Romano turned and strode back toward Mancini. “What do you mean by ‘that explains a great deal’?”
Mancini smiled. “Your daughter is not human, Romano. And she passed her ability on to her son.”
Blood drained from Romano’s face so quickly, he had to steady himself with a hand on the desk. “What? That’s impossible. She’s never shown any ability. Nothing. And I would know. I had her and her mother tested repeatedly.” And if she had been an abnormal, and he’d known, he would have used her abilities to his advantage. Just like he’d used his other children’s abilities. He’d always kept them quiet. Not allowing them to talk to even one another about what they could do.
Except for Bianca, she had figured things out. His hand tightened on the wooden desk top.
Mancini sat on the edge of his desk. “You do not have any natural ability, so you can be forgiven for not seeing what ran through the Phoenix’s blood. As it is subtle, and an old trait not often seen any longer. It would be hard for any but my kind to detect it.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m not sure it matters. But that boy has the same talents, along with something that seems to be flowing from his father’s side. I don’t believe his father was abnormal.”
Romano shook his head.
“Then a latent ability from somewhere in the bloodline on that side. An ability, again, that is difficult to pinpoint.” Mancini let out a long breath before speaking, as if gathering his thoughts. “What it tells me is that containing the Phoenix is going to be far more difficult than you believe. And if she realizes what her abilities are, and gains some proficiency in them, well . . . let’s just say if you thought she was dangerous before, it will be nothing compared to what she will become.”
Romano worked his jaw back and forth. “Regardless. I have her son, and that gives me control over her. She will never risk his life. In that, she is her mother’s daughter. She would die herself before she let harm come to him.”
Mancini tipped his head to the side. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you will anger her enough that she will just kill you.”
“No,” Romano said. “She doesn’t want to kill me now. Not yet, anyway. She wants to make me suffer.” He had time, and he had tools, and he was going to use them both to make things go his way. “If she wants her son to remain alive, she will work for me. She will destroy the Genzo and his Ikimono myst.” And then the Yakuza would be Romano’s to control.
“And what about my money?” Mancini asked. Romano knew money wasn’t really the issue for him, the leader of the Collective had plenty enough. The money was just another piece of leverage to hold over his head.
“You’ll get your money when she takes down the Yakuza.”
Mancini’s eyes flickered and danced, almost as if mocking Romano, and he knew it. “I believe you have one other you will need to deal with if you want to lock up your inclusion to the Collective.”
Romano nodded. “Killian Fannin is on the short list to be handled. He and his Irish are not as strong as he thinks. There has been more than one defector. But first, let us deal with the Yakuza and their monsters before they get ahead of themselves. Agreed?”
Mancini nodded. “Agreed.”
They stood there, eyes locked. Two powerhouse men in their own rights. One born to that power as an abnormal of incredible strength and influence, and the other strong because he’d been willing to sell his soul to the devil in exchange for strength and influence.
Mancini waited until Romano left before he sat in his chair. He tapped his fingers along the edge of the desk for a moment, then picked up the phone.
The number he dialed was not one he used often. He didn’t like using freelancers, even though this one was one of the best.
As soon as the phone picked up on the other side he spoke. “You and I need to talk.”
“Unless you’re talking money, we don’t need to talk,” the man said, his voice pitched low.
“Money, yes. Romano screwed you over on bringing in the Phoenix, didn’t he?” Mancini stared at the far wall of his office, thinking.
Silence for a moment. “Yes.”
“Unlike Romano, I hold to my word, which you know from working with me in the past. Bring her to me. I will make it worth your while and then some.”
“You going to kill her?” His voice was hard, and Mancini heard the real words: I won’t bring her in if you’re going to kill her.
Mancini laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft. Let me put it this way. The Collective has put an open bounty on her head. Any abnormal can kill her without repercussion, right now, and not only will we cover it up, they would be rewarded with a king’s ransom. You’d be doing her a favor by bringing her to me. You have my word I will not kill her.”
“Shit,” the man on the other end of the line muttered and then hung up.
Mancini put the phone down, smiling to himself as he began to hum a song. He smiled more widely as he got to the chorus and spoke the words softly.
“Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap.”
Chapter Two
Phoenix
Flames licked around my body, and the heat drove through to the marrow of my bones, boiling me from the inside out. I was trapped in a fire of my own making as my enemies closed around me, tightening their hold on my skin. A crackle of branches in the wind rolled off the flames, and then the Stick Man was there, his flailing limbs whipping around as he flicked his hands toward me.
Taller than any human, the guardian was made of a living wood that could not burn, and I’d killed him. And yet, here he was again, on fire as he reached for me. Demonic laughter coursed through the air and a scattering of living splinters shot from him like bullets.
I dropped to the ground and rolled, rolled until I couldn’t stop as if I slid down an embankment. I reached for something, anything, and my fingernails snapped as I tried to grab hold of loose soil, and found only stones and roots, unable to gain purchase. I flipped over and over, until my head smashed against something metallic and cold, and my momentum stilled.
The scene flickered and the flames and Stick Man were gone, but I was strapped inside of an old Ford that had sunk beneath the ice. A place I’d been before and never wanted to relive again. The water rose around me at a pace that would cover me in seconds. I fought to get loose, but was pinned by the twisted metal of the truck as it speared me through the leg. I pushed and pulled as the water slid up over my calves, knees and thighs, icy cold and numbing with each splash.
I refused to look around because a small part of my brain knew this was a dream. A bad one, but still a dream, and I didn’t want to see who else was in the truck with me. I couldn’t take seeing them die again.
“Mama!” Bear’s voice cut through my panic like nothing else. Despite my resolve to not look, I twisted to see my son, battered and bruised but alive and looking at me from the driver’s side backseat of the truck. His dark hair was damp, plastered to his head, and the water had reached his chin. He fought to keep his mouth above the surface as he stretched his hand out to me. “Don’t leave me, Mama!”