I grimace. “I’m sure. That car you stuffed me behind?” Trent nods. “It’s only about thirty yards from another one, on the side of what used to be the road. The one my parents were in when . . .”
I trail off. I can’t say the words a second time. Trent waits me out. Finally, I hold up the locket.
“This was my mother’s.” Trent raises an eyebrow. “It was in Tom’s hand. Like they meant me to find it.”
Sighing, Trent crosses his arms over his chest. “Have you checked the locket really belonged to your mother? That it’s not a locket Tom’s mother had or one he nicked from someone else?”
“Not yet. I’m too scared to open it.”
“You won’t know if you’re reading too much into the situation unless you do.”
Anger flares. “You don’t think I’d recognize my mother’s locket? The last thing I saw before she pushed me out of a speeding car? The last thing I remember before that car went out of control, hit a streetlight, and exploded?”
I’m shouting, but I can’t stop. I’ve opened the dam, and the waters are flooding out, wiping away any vestige of self-control.
Trent stares at me for a second. Then he’s at my side, pulling me into his powerful arms, hugging me to him. “Okay, okay, breathe. Take a moment and breathe.”
The sobs wrench out, fighting against my attempts at slow breathing. I give myself hiccups. Mild hysteria breaks through, and I laugh uncontrollably. This is the first time I’ve ever allowed Trent to hold me. What’s happening to me?
Trent hugs me tighter, but as the hysteria makes my hiccups worse, he releases me, laughing too, until we both have tears streaming from our eyes. We ride the wave until it calms, its energy spent.
Then I sink onto my bed. Not allowing myself to think, I press the catch, and the locket springs open. As I see those faces I’ve yearned for, my breath hitches. Tears roll freely down my face once more, but there’s no chaos this time. Instead, it’s a quiet reminiscence of those I loved and who loved me.
The bed sinks as Trent sits next to me. “Your mom was pretty. I see her in you.”
I smile. “Many people said the same thing when I was growing up. I mean, the part about us looking similar. You don’t know how many times I wished it was her face I saw rather than her locket.”
Trent allows me to brood, a quiet pillar of strength. It’s a while before he speaks. “You know she did it because she loved you, right?”
“I know. If she hadn’t pushed me out of that car, I would’ve died with them.”
Trent fidgets with his ring again. Then he stands and walks over to the window. He stares out onto the street, but his shoulders are tense.
“What?”
Turning to study me, Trent assesses where I’m at before he speaks. “Have you ever considered she was trying to get you away from KN?”
I gape, too rocked to speak. “Why would you say a thing like that?”
“When we first met, you told me KN was in the car with you and your parents. But your story indicates there was time between her pushing you out and the car losing control. A short time, but enough to suggest she wanted to keep you safe from KN, not a crash she couldn’t have seen coming.”
Trent’s words infiltrate my barrier against the memory. Slowly, I realize he’s right. “I never considered that before. I always thought she did it so I wouldn’t be hurt.” Painful as revisiting the incident is, I cast my mind back. “But you’re right. KN was in that car with us, and she threw me out at least a minute before it crashed. How did you know?”
“With everything that’s happened lately and everything you told after we met, it’s clear KN wanted you all along. Your ransom was the way he got your parents there so he could . . . deal with them. He couldn’t allow them to live because he knew they loved you too much to ever stop searching for you. If he planned on keeping you for himself like he does with all his other 'toys,’ then he couldn’t have them interfering.”
Each word lands like a blow, until I’m left gasping for air. Trent realizes what he’s said and rushes over, pulling me up off the bed so he can look into my eyes. “It’s not your fault. You did not kill them. KN did. And you’d better not start believing lies now, or so help me . . .”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. His words remind me of our early training days, when he would give me inducements all the time. Somehow, today, the words are sweeter than ever before. Placing my hands on his broad shoulders, I do something totally out of character. I lean up and give him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Abashed, he grins and steps back. “Now that’s settled, what are we doing about the Hawks? More than half their crew were missing from that tannery, and none of their Abbies were there.”
Back to business. Trent’s go-to formula for getting me out of emotional funks. Thankful—heaven knows I’ve had enough of tears for a lifetime—I nod. “You’re thinking what I am. They’re with KN. Either of their own accord, or because they defected, or because they were away on a raid, trying to bring him down when we attacked?”
Trent snorts. “Most likely the last scenario, considering Caden was at the tannery. You know what a coward he is. He’d rather send his people in to die than risk his own skin.”
“Yes, but whatever the reason, it only makes our task more complex. We won’t know if the Hawks at KN’s hideout are with him or against him. Think Howie might figure that out for us?”
“I couldn’t say. I told him it was more important for him to get back here with answers about Caden than to ferret out more information about the site itself.”
“In that case, it’s time I found quicker ways around those black boxes. If we’re going in there blind for all intents and purposes, we need options.”
Chapter Thirteen
Eking out only a handful of possible routes takes hours. By the time I have them, it’s nearly midnight, and an internal sledgehammer pounds away at my skull. Rising, I rub my temples and massage the back of my neck, trying to forge relief. I consider calling Frances, our Abbie healer, to deal with it.
But it’s late. And old as she is, she’ll be cranky if I wake her, even though she’s been something of a surrogate mother to me since my parents died. Because as fortune would have it, Frances saw my mother toss me from that car. She was the one who healed me, despairing that, although her gift could heal my body, it could not heal my mind.
After a year of seeing her intermittently for injuries sustained in altercations after I left her care, it was only fair I offered her a safe place to stay once I’d established my gang. Since then, she’s enjoyed my hospitality—and protection.
I know the gang will continue to provide that, considering Frances is a rare gem. Abbie healers are scarce. They’re usually so well protected not even an army can get to them. It if weren’t for my gift, neither could we on the handful of occasions when we need an additional healer.
If we survive this offensive, perhaps I should look into getting a second Abbie healer for the crew, to take Frances’s place when she passes on and assist her until then. After all, if things go according to plan, I won’t be around to take care of them anymore. Taking care of my crew is one of the few good things I could do with my gift.
There’s a soft knock at my door. “Enter.”
Trent slips in and shuts the door behind him. “The crew are getting antsy. Do you have something?”
“Only a few options but better than nothing. What’s the mood out there?”
“A lot of anger. They feel duped. They know the Hawks abandoned the place. They want to know why you led them there, instead of to where they really are.”
Sighing, I roll my shoulders. “They’ll be even more unhappy if none of the options I present pan out.”
“You really believe they won’t?”
I shrug. “The black boxes are difficult to circumvent. I don’t know how much of what I saw is probable, only that the least visible routes let me bypass the boxes. You do the math.”
> Trent knows the odds are against us. “Tell me the paths at least all point in the same general direction?”
This time, I smile. “They do.”
Trent grins, white teeth flashing in his tanned face. “I’ll take it.”
Sobering again, I grimace. “While I may have found a general location, there’s no clear path to victory like usual. The boxes block all routes beyond that point.” Head aching anew, I pace. “I don’t know how he’s doing it. How he’s stopping me from seeing how to get to him.”
“You know he’s using an Abbie.”
The thought deflates me. “If he’s doing to them what he did to me . . .”
Trent strides over and gets in my face. “Forecaster, you can’t be thinking like that. Haven’t I told you often enough? Don’t fear defeat before you’ve taken the first step in battle!”
I swallow the fear tainting my mouth with metallic saliva. “It’s not always as easy as you make it sound.”
“Yes, it’s difficult facing your demons. But if you don’t, you’ll live in fear of them for the rest of your life. And what kind of living is that?”
“I know, I know. It’s just . . . why now? Why wait so long to come after me again?”
Trent opens his mouth and then closes it.
“Tell me.”
“We know he was in the car with your parents when it crashed and exploded. They recovered your parents’ remains—” Trent pauses, gauging my reaction.
“Yes, I’m dealing. Carry on.”
“But you always suspected KN was alive because they never recovered his body. What if KN saw the crash coming and bailed before the car hit?” Noting my rising impatience, Trent draws his conclusion. “What if he jumped free but couldn’t avoid serious injury?”
I mull over the theory. “So he’s injured but not severely enough that he can’t get away before the emergency services arrive? Or he pays them off so they say the only people in the accident were my parents?”
Tent nods. “It would explain why he went silent. He was recovering. By the time he healed, you were long gone on your own mission, always moving from place to place after you gave forecasts. With no way to trace you, he had to play the waiting game and wait for you to roost.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Roost?”
Trent laughs. “Figure of speech from my mom. Although you’re definitely not a hen. A cock, maybe, but never a hen.”
Unbidden, laughter bubbles out of me.
But Trent’s face turns solemn again. “Forecaster, you’ve built a home for yourself. You have a crew who would die for you because you’ve saved them from the misery of living on the streets and rescued them from those who would harm them. It won’t be so easy for KN to get to you this time.”
I realize where Trent’s going. “That’s why it took him even longer, why he enlisted the Hawks and had them send Tom in. He needed help. To verify it really was me before he attacked—and, if so, to have an army to match mine.”
“Which means an attack is imminent.”
I head for the door. “Let’s get the crew in the loop and formulate a plan.”
Chapter Fourteen
When I inform my crew the Hawks have someone with the ability to block my visions, a hush I’ve never heard before descends on the gathering chamber. The revenge they so desperately want may not lead to the resounding victory we’ve enjoyed in the past.
Careful to avoid specifics about how the black boxes relate to my past, I explain how they are the reason I couldn’t—and still can’t—see the future with the Hawks. Why I didn’t know the Hawks had only left a skeleton crew at their hub.
Glossing over the idea of defeat, I emphasize I don’t know whether the limited paths available to me have revealed the correct location or what sort of resistance we’ll meet there.
“I say for go for it,” someone shouts. “Decimate the Hawks!”
Before I put a name to the voice, more voices take up the call. “Decimate the Hawks! Decimate the Hawks!”
The hatred fueling the cries reminds me the Hawks are bullies who force others to do their dirty work. Just like KN. No wonder he hooked up with the Hawks. His hateful face slithers into my mind, and his hateful voice slides through my memory. Everything about KN is everything I loathe. It’s part of the reason I insist my crew vote on our actions.
I stare at them now, my gut clenching. How many will survive? Their bloodlust is no surprise. Many of my crew sought me out because of the Hawks. Because, with their penchant for cruelty, the Hawks killed many of their loved ones, abused them, tortured them, for no reason other than these people wanted to live their lives in peace.
Peace. Such an elusive waif these days. With the world in chaos, jungle law is the norm. It subjects those too weak to stand against the invaders to horrors best left in the darkest corners of insanity. Dwelling there would be better than the nightmares some of my crew have endured.
Unbidden, Jaya flashes into my memory. She wanted payback for what the Hawks did to her mother. No forecast I could give satiated her desire. And because I couldn’t give her what she wanted, she ran into their hub, guns blazing—and ended up exactly like her mother. Sold into slavery after being raped and beaten so badly she would be a cripple forever.
Shrugging the horrid thought away, I call for silence, and it thunders through the chamber. “You understand if we attack with these blind spots, you could die.”
The fury lighting many of their eyes only burns brighter.
“It’s only fair they get what’s due to them. After what they took from me, I don’t care if I die.” Defiant after his declaration, Jones glares at me, daring me to object. I won’t. The Hawks made him watch as they raped his wife and daughter and then subjected them to agonizing, slow deaths. The women begged for death long before it came. The haunted look seldom leaves Jones’s eyes.
I nod. “Very well. I call for a vote. All in favor?”
As I expected, almost every hand in the room goes up. For those who didn’t agree, it’s too bad. Like every other time we’ve voted, majority rule wins, and everyone partakes, whether or not they want to.
“We go. Be aware Beth, our latest clients’ daughter, is probably being held there.” A few sniggers break out as a few of the more sadistic members remember the parents’ payment.
My glare smothers the amusement. “I don’t want her getting shot in the crossfire or because you were in too much of a hurry to confirm she wasn’t your target. Our reputation is at stake here. We have to retrieve her unharmed.”
“Yes, Cap,” they chorus as a group.
“Here’s the plan.” I lay out my plot to enter the place, ignoring the dread at the thought of finally facing my nemesis—and the barely repressed hope of my distant forecast coming to pass should I eliminate him. I’m so close to realizing my dream. I just have to pull this off.
Chapter Fifteen
It’s close to two a.m. by the time we’re kitted up and ready to head for the general location of KN’s hideout. Just as I wonder what’s happened to him, Howie appears.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes!” I greet him with a smile, but it fades when I notice the worry lines crinkling his face. “What’s wrong?” Trent spots Howie and joins us.
Howie pulls us off to the side, removed enough to keep our words from the rest of the crew. “They’re at the oil refinery.”
Bingo! I didn’t expect it to be the actual refinery, but the chimneys in my forecasts were unmistakable.
“Getting in there isn’t the worst of it. Not only do they have a crew of their own who seem capable, but the Hawks are there too.”
Trent rubs his chin. “Just as we suspected, then.” He glances at me. “Are we revising our plan?”
“You bet we are!”
Before we knew exactly where KN was, we devised a scheme to scour the general area surreptitiously. Only two or three crew members searched an assigned area so our foes wouldn’t sound the alarm if they spotted us. The Hawk scouts are arrogant
enough to think they can take out two or three of our number without requesting aid. At any sign of trouble, one member in every group would make a run for it. Their goal was to escape and alert the rest of our crew about the scouts’ location.
It’s ridiculously easy, really. The Hawks never vary their patterns, modeling their patrols on ours. Thing is, they don’t have me to see trouble coming. Don’t have me to save them. Don’t get the hauls they want because figuring out their goal is simple enough whenever we encounter their scouts.
I bargained on this situation not being any different. Calculating the Hawks’ hideout based on their patrols is basic math. But now I don’t have to bargain.
Putting my fingers between my lips, I use my piercing whistle. Movement in the vast chamber ceases, and my crew stares at me, silent. “Good news, boys and girls. I know where our prey is.”
Cheers echo off the basement walls, and anticipation paints more than half the faces with excitement. I lift my chin at Trent, the better strategist. It’s best if he sets out who goes where.
In under fifteen minutes. Trent creates the scenario and lays out the plan. I know he’s familiar with the area, but I still marvel at his genius. It’s why he’s my lieutenant.
Five minutes later, we’re on the move. Reaching the refinery on the far side of the city will take a good hour. Since there’s no knowing how many more roads have become impassable because of further deterioration of the city’s buildings and infrastructure, we use motorbikes. It’s rough terrain and slow going.
As we make our way across town, I fret internally. We could encounter the Hawks anywhere. There’s no certainty they’ll stay with KN, won’t attack while we’re “blind.” Blind because the black boxes prevent the warning we usually have. I make sure my glaive is still in place on my back. Its solid handle assures me it’s ready should I need to use it. Even so, I worry.
Nerves gild me with sweat, sliding along the inside of the leather bodysuit hugging my skin. Not the most comfortable feeling. Then I laugh out loud at the absurdity. Now’s no time for comfort.
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