Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3) (35 page)

"Nothing has changed for me," Griffin hissed.

"Tell me you did not flout the rules," Thurlow said. "Even now, you do not admit it. It makes that fact no less true."

"Tell me you did not interfere," Griffin retorted.

"I did. I say this freely. I am still paying for my interference. It is why I am a prisoner here and also why they have brought you to hear my confession."

"What confession? That you admit to harming me whenever possible? That you admit you left Lissa in an untenable situation and almost let her die? That you allowed her mother to die in a horrible way? Is that what you're going to admit?"

"I admit those things. I wanted to retaliate against your willfulness, and the secrecy you employed to do as you wanted. But that is not what I must confess now, nor the reason I have been placed here, under the watchful eye of the Mighty Hand."

"Then say it and be done. I'd rather take a beating than stay here and listen to you prattle," Griffin snarled.

"You will never let this go, I see that now," Thurlow said sadly. "I am sorry—for all those things. Very sorry. Do you think I do not feel guilt whenever Lissa looks at me with love in her eyes? I do. I am responsible for so many things that should have been done better—or not done at all."

"Then tell me."

"Very well. I knew you were planning something, so I followed you when you traveled into the future on a particular day. You walked into a bar and chose your target." Thurlow shook his head. "I should have left you to your tryst. I thought that's all it was at the time."

Thurlow drew a painful breath. "I was wrong," he said. "I watched you buy a drink for your target, and talk to her. You waited patiently for her to visit the toilet. That is when I interfered. I appeared to her and told her to leave. I chose another woman to go back to you. Changed her scent and appearance so she'd seem the same, and sent her out to find you."

"You interfered with that. No wonder a child came of that coupling," Griffin muttered angrily.

"I sincerely regret my actions on that day. Had I not interfered as I did, Breanne would have had a much better life. She would have been raised as a strong, competent woman who could easily accept the role she was born to have."

"You screwed both of us, then," Griffin accused, his hazel eyes flashing red. The vampire remained in him, it was merely kept hidden most of the time.

"You did not intend that she live," Thurlow pointed out. "You
Looked
to see that the woman you'd chosen would have the child aborted. You did not know that other powers were at work that would change that history. None of us did."

"Why are you telling me this? The Larentii have their Vhanaraszh now. Let them heal her."

"You still do not understand," Thurlow said. "Breanne is the Mighty Heart."

"You're joking," Griffin accused.

"No, he's not," Ashe strode into the room. "I've worked with her recently. There's no doubt of what she is. Between the two of you, however, you've managed to cripple her. Make her fragile. She should be strong and confident, yet I see that she isn't. Have you not read that worthless book?"

"What worthless book?" Griffin turned to Ashe.

"This worthless book." Ashe
Pulled
a copy of
Torture in Texas
into his hand and tossed it to Griffin. "That's your daughter on the cover—at age fourteen. Thanks to Thurlow, there, she was tortured when she was a child."

"That is not all I have to say, nor the real reason I am a prisoner, now," Thurlow hung his head. "Once I learned the woman was pregnant, I placed a mark upon the child in her belly."

"Not the first time you've done that, either," Griffin pointed out maliciously.

"No. But you know that a power mark cannot be removed, once placed. I can find the Mighty Heart, no matter where she is, because of that. I place her in danger, by merely existing. The one who should be hidden from all is visible to me."

"We believe the power mark enabled Breanne to stay alive when she was younger," The Ear spoke. "That does not mitigate the harm done by the interference. We are not pleased."

"I understand," Thurlow bowed respectfully to The Ear before turning back to Griffin.

"I am sorry for my part in all of this. For my interference. For the retaliation, as I wished to punish you in subtle ways. As you see, I managed to harm the innocent more than I ever harmed you. That is my failing. Perhaps I will be given a task in the future, to atone for these wrongs."

"You think a task will make me forgive you?" Griffin exploded. "No. I will never forgive this."

"It's not about you anymore," Ashe pointed out. "So don't try to make this about you. This is about keeping everything safe from now on. Neither you nor your father will ever be able to release the information given to you this day. I command it." Ashe's eyes went a deep blue and stars fell through their depths.

"It would be wise to remember that you are not one of the truly powerful," The Ear glared at Griffin. "Except for your father, you are the weakest one here." The Ear disappeared swiftly.

"Ren, take them home," Ashe sighed. "I doubt he'll ever be sorry for his part in this," he jerked his head at Griffin.

* * *

Breanne's Journal

What metal there'd been in the church had been reduced to a twisted, melted ruin. The rest was ash, most of it fine and stirring in the early-morning breeze.

None of us had slept, although Hank had pulled me into bed and settled my head on his shoulder. For two hours we'd lain together like that, neither of us speaking, his hand gently stroking my face and hair.

We'd gone to the church destroyed in Abilene, Texas, because it was the closest one. It didn't matter, really, which one we visited—they all looked much the same. A pile of rubble lay in each of the fifty states and the nation was in mourning.

Many were calling this an elaborate terrorist attack, and in a way, they were right. These acts were meant to instill terror, worldwide. I worried that churches in other countries might be hit as well, but kept those thoughts to myself. Bill was probably ahead of me on that, and I didn't want to ramp up his concern.

"All I can smell is burning and death," Hank sighed and shook his head at Bill, who looked exhausted. I couldn't see that things would improve for him soon, either, since nobody had any idea where to start looking for the perpetrators, or how they might be taken down, considering how many we might be dealing with.

"I think they were transported in and out," I said, hunching my shoulders. "I've been around the perimeter twice, and can't smell anything other than humans."

"I've gotten reports that some of the bodies were decapitated before the church was burned," Bill held up his cell. He was getting constant messages, keeping him in the loop, but it was overwhelming him. I figured there were plenty of others feeling just the same.

"That spells vampires to me," Charles said.

"Yeah," I nodded to him. "Bill, did they say the slices were smooth?" Yes, that was a morbid thing to say, but a vampire's claws will deliver the cleanest of cuts in a beheading.

"As nearly as they can tell with charred flesh, yes," Bill nodded.

"So that's why they waited for the evening services," I said.

"You're probably right about that," Hank agreed.

"We may be dealing with Saxom and his brood again," Charles suggested.

"Oh, dear God," Bill's shoulders drooped. "We don't need Xenides again. Or any of the others. They can mist. Mindspeak. Some of them are shapeshifters."

"This is so wrong," I muttered.

"There's something else, too," Bill said, shaking his head after reading another message on his cellphone.

"What's that?" Winkler asked. He, Weldon and Trajan had come with us; they'd sniffed farther afield than I had, and hadn't found anything either.

"Hank, your club was destroyed last night," Bill showed Hank an image on his cell. "With everything else going on, it was shoved to the side. Fire Chief in San Francisco thought to send it to me this morning."

"How many dead?" Hank lifted the cellphone from Bill's hand and stared at the photograph.

"Nineteen—it was a slow night," Bill sighed.

"It's my guess Janine saw you go into KingDom's just before it blew," I told Hank. "Nobody's found her, have they?"

"No," Bill said.

"She's with them. The ones who did this," I swept out a hand, indicating piles of black ash and twisted metal. "She's still getting back at us—at you," I pointed at Hank. "She took Jayson down, now she's treating you to the same. The trouble with this, however, is that innocent people are now dying because of her."

Hank blew a smoky breath before hauling out his cell and calling Terry. Did I know he'd hired my attorney? Not until then.

"Terry, I need you to handle the insurance and anything else for the club," Hank said.

"Already on it," Terry replied—I could hear his voice clearly. "I contacted the insurance company this morning, and I'll coordinate with the police as your representative. I already have the information from Director Jennings, saying you were with him and had nothing to do with this."

"Damn straight I had nothing to do with it," more smoke ensued. "Was Trey at work when this happened?"

"No. The two new hires were—Trey had the night off. I talked to him—he's pretty upset."

"Tell Trey we'll work this out. Tell him not to worry about his paycheck, all right?"

"I already did," Terry said. "Want me to arrange for cleanup after the investigators are done with it?"

"Yeah. Sell the property, too, afterward. I'll move the club somewhere else. It never had enough parking, anyway."

"I'll need Breanne's signature on some of the paperwork."

"I'll get that for you. Thanks, Terry. Let me know if you need anything else." Hank ended the call, his eyes dark pools of anger. Well, he wasn't alone in the anger department. Janine had signed her own death warrant, as far as I was concerned.

* * *

Lissa's Journal

"Cara, I don't know what to do." I blinked at Gavin, who settled on a chair beside my desk and blinked dark, troubled eyes at me.

"He's gone, Gavin," I said. "There's nothing we can do about it."

"No, my love. It's not just our son. I have memories that I did not have before. They keep filtering into my mind, as if they are being written into the past. There is no conclusion as yet, and it worries me greatly."

"Oh, no." I chewed my lower lip as I studied Gavin's face. Normally, he didn't display so much emotion. He looked gray. Worn. More than troubled. Sadness overlaid all those things, and my heart bled for him. "What are you remembering, honey?"

"I met Breanne in the past. Acted, in part, as her surrogate sire. How foolish I was, back then," Gavin shook his head.

"What?" I was on my feet immediately. "You didn't mistreat her again, did you?"

"No." He almost shouted the word. "No," he said again, more quietly. "I gave her free rein, as much as I could, and I cannot explain that at this time. I have no explanation for it, actually. Back then, I was just as strict at following protocol as I ever was."

"You think she had anything to do with that?" I asked, doing my best to regulate my heart rate and breathing.

"I do not feel this is true, but I cannot fathom how it might have been otherwise."

"Gavin, I don't know what to say. Maybe you ought to tell me what has happened so far."

"It began like this," Gavin said. "A vehicle drove past Winkler's home in the Dallas area. The tag was eventually tracked, and we learned it was registered to Saxom Meletius."

My breath stopped.

Chapter 17
 

Lissa's Journal

"Yeah, we're getting the same thing." Kiarra stood beside the kitchen island Adam built for her inside their NorthStar home. "It's like a television series, where you get bits and pieces as they happen in the past. Nobody knows what's really going on or what the outcome might be."

I watched as she nervously pushed long, white-blonde hair over a shoulder. "You mean you're getting the changes to your memories, like an updated script?" I asked. "That's not fucked up or anything."

"It means the enemy is fucking with the timeline," Merrill walked in and went straight to the coffee machine. That's what he did when he was worried. Actually, it's what he did anyway. He was addicted to coffee. Loved it. Drank several cups a day, and being what he was, it never bothered him a bit.

"Of all the people to pull away from death," Kiarra muttered, her arms hugging her waist. She meant Saxom. I knew that without asking.

"Darling, none of that," Merrill pulled her against him while the brewer worked on his fresh coffee.

"I worried about the memory of a report that inserted itself into my head this morning, of churches blowing up in all fifty states in the past," I said. "So when Gavin came and told me what was happening with him at that time, I just about freaked."