musculature, his ribs were prominent and his stomach concave. His face was a little too thin. He needed three squares a day and then some for about the next month to regain his health, which might be why they were able to easily get the drop on him. Jaxon shuddered to think how powerful he was when at full strength, if the supercharged display was any indication.
“A freaking Necromancer,” Zan muttered from the back. “Who’da thought?”
“Ryon said he’s more than that,” Jaxon reminded them. “So what is he? Besides that and a panther shifter.”
Ryon turned onto the main road, glanced into the rearview mirror, and blew out a breath. “He’s a Sorcerer. And I think that’s the basis for all his abilities, including his animal.”
Stunned silence met his announcement. If their friend was right, Kalen Black might just be the most powerful being they’d ever run across. Including Nick and Sariel.
Finally, Zan spoke up. “Did you see how he shifted without even getting undressed? His clothes just vanished, then reappeared when he shifted back.”
“Too cool,” Hammer said. “Wish we could do that.”
“Sorcerers gather power from the elements and can use it to command . . . hell, just about anything.” Jaxon sighed. “Won’t be so cool if he’s really gone rogue and tries to use dark magic against us. Everything went down too fast and there was too much adrenaline pumping for me to get a reading on him.”
After that sobering reminder, there wasn’t much to say on the way back, each of them lost in their own thoughts. About ten minutes before they arrived, Black moaned and awakened gradually, eyes fluttering open. He tried to move his arms only to find his wrists were shackled behind his back, and Jaxon hoped the irons were strong enough to do their job.
Apparently they were, because the kid sat quietly, expression betraying nothing. Not fear or even anger. He just bided his time, patient, as though this was merely a side trip on the cracked and rocky road of his life.
What kinds of hardships had this young man endured?
The compound was quiet when they arrived, but then it was nearly two thirty in the morning. The only person who was awake to greet them was Nick, standing at the back entrance as though he’d expected them, which he probably had.
Jaxon took their detainee by an arm and led him inside, unprepared for the rush of darkness that swamped him from the young man—not the darkness of malice but of sorrow and desperation. Of long nights suffering from cold and hunger, the agony of abandonment, bleak despair.
Huddled in a filthy alley, alone and scared. Stomach growling, in pain.
Shame. Wanting out, but too afraid to make the cuts.
Has to end. Make it stop.
All of these images and emotions were much more than he wanted to see, and Jax felt like a voyeur, intruding on the young man’s horror when he had no right. But he hadn’t done it on purpose. Normally readings like this were a painstaking process that took several minutes to find the memories, catch the threads and follow them. But the Sorcerer was like a conduit for an endless flow of energy and Jaxon had no defenses against the man’s roiling emotions that poured through the connection like blood.
At least he’d gleaned one important thing—Kalen Black was no enemy of theirs. With the right cultivation, he’d make a powerful ally, perhaps even a new team member to bolster their numbers again. He hoped the others, especially their boss, got the same feeling. Their group stopped in front of him, waiting for instructions.
Nick got right down to business, addressing the younger man directly. “Mr. Black, we’re going into the meeting room where we’re going to have an honest discussion about why you’re here. You’re going to tell us what we need to know, and then we’ll decide what course of action to take. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” His gaze didn’t waver, and revealed no deception.
Nick nodded in approval and they trooped down the hall and into the same room in which they’d had their briefing about the four dead men and the suspicious cemetery visitor, who was now in their custody. Black was directed to sit in a chair at the large table as the focal point of a rough circle, hands still bound behind his back. His backpack was placed on the floor next to him. He volunteered nothing, no doubt having learned the value on the streets of keeping one’s mouth shut unless necessary.
Everyone sat except Nick, who remained standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He studied the kid for a long moment, no doubt seeing many of the things Jaxon had felt minutes ago. “You’re a Sorcerer.” A statement, not a question.
“Among other things.” A slight crack in the kid’s armor revealed the self-loathing behind those words.
Jaxon knew what “other things” he meant, and they had nothing to do with his magical talents.
“Shifter. Necromancer.”
“Yeah. So what?”
“How long have you known?”
The question seemed to throw him a little, and he paused, thinking. “Always, I guess. Though I didn’t have labels for my abilities when I was a kid. I just knew I was weird and my mom and stepdad hated me.”
“Feared you is likely more accurate,” Nick corrected.
“Maybe. What difference does it make? I’ve been on my own since they kicked my ass out at fourteen and I haven’t looked back. Not once in nine years.”
Fourteen. God, for what this young man had suffered, mommy dearest and the stepbastard ought to be tortured and hung.
“You’re right. It doesn’t make a difference except their actions made you what you are—a survivor traveling a road that will lead to either your salvation or destruction, depending on the choices you make. Starting tonight.”
The Sorcerer stared at him a few seconds and then gave a short laugh. “Right. Isn’t that true of everyone, Seer?”
A hush fell over the room and all attention swung to Nick. The undisguised challenge of his talents from this newcomer wasn’t surprising, given the young man’s isolation and his inexperience in dealing with others, but their boss wasn’t inclined to go easy. The kid didn’t need that right now, nor would he appreciate it.
“I’m not speaking in generalities and I think you know that, just as you know most men could never handle learning their fates. What you decide here tonight will set you on a very specific course, one that will lead to the toughest challenges and greatest enemy you’ll ever face.”
For a second the guy seemed unnerved, glancing around at all of them. Rallying, he shook his head. “What do you want from me?”
“Cooperation, for starters. Tell us what brought you to Cody, Wyoming.”
He shrugged. “Nothing specific. Just sort of go where the wind blows me, performing street magic for tips to get by.”
“Like that David Blaine dude,” Ryon put in.
“Yeah, like him. Only I can’t speak for him, but my stuff is the real deal. I could’ve done Vegas, but I don’t like the thought of selling out to the big fish, having them watching over me, putting me on a schedule and telling me what to do with my magic. That would suck out loud.”
The corner of Nick’s mouth kicked up at his choice of words. “Plus somebody might find out it’s not an act.”
“Can’t have that, either. So it’s just me and the road.” He cocked his head. “I don’t know why I came here, but now that I’m giving it more thought, it’s almost like something called to me. I mean, it’s a good place away from the city to let my panther run, but there was something else. Once I got here, I sensed death. My panther smelled it.”
“We’re in the forest,” Nick pointed out. “Animals die, sometimes campers and hikers who aren’t careful.”
“Yeah, but I’m not talking about natural death or accident. What I sensed after I arrived was more like . . . something that makes your skin crawl, makes you want to run and hide, shaking in terror and hoping it’ll pass by without noticing you. Know what I mean?”
