Chapter 8
FRANK N. STEIN
Power pulses just beneath my skin and I squeeze my hand into a fist, physically fighting my inner beast to unleash my fury as the very cells of my being generate and manipulate negative and positive charges within me.
“Well?” I ask, with barely contained rage, and lean back against the smooth leather of the limo as we travel through the city back to Talbot. Two press conferences today, a duty I find tedious in the extreme to make the perfect excuse for my absence and to lure my enemies.
“She took the bait, but hasn’t contacted her handler yet,” Mikael says, his ghoulish face lit with an unholy light gleaming from the tablet he’s been watching my prey from for the last thirty minutes.
He sits across from me, the back glass missing, allowing Bruno and Nero to be kept abreast of the situation as things are put into motion. His gaze flicks to mine, a glare of reproach on his expression as he refocuses his attention.
“Of course she did,” I reply, adjusting the collar on my tailor-made gray suit and forcing myself to calm down so I don’t interfere with his task.
My genetic makeup conducts electricity better than any man-made conduit, and when put under stress, electronic devices near me have a tendency to malfunction, an unwanted effect in this current moment.
An image of the problematic human comes to mind, her red hair in disarray and anger spitting from her bright green eyes. My stomach tightens and I settle back against the seat. “Is everyone in place?”
Humans are such simple creatures, and like all other animals, when put into a cage, they scurry and scheme to break free.
A sliver of relief courses through me. At least we will have whoever is behind this in hand and be able to live in peace again.
And then, she will pay for having fucked with what is mine.
The loss of any number of the moonflower formula can be catastrophic. That a miniscule female could wreak such havoc without even knowing what she’s done is just one example of the ineptitude of the race. Supernatural are superior in every way.
All magic comes with a price, and all of them are too consumed with greed and vice to wield it properly, hence why so many are cursed as time passes under the flower’s influence.
When given the flower’s medicinal substance, moonflower renders men feral and disgusting. They bite like rabid vampires with razor-like teeth, turned into mindless fiends until their immortality sets in, which made the administering of moonflower forbidden outside of the supernatural realms.
“We have every facility surrounded. The moment she contacts whoever put her up to this, our men will take them into custody. We should have the entire situation handled within the next few days and no one will be the wiser. The formula will be safe,” Mikael says, as if it’s over and done with already.
I won’t be satisfied until the human is no longer breathing.
Something about her gets under my skin in a way I don’t care for and won’t put up with for much longer.
Its telling enough I can bring her image to mind so readily, when humans are so far beneath my notice.
Then again, I haven’t had a true enemy to conquer in centuries.
“I think we may have a problem,” Mikael interrupts my simmering.
His brows are puckered into a deep frown of concentration I can barely make out in the dimly-lit limousine, and not for the first time do I curse not being created with superior eyesight like that of the vampires, or perhaps even a loathsome werewolf.
“What is it?” I ask, my body tensing as I wait to learn who is behind the recent attack.
If the supernatural factions are in a war no one knows about yet, I want to be ready.
Lightning arcs across the sky and Nero’s dark gaze slides to mine as if to make sure I won’t be causing another rolling blackout.
He needn’t worry. The opportunity to apprehend the cretin who thought to take from me is like bloodlust in my veins, I will repress my power for as long as necessary, and then they will pay.
“What is she doing?” I ask, barely stopping myself from yanking the silly object from his hand.
He squints and pulls the tablet an inch from his face, his jaw dropping in what can only be called stupefaction.
“Mikael? Has she found the false files or not?” I bite out, becoming more irritated by the second.
“She’s playing Solitaire,” he says, his dark head of cropped hair shaking in disbelief.
“She’s what? Give me that.” I take the too-small device into my hands, trying to see what the bloody hell he is on about.
My gaze widens at the almost innocent view.
She sits at the too large desk, the chair massive and looming behind her small frame, a pale hand cupped on her elbow while she plays Solitaire and bounces that ridiculous barbell in her mouth across her lips, a bored expression on her face.
I swipe through the cameras in the room, my large thumb pushing across the tiny screen, and sure enough, she’s alone except for her cat.
It doesn’t make sense. She should at least be frantically trying to cover her tracks or finding an escape route after reinfiltrating the Talbot system, which we anticipated and even encouraged.
I toss the thing back at him and he catches it, a stricken expression on his face, making his dark eyes stark.
“Find what she was doing before she started playing Solitaire, now. We must have missed something after her phone call to Romania,” I tell him, unable to accept that she hasn’t been tempted to transfer as much information as possible to whoever she is working for.
Talbot is worth billions and has various lucrative subsidiaries, everyone who is anyone has been clamoring for stock of the company for decades.
What the humans don’t know is that supernatural entities make up the shareholders.
If whoever is working with her isn’t after the new moonflower formula—then what are they after?
Mikael’s brows shoot up into his hairline, and a smirk plays around his mouth, amusement pulling at the corners of his eyes.
“What is it?” I ask, just as my phone begins to vibrate, and my annoyance increases when he refuses to answer.
I shift just enough to grab it from my pocket, confusion mounting when Mikael’s mobile begins to ring as well.
The name of the New York mayor lights up across my screen and I click end, sending the irritating git to say what he must to the voicemail machine, but as soon as I do, another phone call comes through, this time from a demon I know that works closely with one of the human news outlets.
“Mikael, why is Finch calling me?” I ask, hitting the decline button again, only for another prominent news source to call next.
“You just donated twenty-million dollars to the New York Humanitarian effort,” he says, fighting to keep amusement from his face.
“I did what?” I thunder.
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
I blow out a harsh breath, lifting tendrils of my red hair from my face, bored out of my skull as I wait for any signs of Frank Stein and his goons. So far, it’s as if the whole place has gone silent.
I’ve been waiting at least twenty minutes for someone to burst the door down or at least try the elevator that I’ve disabled the power to from the inside.
Anyone attempting to get up here better really hope there are stairs, because with all these bells and whistles at my disposal, this place is like Fort Knox.
Metal sliding locks, programmable biometric scanners, daily changing security codes, cameras, and surveillance systems, all controlled by security that I took over a few minutes ago, so nifty.
There’s even a hidden snack cubby I found after pilfering through the big room along with a stocked minibar. I toss a potato chip into my mouth and smack loudly, swishing my ankles across the smooth wood of the desk. What billionaire doesn’t have a minibar?
Edgar purrs loudly from inside his cat carrier on the desk, and I have to fight the urge to take him out of it.
Instead, I reach inside to pet him lightly, not really wanting to disturb him, more than enough time to check out his incisions later.
I’d want to sleep off as much of the ordeal off as I could too, poor guy.
Lightning strikes again through the clear glass window, but I’m somewhat desensitized now, as arcs have been flying across the sky so hard it looks like Zeus is having a rave among the clouds. Another bolt, and I swear I can hear thunder rumble behind the thick glass. “So pretty,” I breathe.
My gaze travels to the computer screen at the first sign of movement and an overwhelming wave of excitement shoots straight to my gut, making my stomach clench in response.
Outside, a long black limo is streaking up the drive like the guy plays too much grand theft auto in his off time, and my lips stretch into a smile.
Sheer and unadulterated glee fills me when men begin to exit the vehicle.
Six of them step out of the vehicle, all buttoning their obviously expensive suits, and head for the lobby doors.
My whole body is vibrating with the knowledge that Frank Stein is about to lose his absolute shit when he realizes the mistake he made in underestimating me.
Poor guy. What must it feel like to be a billionaire locked out of your home?
My brows pinch together as I click through the cameras trying to see where Frank and his men have gotten to.
I need him to find the elevator for me before he gets on it.
The lobby is mostly empty, with only an attendant behind the counter.
Instead of looking up the blueprints on the building, I’ve just paused all elevators for the time being.
Frankie boy shouldn’t take too long to show me which one leads to his office.