Aces Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 5 by Jenn Stark Read Free Book Online Page B

service wherever you wish to travel in the greater European area.”
    I nodded, but inside something twisted. Jerome was right: I never stayed in someone else’s house. But he of all people should know why. “Paris is fine. A hotel—someplace with a balcony. I want to see the stars.” I smiled at his skeptical expression. “Or at least the lights of the city, if the smog is too great for stars.”
    “Smog, I can definitely find for you. And Father Jerome has many friends. There is a home I know for certain is unoccupied right now, a bit away from downtown but on the Seine. You will like it, I think.”
    I waited until Max got into the car to study him in profile. His manner was wound up—too wound up for the lateness of the hour. He knew what I was going to ask, but he let me work around to it. We talked of more nothing for a few minutes, then I leaned forward in my seat.
    “So?” I asked, not missing the way he tensed. “What did you learn from me? I assume that’s what you were doing when you held my hand as I talked to that girl.”
    “What, you don’t like having your hand held?” he teased, glancing in the rearview mirror.
    “Not by someone who practically sears it off with the brush of his magic, no.” I gave him another moment, then continued. “You learned something. And you haven’t come anywhere near me since you touched me. Was it really that bad?”
    “Ah—no,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “Tell you the truth, I didn’t know what to think. You have abilities beyond what I expected. Beyond any of the kids we have processed through here, even some of the ones who manifest as travelers and clairvoyants. And you can’t do any of that. You don’t wield actual magic.” His gaze flicked to me. “Right?”
    “Nope.” I edged back in my seat, eyeing him. “That’s why I use the cards.”
    “Spirit speaks to you, definitely,” he said, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Through your intuition. That’s certain. But the rest—your ability to travel, to jump dimensions, to command angels—to—”
    “Whoa, what?” I sat up straight. “You can cross ‘commanding angels’ off your list. I’m pretty sure I’d know it if I had that skill.”
    “It’s there.” He shrugged. “The truth comes to me in words and images, sometimes both. That one was words. And there were swords—swords all around you. I know what that’s about too.”
    “Jerome said the children were talking about the swords before I got here.”
    “They’ve been talking for days. All about the Houses in general, but Swords is the only one they’ll name. Swords and you as its head. They don’t seem to know the leaders of the other Houses—and we’ve asked. We figured you’d want to know.”
    “I would.” I shrugged. “I will, eventually.” I pinned him with a hard stare. “Father Jerome doesn’t want me to lead the House of Swords.”
    “Father Jerome doesn’t want you to be killed.” Max gentled his words with a smile. “He is a big softie, for all his toughness. I get why he’s nervous. But this…” Max shook his head. “I don’t see you getting out of this one, Sara. Those swords were all around you. Not like the Eight of Swords either—they were out, flying past you. Like you had a battalion of actual swords at your disposal, and you knew how to guide them.”
    “Which would be impressive, if I could do something more than cut steak.”
    Max lapsed into silence, and I let him be. I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to know what kind of skills he thought I had. Not if I wasn’t going to use them. Not if I wasn’t going to enter the war as the head of the House of Swords…whatever that meant.
    I shifted in my seat, scowling as I watched the lights of Paris ease by. Eventually we turned closer to the river, but high enough past the city that we wound our way along large estates and manicured lawns, everything reeking of money and class.
    “Father Jerome has friends