Masked Possession. Alana Delacroix

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СКАЧАТЬ enough to know the overall attitudes toward humans ranged from abhorrence to neutrality to food source. She wondered how her parents had even met, given all the prejudice to humans. She’d only been told it was at a dance. A brief and unwelcome thought occurred to her. What had Gaelle sacrificed to be with her father? She pushed this aside. This was not a side of her mother that she’d ever considered before, probably because her mother had rarely thought of anyone but herself. No doubt marrying a human had served some need of Gaelle’s own.

      Julien looked at her curiously. “Have you never had an urge to explore your abilities?”

      “No.” She ignored his probing gaze and hunted around for another avocado roll.

      “Pourquoi pas?”

      “No desire. No need. Masquerada thrive on lies and deceit.” Her ignorance of everything to do with her mother’s background was limitless and she had little interest in changing it. No man, however hot, was going to change that. Masquerada didn’t like humans? The feeling was more than mutual on her end.

      “Hard on them, aren’t you?”

      Caro put the chopsticks down, goaded into an answer. “How can you trust any masquerada? Could you ever know their real faces? Their real selves? It’s always what they decide to present to you.”

      Julien regarded her with interest and she instantly regretted speaking her mind. The less Julien knew about her innermost thoughts the better. Time to change the topic. “I think I’ve seen Kelton before. Rich guy, philanthropist. Builds women’s shelters, right?”

      Her boss picked up a piece of salmon sashimi. “Do you even know who he is?”

      “Who Eric Kelton is? Yeah. We’ve been talking about him all morning. A masquerada with a problem.” She tried to push down the little part that craved talking about him and was dying to hear more about how he seemed interested in her.

      “Very funny. They didn’t parade it during our meeting but he’s the top dog. King man. Chief. Le Roi. They call him the Hierarch. He rules all the masquerada in North America.”

      “You’re joking.” Even as she said it, Caro knew it was true. Eric had the unmistakable assurance of a man who expected to be obeyed.

      “I never joke about power.”

      Caro leaned forward. “How did he become Hierarch? Is it hereditary?” She felt her curiosity perking up and welcomed it. It had been a long time since she’d felt that intense need to know more, to know everything.

      “Apparently he was chosen by the masquerada High Council after the old Hierarch died, but who knows?” Julien sniffed the pale green tea and made a face. “They’re not as close-mouthed as the vampires, but it’s still difficult to know what’s going on, particularly if you’re only a fey. Masquerada think they’re better than everyone, as you no doubt saw this morning.”

      He sounded bitter. At first, Caro put it down to simple resentment and hurt ego that anyone could consider themselves more important than himself. Then she realized it was more than that, deeper than that. Did Julien have a personal beef with Eric? With masquerada?

      Her boss continued speaking. “The masquerada aren’t weres, you know. They can’t turn into animals, or have links to the lunar cycle.”

      She nodded. Her mother hadn’t been much on sharing information, and Caro had never cared enough to ask, but that much she knew.

      “Some can adjust only their features a bit. Some have only one masque, or are confined to their own gender. They have levels of ability, based on heredity, strength, and training. Only the most capable, such as the Hierarchs, have no limits.”

      “What do you mean?” This was new. With a shock, Caro remembered her mother’s many masques. What level had she been? It must have been up there.

      “Male, female, black, white. They can look like anyone under the sun.” He ate some edamame, then sneaked some of hers. That wasn’t the fey coming out. It was greed.

      She snatched the plate away. “It’s deceit.”

      “A different way of life. That’s why our clients were surprised by your idea. Either a masquerada keeps a masque for life or they’re slowly retired. They’re never suddenly killed off. It’s a cultural thing.”

      That made sense. “Convergence is something that affects all of them?” Caro asked.

      “Tell me, mon ange, what do you know of it?”

      “What was said today,” she admitted.

      “Convergence is the thing they dread most. All of them.” He paused and sniffed at a piece of ruby-red sashimi before popping it into his mouth. “I can see why.”

      “The fear is that they’ll lose themselves in the other personalities, isn’t it?” A terrifying prospect.

      “That’s part of it. There’s a physical aspect as well, je pense. If a masquerada converges, the personalities not only merge, but so do the physical masques.”

      “You’d get the face of one and the body of another?”

      “If you’re unlucky you would get the faces of both,” he said wryly. “Or so they say.”

      She shuddered. Poor Eric. “How does this even happen?”

      “J’sais pas,” Julien said. “I assume it’s some sort of an emotional involvement. A breaking down of the mental order needed to maintain the barriers between masques.” He shrugged. “No matter. This is speculative psychobabble and we have work to do.”

      By the end of the day, they had a plan ready to present to Eric. Julien made it clear he would be doing it solo and Caro bit her tongue to quell her protest. She didn’t want Julien to know that she’d hoped to see Eric again. For that matter, she didn’t want to admit it to herself. She’d met attractive men before. Why did Eric intrigue her so? She didn’t know, but decided it was a good thing that her contact with him would be limited. She’d seen firsthand the careless emotional damage a masquerada could do to those around them.

      Julien paused at the doorway, his silver laptop tucked under his arm. “Time for a drink, Caro? Celebrate our day?”

      “Sorry.” It would be dark soon. Even the thought of being caught outdoors when night fell was enough for the sweat to pop out on her forehead.

      His lips tightened and he gave her a curt nod. “Au revoir.”

      She watched him go. Surely he wasn’t angry about that? Jesus. Men. She put it out of her mind as she gathered her things. Time for her to be on her way home.

      Chapter 6

      Eric stood waiting in the library. He liked this room. Mementoes were scattered around: a collection of medals under a glass-topped curio table, a worn beaded leather belt. The golden morning sun lit the books that lined the walls and Tiffany lamps hung over comfortable leather club chairs. In front of the fireplace, the huge velvet sofa lined with plump pillows caught Eric’s eye and for a brief and dizzying moment he imagined Caro lounging there, naked, with the glow from the flames warming her skin.

      “Package, sire.” One СКАЧАТЬ