Chapter One
“Romano, you disappoint me, yet again. You were supposed to kill your daughter, and as far as I can tell, she is still very much alive.” Mancini sat in his chair behind a large dark walnut desk. His hands were clasped and his elbows balanced on the armrests.
Solid gray hair marked him as aged, but his face was not heavily lined, and his features gave the impression of a kindly man, a man of compassion. That is if you didn’t look too closely at his eyes and the way the irises danced and jigged as if they were a living creature that had taken up residence within the orbs.
If one looked long enough, his eyes seemed to have eyes within them, looking back at you. Judging you, weighing your value.
Luca Romano stood with his hands tucked behind his back, fingers interlaced, not a drop of sweat running down his spine underneath the ten-thousand-dollar suit. “I’m well aware that Phoenix is alive. It was never my intention to kill her.”
Mancini smiled at him, the edges of his teeth showing. “I want her dead, Romano. She took my money and destroyed the only manufacturing plant in North America that had Diva up and producing. Genzo and his Yakuza are not happy that they didn’t get their shipment. It was meant to be used in conjunction with their production of a new myst, which they have yet to discuss with me.” He frowned and then went on. “They will be even unhappier when they realize their shipment isn’t late, but will not be arriving at all. I do not need another turf war.”
Romano dipped his head. The last turf war between Mancini and Genzo was something out of legend if the tales were to be believed. The damage done to the abnormal community was still healing, and yet they’d managed to keep the worst of it from the humans. Yes, the humans knew that abnormals existed, but they were considered peripheral to human society and more of a nuisance than a threat.
That was going to change if Romano had his way.
Romano smiled slowly. “I know we can use the Phoenix to our advantage. As much as we both want her dead for her crimes, we also must admit she is a weapon, a valuable weapon, that if used correctly, could help us . . . manage . . . Genzo and his Yakuza. Thus, preventing another war.”
Mancini leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening, Romano, but understand this is your last chance to impress me and the Collective. You’ve fumbled the ball in the end zone far too many times. Only your connections have kept you afloat.”
Romano took a step forward and pulled a piece of paper from under his suit, then spread it on the desk. “The Yakuza are developing a new myst spell, a myst they are deliberately keeping from you.” This was information Romano had received directly from the Yakuza because they believed Romano would side with them against Mancini. He smiled as Mancini leaned forward, a glint in his disturbing eyes.
“What kind of myst?”
Romano smoothed the paper. “They are calling it Ikimono. Loosely translated, it means creature.”
“And what does Ikimono do?” Mancini didn’t look up. His eyes were glued to the words on the paper that spelled out the new myst and how the Yakuza had stumbled on its creation. An abnormal scientist dabbling in genetic mutation and magic at the same time. For the moment, it had only been tested on animals, but they were moving on to abnormals in the next week if the dates on the paper were to be believed.
“By all accounts, Ikimono attaches to the host’s DNA and twists it, opening it for insertion of a companion DNA which is pre-determined and already present in the injection.” Romano tapped his finger on the paper. “The plan is to create a new, stronger breed of abnormals. One that outstrips anything magic has ever created on its own. Ramping things up, and making it so Genzo could potentially have his own army.” Romano knew he was playing a dangerous game. He’d all but told Mancini that he was no longer the strongest bully in the schoolyard.
Mancini lifted his eyes to Romano. “Genzo can’t be allowed to go forward with this.” He tapped a finger on the paper. “If we let him, he will wipe out both you and me.”
Romano shrugged. He had his own secrets that would keep him safe. “It is possible, yes.” Best that he look like he was in the same trouble Mancini was. Which Romano knew he most certainly was not. He had a hold on Genzo that was ironclad.
With a finger on the paper, Mancini pushed it across the desk to him. “And you think Phoenix could be used to do what, exactly?”
He picked up the paper, folded it, and tucked it into his coat. “She hates abnormals, Mancini. I trained her for that, drilled it into her to kill them on sight.”
Mancini frowned, but Romano pushed on.
“I believe we could direct her to the Yakuza, let her see the horrors they are creating, and she will wipe them out for us without more than a, let’s call it a gentle push, toward them.”
The leader of the Collective was silent for a few heartbeats, his eyes hooded. This was the part Romano disliked—not knowing what was going on in the other man’s mind.
The older man steepled his fingers and put them under his chin. “What will you use to force her hand? I doubt she would willingly work for you, now that you’ve killed her family. She and I are not on any kind of good terms which leaves me no way to coerce her. So, what do you have, Romano? Because I know you well enough to know you are a snake in the grass. There is always something you have in mind.”
Romano smiled, though it was a stretch. He hadn’t planned on showing his ace up the sleeve, but with Mancini, it looked as if he was going to have to prove himself. “If I may introduce you to someone?”
Mancini waved both hands at him, his eyes seemingly bored, but there was a flicker of interest. Curiosity was an abnormal trait that Romano despised. It was one of the things that made them so fucking unpredictable.
Romano opened the office door and leaned out. “Come in. I want you to meet a friend of mine.”
A young boy with dark hair and dark solemn eyes stepped into the room. He wore a school uniform with a crest of a dragon over the left side of his chest. Mancini’s eyes narrowed rapidly. “Who is this?”
Romano put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is my grandson, Bear. His parents were killed in a car accident nearly five months ago. I have him in St. George’s school for exceptional boys.”
Bear looked up at his grandfather, but said nothing.
“I’d like a closer look at him.” Mancini beckoned with the crook of a single finger.
Bear’s eyes shot to the man across the desk and his body stiffened under Romano’s hand. “It’s okay, son. Mr. Mancini is a longtime friend of mine.” He bent and whispered to the boy, “Don’t embarrass me.” Then all but shoved him forward.
With a stumble, Bear slowly made his way across the open space between the door and the desk. Mancini stood and walked around the edge so he could crouch in front of the boy.
He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Bear.”
Bear held his hand out. Mancini caught hold of him and gave him a single shake and a tight-lipped smile. “Ah, that explains a great deal. A great deal.”
Bear frowned and tried to pull his hand away. Mancini held on a moment longer and then let go.
He stood. “Romano, you have a plan then?”
“I do. I’d rather not speak in front of my grandson.” Romano gestured for Bear to go to the door. He walked beside the boy, his hand once more on his shoulder. “Do not move from that chair.” Again, he gave him a push, this time toward the only chair in the waiting room, then shut the door behind his grandson.