back.
Malik growled as he transferred his glare to me.
“We met in one, darling,” I reminded him.
“That place with the loud music where you rubbed your body all over mine?” Malik asked.
“That would be it,” I confirmed. “Though I'd argue it was the other way around.”
Jason, codename Veritas—for his ability to pull the truth out of people, snorted and shot Davorin a grin. “I told you the proper ones are always tigers underneath.”
“Who exactly are you calling a tiger?” Malik growled.
“Who exactly are you calling proper?” I asked at the same time.
“Uh, women other than your wife,” Jason stuttered, speaking to Mal while answering us both.
Malik nodded. “You may continue to breathe.”
“Thank you,” Jason squeaked.
Leo, codename Maestro—for his ability to use sound as a weapon, just shook his head and covered his face with a hand.
Malik's codename was Nightshade—the English translation of his surname, while Kyrian's was Arc. There had been some discussion over changing Kyrian's codename since he'd been promoted from Arc to Prince in the Triari Host, but Kyrian didn't care enough to bother. Honestly, the promotion hadn't changed his life at all since he was stationed on Earth as my guardian.
“What was the incident?” I asked Alex, who looked as if he were about to have a mental breakdown.
Alex nodded at me gratefully as he pulled several folders out of his briefcase and then spread them on the marble coffee table between us. He flipped one open and removed a picture of a handsome man in a suit. “This is Edward Leshing, owner of Leshing Industries.”
“The car guy?” Davorin asked as he leaned forward on his thick forearms and peered at the perfect smile that must have cost Leshing thousands of dollars.
“His company makes more than cars.” Leo's interest was piqued. His pale blue eyes—so startling in his Cuban face—narrowed on the photograph. “And the cars he builds are top of the line electric.”
“Funny you should mention that.” Alex grimaced. “This is Raptor after Leshing got through with it.”
Alex spread out a series of photographs. They were all of a once-luxurious interior. I remembered the plush seats and sparkling lights of the upscale dance club, and those photos looked nothing like it. Fabric was charred, lights broken or gone completely, and the bar looked like a Troll had danced on it.
“It was some kind of electrical attack,” Alex said. “One of Leshing's corporate rivals was in the club. They got into a fight and then—” Alex waved his hands out at the pictures. “Witnesses stated that the club just exploded into sparks. A few people saw Leshing's hands crackling with light, but they all believed it was just their minds playing tricks on them amid all the chaos.”
“But it wasn't?” Kyrian asked.
“No, I saw the security footage myself—what little there was before Leshing's blast took out the cameras.” Alex shook his head. “He possesses some kind of electrical supernatural ability.”
“Where is he now?” Leo asked.
“In custody—D.H.S. custody,” Alex said grimly.
“Okay.” I scowled, unclear as to why we were being brought in on a minor issue, even if it did involve a supe. It sounded like a case of property damage. “So charge him in your secret supe court and fine him or send him to jail.”
Supernaturals are not above the law. However, there are separate courts for us. If a supe was caught breaking the law, they would face a judge who was aware of what they were, and be given a sentence appropriate to their crime. If sentenced to jail, their time would be served in a special, secret prison for supernaturals. A prison equipped to handle people with all sorts of powers.
There were exceptions, of course. Those rare supes who couldn't be contained had to be executed if their crimes were horrible enough. But most of those types of supes never made it to a courtroom. Then there were the Aliens. Usually, an alien caught committing a crime was remanded to his people for justice and banished from Earth instead of sent to prison. It was better than the possibility of starting a war with another race. But this guy was from Earth. He was either Evolved or Transformed, and his power could be contained easily enough.
“If he survives, he will have to face a judge,” Alex said. “But that is uncertain.”
He slapped another photo down. It was the same man in the first picture, Leshing, but he was in a hospital bed, covered in sores.
“His magic did that to him?” I asked in shock.
“Yes,” Alex