Blood Secrets - By Jeannie Holmes Page 0,25
his black coffee. “We were on-scene. She picked up some evidence and the vision hit her. Hard.”
“Is she all right?”
“She will be, but …” Now that he sat face-to-face with Emily, he wasn’t certain if he was doing the right thing. Did Alex’s mother really need to know about the vision?
Of course she did, he argued with himself. Emily had to know. If the truth came out now with Alex facing the Tribunal, the repercussions could devastate the Sabian family as well as cast the Bureau into chaos.
“Varik?” Emily touched his arm. “What happened to Alex? What did she see?”
“Bernard. He was with Siobhan.”
His words didn’t seem to register at first and then realization made the color drain from her face. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, taking a series of deep breaths. Her words were muffled when she spoke. “Did Alex recognize her?”
“No, she said she couldn’t see the woman’s face.”
Emily raised her head. “That’s good.”
“How is that good? She’s going to figure out that Bernard cheated on you, that it wasn’t just some random vision.”
“As long as she doesn’t know it was Siobhan, everything will be fine.”
“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. Alex and I are bond-mates. If she has another vision like that, she’s going to know I’m lying to her.”
“No, she can’t find out about Siobhan. Bernard was adamant that Alex never know of the affair.”
“And I’m telling you that she’s going to find out sooner or later.”
Emily sighed and began twisting the gold band encircling her left ring finger. They sat in silence for several minutes before she finally spoke, her voice pitched low. “Bernard and I hit a rough patch in our marriage about a year before Alex was born. What caused the split isn’t important anymore. The affair only lasted a few months and then Bernard came to his senses and came home. He and I made up and were very happy until the day he was killed.”
When she leveled her gaze on him, her blue eyes were a pale shade of gold, like sunlight filtered through autumn leaves. “You were Bernard’s partner for a long time, and he thought of you like a second son.”
Varik looked out the coffee house’s large window and watched the traffic passing by on Jefferson Boulevard.
“I’m asking you—begging you—to bury your knowledge of Bernard and Siobhan deep in yourself.”
He focused on her again. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Varik, please …”
“I understand your desire to follow Bernard’s wishes, Emily. Hell, I certainly don’t want to hurt Alex. She idolized her father—still does—but there is no way Bernard could’ve foreseen any of this, regardless of his Talent.”
“But he did foresee that Alex would face the Tribunal. He said if she faced the Tribunal ignorant of his past as a Hunter-Talent, as well as of Siobhan, then she would be exonerated.”
“Visions change. They’re nothing more than educated guesses based on current circumstances. Replace one element and the entire pattern alters.”
“He saw it, Varik, and he said—”
“He also saw himself at the Tribunal with Alex. That’s not likely to happen now, is it?”
Emily drew back as if he’d slapped her.
“I’m sorry.” He reached for her hand, and she pulled away. “That came out wrong.”
“I should go.” She began gathering her things.
“Wait, please.”
She slipped out of the booth and shouldered her purse.
Varik stood and grabbed her arm. “Don’t leave. Not like this.”
“Please remove your hand, Enforcer Baudelaire.”
He released her. “Emily, I’m sorry. Please—”
“Thank you for telling me about Alex’s vision. Please let me know if she has any more.” She hurried away and this time he didn’t try to stop her.
The blood-bond suddenly opened and Alex’s voice whispered in his mind. Turn your fucking cell phone on, jackass.
What’s wrong?
Tasha thinks she may have found Mindy Johnson’s body.
“Fuck.” His troubles with Emily would have to wait. He grabbed his jacket, tossed the rest of his coffee into the trash, and sprinted for his Corvette.
* * *
The campus of Nassau County Community College was abuzz with news about the discovery of Mindy Johnson’s car. Kirk lounged on top of a concrete bench outside the Union Center, the hub of campus life, and listened to the gossip floating up from adjacent tables.
“I heard the vamps found her severed hands in the glove box,” one pampered-princess coed told a small group and then nodded sagely when they gasped in melodramatic horror.
“A guy in my econ class said it was her head,” another contradicted.
“Don’t be stupid,” the first said. “You couldn’t fit