The Inquisitor's Mark by Salerni Dianne K

Author:Salerni, Dianne K. [Salerni, Dianne K.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-11-24T08:00:00+00:00

20

DORIAN LEFT THE TUNNEL his usual way, through the exit in the park. It was guarded, but Dorian knew the man and had long since convinced him that he was running errands for his father.

Lesley leaped to her feet as soon as Dorian entered the apartment, and he gave her a thumbs-up. “Hey, Les. Everything’s cool.” Not really . . .

Jax, who’d been sitting next to Lesley, asked, “Something wrong?”

“No,” Dorian said sharply. Lesley sat down again, her knuckles white as she gripped the game controller. Jax didn’t look convinced.

Billy glared at Dorian with a suspicious expression very different from the dopey grin he’d been wearing since Sunday. La-la Land wore off? Well, good. You should be suspicious of us. Dorian didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of Albert Ganner tackling Billy in the street—not to mention the broken bone sticking out of Billy’s arm afterward. Dorian had gagged at the sight—while Sloane proved just how powerful she was. She’d moved fast, needing only one touch per person to wipe the memories of every Normal witness.

Dorian went straight to his room. He pulled off his blazer and tie, balled them up, and hurled them at the floor. Then he sank down at his desk and buried his face in his hands.

What was he going to do?

He wasn’t brave like Uncle Rayne must have been. At fifteen, Rayne had refused his oath and defied his clan. Secretly, Dorian had always imagined his uncle coming back one day and doing something—making a difference. Instead, Rayne had spent his life in hiding, and according to Dad, he’d become a petty criminal. It was the word petty that was the insult, because the Dulac clan was full of criminals—important ones who had their own private bankers and had reserved tables at Manhattan’s finest restaurants.

Uncle Rayne had run a shady business, and now he was dead because he’d cheated a Kin lord. Was that someone to look up to?

Dorian slipped Rayne’s journal out of its hiding place. He’d found it in Gran and Gramps’s apartment, stuffed inside a history textbook on a shelf in Rayne’s old room. It started out as a notebook, half filled with history notes. Not far in, a page had been ripped out. More history notes followed, and then the ripped-out page appeared, stuffed into the back:

A girl from Bradley died the week before school started. Amie Bruin. Her family’s yacht caught fire and the engine exploded. The newspapers said it was a gas explosion, but everybody knows unexplained explosions are always assassinations. I wondered who did it, because I saw Amie in the Hamptons over the summer. I didn’t know her well, though.

But today I found an unfinished letter in a pocket of my chinos. From me. To Amie. I don’t remember writing a letter to Amie, but here it is. And it’s like we’re in love or something. I talk about being with her on her boat. On her boat.

Did my mom do this to me? Or Aunt Ursula? Dad’s in on it, of course, but I don’t think Finn is.

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