My gaze moved to the spindly woman standing in the corner of the room. I hadn't even known we had a whole section of people specializing in magic, and I'd been working here for nearly eight years. Right now, she didn't seem to be doing a whole lot, but sweat was beginning to dot her creased forehead, and the white stones surrounding Maisie had taken on a glow that reminded me vaguely of the heat shimmer that rose off a road on a long hot summer day. Whether it was caused by our mage, or Maisie's powers testing her defenses, I wasn't entirely sure.
"How much longer do we have before Marg starts to weaken and the stones loose their ability to contain Maisie?"
Jack shrugged. "Marg will signal when her strength is giving out. As a general rule, she can last four or five hours if she's doing nothing more than boosting the strength of the warding stones."
"Why don't we just raid her mind telepathically?"
"I tried earlier, when you were talking to Quinn."
And hadn't that provided a whole lot of information. Quinn had never been free and easy with information, but right now, he was making like a clam and getting irritatingly amused when I got angry about it. Rhoan was currently in the process of having a little chat with our silent vampire, but I very much doubted he'd have any more success than I did. "And?"
"And, her shields are unlike anything I've ever come across. I've asked Director Hunter to come down and assist me."
That raised my eyebrows. After eight years of being here, I'd actually catch a glimpse of the elusive Director Hunter? "She's not exactly hurrying."
"She's interviewing Quinn first."
"Ah." And according to the weird hierarchy and honor system vamps had going, Quinn, being younger in vampire years than Hunter—though heaven only knew if he was younger or older in real, since-birth terms—was ethically obliged to answer any and all of her questions. "She could be hours, then."
"Could be. Quinn may be younger, but I think he's almost as powerful."
"Which means what?"
"That while he may be obliged to answer, he can't be forced. It all really depends on Quinn following the rules."
And vampires never followed the rules unless it suited them. I sipped the brown muck for several minutes, then glanced at my watch. If I didn't get some sleep soon, I was going to be a baggy-eyed wreck tonight. And that was never a good look.
"Why don't you and I have a crack at her?"
Jack glanced at me, and I swear there was a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "Are you feeling up to it?"
"No, but if it's the only way to get out of here and get to bed, then I'll give it a shot."
"Good." He rose from the chair immediately, and that gleam became more pronounced. I had a sudden, very powerful feeling of falling into a well-laid trap. And it had me wondering if he'd even asked Hunter to come down and help, or whether it was a nice little ruse to get me to volunteer. But I didn't bother asking because I just didn't have the energy to get mad right now.
I only wanted to get home, even if the cost was playing Jack's game and stepping just a little bit more into the shoes of a full-fledged guardian.
"I'll hold her mind still and open," he continued. "While you weave your way inside and see what you can find."
"Okay." I drained the remainder of the brown muck then put the empty cup down on the bench. "Let's do this."
I followed him into the interview room, and stopped slightly behind him. Maisie's gaze skimmed us both, and a slight sneer touched her pale lips. "What, two people not enough to break one little blonde? We've got to add a couple more?" Her voice was sharp and irritating, and yet, once again, the way she phrased her words had that odd sense of familiarity scratching at my senses.
"And people fear the guardians," she continued. "What a joke."
Jack glanced at the specialist interrogator, and without another word, she left the room. "Last chance, Miss Foster. Are you going to answer our questions willingly, or shall we do it the hard way?"
"If you could do anything more than contain me, I think it would have happened by now. We both know your pet magician cannot hold the strength of the circle for long, and then I will be gone."
Power touched the air, a tingly, spidery flare of electricity that flowed like wildfire across the room. Its center was Jack, not Maisie or the Directorate's magician, and its touch had the tiny hairs along my arms and the back of my neck standing upright.
"People are always underestimating the Directorate," he said softly, as the net of power flowed up and around Maisie. She stiffened, her eyes going wide as her body became immobile. "It is never to their benefit to do so. Go, Riley."
I blew out a breath, then closed my eyes and carefully shut down my other senses, until my only awareness was of Maisie and the net of power that blazed around her. Slowly, carefully, I touched the net telepathically. The thrum within it was potent, a distant thunder that seemed at once forbidding and barely controlled. Like a storm about to break.
It was frightening, in some ways. I'd always known Jack was powerful, but I'd never felt just how powerful, even during our training sessions. And yet, he'd admitted himself that he was far less so than Quinn. In some ways, it proved just how much Quinn had been hiding from me—and how much more he was capable of. God, curtailing the urges of a werewolf had to be a walk in the park for someone with that much power. No wonder I hadn't been aware of what he was doing.
I skimmed the surface of Jack's power, riding it like a wave, using it as a ramp to enter Maisie's mind. Her outer defenses were already laid open and bare by Jack, her surface thoughts an easy read. But it wasn't surface thoughts we wanted or needed.
I pushed on, moving beyond the reaches of Jack's control, into the deeper recesses of Maisie's mind. It was there I discovered what Jack had meant earlier.
Maisie's telepathic defenses weren't in the form of a wall, or mental "glue," or anything else that I'd come across before. Hers were more in the form of a spider-web—interconnected, fragile in appearance, yet sticky and extremely strong. Breaking one strand didn't mean I was through—I had to break all the connecting strands before I could go deep into her mind. Which was why two people were needed—one to hold her, and one to break her.
Even so, it was hard work.
The web seemed to thicken near the center of the mental shield, the threads becoming more tangible, harder to break, the closer I got to the deep recesses of thought. Sweat began to trickle down my spine, and an ache began to make itself known behind my closed eyes. A migraine in the making.
During my early months of telepathic training with Jack, I'd often been left physically and mentally exhausted, but like any sort of training, time and constant practice had provided some sort of mental fitness. This was making me feel like a rank beginner again. Every ounce of strength I possessed was being channeled into trying to breach Maisie's unusual defenses, and my limbs were beginning to tremble with the effort.
Then, with the suddenness of a rubber band snapping, the tenuous webs gave way, leaving me mentally shaking but floating free in the rush of Maisie's deep consciousness.
Only Maisie's spirit or soul, or whatever that part of human consciousness was called, wasn't there.
Someone, or something, else was.
And it was aware and waiting.
The attack came with a suddenness that was staggering. I had a brief feel of femininity, a taste of ancient power, then let out a yelp as my whole body recoiled from the sheer anger and force behind the mental punch.