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

me was bemused, then he transferred his gaze to Max as he bounded up the stairs to join us.
    “I figured you should tell her,” Max said, returning Jerome’s surprised glance with a shrug.
    Father Jerome sighed, then gestured to the children gathering in front of us. “All of these here are specials, as you call them,” he said quietly.
    I blinked at him. “They can’t be,” I said automatically. “There are too many.”
    He held up a hand, forestalling any further commentary. “But the fact remains. These are the children who’ve been identified with abilities or characteristics that would result in the arcane black market sale of their bodies, living or dead, in some cases for tens of thousands of dollars. They are visionaries, psychics, psychometrists like Max here, state changers, healers…and, in some cases, actual weapons, if aimed appropriately.”
    “But…how?” I stared around at the children and noticed many of them were looking back at me now, their eyes soulful and heavy with purpose even from a distance. “How did you find so many?”
    “As I’m sure Max has told you—we didn’t have to. Many have come looking for us. And before you ask—no. None bear the mark you sent me, of this Gamon. We have started receiving those children, but none of them are so talented as these.”
    My lips twisted. “I guess that makes sense. Gamon would have to give up too much power to bait us with a marked child. And she may or may not know we can undo her tracking device.”
    Jerome nodded. “The tattoo artist you spoke of. The Council Member. She has contacted me—well, your Magician has, on her behalf.”
    I bristled at his gentle words. “He’s not my Magician.”
    “Ha! If you won’t claim him, I will,” said Max. “And Jerome’s right. She said she’d send people to remove the tracking devices from the tattoos of the kids who have them, and she did. We haven’t gotten a lot of marked Connecteds, though. And no high-functioning ones. Not that Jerome’s let me near the marked kids.”
    “Too dangerous,” Jerome said. “One of them could be as talented as you at reading abilities, and in communication with this Gamon as well. I cannot risk anyone knowing of your skills.”
    Max shook his head genially. “Father Jerome is taken in by my youthful smile,” he said. “He doesn’t realize I can defend myself.”
    “Not against everything,” Jerome said firmly. Then he turned. “Come—you should meet some of the children.”
    He took me down into the throng of hyper-skilled Connecteds. Their energy swept over me in rolling tides the longer I was in their midst. Max was everywhere, introducing the children, goading the quiet ones into bright smiles and quick laughter, urging the more outgoing ones to share their stories. I’d heard many of those stories through Jerome already, but hearing them again from the children themselves tore a new set of holes in my heart.
    “C’est bien, Giselle,” Jerome murmured now. “She is here. She is safe.”
    I blinked as I looked down at the young girl Jerome was kneeling next to. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at me.
    “Vous êtes ici,” she said, and her eyes stopped me cold. They shone with a bright intensity I’d last seen in Las Vegas only a few weeks earlier, on an entirely different young woman’s face. I seemed to have a knack for stressing out gifted girls. “You left this plane for darkness but you are back now,” she said. “You can continue the fight.”
    Jerome smiled indulgently, and the child kept going. “And now you must become a fire that burns everything, defeating the usurper. Or all of us will die.”
    I flinched back, but the girl next to her turned and nodded at me too, her face set with tension. When she spoke, she used the same haunting cadence of the first child. “It’s the only way,” she said. “They’ll strip away all that is left of us if you do not strike first. If your hand becomes a scythe