Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 4) Read online

  “Why, Hadley.” The woman in front of me shimmered like a heat mirage and sat back on her heels. “You look shocked.”

  No, no, no.

  I had the sight. I could see through glamours. Midas could too. That was the point of the bargain I struck. That was the cost of the risk I took. Tricking me with illusion should be impossible, and yet I had no other explanation for how two Annabeth Pritchards had coexisted in the same space at the same time.

  “I don’t get it.” As shock set in, I came near to babbling. “Why didn’t you take her?”

  Frak.

  That made it sound like I wanted her to kill my mother and wear her like a pantsuit.

  “She has no power, physical or political.” She watched me, and she saw too much. I could tell by her feline smile. “Her only value to us was her worth to you.”

  The woman began a transformation that ended with her as an identical copy of Liz, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t snap her fingers and become Ares. Glamour was elastic, and I couldn’t tell if she was using it or her closet to change forms.

  But if she became Ares, did that mean she was the one who had been on a caffeine binge lately? Hiding in plain sight, masking her scent with strong coffee, smoothing her social gaffes with the excuse of sleep deprivation?

  The twisting path that possibility carved through my brain left my gray matter sliced too thin for this.

  “Imagine my disappointment when I learned she was not your mother, but your abuser. Your tormenter. Your own personal boogeyman.” Pity darkened her eyes, and that a monster felt sorry for me made the past that much harder to stomach. “Once I determined her uselessness, I did us both a favor and tossed her in the dumpster out back. The heat would have killed her in another day or two, but it worked out in the end. The perimeter wards warned me you were here, and I took her place in her room. There was no time for anything else. Your dogs would have hunted me if I ran.”

  The question drumming in my ears let me ignore the woman behind me. “Why keep them alive?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather know how I know? About the scars? About the ants?”

  A familiar shiver danced along my spine, a premonition I developed as a child that warned me when Mother was near.

  “She told me,” the woman announced. “In great detail. Without much coercion.” She searched my face. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

  “No.”

  “She hates herself, and you’re a mirror image of her younger self, so she hates you too.” She tapped Boaz on the nose. “I bet she never raised a hand to him, did she? He was a boy, and he took after his father I’m guessing. She didn’t see enough of her in him to bother. Your little brother, though.” She wet her lips. “He’s a meld of your parents, isn’t he? Little of Dad, little of Mom. How long before he learns the sting of the brush? The sting of the ants? The sting of knowing his mother despises the parts of herself she sees in him?”

  “She will never lay a hand on him,” I snarled. “Never.”

  “How can you stop her when you’re here and he’s there?”

  “Hadley.” Midas stood watch over Addie. “Don’t let her get in your head.”

  “Yes, Hadley, don’t let me get in your head. It’s so dark in there I might not find my way out again.”

  The barb struck true, and I flinched. “Who are you?”

  “That’s a question with an answer you might not be ready to hear.”

  “Are you wearing Liz,” I demanded, “or is this more glamour?”

  “I’m not wearing anyone.” Her smile grew toothier. “Does that clear things up for you?”

  Crimson magic sparked out of the corner of my eye, but Midas and Ford were both accounted for.

  “Oh dear.” Liz, or whoever—whatever—she was stood. “Now you’ve done it.”

  A vicious snarl rattled my bones as the gwyllgi who had shifted on my periphery prowled closer.

  With heartbreaking clarity, the earlier pretzel of my thoughts unraveled as the truth revealed itself to us.

  There were two of them.

  A pair.

  Ares and Liz.

  Dead women walking.

  “Ares.” I cut off the twinge of regret before it took root. “What are you doing?”

  “Protecting her mate.” Liz waited for Ares to come to her side then petted her. “Good girl.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I demanded of Ares, as if a firm scolding could fix this. “That’s not Liz.”

  “That might not be Ares,” Ford reminded me, and Ares pinned her ears against her skull.

  “This is not how I pictured tonight ending.” Liz scratched Ares’s head. “I banked on the abuse twisting you up, making you doubt yourself. All I needed was a second alone to disappear into the background.” She glared at Ford. “You should have kept your mouth shut.” She flicked her gaze over him. “You just won’t die, will you?”

  “Momma expects grandkids.” He shrugged. “I try not to disappoint my momma.”

  While Liz bumped her gums, Ares nudged her back, away from us and immediate danger. Uncovenlike behavior by any metric. They tended to attack, brutally, in whatever form guaranteed the most damage to their adversaries. They didn’t tuck tail and run, and I had only ever seen them protect one member above the others, but that had been during battle when they sought the element of surprise.

  This wasn’t right. Ares was acting like a gwyllgi defending her mate, not a coven lackey, and that made no sense. None at all. There was no way she was that good of an actor, that she could have faked being Midas’s friend for so long without getting caught out.

  “Ares,” I tried reasoning with her. “You don’t have to do this.”

  The gwyllgi hung her head but kept backing away slowly, herding Liz behind her.

  Ares was still in there. She was in there. Why wasn’t she fighting back?

  “Ares,” Midas commanded, his eyes tight when he used his power as beta against her. “Stop.”

  A hard shudder wracked her frame, but she slung her head and shook off his compulsion.

  “She’s not pack,” he said, dumbfounded. “She couldn’t disobey me otherwise.”

  Again, I questioned what we were seeing. And again, I couldn’t shake the sense Ares was present.

  There was no other excuse for the deep sorrow in her eyes or the shame in her posture.

  Pressing my shoulder against his in a show of support, I asked, “How does that happen?”

  “She forsook her alpha,” Liz told me then winked at Midas. “She’s mine now, Beta.”

  A soft whine escaped Ares, but she didn’t slow their retreat.

  The transformation engulfed Midas, crested and splashed, washed away his humanity and left a beast in a lather standing before us. He lunged for Ares, who rose up to protect Liz, and they clashed with bone-crunching force.

  “Bring her down,” I told Ambrose quietly. “Whatever it takes.”

  Understanding I meant Liz, who was attempting to flee while Ares distracted us, he streaked across the craggy lot aiming straight for her. He punched through her, inflicting small hurts, but he was too full to slow her down.

  Calling him back to me as I ran after her, I dipped my hands into him and retrieved my swords.

  Then I prayed I didn’t trip, fall, and skewer myself. I was getting better, but I was no Jedi Master.

  As I got within striking distance, an engine rumbled to life, and a truck streaked past me. Liz waited until it got even with her then leapt into the bed as nimbly as a doe. She popped back up, grinning, and waved goodbye before climbing through the window into the cab with the unfamiliar driver.

  The truck squealed onto the main road. Next stop, the interstate. After that, I would never catch them.

  Pulling on Ambrose’s reserves, I pushed my body to its limits to pace the truck. I brushed the tailgate with my outstretched fingertips, but they glanced off as I rung a pothole with my foot.

  A sickening crunch filled my ears, my balance wobbled,
and I flung out my hands to stop the fall. I hit the asphalt. Hard. I didn’t look down. I knew my ankle was broken. I could tell because of the loud snap, the agonizing pain, and—oh yeah—the fact my foot was still wedged in the hole a bit too far behind me.

  Water poured from my eyes, but I had this much in common with my mother. The tears were borne of rage and fury.

  Not fifteen seconds later, Midas skidded to a halt next to me, assessed my injuries while dragging a hand over his mouth, then cursed in a language that I would have found beautiful at any other time.

  Crouching beside me, he stabbed the air in front of my nose with his finger.

  “Don’t—” he bit off the word, “—move.”

  “I didn’t plan on it.” I noticed the phone in his hand. “Who are you calling?”

  “Abbott.”

  “Grier can fix this,” I whined. “I bet Linus could patch me up too.”

  “Abbott can be the judge of that.”

  Given how the air vibrated with barely leashed violence, I decided to pick my battles and whispered, “Okay.”

  “I don’t trust your tone,” he admitted, “but you aren’t budging without help.”

  The shadow, who hummed with energy, poked my ankle then skittered away when I yelped at him.

  “We found them,” Midas said into his cell. “I need medical transport for five.”

  Five meant Ares had escaped, which meant we had no fresh leads with Liz in the wind too.

  On the other end of the line, the voice grew more heated until Midas held it away from his ear.

  “Yes.” He flicked his gaze down my leg. “I can send you a picture.”

  Quick as a flash, he did just that, and the volume on the other end of the line increased then cut out flat.

  “You hung up on him,” I realized. “You actually hung up on Abbott.”

  “There’s poor reception out here,” he lied. “I’ve already called Bishop. He’s on his way to meet us.”

  “We need to test the Pritchards and the Whitakers.” I forced my brain to be more productive than screaming in agony. “Make sure there are no other surprises.”

  “Who do you think Ares was protecting?”

  Ares.

  The momentary distraction kept the pain from overwhelming me. “Is she…?”

  “Alive.” His lips twisted. “She’s heavily injured and unconscious.”

  But was she herself or a skin or a host or some new and terrible creation?

  I had already gotten my miracle—miracles—with Boaz and Addie. I was afraid to hope for more.

  “She was the fifth person in need of transport.” I let that settle. “How am I getting home?”

  Crimson flecked his eyes, and they shone. “You’re lucky I don’t make you stump it back to the Faraday.”

  Unfortunately for his tough-guy act, a gleaming white pickup with a familiar face behind the wheel rolled to a stop beside us. Lisbeth hopped out of Ford’s truck then slapped a hand over her mouth when she got a good look at me.

  “Your ankle…” She turned green. “How…?”

  “You’re an LPN.” I wished I could scoot to one side or another. “Don’t you dare barf on me.”

  “I’m not an ER nurse.” She breathed in deeply through her nose then exhaled through her mouth. “I saw more paperwork than patients on my last job, and no one shows up to their family doctor with their foot hanging on by a thread. They call 911 and hitch a ride to a hospital in an ambulance.”

  “Okay then.” I flapped my hands at her. “How about you stand a few paces away?”

  “Yeah.” She bobbed her head. “I’ll just be over there, admiring the honeysuckle vines.”

  Near a ditch that wouldn’t mind if she threw up in it.

  “I can’t believe Ford let her drive his truck.” I watched Midas head to the tailgate. “He never let me drive his truck.” I frowned when he reached into the bed. “I probably would have needed a booster seat anyway.”

  “Lisbeth is his girlfriend,” Midas pointed out. “They’ve also lived together off and on.”

  Their relationship had started out as nurse to patient. Well, a nurse with a raging Ford crush to a patient. Then he repaid her kindness when she needed it. I hadn’t framed their relationship as roomies, but Midas was right. They might as well have lived together, given how long one had been providing live-in nursing for the other.

  They were moving fast. Really fast. For a human. Not so much for a gwyllgi. But Lisbeth had crushed on him from afar for so long, I imagine they were on the same page. She might even be a chapter ahead of him.

  Trying my best not to move an inch, I glared up at him. “Why must you insist on using logic against me?”

  “I have to get you in the truck bed and to Abbott.” Hands on his hips, he surveyed his makeshift ambulance. “It’s going to hurt.”

  “Yeah.” I stopped trying to distract myself with Fisbeth, my favorite couple name for Ford and Lisbeth to date, and I focused on my own problems. “Do you think it will fall off when you lift me?”

  “Your foot? Or your leg?”

  “Both? Either?” I flinched on reflex when he touched my shoulders. “Do I have to pick just one?”

  “It won’t fall off,” he promised me. “Keep as still as you can.”

  Teeth gritted, I nodded the go ahead and let him unstick my foot from the hole, which cost me my shoe.

  “Okay,” he said, his face pale. “Now I’m going to put you on the air mattress.”

  “Air mattress?” I huffed out a laugh. “Now that’s fancy.”

  I would like to say I (wo)manfully endured as he gathered me into a bridal carry, but without Lisbeth to brace my ankle, it just sort of…hung there.

  As soon as the full weight of my foot dangled, a lightning bolt of nerve-singeing agony struck me in the brain ten times harder than Ambrose ever dreamed possible.

  The lights in my head blinked once and then went out.

  Fifteen

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Interesting.”

  That last voice sliced through the fuzzy cocoon between my ears, and I cranked open my eyes.

  “Linus?” I squinted at the blurry ceiling. What was it with ceilings lately? Were they stalking me? “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to offer my assistance, but it appears you don’t require any.”

  “Grier?” I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Did she…wave her…magic wand?”

  “I have one of those?” She made a wistful sound. “How cool would that be?”

  “More like a magic churro,” Lethe scoffed. “Instead of pixie dust, you sprinkle sugar everywhere you go.”

  “Midas?” I twisted my head but couldn’t spot him. “Where…?”

  “Right here.” He jogged into the room. “I was updating Mom on your condition.”

  That all but guaranteed she would put in an appearance and gang up on me with Abbott riding shotgun.

  “I broke my ankle, not my head.” I swatted away cobwebs. “Why is my brain so cottony?”

  Silence enveloped the room, and all eyes turned toward Linus, which couldn’t be a good thing.

  “Ambrose healed you,” he said, when no one else made a peep. “He also spoke through you.”

  “That last part sounds less than ideal.” I braced for the worst. “What did he say?”

  “To set the ankle so he could heal it.”

  “That’s it?” I glanced around but didn’t spot him. “What did he say exactly?”

  Not since Linus inked a binding tattoo that joined Ambrose to me had he verbally communicated with anyone. Even when he took control of my body to keep me safe while the coven’s charm sent me walking into the city streets unconscious in the daytime, he had held his tongue. He and I couldn’t talk directly, not precisely, so I was as curious as I was incredulous and, well, terrified to have lost control over myself.

 
; “‘Set the bone,” he quoted, “and I will mend her.’”

  “That’s it?” I watched him hard. “That’s all?”

  “That’s it,” he assured me. “That’s all.”

  “I don’t get it.” I mustered the courage to finally look at my ankle. “I’m healed?”

  “Yes,” Abbott said, clearly disturbed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “He didn’t ask for a favor or for chocolate or my immortal soul?” I clarified. “He wanted nothing?”

  Linus didn’t answer, but the amusement in his eyes told me he was allowing me to process it all.

  “I don’t understand why he did it.” I was suspicious as frak about it. “And it’s not like I can ask him.”

  If he could speak through me, he could manipulate my physical body. He could have said or done anything, and not many would have recognized I wasn’t the one in control. Why not press his advantage? Why not break out of the infirmary and go hunting? Why not, I don’t know, ask for a case of Amedei Porcelana or a box of La Madeline au Truffe?

  The others left the room at some cue Linus must have given them while I gingerly tested my ankle.

  “Your greatest fear has always been that Ambrose would influence your thoughts and actions.”

  Forgetting my self-exam, I twisted onto my side to face him. “Yes.”

  “Have you ever considered his ability to influence you is a two-way street? That residing in you, as a part of you, has affected him in ways we couldn’t anticipate?”

  “Are you saying he’s…grown a conscience?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Linus chuckled. “I would venture that he’s grown attached to you, in more than the literal sense.”

  “He has been acting weird lately,” I confessed. “I’ve been joking he wants to be a dynamic duo.”

  “You fed him a considerable amount of power tonight, but he stored it, like a battery. He could have used it against you and done you irreparable harm, but he chose to reserve his strength. For this. For you.”

  The other small touches throughout the night drifted to the surface of my thoughts, the way he kept feeding me extra punches of energy when I began flagging.