No sounds of movement came from within the two-story domicile. If he listened closely, he could hear a single slow heartbeat and the soft sounds of somnolent breath.
Still, Seth hesitated.
He and David had agreed that only a telepath could have aided Donald and Nelson. Bastien was empathic. He could feel and manipulate other people’s emotions, but he couldn’t manipulate their thoughts.
Étienne and Lisette were the only telepaths in North Carolina. And there were none in surrounding states. Any telepaths farther away would’ve had to have been teleported in, and a quick examination of Richart’s thoughts had confirmed that he hadn’t teleported any immortals into the area without mentioning it.
Seth had just left Étienne’s home. He had dropped by on the pretense of checking on them both to ensure neither had suffered any lasting effects of the double dose of stimulant.
They hadn’t, thankfully.
While Krysta had apologized again for the helicopter debacle, Seth had smiled and nodded and examined every nook and cranny of Étienne’s mind, relieved to find nothing more incriminating than some interesting sexual fantasies he intended to pursue with Krysta.
Which left Seth standing outside Lisette’s home, already dreading what he would find in her thoughts. As well as the punishment he would have to deliver when he confirmed she was the deceiver.
Although he would never admit it to anyone other than David, who knew without having to be told, Seth had a soft spot for Lisette. Female Immortal Guardians were exceedingly rare. Most female gifted ones suffered torturous deaths at the hands of vampires before they could complete their transformations. So those, like Lisette, who survived were treasured.
And Seth understood well the burden of guilt beneath which Lisette existed. He understood her, or so he had thought. Being deceived by her in such a blatant, heinous way was a blow from which he didn’t think he would ever recover. He could neither forgive nor forget it.
Nor would he try to.
Hardening his heart, he rang the bell.
Lisette answered the door herself, wearing a pretty pink camisole nightgown and robe. Staying in the shadows, she squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight. “Hi, Seth.”
“Lisette.” He stepped inside and waited while she closed the door. “Where’s Tracy?”
“Shopping, I think.” She yawned and combed her fingers through her mussed hair. He hadn’t seen it unconfined by a braid in years and hadn’t realized it now fell in thick waves to her hips.
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
She offered him a sweet smile that broke his heart and led him into the living room. “Don’t worry about it. Are you hungry? Would you like me to make you a sandwich or something?”
“No, thank you.”
She sank down on the sofa and motioned to the chair across from it. “What’s going on? Is David’s place too crowded today? You’re welcome to stay here, if it is.”
“No.” He watched her draw her long, slender legs up and tuck them under her robe. “I sensed there was something you wished to tell me.”
And there it was. The unease he had expected to see cross her features when she had first opened the door to him.
While she bit her lip and hesitated, he told himself to get on with it and delved into her thoughts.
“Not tell you,” she said slowly, oblivious to his presence in her mind, “so much as ask you.”
“Very well.”
“We all know how powerful you are,” she began. “And it’s been sort of an unspoken rule not to ask you about . . . all the things you can do.”
She had surprisingly strong mental barriers for an immortal her age, but they only slowed him down for a moment or two.
“David wasn’t exactly thrilled when we found out he could shape-shift,” she mentioned.
Seth grunted. “He knew there were those who would want to turn it into a parlor trick to be exercised upon request.”
She sent him a wry smile. “I’m sure Richart has had a hard time keeping Sheldon from asking for an exhibition.”
Damn it, he wasn’t finding anything about Donald and Nelson in her memories.
“What did you want to ask me?” he pressed.
“I feel like I know better now what you’re capable of and . . . I just wondered . . . When we face large numbers of vampires like we did when Bastien raised his army or large numbers of mercenaries like we did last night . . .”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you just do what Zach did and give them all aneurysms or heart attacks or something? Why engage in battle at all? Why let us fight and risk our lives when you can kill them all with a thought?”
He stared at her. “Son of a bitch.” Zach. No wonder the only guilt he could find in her thoughts was that which she continued to nourish over transforming Richart and Étienne. She hadn’t betrayed him. Étienne hadn’t betrayed him. None of his beloved Immortal Guardians had betrayed him.