Oppression by Jessica Therrien Page B

across her face. “Seriously though, he’s going to be fine.”
    “He’s right,” Nics agreed. “Those guys were probably drunk before Sam ever got to them. Even if they did wake up and remember suddenly passing out, people would just think they drank too much.”
    “Besides,” Sam added, trying to convince himself and the rest of us he’d be fine. “The girl didn’t really see anything either. She wouldn’t have much to tell. Three drunk guys passed out before assaulting her—not very incriminating on my part, right?”
    I was afraid to ask. Everyone was so optimistic, but the troublesome question burned in my mind.
    “Does The Council have ways to tell if a Descendant uses their ability on someone?”
    “Only if an agent is in the vicinity,” Nics answered with confidence. “Most Descendant abilities only work within a short distant range, so they’d have to be close, I’d imagine.”
    Suddenly I felt the guilt of his choice on my conscience. If an agent had seen him, it would all be my fault. Kara had been following me.
    “Yeah, and we were pretty secluded,” Sam contributed. He seemed so hopeful. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything about Kara.
    So far, everything seemed to have turned out all right, although none of us could deny the lingering unease that plagued the night. It was something only time would tell.
    “Well, I’m getting some food before Cearno closes up shop,” Paul said, casually moving away from the topic. “You guys want anything?”
    After our order, Cearno cleaned up and got ready to head home. “Just lock up when you leave,” he said trustingly to William before heading out the door. We were out later than I expected, but none of us would be able to sleep anyway. All we could do was wait. To pass the time, we did the only thing we could—hope that it would all be fine.
    The six of us had the place to ourselves. Paul and Rachel claimed the dartboard and went off into their own little world where everything was safe and good. Now and again I caught a glimpse of explosive color or the two of them casually hovering far above the ground, a site I couldn’t imagine ever getting used to.
    Sam took advantage of his ability. Without ever taking a drink, he was noticeably tipsy, even through his attempt to hide it. He was clinging to Nics, and although she usually liked to provoke him, she was quiet and understanding tonight, reciprocating his need for her. They had commandeered the jukebox, dancing a drunken waltz to every song, no matter what the count.
    William and I stayed at our table, nibbling on leftover pastries and sipping Cearno’s famous late night lattes.
    “Why didn’t you tell me any of this, William? About The Council?” I asked through the music.
    He looked at me, a mix of guilt and surrender in his eyes. His gaze didn’t falter. It was honest and pointed, like a place with mirrored walls where you can’t escape yourself.
    “There are six first generation Olympians. Rachel left one of them out.”
    “She left out Poseidon,” I said with a nod. “I noticed that.” I picked a blueberry out of one of the muffins and popped it into my mouth, savoring the flavor.
    “Only, Poseidon was never a first generation Olympian. The sixth was Ares. Sort of the same scenario as with Zeus, Poseidon was his alias.”
    “So, what’s his ability?” I asked, expecting it to be worse than death.
    “He can mimic any ability. Being god of war, he can challenge anyone as an equal using their own power.”
    “Okay,” I said, not picking up on the significance. It didn’t seem any more threatening than the other abilities of The Council. “Why would Rachel leave that out?”
    He took a deep breath before he answered. “My dad’s bloodline is Ares.”
    “Your dad?” I asked in amazement.
    “Yeah. I don’t take after him,” he said.
    “He’s part of The Council?”
    “Well, yes and no.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sliding his fingers through his hair. A