Zero to Love (17 page)

He held the thought catcher up to the greenish light from the fluorescent fixture. Tonight he’d call Elise.

Chapter Eleven

The gritty voice reached Magda, trickling into her ears like music. She flipped onto her back and opened her eyes as the sound increased in her awareness. Monroe’s voice, not far off.

He paced in the bedroom, passing the open door, cell phone locked to his ear. “I want her in silk, cotton, and linen. No blends, do you understand me? Then get over here, because I need something from you.”

A pause. Monroe pivoted toward Magda, but she quickly shut her eyes. Her heart beat wildly until she heard the slap of his feet as he started pacing again.

“You know what I want, Elise.”

Magda’s heart seized. The low tone held more insinuations than a conversation between a client and call girl. She lifted her hand to her chest and pressed it hard to still the thumping. Warm metal brushed her fingers. She snapped her eyes open to look at the disk-shaped pendant.

Had Monroe made it? She’d heard him downstairs, rustling around his workshop.

Before he found her awake, she dropped the pendant and regulated her breathing to make it look as if she were asleep. Whatever was going on with him and Elise had Magda’s sensors blaring a warning.

He’d sent her to bed—pushed her away. Why? She still didn’t know. Now he’d summoned Elise to him.

She waited. Silence reigned in the apartment. Somewhere from the right, the low tick of a clock or watch counted away the minutes. Her breathing hitched, and she barely controlled it.

She had no reason not to believe Monroe—he’d never abused her total trust in him. But she didn’t like him seeing Elise or using that smooth voice with her.

Jealousy cut through Magda.

No, he wouldn’t do anything with Elise. He didn’t drink from any human.

There’s always a first time
. And he’d berated himself for his weakness when they’d been attacked. Maybe he’d made a decision to use Elise for food.

Revulsion lodged in Magda’s throat—a tight wad she couldn’t choke down.

Finally Monroe emerged from the bedroom and ran down the stairs seconds before a quiet knock sounded.

Magda slipped to her feet and trod silently toward the stairs. If she made any noise, his sharp hearing would detect it.
Unless he’s already distracted.

Swallowing the rasps of her breaths, she leaned against the wall at the head of the stairs, waiting for some exchange below.

Elise’s soft lilt caused a leap in Magda’s core that she couldn’t explain. Hating herself, she eased her foot down one step, praying the old staircase didn’t creak.

The sound of something solid hitting the floor drifted up.

Then a whisper from Elise. “Why now, Monroe? After all these years? You know how bad I’ve wanted you.”

“I need it.” His tone abraded Magda’s heart, leaving a searing wound.

She shouldn’t be so crazed with anger. After all, she’d let Elise kiss her and those other women too. Was it any different from Monroe drinking?

Magda couldn’t have stopped herself if she tried—she ran down the stairs and peeked into the shop. She pressed shaking fingers to her lips, smothering a cry.

Monroe held Elise in his strong arms. The woman’s head fell back as their gazes locked and Monroe drank from her. The erotic vision was more than Magda could stand. She couldn’t feed him, so he’d found a woman who could.

They remained oblivious to her. His body seemed to shift and swell with the power Elise fed him.

What am I going to do?
Magda couldn’t stand there indefinitely like some masochistic voyeur. She had to get out of here. At this point, who cared if the Free Wills hunted her? What did she have to live for anyhow? Monroe had become her world, and now she had no idea if she’d placed her trust in the right person. If he could hurt her this way…

Elise conformed her curves to Monroe, and Magda issued a throaty scream.

Monroe jerked. He dropped Elise, and she stumbled, crashing into the wall hard.

“Magda, it’s not what—”

All the calm she wasn’t feeling projected in her voice. She held up a palm to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s for the f—”

“Shut up!” she cried, pressing her hands to her ears. He took a hasty step toward her, but she sprinted around him and shot to the door. He rushed forward. She dodged him. His fingers trailed over her arm, but she shook him off. Fumbling behind her, she found the knob and opened the door. Stepping backward into the night, she came up against the brick wall of Keefe’s body.

“Magda, let me explain.” Monroe’s gaze drilled into her senses, threatening to topple the barrier she’d thrown up. Jealousy and anger swirled into a poisonous cocktail. She couldn’t give to him—why? But Elise could—and had.

What kinds of erotic thoughts had he fed her in return?

Maybe the best idea was to go home and forget about the Mindchangers altogether. If she lived a quiet life away from their madness and was careful to avoid them, the Free Wills might forget about her.

Maybe Monroe already had.

She spun on her heel to face Keefe. “Take me home. Now.”

He looked past her to Monroe, and as if gaining permission to obey her order, he gave a nod. Grasping her forearm, he guided her out of the apartment and into the foggy city street. As he secured her in the Camaro, the spring of her personal shortcomings bubbled up. Monroe had always been too good for her, and since she couldn’t feed him…well, she didn’t have any use to him.

Her mind sped ahead to a home where a wooden shingle didn’t swing in the breeze, sporting the numbers zero-nine.

She was going home. Back to her life without Monroe.

* * * *

“The thought catcher works,” Keefe grated out.

Monroe scrubbed his fingers over his scalp, fighting the urge to rage, bellow, race through the night, and get Magda back. But she was probably safer far away from him.

The hurt he’d read on her face made him glad the thought catcher
had
worked. Hearing her thoughts would have brought him to his knees.

“What are you going to do?” Keefe asked. He leaned against the workbench and stared at Monroe.

“I don’t know.” Monroe half turned away.

“You want her. Don’t let your good intentions stop you from going after her.”

“Is that what you’d do?” he asked without looking at his friend.

“Hell, yes. You can’t walk away without losing a good-sized chunk of yourself. And she’s already lost, man.” Keefe let Monroe see the image of Magda walking brokenly to her front door, her face a blank mask of pain.

While Magda was angry about what happened with Elise, there was more. Magda had let it slip that she held a measure of anger directed at herself because she was unable to feed Monroe.

Keefe grunted. “That sums it up, yeah.”

“I’m not going to her,” Monroe said. “Not yet.”

Keefe leaned forward. “What’s the plan?”

“You, Toliver, Hale, and Adams are going to be her guard. I mean it. I don’t care what goes on in the city—you stick by her, all of you. And stay well fed so you can protect her properly.” His voice dropped because
he
hadn’t protected her. But that was going to end.

Keefe nodded. “Done.” He studied Monroe for a long moment. “You’re going to the uncle.”

“I am.”

“He’s in Italy?”

“I believe so, yes. This Vincent Brunelli knows more about Magda than either Elijah or Giovanni. And definitely more than Magda herself knows. I’m going to dig deep in him—clean him out if I have to—and steal back that knowledge.” He set his lips into a grim line.

“You believe he has something to do with the Free Wills? That you can uncover information about the royalty?”

“Maybe.” Monroe flicked the small screwdriver he’d used to create Magda’s thought catcher and sent it spinning. He and Keefe zeroed in on it.

“First I’m going to talk to Magda’s father. Drive him away if necessary.” Monroe scuffed a hand over his face. Would it come to that? The man wouldn’t accept four Mindchangers hanging around his daughter and home. Besides, Monroe wasn’t convinced Giovanni’s mind was as empty as he’d first thought. He detected something beneath the walls of his memory—barriers that kept him out.

“Go, then. I’m on the job now. I’ll have the guys gathered, and we’ll be with Magda within half an hour.” Keefe was on his game, as always.

Monroe looked into his friend’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Infused with the gravity of the situation, Keefe gave a silent nod. “Take care.”

“Don’t let her out without a guard or four. She’s wearing the thought catcher. Don’t let her sneak out.”

Keefe strode to the door and opened it. Before leaving, he grinned at Monroe. “I’ve got it covered.”

Monroe watched his friend vanish through the door. The weight of his decision bore down on him, making it difficult to breathe.

For several minutes he struggled with his need to go to Magda and make things right.

“Keefe.”

His mental summons reached his friend.
“Yeah, boss?”

“If she asks, tell her…I’m coming back for her.”

“Is that all?”
Keefe’s amusement filtered into Monroe. Obviously he knew Monroe was in love with Magda, but that was the last thing she needed to hear right now—and secondhand.

“Nothing else about me.”

He drifted toward the stairs, passing the big garbage bag filled with clothes Elise had gotten for Magda. She wouldn’t be using them now, but maybe… He swallowed hard. Maybe in time she’d forgive him and stay with him in the apartment again.

Live with me.

He carried the bag upstairs and spent some time hanging the clothes in his closet. Elise had done well—pale garments that would set off Magda’s coloring. Gauzy dresses and silky blouses. Weathered jeans that would hug her curves.

Longing broke over him, and he forced it down. He had to get out of the city before he did something drastic. Vincent Brunelli was in his sights, and within a day Monroe would have the man under his thumb. First, however, Monroe needed to pay a visit to a Mindchanger he hadn’t seen since his childhood. Then Magda’s father.

Within minutes he was in his old neighborhood, tracing steps he’d walked a thousand times. The small brick-faced shop with the glass display window was nestled between houses, looking as if time hadn’t touched it.

With his hand on the door, he felt the numbers under his fingers. The thought catcher that had once been in this window was nowhere to be seen. But that didn’t mean the supernatural had gotten rid of it or forgotten where it had come from.

Monroe pushed open the door. A bell jangled, a light tinkle that drowned him in nostalgia.

A wire-haired supernatural emerged from the back and stopped dead at the sight of Monroe. His face transformed into a huge smile, each crease of his face more kindly than the one before.

Striding forward, Monroe smiled. He embraced one of his oldest friends. “Aric. So good to set eyes on you again.”

Aric stood as tall as Monroe, his white-gold hair lying in waves against his skull. Monroe had no clue how old he might be—he’d looked the same since the beginning of time.

Aric clapped a hand on Monroe’s shoulder and squeezed. “After all this time, the beekeeper has returned to me. I always knew you were destined for greatness.”

Monroe swallowed hard, embarrassed. “Far from greatness.”

“Ah, but your powers.” Aric stepped back and looked deep into Monroe, who allowed the intimacy. At last Aric shook his head. “Terrific powers, yes. Cerebral booms, even. That isn’t greatness?”

Monroe glanced around the shop. Dust motes swirled in the thin beams of blue light coming in through the big window. No other lights burned. “Nothing’s changed. I believe you even had this ratty tiger-skin rug last time I came twenty years ago.”

“Most likely, yes. Business is slow.” Aric shrugged. He looked like a humble Mindchanger merchant, but something about the man had always struck Monroe as being…well, more. Aric didn’t carry himself like an ordinary Mindchanger. Everything right down to the way he held his head so erect and stared into a powerful Mindchanger’s eyes spoke of his confidence.

“I’m here for a reason, Aric.”

“I know.” His friend’s shrewd gaze drilled into him.

Monroe nodded. “That’s right. The lamp that once stood in the corner there.” He pointed, then drifted through the sea of ottomans, spools of wire, and antique chairs to the spot where the thought catcher had stood when Monroe was a child.

Monroe pivoted to look at Aric.

“You’re looking for the thought catcher,” Aric whispered. His face seemed to lose its color. Or was it Monroe’s imagination?

“I am.”

After stumbling back a step, Aric fell into an ancient chair. Dust clouded from the linen seat, swirling around the older Mindchanger.

“What is it?” Monroe asked sharply.

Aric rubbed a hand over his face. “Fatigue sometimes comes with age. It’s been a while since I’ve fed.”

That’s not it, and we both know it.

Letting his friend’s lie go for now, Monroe asked, “Who made that thought catcher?”

Aric turned toward the corner as if seeing the piece. He issued a sigh. “A woman.”

Monroe jerked, seeing her in his mind. The arch of her throat, the fine bones of her face…the lines of her back. It had to be. “A human woman.”

“Yes.” Aric’s voice faded.

Magda’s mother.

Aric leaped from the chair, startling Monroe. In a few strides he stood before Monroe, a finger jammed at his chest. “Who is this Magda to you?” His voice quivered. With fear? Anger?

Monroe twisted Aric’s question. “Who is this human woman to you?”

“She was a creator, a Mindchanger ally.” His voice broke. “They took her and drained her, killing her.”

“They drained her daughter too.” Monroe’s skin prickled with emotion.

Aric stared at him for a loaded second. What was Aric hiding? He’d effectively blocked Monroe from his mind. Finally Aric whirled away and paced to the opposite side of the room, putting as much distance as possible between them.

“You want to know what she was to me, but I won’t tell you that. I will tell you that she made only three thought catchers.”