Nebulous: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Dragon's Creed Book 2) Page 11

  Tom’s fists clenched, frustration clear on his features. He seemed to consider my aunt’s proposal for a moment, then shook his head, took a step to the left, and pulled a plug from the wall. The monitors went black. The hum of the computer equipment died with a sigh.

  “What the hell?” Trenton, or Trent as Tom called him, whirled in his chair, peeling off the headphones and throwing them on the desk. He stood before us, his eyes growing dark, appearing more menacing than anyone so thin had a right to. A strange shimmer traveled up his arms, his neck, and face, then his hair stood up straight, crackling with what seemed like static electricity.

  “That’s right, Trent,” Tom said in a challenging tone. “Get angry.”

  The muscles on Trent’s jaw jumped, and he seemed to shake with the effort to contain whatever was coursing through him. Was he going nuclear? It surely seemed that way. Just in case, I glanced around the room for a piece of furniture I could hide behind.

  “Do you know Tara wants me dead?” Tom demanded. “She says I’m not her son anymore. She thought there was nothing wrong with using my classmates as lab rats, and she didn’t like it when I opposed her. She also took Lila’s father, and is doing God knows what to him.” Tom pointed at me. “Now, she means war, and she doesn’t care if our existence is revealed, and the world’s scrutiny falls on our kind.”

  Tom went on to explain how Tara and Jimmy had drawn power from the lighthouse, and how she’d gathered allies to her side. “You can’t stay in this hole, oblivious while the world falls apart around you.”

  Despite Tom’s angry monologue, Trent managed to get his shaking under control. His eyelashes fluttered, and the electricity coursing through him dissipated. His thin frame seemed to fold onto itself, as if the effort to contain his outburst had caused him dearly.

  After a heavy exhale, he said, “Of course I can. Oblivious is my middle name. It’s what I do every freaking day.” He moved slowly toward the electric outlet, then plugged the computer cable in. “It started with my family. It fell to pieces, and I didn’t give a shit. I just left. Did you forget?” There was a lot of resentment in his voice, and the words sounded like a tired reproach that had been spoken more than once.

  Tom flinched, guilt flashing over his expression. “Please, Trent. I didn’t mean that.” The anger was gone from Tom’s voice, leaving only pleading.

  For a long moment, Trent held his younger brother’s gaze. A bit of hope seemed to spark in Tom’s eyes as he hung expectantly from those few frozen seconds.

  But Trent shook his head, then turned his back on us. “Leave and don’t bother to come back. It’s what our family does best.”

  Tom’s mouth opened and closed. He took a step forward, arm outstretched to reach for his brother’s shoulder. I placed my hand on his extended forearm. His wavering blue eyes turned to mine, and I shook my head.

  “Let’s go, Tom,” I said. “There’s nothing here.”

  Trent’s posture seemed to tense at my words, but that was all. Tom hesitated. Parting from his brother didn’t seem an easy decision. Something was broken between them. It was obvious to anyone with eyes to see it. My heart ached with the desire to help Tom. He seemed to want to mend their connection, but I saw no way to accomplish it—not with Trent pushing away this hard.

  At last, Tom stepped back, grim acceptance on his features. We all exchanged loaded glances, but didn’t utter a word. Nothing we could say would have eased the heavy sorrow that clogged the air.

  Slowly, we filed toward the door, one behind the other. Tom stepped to the front of the line. Just as he prepared to let us out, the insistent beeping of an alarm came from Trent’s computers.

  “Not again,” Trent complained.

  Tom’s head whipped back, his eyes wide with panic.

  “What is it?” he asked, rushing back to his brother.

  The monitors had come back to life, now displaying a grid of small black-and-white images that appeared to be security footage. Tom pointed at one of the squares. It showed a long tunnel and someone walking toward the camera. I squinted at the person’s face, but the image was too grainy and dark to see the features clearly. No wonder Trent had zapped Tom. There was no way to tell who was coming.

  Yanking the keyboard close, Trent pulled up some information on a different screen. “It’s Tara. She entered her signature,” he announced.

  “Shit!” Tom exclaimed.

  My aunt’s sword sang as she pulled it out. I reached for mine, but a hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me.

  “No!” Trent said.

  I stared at his pale blue fingers around my wrist, then tried to shake his grasp.

  “If what you say is true, you stand no chance against her.” Trent let go of me. “She’s walking power. She’ll fry you.”

  Tom went back to the front of the line and faced the door, poised for a fight. “We won’t get a better chance.”

  Santiago, Ki, and Fang took their places at Tom’s sides. My aunt and I did the same, swords in hand, her ring glowing with the threat.

  “You idiots,” Trent said in an exasperated tone, then added to himself, “Why won’t people just leave me alone?”

  My heart pounded. Maybe we were planting our feet in the path of death itself, but Tom was right. This might be our best chance to defeat Tara. It was six against one, after all.

  Sweat made the hilt of the sword slick in my hand. I stretched my fingers to adjust my grip, but when I tried to close them back down, they wouldn’t budge.

  What the…

  I blinked, or tried to, but my eyes remained peeled open. My heart sped up as I realized I was frozen, unable to move.

  “Get out of the way,” a disgusted voice said.

  The door slipped past, then the wall, as if someone were pushing a stage prop out of the way.

  How in the world?

  But it wasn’t the door or the wall moving, I realized. It was me and the others who were sliding out of the way to let Trent take our place by the entrance. We continued to glide as if on wheels, stopping only when we hit the far corner of the room. How was this possible? Was Trent doing this? Was his magic this powerful?

  He gave us a sideways glance and said, “You stay put, and not a peep.”

  As if we could move or talk. We were statues. All we could do was swivel our unblinking eyes like crazy eight balls. Insults crowded my mouth. Coward! That was what I wanted to call him. Trent had no right to do this, to leave us defenseless while our sworn enemy was headed our way. He might as well serve us on a silver platter for Tara to roast to a crisp.

  Casually, he opened the wooden door, then took a few steps back. His expression was unreadable. I side-eyed Tom as best I could. His blue eyes were intent on his brother, but his slack and unmovable face held no expression that I could decipher. A shadow appeared at the doorway. Trent narrowed his eyes, and my heart turned into a loud drum.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

  Tara finally stepped into the room. White light from the fluorescent fixtures overhead fell on her features, and if I could have gasped, I would have.

  Her face was half human and half dragon—protruding cheekbones, wide nostrils on an elongated snout, and scattered scales with no discernible pattern.

  I held my breath, waiting for the moment when she would look around the room to find six living statues stuffed in the corner. Would we simply shatter like stone when she unleashed her deadly wrath and power on us?

  Trent frowned. “That’s an interesting look,” he said, pronouncing the word “interesting” as if he meant “hideous.”

  Tara blinked, then, realizing something must be wrong, shook herself. With a ripple, her hybrid features turned one-hundred percent human.

  Weird.

  Any moment now, she would swivel her head in our direction and see us.

  “Whatever wrinkle cream you’re using these days,” Trent said, “it’s not working.”

  Tara said nothi
ng, just moved further into the room and let her eyes wander. Her blue gaze finally came to us, then passed right over as if we were invisible. But how? Aunt Scarlett! She was using her warden magic to hide us.

  My gaze snapped to Trent. He was focused directly on me, a contemptuous grin twisting his thin lips. Somehow, he was keeping us frozen, had deduced that my aunt would hide us, and on top of that, found the situation amusing. I guessed he’d inherited his mother’s perverse mind.

  Once Tara finished inspecting the room, she returned her attention to Trent. He was leaning against one of the support beams, arms crossed.

  “It worked,” Tara said at last. “I was able to draw energy from the beacon.”

  “Along with some side effects, apparently.” Trent pointed at her now-normal face.

  God, he’d known! Poor Tom. I couldn’t imagine how betrayed he felt. I tried to gauge his mood, but of course, his expression was as blank as before.

  “Never mind that.” Tara waved a hand dismissively. “It’s something minor I can easily control if I keep my focus. The power coursing through me isn’t trifling. Minor side effects aren’t surprising.”

  “Too bad it’s not Halloween,” Trenton said. “Or we could trick-or-treat together and win the Summers Lake costume contest.”

  Without offering a response, Tara reached in the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a narrow glass tube filled with a shimmering silver liquid. She held it up, then offered it to her son. Trent’s left eye twitched, but he didn’t reach for the vial.

  “Please, try it,” Tara said in a quiet, pleading voice I’d never heard from her.

  “I told you I’m done with your potions.” Trent turned away.

  She inched closer, her steps small and tentative. “But this is different. My magic feels different. There’s ancient power in me. This is nothing like what we’ve tried before.”

  Trent’s throat bobbed up and down, and he angled his shoulders almost imperceptibly toward his mother. He kept his focus on the glass tube. After a moment of deliberation, he took it from her extended hand.

  She smiled sweetly, the way a loving mother was supposed to do, the way I’d never seen her smile at Tom. It seemed Tara played favorites. The witch! I felt like plucking her scales off, one by one. How could she hurt Tom like this?

  Without a word, Trent uncapped the vial and tipped the silver potion into his mouth. When he’d consumed every drop, he set the empty container on his desk and stared at his hands. He waited for a long moment, then cracked his neck and let out a huff.

  “That’s the last time I drink one of your useless concoctions,” he said.

  Tara’s face crumpled with disappointment. “It might still work. Give it some time,” she said, though without conviction.

  “Time is all I’ve got,” Trent said. “But what I need doesn’t exist.”

  “Son…” Tara reached out to touch him.

  Trent stepped back. “Anything else you’re here to share?”

  Her eyes narrowed as if she were considering her answer. Finally, she said, “Nothing else.”

  “How is Tom?”

  “Tom?” Tara smiled nervously. “Has he been in touch?”

  “No, I imagine he’s busy, getting ready for college and all.”

  Tara turned her back on Trent. Ironically, she ended up facing her youngest son, though her eyes stared right through him. “He is. I barely see him.”

  “Your lies sound so convincing,” Trent said.

  Scales flashed down one side of Tara’s neck. Fists clenched, she faced Trent again.

  “Tom told me what you’ve been up to. Drawing power from the beacon had nothing to do with creating a new potion for me.” He sat at the edge of his desk, appraising Tara with a raised eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Ashamed of sharing your world-domination plans with me?”

  “He promised to keep you out of this,” Tara said between clenched teeth.

  Trent cocked his head to one side. “He did? And why would you make my little brother promise such a thing?”

  “For your own safety, of course.”

  “My safety? Since when do you concern yourself with such trivial things?” Trent’s question seemed loaded with reproach. “Don’t you think it’s much too late for that?”

  “Please, let’s not go there again.”

  “Or maybe there is no room for someone like me in this new world you’re trying to forge.”

  Tara shook her head. “That’s not true.”

  “So why do you keep trying to fix me? Why do you force your potions on me?”

  “Because… you want to…”

  “Want to what? Stop being a freak?”

  “Trent, please,” she said in an entreating tone. “I don’t think—”

  “Save your breath.” He stalked to the still-open door, then extended a hand toward it. “Go wage your war and leave me alone.”

  Tara let out an audible sigh, walked through the threshold, then turned around to say, “When everything is said and done, no one will be able to challenge me and there will be a place for you in Deeploch.”

  Throwing his head back, Trent let out a forced laughed. “You are so blind,” he said, abruptly growing serious. “I’ve never cared about den politics. All I wanted was our family.” He didn’t wait for Tara to say anything. Instead, he shut the door in her face.

  For several minutes, he stood immobile, staring at the runes on the wooden surface.

  I felt like screaming, like bursting out of my immobile body. Just when I thought I would go mad, the force that kept me paralyzed melted away, leaving me limp as a rag.

  Everyone staggered, nearly falling. We held onto each other and the wall, panting for breaths that stretched our ribs to the max.

  “I will kill you,” Santiago said, stumbling in Trent’s direction.

  “You’re welcome to try,” he said, “but let’s take care of Tara first.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It took us all a while to get over what we’d just been through. In the span of a few minutes, we’d met Tom’s long-lost brother, witnessed a sibling feud, were nearly captured by Tara, and then frozen and hidden from her sight while she and Trent hashed out years of family issues.

  Was I living in a soap opera? One with dragons and ice-blue recluses who were obsessed with computer games?

  If that wasn’t enough, Trent had somehow changed his mind and agreed to help us take down his mother. I wondered for a brief second how Tara might feel when she realized both her boys turned against her. Pretty damn terrible, I figured, which made me feel pretty damn great. No mother-of-the-year awards in her future.

  Only, in the last few minutes, my stomach had started to churn. I swallowed hard, fighting the nausea that was quickly demanding most of my attention. It was probably from spent adrenaline. Probably.

  I turned my thoughts to what in the hell we were going to do now that we had Trent on our side.

  “What are you suggesting?” Tom said as I approached where he and Trent were having a conversation near his bank of computers. They’d moved away from us to talk, but I couldn’t stand keeping out of it.

  “Having far too much time on my hands has allowed me to do some things that might prove useful to you.” Trent arched a cerulean-colored eyebrow. He was handsome in a fragile sort of way. I could see the resemblance to Tom in the angle of his cheekbones and the slope of his nose. His eyes were the color of frost on a clear winter’s day, whereas Tom’s were like a sea under a summer sky.

  Trent’s gaze flashed up, and he caught me listening. “Nosy, isn’t she?”

  I flushed, but Tom interceded in my behalf. “Lila has the most to lose here. Tara infected her with one of her concoctions. You, of all people, should understand the toll that takes.”

  Trent looked me over with renewed interest. “What did she give you?”

  I shrugged. “No idea. But I can feel it… inside me.”

  He nodded knowingly. “I have not always been t
his handsome shade of blue,” he said ironically. “This was a present from Mother dearest, as well.”

  “I figured as much from your conversations. What did she do to you?”

  “I was born with a birth defect, one that was not life threatening. Actually, it didn’t impact my quality of life in any way, but it bothered her. Tara always wants perfection. She tried to fix it.” Trent lifted his hand, sparks crackling along his fingertips like they were a Jacob’s ladder from science class. He exchanged a glance with Tom, who returned it solemnly.

  “I’m sorry,” I responded.

  Trent lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “Nothing to be done about it now. She keeps trying to remedy it, but I know this is my life now.” He gestured around the blank, institution-like room.

  “Why here?” I asked.

  “I can’t pass as a human.” He pointed to his blue skin tone. “And I can’t really live in the dragon world either. I kept accidentally blowing things up.” He made an explosion sound, mimicking a mushroom cloud expanding with his hands.

  “And electrocuting people,” Tom said, rubbing his chest where Trent’s bolt hit him. “That’s always a fun treat.”

  Trenton smirked. “You know what they say, ‘You only electrocute the ones you love.’ Anyway, it gave Deeploch the perfect excuse to shun me. They don’t like me. Turns out, they’re as obsessed with perfection as Tara.”

  “So, what now?” I asked, realizing the rest of the party had gathered behind me. There wasn’t much room in this small space for privacy, and besides, we all needed to know our next steps together.

  Trent noted everyone in the group before pointing to one of his huge computer screens. “A while ago, I started tracking dragon activity. Sometimes as a way of seeing what my family was up to,” his eyes flicked to Tom for a beat before continuing, “but recently I’ve noticed a lot of unusual movement.”

  “What kind of movement?” Aunt Scarlett asked, her lips in a tight red line.

  “Whole dens are moving away from their regions and gathering nearby. Frostfire and Bentclaw for sure.” He pointed to what looked like a radar screen. But instead of planes in the sky or submarines underwater, those glowing gold blips were dragons. He circled a large cluster. “This is Mirror Island.”