of us may be strong enough alone, but together we might have a shot.”
Charles ran his hands over his face. “You don’t know the Maltorim.”
“Let her assist,” Adrian said. “We cannot do this alone.”
Charles pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He could think things over if he liked, but it wouldn’t change anything. I was going to help.
I pulled Adrian into the hallway, and, for once, he didn’t seem like he was about to self-combust while standing near me. There wasn’t enough time to recap everything, but I gave him the run down on the important details.
“One more thing,” I said. “During one of my earlier lives, I exhibited another power, beyond my clairaudience. Telekinesis, I think. Could I channel that somehow?”
Adrian gave a solemn nod and walked to the library room. He indicated the wooden chair at the small desk, and I seated myself and ran my fingers over the scarring of the desktop while he retrieved several books I hadn’t read from a shelf.
He sat beside me and pushed over a large tome. “These are transcripts from times of Olde.”
I raised a brow and opened to the first page. “Should we get Charles?”
“He will join us when he’s ready.”
I scanned the content. A few pages were rough and stuck together, and light-brown water stains smudged some of the writing. The book consisted mostly of odd photographs—creatures, almost human if not for their shark-like teeth; close ups of unraveled rope, screw threads, sawdust; stamps from the Cayman Islands, circa 1904; and black lady bugs eating holes through stalks of browning rhubarb.
“What is this?”