Mich.e.l.le picked up the explanation again. "Someone who knew what it was, or had enough willpower to force his way through would start to feel uncomfortable. It would be the most damaging for someone who had the willpower to keep going but not the magical strength to shield himself from the backlash. It could, quite possibly, hurt."

Jackson tapped the third and final ring. "So I guess crossing this one would definitely hurt."

"If you could get past it at all," Mich.e.l.le confirmed. "Without magical ability it would be impossible. Like hitting an invisible wall. I've seen a ward like this once before, though not around something as large as a house, and never permanent. The first two wards won't be a problem for me, but this one... I can get us through it, but I don't know if I can do so undetected."

"It might be a moot point if the house has exterior security cameras." Jackson held up a satellite photo of the house and surrounding grounds. "How close is that third ward to the house?"

"Within ten feet of the exterior walls," Steven said. "Maybe twenty. He's spent years building these, channeling energy into them, but that third ward is the hardest to maintain. He can't push it out any farther."

"If you can get us that far, Mich.e.l.le, don't worry about avoiding detection, not until we find out whether he has some sort of security setup." He picked up another handful of glossy black-and-white pictures, all featuring Charles's mansion. "What about the house itself?"

Steven scoffed. "Charles doesn't even bother to lock his doors. The thought that someone might get that close without him being aware of it is incomprehensible to him, and for good reason. For decades, he's probably been the most magically powerful person in the country."

"I wasn't talking about deadbolts and chains." Jackson pressed his lips together in a grim line. "Can he keep us out, no matter what kind of magic Mich.e.l.le uses? That's the real question."

"I don't think so." Mich.e.l.le bit her lip again. "Mahalia knows how to construct the talismans Charles uses to allow his employees access to the property. It's going to take every sc.r.a.p of power all three of us have to duplicate them, and we'll need at least a day to recover. If we can do that, though, we can focus all the power we have on getting past him."

"So we're looking at three days, minimum, before we can move on this," Jackson observed, his jaw tight.

"It's the only way," Steven said. "She'll be safe, Jackson. If I weren't completely sure of that I'd go in right now by myself."

Jackson's shoulders relaxed, and he smiled slightly. "That doesn't sound like such a bad plan to me." Anything that would get Mackenzie back faster was all right by him.

Mahalia leaned over to slap one of his hands. "It's the stupidest thing I ever heard, Jackson Holt, and you know it. Now finish looking at your pictures, and let me and Mich.e.l.le start the talismans. We'll tell you when we need your help."

He rubbed his hand and considered mounting a mutiny, but it didn't seem likely. Even if Alec was willing to go along with it, Peyton would kick him back in line. Support from Nick was equally unlikely for the same reason. "Fine. I'll be out back."

He left everything on the table and stalked toward the back door. It opened onto a small deck overlooking a lake, providing a view he normally would have appreciated.

"Thinking about a dip in the hot tub?" Nick's voice floated from the direction of the driveway.

"Maybe later." He looked over to see her climbing out of one of the SUVs, accompanied by several large men in dark suits. "Where the h.e.l.l have you been?"

"Grocery run." She shoved two paper sacks at one of the men. "Here, you boys can handle this. I've got an emotional crisis to head off." She jogged toward the porch, quick strides eating distance between them. "They broke the news to you already, huh?"

Jackson tried not to grumble as he leaned against the rough-hewn log railing and stared at the lake. "You mean the part about sitting here with our thumbs up our a.s.ses while the crazy man is doing G.o.d knows what to Mackenzie? Yeah, we covered it."

"Well..." Nick hopped up to sit on the railing next to him. "We're not exactly going to be splitting our time between co-ed Twister and ba.s.s fishing, Jackson. There's stuff to be done. Stuff for you to do." She gave him a stern look. "This isn't the kind of situation where we can just bust in there, guns blazing, and save the damsel. Not without heavy casualties."

She was right. They were all right, but it didn't help the growing sense of unease and dread that made his skin crawl. "I know, Nicky, but G.o.d d.a.m.n it-"

"Yeah." She nudged his leg with her foot. "My sister's good. Strong. With her and Mahalia both, and you helping them..."

"Yeah," he said woodenly. "It'll all work out."

"It will," she insisted over the sound of the back door opening again. "We'll do it together."

"I wish I could do it faster." Mich.e.l.le spoke quietly, her tone apologetic. Nick's sister stood a few feet away, her hulking bodyguard at her back. She'd pulled her hair from its formal knot and exchanged her prim business suit for a flowing silk skirt and blouse that made her seem more approachable. "I'm sorry, Jackson."

Nick shot him a warning look, and he grimaced at her before giving Mich.e.l.le an encouraging smile. "Look, it takes time. I get it. It can't be helped."

"It's not just that." Mich.e.l.le leaned on the railing next to Nick. "I know how frustrating it is, waiting for the Conclave to give me permission to do anything. We've slowed things down."

The two sisters made an odd picture, identical save for the fact that Nick was dressed like a lumberjack in jeans, boots and a thermal henley. Jackson watched as Nick's hand found Mich.e.l.le's, comforting her without conscious thought. "None of this is your fault, Micky," she said soothingly. "Besides, if Steven's right, going after Mackenzie sooner wouldn't have gotten us anywhere but dead,"

No, Jackson thought morosely. None of this is Mich.e.l.le's fault, mostly because it's mine. "Better listen to your sister, kiddo. She's saved my hide a couple of times, so she must be pretty smart."

"She likes to think she is." Mich.e.l.le wrinkled her nose at Nick, who made a face in return. "She's bossy as h.e.l.l too." Mich.e.l.le's gaze shifted back to the bodyguard and she frowned suddenly. "No one introduced you to Aaron, did they?"

He straightened and held out his hand. "Jackson Holt."

The man accepted his hand, his grip firm but not aggressive. "Aaron Spencer."

"Aaron's been chasing me around for years," Mich.e.l.le said, a fond smile on her lips. "In the beginning he had to chase both of us. No one warned him what he was getting himself into."

Jackson might have been in over his head when it came to the current situation, but he'd always been good with body language, and he instantly recognized the undercurrents flowing between Mich.e.l.le and the tall, red-haired man who stepped up beside her. If they weren't involved romantically, he could tell they both wanted to be.

He glanced at Nick, who was merely watching them both with bemus.e.m.e.nt. "Can't speak to Mich.e.l.le's behavior, but if you had to watch over this one..." He poked Nick with his elbow and dodged the one she sent his way. "Let's just say I feel your pain, Aaron."

Aaron unbent enough to smile as he stretched one arm out along the railing behind Mich.e.l.le, his posture protective. "You have no idea. They're both okay one at a time, but together they'll put gray in your hair before thirty."

Nick held up both hands. "Okay, consider the point conceded. Just don't forget that I could whip both of your a.s.ses." She tilted her head. "Well, maybe not yours, Aaron. Have you gotten taller?"

"You've definitely gotten shorter. I like the clothes, though. Sort of...park-ranger chic. It suits you."

"Enough." Mich.e.l.le flashed Jackson a long-suffering look. "They'll go back and forth like this for hours if you let them. My father, Alec and Steven are coordinating plans for a physical attack, but Mahalia wanted to walk us both through the steps needed to circ.u.mvent the wards."

Nick hopped off the railing, her boots landing on the porch with a thump. "I'd better go help the boys, or at least supervise."

Jackson snorted. "I'll listen to anything May says if she's going to be cooking while she says it. I'm starving."

"Where do you want me to go, Mich.e.l.le?" Aaron's voice was quiet as he looked at Mich.e.l.le. "Want me to stick with you?"

"You'll feel better if you know what the plan is." Her fingers brushed his hand, but it looked like a furtive motion, one they tried to hide. "Go on in. I'll be there in a minute."

Mich.e.l.le watched him go, then said, "Don't say it, Nicky."

Nick just scuffed the toe of one boot against the planks beneath her feet and leaned close to Mich.e.l.le, her voice a whisper. "I say more power to you." She slipped her arms around Mich.e.l.le's neck for a quick hug. "Take care of Jackson, and I'll keep an eye on lover boy." With a wink, she took off after Aaron.

"You can't-" Mich.e.l.le took a deep breath and looked at Jackson. "We're not involved," she blurted out, her cheeks flushing slightly. "It's not allowed. But if anyone was to find out that we have-that there are feelings... It would be bad. Dangerous, for both of us."

That sent one of Jackson's eyebrows up in an arch. "How come?"

"Seers aren't allowed to have relationships."

"At all?" He knew his expression must be one of laughable shock, but he couldn't help it. "Ever?"

"Ever. No emotional or physical intimacy of any kind is allowed."

Jackson sagged against one of the support beams and tried to wrap his brain around that. "Why?"

"It depends on who you ask." Mich.e.l.le leaned her elbows on the railing and picked absently at a piece of flaking paint. "The emotional part is easy. They don't want me to have divided loyalties."

The more Jackson heard about the lives of Seers, the worse he felt for Mich.e.l.le. "How about the rest of it?" he asked gently, staring at her profile.

"Superst.i.tion, mostly." She continued to worry at the chip of paint, her expression distant. "People claim that a Seer who loses her virginity loses her powers. Personally, I think they don't want me pa.s.sing on my dirty magical genes by mistake."

"Your genes are the same as Nick's," he noted blandly, "and the entirety of shapeshifter society is waiting with bated breath for her to make a good match, settle down and have a bunch of babies. What kind of sense does that make?"

Mich.e.l.le shrugged. "That's the way it is. I'm an a.s.set to the Conclave if I'm under control. If I thought for a second I'd lose my powers if I had s.e.x, I'd have done it years ago. But it would only serve to put my lover in danger. So...I ignore it."

He sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if Mackenzie wouldn't have been better off without any of this s.h.i.t. I mean, the social stuff. Not only do you have to worry about the same c.r.a.p as everyone else, but you have to be careful not to reveal yourself or step on the wrong toes, do something wrong... It's a huge mess sometimes."

"She's got Nick to ease her into it." Mich.e.l.le smiled at him. "You must have realized by now that the free-spirited party-girl image she's cultivated so meticulously isn't all there is to her. Nick knows our society. And Mackenzie will have you, too. She'll be fine."

"Yeah. She'll have both of us. There's something be said for-" His words cut off as his phone began to ring. "Sorry. Hang on."

Mich.e.l.le straightened. "I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

It was Kat again. "Did you hear from Mariko?" he answered, eschewing pleasantries as the door swung shut behind Mich.e.l.le.

"Yep." Kat's voice was easy. "Her guy in Boston had actually heard of Talbot. Said the guy's a legend. There was an informal compet.i.tion a few years back to see if anyone could get a meeting with him. They wanted his advice on some sort of magical thing-" There was a rustle of paper. "Trip-wire wards, she called them? Anyway, Mari said that no one could even get within a quarter mile of the property, much less score any face time with him. Some of them think he's not even alive anymore, though I'm guessing you know that's not true."

"Unfortunately. Any of Talbot's humdrum security measures would have to be homegrown. Self-placed cameras with no external monitoring."

"Mari got the impression from her friend that there wouldn't even be anything like that. He said if no one can even get to your house, cameras are pretty pointless. Of course, she also warned me that he might just be bitter because he was bragging he'd be able to get in and he couldn't."

"Duly noted." Jackson tugged his notebook from his pocket. "Are you at the office now?"

"No." Her voice was sullen. "I'm at Derek's desk. He showed up about two minutes after I hung up with you last time."

"Good. Now, if anything should happen, you take that key we gave you. It opens a safe deposit box at the First Bank and Trust on Poydras. Number fourteen-twelve. It'll have instructions, and everything else you might need to settle the business, okay?"

"f.u.c.k, Jackson. What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

He'd never lied to Kat-didn't make a habit of lying to anyone, actually-but he hesitated before answering. "This guy, the one who s.n.a.t.c.hed Mackenzie? He's got power, Kat. It's going to take all of us to deal with him and get her back, and that's a.s.suming we all make it out alive."

"Do you need more people? Derek could help, and I'm not useless..." Kat's sounded worried now. "s.h.i.t, I can't just sit here and wait."

"No." The last thing he needed was for Kat and her cousin to get hurt when he should have taken care of Talbot in the first place. Nick would kill him for certain. "We've got it under control, as much as possible. You just need to know what to do if things go badly."

"O-okay." She dragged in a shaky breath. "Okay. But if you don't call and keep me updated, I'll track you down and get all up in your business, Jackson Holt."

"Yeah, I know," he said with a slight grin. "Hey, tell your cousin Nick said hi, huh?"

"Only you could go from talking about your d.a.m.n will to matchmaking, Jackson." Some of the fear had evaporated from her voice. "Unless you want to give me the dirty details about what you and Mackenzie are going to get up to once you've done your hero s.h.i.t, keep your nose out of my business. And Nick's too, for that matter."

"Whatever you say, Kat." Jackson headed for the back door, feeling better. "I've got to go. Do me a favor and text me with Mariko's number, all right? I may need to talk to this friend of hers."

"Will do. Don't get killed. I sort of like you."

"Yeah, I bet you say that to all your bosses. Later, kid."

Chapter Seventeen.

Mackenzie half-expected to find someone waiting for her when she emerged from the bedroom, freshly scrubbed and dressed in more clothing from the closet. The pants were, again, tight across the hips, and the shirt hadn't been designed for a woman with b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but she looked presentable enough. Someone had even stocked the bathroom with things she might need, everything from shampoo and body wash to the clip she'd used to fasten the bulk of her hair at the back of her head.

It was hard to remember she was a kidnapped prisoner as she followed the directions Marcus had given her. Charles was terrifying, but he hadn't done anything overtly threatening, and Marcus- Marcus had seemed insane when she'd first met him. Absolutely crazy, with his talk of magic and shapeshifters and destiny. It had been a lot easier to dislike him when he'd been nothing more than an obsessed, deranged lunatic.

She reached the stairs and turned left, following the faint sounds she heard from the door she a.s.sumed led to the study. "Marcus?"

He sat in one of the wing-backed chairs, reading. He looked up and smiled when she walked in. "Ready for dinner?"

"Yeah." She managed a faint smile in return. "I'm pretty hungry."

"Okay." He offered her his arm, and patted hers as he led her out the door. "I had a table set up in the conservatory. We don't really grow many things in there, but the view of the stars through the windows and ceiling is breathtaking."

It wasn't her shapeshifter instincts that suddenly screeched a warning. The part of her that recognized where the evening was going was purely human-and entirely disturbed. The fact that Marcus didn't seem like a raving lunatic anymore didn't mean she was ready to cuddle with him under the stars.

He recognized the look on her face. "Oh, no. It's not like that. Well, okay, maybe a little. But I've toned it down, I swear. Dad wanted to hire a violinist."

"Yeah." Mackenzie glanced at him. "I don't necessarily think you're trying to hurt me anymore, Marcus, but I'm pretty sure I can't downshift from kidnapping to moonlight serenades in less than twenty-four hours."

"Which is why we're just having dinner." The look he wore was bland but pleasant. "No talk of destiny or duty or any of that c.r.a.p. You tell me about your life, and I'll tell you about mine. Nothing more to it."

As if it could be that simple. But arguing wouldn't change anything. "I'll try."

Marcus fixed his eyes on the stairs as they descended. "Look, Mackenzie, believe it or not, this really isn't my idea of the perfect way to meet and woo a woman. Not that you're not terrific," he added quickly, "but it's all a little rushed and fake for my tastes."

"I spent the last month and a half in a state of blind panic." Anger crept into her tone, in spite of her determination not to antagonize Marcus. "I barely slept. I lost everything I had. You people destroyed my life, and a violinist isn't going to make me forget that."

He looked contrite. "I didn't know that you didn't know. When I came to see you, I mean. I wouldn't have been so blunt, if I had. As for everything after that... Well, we didn't have a choice. You're our last chance, Mackenzie."

She stopped and pulled her hand away as he descended the final step, leaving her eyes on level with his when he turned to look at her. "I'm your last chance," she agreed in a quiet voice. "You were willing to go to some crazy lengths to get a hold of me. So I'm wondering what happens if I don't agree to this. How far are you and your father willing to go?"

Marcus stared at her, his eyes dark. "Considering what you've been through," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, "I'm going to try very hard not to be offended by your implication. But you can rest a.s.sured, Mackenzie, I've never touched a woman who didn't want me to do so, and I'm not going to start now."

Guilt stabbed at her, but she pushed it aside with ruthless resolve. "The men you sent after me killed people, Marcus. Innocent bystanders. I didn't think you'd be terribly worried about willingness."

The shock that widened his eyes before disappearing behind anger was fleeting but unmistakable. "What are you talking about?"

He doesn't know. Exhilaration rose as quickly as the guilt had, and she shoved it down. If Marcus was truly oblivious to the things Charles had done over the years...