Wildfire
Page 61
“What did he say?”
“He asked me what would happen if he did it anyway. He said that the marriage was stressing him out.” Disgust dripped from Edward’s voice. “I reminded him that Olivia Charles had powerful friends. The effect on BioCore and his social standing would be devastating. I also told him that if that idiocy ever came out of his mouth again, I would retire and leave the running of the company to him, so he could fend for himself. That last one did it.”
“Is social standing that important to him?”
“Yes. Our parents made sure we had clearly defined roles. He is a brilliant researcher, and I’m his older brother, destined to be his caretaker. He doesn’t like when people talk about him in any way other than his assigned role. He tolerated Jessica because she is, in all likelihood, a Prime empath like her mother. But Kyle conflicted with Brian’s view of himself. Brian was a gifted Prime herbamagos, therefore his son would also be a gifted Prime herbamagos.”
If Rogan and I ever married and our children weren’t Primes, would he resent me? My heart squeezed itself into a tiny painful ball.
“My brother isn’t stupid. He knows perfectly well that his position as the Head of the House lets him float through life. Doors open. The maître d’ always finds his reservation, and if one hadn’t been made, a table is miraculously found anyway. People treat him with respect. Everyone minds his feelings. He doesn’t have to deal with investors and creditors. He doesn’t have to make painful decisions about firing people. He delegates his problems to me and his wife. Kyle threatened that. What happens when Brian retires? Who takes over? Does BioCore even have a future? It calls the very essence of who Brian is into question. There is nothing worse than a failing vector. The stigma of it is like poison. It stains the whole House.”
I’d heard the term before. A failing vector meant a person whose ancestors possessed potent magic, but who fails to pass it on to his children, so the family’s magic grows weaker with every generation.
“Do you think Brian is a failing vector?”
“I don’t care,” Edward said. “But no. I think Kyle will come into his own. And even if he doesn’t, he’s a bright child. Anyone who talks to him for longer than a minute can see it. My mother never cared much for children, even her own, but Olivia saw it. She adored him. She framed every painting he made.”
“Thank you for your time.” I rose.
He looked at me, his eyes haunted. “Have you told Rynda?”
“Not yet.”
“It might break her. I want to be there.”
“I’ll do my best to make sure you’re there, but I can’t promise anything. I don’t know what will happen.”
I left the room. Leon trailed me.
I wanted to take a shower to wash the stress off.
“He’s in love with Rynda,” Leon said. “His whole face lit up when he talked about her.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he marry her? Why did she marry Brian?”
“Probably because Brian was the Head of his House, and Olivia Charles wouldn’t have seen Edward as a winner. She was very proud.”
We took the elevator down to the lobby.
“If we become a House, you’ll be the Head of House Baylor.”
“Yes.” And what joy that would be.
“We’d be a serious House,” he said. “You’re a Prime, Catalina is a Prime, Arabella is probably a Prime. Bern might be a Significant. We’d have four higher-tier magic users.”
“Mhm.” He’d obviously given it some thought.
“Are you going to marry Mad Rogan?” Leon asked. “You’d both be Heads of the Houses.”
Um. “He hasn’t asked me.”
I walked through the doors outside and blinked against the bright sunshine.
“Maybe you should ask him,” Leon said.
If only it were that easy. We headed to my car. The parking lot was half-deserted. I had parked on the side because the lot at the front entrance and ER was full.
“You just want to be related to Mad Rogan.”
“No,” he said, his dark eyes serious. “I want you to be happy.”
“I’m sorry?” I stopped.
“I want you to be happy,” he repeated. “He makes you happy.”
“Rogan and I may not be compatible.”
Leon looked like he had bitten into a lemon. “Like . . . sex . . . ?”
“Children, Leon. He’s a telekinetic and I’m a truthseeker. Our children might not be Primes. You saw how Brian dealt with it.”
“Does Rogan care?”
The last time we openly talked about it, Rogan told me that even though I thought it didn’t matter, it would. “I don’t know. He said he doesn’t—”
My phone rang just as a massive armored truck swung into the parking lot in front of us. A Vault vehicle flashed in my head. Grandma had worked on one before. It looked like an armored security truck from the outside and a stretch limo from the inside. Seating capacity of twenty-five. Shit. We’d never make it to our car. The hospital and Sherwood’s security was our best bet.
“Run!” I barked, and sprinted toward the hospital. Leon shot past me like I wasn’t even moving.
Magic punched the ground in front of me. The blast knocked me back. I stumbled.
A man popped into existence two feet from me. He was almost eight feet tall, slabbed with muscle and naked. His skin was bright red, the bright red of the biological armor of House Madero, and he had Dave Madero’s face. But that couldn’t be right, because Rogan had broken Dave like a toothpick.
Someone had teleported him flashed in my head.
The man’s hands clamped my shoulders. He jerked me off my feet. My bones groaned.
“House Madero says hello, bitch!” He shook me like a rag doll. “Where is your boyfriend? He hurt my brother!”
Not Dave. Frank or Roger Madero.
“Where is he?” He shook me. My teeth rattled in my skull. “Your grandma said to bring you alive. She didn’t say in one piece.”
That was too much. All the stress, worry, and fear combusted into fury inside me and burst into an inferno. He had my shoulders but he didn’t have my hands. I jerked my forearms up and clamped my fingers on his face. Pain flared inside me and rolled down my arms, turning into pure agony. Lightning shot out of my fingers and sank into the armored skin.
“He asked me what would happen if he did it anyway. He said that the marriage was stressing him out.” Disgust dripped from Edward’s voice. “I reminded him that Olivia Charles had powerful friends. The effect on BioCore and his social standing would be devastating. I also told him that if that idiocy ever came out of his mouth again, I would retire and leave the running of the company to him, so he could fend for himself. That last one did it.”
“Is social standing that important to him?”
“Yes. Our parents made sure we had clearly defined roles. He is a brilliant researcher, and I’m his older brother, destined to be his caretaker. He doesn’t like when people talk about him in any way other than his assigned role. He tolerated Jessica because she is, in all likelihood, a Prime empath like her mother. But Kyle conflicted with Brian’s view of himself. Brian was a gifted Prime herbamagos, therefore his son would also be a gifted Prime herbamagos.”
If Rogan and I ever married and our children weren’t Primes, would he resent me? My heart squeezed itself into a tiny painful ball.
“My brother isn’t stupid. He knows perfectly well that his position as the Head of the House lets him float through life. Doors open. The maître d’ always finds his reservation, and if one hadn’t been made, a table is miraculously found anyway. People treat him with respect. Everyone minds his feelings. He doesn’t have to deal with investors and creditors. He doesn’t have to make painful decisions about firing people. He delegates his problems to me and his wife. Kyle threatened that. What happens when Brian retires? Who takes over? Does BioCore even have a future? It calls the very essence of who Brian is into question. There is nothing worse than a failing vector. The stigma of it is like poison. It stains the whole House.”
I’d heard the term before. A failing vector meant a person whose ancestors possessed potent magic, but who fails to pass it on to his children, so the family’s magic grows weaker with every generation.
“Do you think Brian is a failing vector?”
“I don’t care,” Edward said. “But no. I think Kyle will come into his own. And even if he doesn’t, he’s a bright child. Anyone who talks to him for longer than a minute can see it. My mother never cared much for children, even her own, but Olivia saw it. She adored him. She framed every painting he made.”
“Thank you for your time.” I rose.
He looked at me, his eyes haunted. “Have you told Rynda?”
“Not yet.”
“It might break her. I want to be there.”
“I’ll do my best to make sure you’re there, but I can’t promise anything. I don’t know what will happen.”
I left the room. Leon trailed me.
I wanted to take a shower to wash the stress off.
“He’s in love with Rynda,” Leon said. “His whole face lit up when he talked about her.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he marry her? Why did she marry Brian?”
“Probably because Brian was the Head of his House, and Olivia Charles wouldn’t have seen Edward as a winner. She was very proud.”
We took the elevator down to the lobby.
“If we become a House, you’ll be the Head of House Baylor.”
“Yes.” And what joy that would be.
“We’d be a serious House,” he said. “You’re a Prime, Catalina is a Prime, Arabella is probably a Prime. Bern might be a Significant. We’d have four higher-tier magic users.”
“Mhm.” He’d obviously given it some thought.
“Are you going to marry Mad Rogan?” Leon asked. “You’d both be Heads of the Houses.”
Um. “He hasn’t asked me.”
I walked through the doors outside and blinked against the bright sunshine.
“Maybe you should ask him,” Leon said.
If only it were that easy. We headed to my car. The parking lot was half-deserted. I had parked on the side because the lot at the front entrance and ER was full.
“You just want to be related to Mad Rogan.”
“No,” he said, his dark eyes serious. “I want you to be happy.”
“I’m sorry?” I stopped.
“I want you to be happy,” he repeated. “He makes you happy.”
“Rogan and I may not be compatible.”
Leon looked like he had bitten into a lemon. “Like . . . sex . . . ?”
“Children, Leon. He’s a telekinetic and I’m a truthseeker. Our children might not be Primes. You saw how Brian dealt with it.”
“Does Rogan care?”
The last time we openly talked about it, Rogan told me that even though I thought it didn’t matter, it would. “I don’t know. He said he doesn’t—”
My phone rang just as a massive armored truck swung into the parking lot in front of us. A Vault vehicle flashed in my head. Grandma had worked on one before. It looked like an armored security truck from the outside and a stretch limo from the inside. Seating capacity of twenty-five. Shit. We’d never make it to our car. The hospital and Sherwood’s security was our best bet.
“Run!” I barked, and sprinted toward the hospital. Leon shot past me like I wasn’t even moving.
Magic punched the ground in front of me. The blast knocked me back. I stumbled.
A man popped into existence two feet from me. He was almost eight feet tall, slabbed with muscle and naked. His skin was bright red, the bright red of the biological armor of House Madero, and he had Dave Madero’s face. But that couldn’t be right, because Rogan had broken Dave like a toothpick.
Someone had teleported him flashed in my head.
The man’s hands clamped my shoulders. He jerked me off my feet. My bones groaned.
“House Madero says hello, bitch!” He shook me like a rag doll. “Where is your boyfriend? He hurt my brother!”
Not Dave. Frank or Roger Madero.
“Where is he?” He shook me. My teeth rattled in my skull. “Your grandma said to bring you alive. She didn’t say in one piece.”
That was too much. All the stress, worry, and fear combusted into fury inside me and burst into an inferno. He had my shoulders but he didn’t have my hands. I jerked my forearms up and clamped my fingers on his face. Pain flared inside me and rolled down my arms, turning into pure agony. Lightning shot out of my fingers and sank into the armored skin.
