Cloak of Deceit

Chapter Twenty One

The Cloak's Pacific Northwest detainment base was nestled halfway up a wooded mountain, off a secluded forest road, disguised as a geological excavation. Carl, Julian, and I rode in the very back seat of Esmond's black van. Julian was quiet and completely closed off to me. It baffled me how he could be so easy to read one minute and then totally elude me the next, leaving me in the dark about his thoughts and feelings unless he shared them. Carl, and even Esmond, were open books in comparison to the stoic Undead Knight. Of course, as frustrating as it was, the mystery was part of Julian's appeal.

There were plenty of other diversions to distract me from my pointless probe of Julian's feelings. The psychic energy in the car had thrown my powers into overdrive and scattered my concentration. Five full-blown Grigoric Agents sat in front of me — a rainbow of colors, smells, and feelings. My Undead senses were mixed up in it too, a melding no one could help me sort out. I had all this input, but not enough training or practice to make sense of it. Julian could teach me about one side of myself, but I still had so many questions. I secretly hoped the Grigori could answer some of them. My curiosity had intensified once I met the others.

Esmond rode shotgun, across from the tall, anorexic-looking Seth, with his sunken coal-black eyes. He'd creeped me out since the moment we were introduced, looking like his thin skin would slide right off of his skull. Though his appearance isn't what made him so strange. He felt off, like he wasn't all the way human. Esmond had explained Seth was a Morph Agent. He could transform himself into any organic form. That was all the explanation he gave, as if it were an everyday concept. I supposed I would just have to see him in action to understand.

The other three Grigoric squad members had packed into the middle seat. Two of them were brothers, Amar and Roshan. Not twins, but close enough, until they spoke or moved. Amar was loud, abrasive, and more than a little cocky. I had guessed correctly that he was a Force Agent. According to what I'd heard, telekinetics had a reputation for being the nastiest of the Grigori. Amar seemed to have an "untouchable" attitude draped over his shoulders like a mantle of entitlement, and I thought it was probably Force Agents like him who gave us such a bad rap. His brother couldn't be more opposite. You hardly noticed soft-spoken Roshan there next to Amar. Of course, as a Mirage Agent, Amar's shadow would be the safest place for Roshan to hide — a perfect tandem partnership.

Katya, the other Force Agent in Esmond's squad, sat directly in front of me. Despite being taller than everyone but Seth and Julian, she'd been relegated to the far corner to give the men some room. As she'd climbed into the car and rolled her eyes, she'd met my smile in a fleeting moment of female camaraderie. Now she rocked her head gently to her iPod, short brown ponytail bouncing. Every few minutes, she would crack something in her body — fingers, wrists, neck, shoulders — things that shouldn't crack. From anyone else, it would have been gross, or annoying, but Katya made it menacing and cool at the same time.

The drive passed in silence, unless you counted telepathy. The Agents pooled all of their surface level thoughts together, with no need for words. For me, it was nonsense, exhausting to keep up with, and motion-sickness inducing. But the rest of Esmond's team sat like robots, the picture of calm. I had no doubt the ability served them well when running missions and working cooperatively, but it still felt awkward as hell to have everyone else's thoughts lapping at my mind. After trying to keep up with it for a while, I decided to conserve my mental energy and ignored the whispering until it faded to background static.

As my thoughts rested away from the clamor of the other Agents, my nerves steadily rose to the surface. Butterflies did kamikaze rolls in my stomach when I let myself think about what we were attempting.

Especially because it was my gung-ho idea.

We had a plan, but a lot of it depended on Julian's sources being reliable — a gamble, given recent events. I wanted to save Andreas. I wanted to see Julian's faith restored. But I didn't want it to cost more lives. Esmond and Julian had both assured me everything was under control, that they were both well-equipped and prepared for the mission. But for some reason, the two of them agreeing on anything made me very wary to accept things at face value.