Free The Inner Circle (Return of the Ancients Book 3) by Carmen Caine, Madison Adler Page A

voice,” Jareth announced imperiously. “You are invisible to me.”
    Blondie revealed his teeth in an overt threat. “Then, if you do not join us, you are too dangerous. We will take what is ours.” He let his gaze rove over Jareth from head to toe, and I knew that he meant that they would take Jareth’s body.
    The back door of the coffee shop opened, and Samantha poked her head out.
    Catching sight of her, Blondie drew back with a hiss.
    “Is that mangy raccoon out there again, Sydney?” Samantha asked briskly. “Should I get the broom?”
    Blondie hesitated only a moment before slithering under the car.
    I was shocked. Samantha did have an impressive temper, but I was astounded that even a Mesmer might think so.
    Taking heart, I grabbed Jareth’s sleeve and hurriedly yanked him into the coffee shop.
    I felt safer inside, especially in Samantha’s company.
    She didn’t say anything as I dragged Jareth through the maze of boxes towards the front. She was too busy dialing up Animal Control.
    “That mutated armadillo-raccoon thing is here again,” I heard her complain sharply as I guided Jareth through the door and into the front of the shop.
    “Sit down,” I ordered him, pushing him into one of the overly-stuffed chairs.
    He didn’t resist. He slumped down obediently, but he did take the time to deliberately prop his boot onto one of Samantha’s precious coffee tables. But the gesture seemed somehow forced.
    He was clearly shaken.
    I got him a blueberry muffin, and having a few minutes before my shift started, I sat down opposite him. I didn’t know how to make small talk in a situation like this, so I didn’t even bother trying.
    “What did he mean about you seeing tulpas?” I asked quietly.
    Jareth dropped his head into his hands. “I see them,” he admitted. “I always have. It took me awhile to realize that no one else could.”
    I found that disturbing. “Is that how you read my mind?” I asked.
    “I don’t read your mind!” He scowled at me, knitting his brows together in a line. “For you, it’s written plain on your face, anyway.”
    I returned his scowl.
    “I do see the emotions you are creating,” he explained, relenting a little after that. “And it isn’t hard to figure out why you’re generating them. I can’t read your mind, but the tulpas you create give big hints.”
    So he had kind of been reading my mind this entire time. I wondered if he could read Rafael’s.
    He snorted and rolled his eyes. “And I can tell from the new tulpa you’re creating right now that you’re thinking of Rafael, so you must be wondering if I can see his thoughts, too.”
    I blinked, chagrined.
    “The Fae can’t create tulpas,” he said shortly. “They can’t dream.”
    They. The word stuck out like a sore thumb between us. The way he’d said it was as if he didn’t really consider himself one of them. Did that mean that he felt he might be part of the Brotherhood?
    He’d clearly seen the tulpa that thought had created, because he suddenly sat up and slammed his fist down hard on the coffee table.
    The plate rattled and everyone in the shop looked our way.
    Smiling woodenly, I sent them a cheery wave, and when they’d returned to their own business, I shifted my gaze back to Jareth.
    He was watching me coldly. “We’ve established by now that there’s something wrong with me, have we not?” he asked sarcastically. He dropped his voice, “Maybe … just maybe I am one of them.”
    “Impossible!” I disagreed vehemently even as I tried to prevent myself from thinking of the lizard scales that I’d seen on his skin.
    He cast me a churlish glance. “Exactly,” was all he said.
    A new thought popped into my head. “So, that’s how I, merely thinking of numbers, can summon you. You can sense the tulpa that my thoughts generate?”
    “I’m not one of them, Sydney,” he said, ignoring my question. “I don’t belong to the Brotherhood.”
    “Of course you don’t,” I agreed,