Read Aces Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 5 for Free Online

out of harm’s way before any slipped through. When Father Jerome realized the results were matching up with my shorthand sorting method, he got curious.”
    “Sounds like him.” I glanced out the window. We were far outside of any city limits. Eventually, Max turned down a long private drive bordered on either side with thick forest. “Which house is this?”
    “Les Anges,” Max said, and I nodded, taking in the unyielding sweep of trees. It was well named, I decided. The trees reached up and over the lane, as if protecting the property beneath in angels’ arms.
    I’d long since lost track of the homes Jerome had purchased with my earnings—homes and staff to care for the Connected children. The kids weren’t all orphans, of course. Parents existed, but they could no more stop the trafficking than the authorities could. As a result, they’d learned of Jerome and had sent their children to him. Or Jerome learned of a child with unique skills, a family gaining notoriety in the community. In those cases, he sought the children out himself. The result was that these gifted Connecteds entered a safe-harboring foster program that would last until the children turned eighteen. Then, at least, they’d have a chance. In the world of the dark practitioners, the focus was on youth, the more unsullied the better.
    Which, more often than not, was the only silver lining in the vile underbelly of the arcane black market—that with so few pure children, the dark practitioners couldn’t grow too strong, too fast. Not that it mattered. The idea of sacrificing any children to feed the slavish desires of the men and women who’d stop at nothing to augment their Connected abilities… It seemed impossible to believe. Yet it happened every day around me—was happening in far greater numbers than ever before, to hear Simon talk.
    But it was Max talking now, and I blinked at him, forcing myself to focus. “—waiting for you,” Max finished with a smile. “It’s a little overwhelming if you’re not used to it, but he really wanted you to meet them all.”
    I nodded as we pulled into another offshoot drive, this one quite clearly the lane to a grand home. The trees opened up to reveal a rich manicured lawn, and out of the valley sprang the quintessential French mini château—turrets and ramparts and even a water mill, churning at the river that ran alongside the property.
    Max had barely stopped the car when a familiar figure appeared at the top of the stairs. I had to blink hard to stop the surge of tears behind my eyes.
    “Father Jerome.” I was out of the vehicle and up the stairs in a rush, then I buried myself in a long hug from the short, stout priest. “It’s been too long.”
    “Two months and more,” Father Jerome said, his perfect French accent a balm to nerves I hadn’t realized were so frayed. “We are blessed you’ve arrived safely. The children have heard so much about you.”
    I turned and watched as the doors opened from several points along the house. Kids flooded out into the sunshine. They didn’t look like they were being marched out for an audience, merely released for fresh air, but they converged on the main green in a tumble of humanity—some of them laughing and chattering, some of them quiet, walking in small groups of equally silent compatriots, and some of them moving alone, drifting in their own private world. There were dozens of them, and I goggled as they amassed on the front lawn.
    “Max said you were getting too many to count,” I said, taking in the worn faces, the gaunt cheekbones, the pale skin despite the bright and cheerful sun beaming down through the trees. “There has to be a hundred kids here.”
    Father Jerome nodded. “There is also the house in Toulouse, and another one outside Paris.”
    “And how many from these places did you pick out as specials?” I asked. “Max told me you had some children whose abilities far outshone the rest.”
    The look Jerome turned on