No Peace for the Damned by Megan Powell Read Free Book Online Page B

his chair.
    Focus, damn it!
I had better control than this.
    “Er, I don’t know. I mean, the same stuff as the rest of them, I guess. I learned how to make myself invisible—a sort of survival mechanism, I guess. And I can heal myself. Obviously.” Then I chuckled darkly. “I mean, how else could I have survived my life up until now?”
    Cordele leaned forward, drawing my attention. “You. Can. Heal. Yourself.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “I can regenerate the cellular elements of my body. My skin, my muscles, my bones, I can heal them as quickly as someone else can destroy them.”
    “So that’s your unique power, then,” Jon said, “healing yourself.” He spoke more to himself than me so I just spun my glass some more and let my silence answer his question. I threw back the last of my whiskey and rose automatically to get another. I glanced around the table.
Screw it
. They knew everything now anyway. I reached out my hand and the whiskey bottle rose from its position across the room. It floated gently to the table landing directly in front of me.
    Marie gasped. I bit back a smile. With my innocent face, I asked, “Anyone want a drink?”
    I expected the silence to last longer.
    “Sure,” Theo said, a gleam in his eyes. “I need a glass, though, so if you want to just float one on over to me, that would be great.” He leaned back in his seat, one ankle crossed over his knee. The pose more than emphasized his toned chest through his tight T-shirt. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, stretching the shirt even tighter. He knew I was watching. Before I couldstop it, my tongue ran along the edge of my bottom lip. Then I lifted my hand to summon another glass. Thirteen stopped me.
    “Allow me,” he said. There was an edge to his voice. I turned to face him. His eyes were hard and his mental blocks tight.
What was his problem?
He reached the cabinet and grabbed as many juice glasses as his fingers would hold. He slid one to Theo and then to several others who suddenly needed a drink as well. I passed around the whiskey.
    “I think we’ve had enough demonstrations,” he said under his breath.

Six years old, I ventured down to the small third-floor kitchen to get something to eat. I wouldn’t be invited to dine with my family until years later, and even then it was only when guests were around. But that night I’d healed several concussions and was feeling woozy. Maybe some bread would settle my tummy
.
    I’d just found a couple of croissants when I heard Uncle Max approaching. In a blur, I shoved the bread in my mouth and crouched in the shadows behind a plush bench. The space between the bench and the wall was so narrow, I almost didn’t fit. Uncle Max never looked for me when I hid, but if he was here, then Father might join him. And I really didn’t want to go back to the barn tonight
.
    “…so you thought I would somehow sway my brother’s decisions on the matter, is that it?” His calm voice slithered over me. I shivered
.
    “A nephew at an Ivy League school would be perfect,” Malcolm said. Uncle Max’s power was so strong I hadn’t even sensed my brother. But now, I could sense Markus there too
.
    “Just think about it, uncle,” Malcolm continued. “A college-bound nephew will give you a perfect family-matters appearance. And the contacts that could be established in a fraternity or…”
    “Enough,” Uncle Max said softly. The fear around my brothers spiked. “So nice that you’ve taken such an interest in my recent political rise.” Uncle Max opened the refrigerator. “What about you, er, younger one?” Uncle Max said to Markus. He poured himself some juice. “Do you share your brother’s desire to leave his family?”
    “I, I…that’s not what he meant,” Markus stammered. “He—I mean we—we just thought…”
    “You just thought you would leave your blood, take the power it bore in you, and establish your own right in the world. How ambitious of you.” He