Garret knocked once then opened the door. He moved out of the way pretty fast considering his size. Dillan reminded himself not to underestimate the man. He kept his expression passive when he sauntered into the room and stopped at the center of an expensive rug.
Kyle sat behind a desk that was too large for his frame. He no longer sported the boy-next-door attitude. His eyes were an icy gray, tipping toward glacial. They watched his every move. The lines on guy’s face looked too harsh, even in the soft light. Like he’d aged ten years since dinner. He reminded Dillan of Rainer. Well, maybe a little less bloodthirsty.
The study seemed too dark from the wood on the floor and the furniture. If he had to work in a place like this, he’d be depressed within a week. His gaze landed on the confirmation of his earlier suspicions. At a far wall was a large, framed family tree. Every family in the Illumenari had one. His family’s held a place of honor at their ancestral manor, and it tracked the Sloan line from the very first Sloan, who was part of the ten families that created the Illumenari. The one in Rainer’s study was of his late wife’s family. His eyebrows rose. From the looks of Kyle’s family tree, his line was one of the oldest, too. Not a first family, but pretty close.
“Leave us,” Kyle said.
Garret grunted. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
He settled a level stare Dillan’s way. “Are you planning on stabbing me any time soon?”
“Call off your guard dog, Hilliard.” He tilted his chin at Garret. “We need to talk.”
Behind his smile hid something cruel when he returned his attention to the mercenary. “I can handle him.”
“Call if you need me.” Garret stabbed a pointed glare at Dillan before he left the room.
He shrugged off the mercenary’s machismo. He may admire the man’s talents, but even he had limits. “Does Selena know about you?”
“Sit.” Kyle indicated one of the chairs across from him.
“I’m not a dog, you asshat. Why don’t I recognize the Hilliard name?” Dillan moved to the family tree and traced its branches with his eyes. Many of the names were crossed out, much like his own family tree.
“My family left before I was born,” he said like an aside. “I make it a point not to talk to anyone in the Council if I don’t have to.”
“I’m president of the club.”
“Don’t. It makes me itch to think we have something in common.”
“That explains the mercenaries.”
“Garret is my grandfather’s bastard. Riona is born of a line that died out before she turned ten.” He tapped his chin. “You’re smarter than I thought.”
“I have my moments.” Dillan took a seat, crossing his legs. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Kyle leaned back and tented his fingers. “She doesn’t know. And it’s going to stay that way.”
“What is she?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.” Dillan folded his arms over his chest. “She’s not human.”
A knot formed on Kyle’s brow. “Leave it alone, Sloan.”
“Is she a mercenary?”
“I said leave it.”
Kyle should have left out the silent threat. Now he had to push. It was his prerogative. “What’s an Illumenari son like you doing with a couple of mercenaries hanging around a town in the middle of nowhere? What? Is Newcastle the destination for wayward Illumenari now?”
As if he brushed off Dillan’s questions, Kyle reached for the iPad beside him. “It says here you’ve been banished by the Council for failing to fulfill your duty.”
Dillan froze. The hairs along his arms stood on end.
Kyle slid his finger across the touch screen. “Because of your failure, you’ve been demoted. The first one in our history. Interesting.”
Ignoring the bait, he forced his muscles to relax. He called on his breathing exercises, even if all he wanted was to reach across the table and slam the iPad into Kyle’s face.
“The wards along your perimeter suck,” he challenged. “You should look into that.”
That got his attention. He set aside the iPad, his sharp eyes returned to match Dillan’s insubordinate stare. “Garret’s checking them now. What happened?”
“Five reanimated corpses made it through your wards.”
“Undead?”
“No. Puppets. They turned to ooze when I cut through them.”
Kyle’s lips pursed. “Which means they returned to their graves.”
“At least you know your stuff.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I don’t have time to give you a lesson in Necromancy 101.”
“I can forgive you for teasing Selena, but I don’t appreciate you mocking my intelligence.”
“You should show this side of yourself more. It’s fuckin’ adorable.”
“Rainer warned me you had a mouth. Could you be any more childish?”
He hadn’t seen childish yet, but Dillan stayed on track. After tonight, the sleepy town of Newcastle stopped being boring. “Best I can tell? We might have a Maestro in the area.”
“First the missing dogs, now this.” Kyle closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He looked more like himself again. At least, the self he chose to show the public. “What can you tell me about what you’ve found so far? I assume you’ve started your investigation?”
Dillan debated how much to tell him. He decided to leave Sebastian out of it. “You should assume the dogs are dead.”
He opened his eyes and straightened in his seat. “Tracks?”
“Nothing yet.” Because he hadn’t actually seen any carcasses yet. But he’d rather die than admit that to the asshole sitting across from him.
“The ground’s been pretty hard. And considering the grass on the prairies, tracks would be hard to find.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t find any.” He sat up. “I’m going back to my search after this godforsaken weekend is over.”
“Dioramas too juvenile for you?”
“If we’re done here…” He stood up.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but why would the fastest rising Illumenari son fail his duty?”
The wood creaked when his hand closed around the back of the chair. He met Kyle’s mocking stare and flipped him off before walking out.
…
Not five minutes after closing his eyes, something straddled Dillan’s waist. His hands grabbed soft skin, forcing him to open his eyes. Wavy hair rained down around his head as a pale face hovered above him. He stared into her sightless eyes. She frowned. He breathed in the cinnamon scent of her.
“You failed me,” she whispered.
She was right. He said her name in response. He ran his hands down her arms and closed them around her tiny wrists. Without asking for permission, he lifted her limp hands to his neck.
“Go on.” He swallowed, sliding his hands to her waist. “Do it.”
Understanding softened her expression. She nodded before her cold fingers circled his neck. She didn’t need any encouragement from him. The pressure pinched his throat closed. She squeezed harder. His lungs burned, struggling for air. His heart hammered inside his chest as he grew lightheaded. Soon, his survival instincts kicked in, but he fought against throwing her off the bed.
When his eyes rolled back into his head, he gasped awake and sat up. He let his sight adjust before he scanned the room they’d given him at Valley View. Nothing. He reached for the bedside lamp. Yellow light pushed away the dark. Still nothing. He fought against breathing too hard too fast. His throat hurt when he swallowed.
Adrenaline-laced blood pushed him off the bed. He dropped to the floor and counted out fifty push-ups. Then he jumped to his feet and manifested his weapon. He lunged and slashed at the air, repeating several other maneuvers against invisible targets. He needed to anchor himself to the present. Shit. That dream was too real. He pulled out of a lunge and stood straight. Sweat rolled down his back by the time he returned the sword to its alternate form. Reaching behind him, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside.