Free Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel by Gwen Mitchell

my circumstances and move on. I needed to get a grip and come up with a plan. “When’s this other Knight coming?”
    “A few hours.” Julian propped himself in the doorway. He gave me his appraising look again. “I should probably tell you, the Cloak is going to have a lot of questions.”
    I shrugged. I obviously wasn’t going anywhere unless the Cloak wanted me to. Julian wouldn’t let me leave, and besides I had nowhere to go. I’d answer their damn questions. Not like I had an alternative. Oh wait — beheading — I guess that was an alternative. Maybe after a few hours of the Cloak’s interrogation it would hold more appeal.
    “They’re going to have a hard time believing you didn’t know you were a psychic. The Grigori keep very good track of their bloodlines. They grow up knowing who and what they are, within the fold, so to speak.”
    I glowered at him as he stepped into the room. As if sensing the precarious edge of my mood, he perched on the farthest end of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.
    “First off, can you quit calling me a psychic?” I shot back. “And secondly, didn’t you tell them that I don’t know?”
    “I told them, but it’s hard to believe. How could you not have known? Who were your parents?”
    “I don’t know my father.” I looked away from him. “My mother is a surgeon at Stanford. Dr. Veronica J. Moore, and she’s not a psychic by any stretch. To her, there’s science and nothing else.”
    “What was your father’s name?” Julian pressed.
    “I don’t know.” I gave him a warning look.
    He ran his hands through his hair in what I was figuring out was Julian’s tell for frustration.
    I sighed. What was the sense in taking this out on him? He was my keeper, but he did seem to want to help me. As much as he could, anyway. Since he was maybe my only ally, I might as well play it straight. “He was an anonymous sperm donor, okay? My mom used artificial insemination to have me. I’m the next generation model of Moore over-achiever, made to order.”
    He furrowed his brows, but wisely proceeded with, “Okay,” and slid down to the cushion beside me. “You have proof of this?”
    “I can get it.”
    “Good. Then all you have to do is convince Derek to let me escort you to get it, and then present your case to the Cloak.”
    “You know the guy?” I asked, suddenly wary. Why did I feel like Julian was holding information back until he found it convenient to share? And why, despite that fact, was I so quick to believe everything he told me? The answer wasn’t something I wanted to own up to. It would only complicate things, and they were botched enough already.
    Keep your head on straight. He’s just a hot dead guy, and you’re desperate.

    He nodded. “Yes, and he’ll be a tough sell.”
    “Of course. Why would anything be easy?” I laid my head against the back of the sofa, tucking my legs to my chest. “You believe me, don’t you?”
    It shouldn’t have mattered to me, but I would be lying if I pretended it didn’t.
    “I believe you.” It seemed like he was going to say something else. Instead, he went to shower, leaving me to wonder if Julian believing me was enough to matter. It didn’t change what I was. And even though he claimed to believe me, he still shut down every time my psychic powers came up.
    I rubbed my fingers together, wondering if I should try to learn to use my powers. If I was going to get killed for having them, shouldn’t I get something out of it? Maybe I could protect myself. Then I wouldn’t be stuck relying on Julian. Just in case he wasn’t all he was cracked up to be, or the Cloak decided I couldn’t be allowed to exist. It might be a good idea.
    A nagging voice in the back of my head kept reminding me of the fact that Julian could be lying to me. What if the Grigori wouldn’t actually hurt me? They were his enemies, but were they really mine? I was one of them, too. Could I be putting my trust in the wrong